Journey

by Karina Sharp

I swallow down the knot in my throat well enough to say, “I am so in love with you.”

  ***

  Last night was not as restful as I had hoped it would be, but it was very much worth losing sleep for. The dynamic between Jack and I has changed for the better. We are very connected.

  During warm up for the qualifying rounds, the girls are extremely nervous, and it shows. They’re falling out of stunts, out of sync on their choreography, and just all kinds of sloppy. I swallow back all of the emotions that are threatening to take over my logic and call for the girls to gather around. Jack stayed outside of the room as to not make anyone uncomfortable or more nervous than before, which is fine, but I don’t have him to help me hold it together.

  “Ladies, I know you’re nervous. I am only collected on the outside, trust me, but you’ve got to pull it together. Who cares if you come in last? Who cares if every other squad here is ten times better than you all? All that matters is that you made it here for the first time in your school’s history. On top of that, as long as you do the best you possibly can, we will go home our own champions. So, get the nerves under wraps. Pretend like we’re just in our own gym with the people who know and love us, okay?”

  They all smile and nod. I can see massive amounts of pressure suddenly lift off of their shoulders, and we put our hands together for one last cheer and pep talk before they take the stage for the qualifying round. Jack asks me if I prefer that he stand backstage in the wings to watch with me, or if I rather him sit with the rest of the parents and audience members. As much as I hated admitting it aloud, I asked for him to stay near. I knew I would need him to help quell my nerves and keep me upright.

  Jack stands close behind me with his hands on my shoulders. My hands grip his tighter than ever and squeeze each time the girls jump or perform a big stunt. During their cheer portion, I am impressed with how well they command the crowd. Even Jack yells “Blue!” and “Grey!” on their prompts. As soon as they hit their final pose, my jumping and cheering causes my body to break free from his hold, and I am charging toward the girls as they exit the stage more excited than I have ever seen them. I know in my heart, and I think they do as well, that they just gave the performance of a lifetime and have a genuine chance of advancing to the finals.

  My suspicions are confirmed when they announce the squads who advance to the final round. When I hear, “Kleinert High School from Kleinert, Maine,” the decibel level of the squeals and screams from team members, their parents, and friends is ear shattering. We all hug in one giant group, jumping up and down, and screaming together. I cannot even comprehend how jubilant I am. I am as happy and proud of this group of ladies as if they came in first in the world and won a million dollars. Their accomplishment is immeasurable and the quantification of it doesn’t even matter to me.

  We spend a long day that spills over into night celebrating and relaxing with the team, their families, schoolmates, and some other friends they’ve made here in Florida. I am spent. We have made our way from the Disney Boardwalk to the pool of the Grand Floridian. The teens around me continue to splash and dance to the music playing. I joined in for a good while until I decided I needed to lounge for a bit. The entire day, Jack has been blatantly affectionate, albeit tastefully so, but surprisingly physical. He held my hand or had his arm in contact with me at every opportunity. No one really gave us more than a second glance. I think everyone is accustomed to Jack and I being a couple. Everyone except George, that is. George was in our company, intermittently. There were times that Jenny would wander off with him, but they always returned shortly after, both looking unhappy. I wonder if it’s because he came and her parents did not.

  I yawn loudly, and Jack does not miss a beat. He puts his arm around me and whispers into my ear, “Sleepy or just showing my manhood what it’s missing?”

  “Not to let your oh-so-manly parts down, but I’m sleepy,” I yawn. “Should I shut this party down?”

  “What time do they have to be ready for warm-up?”

  “Dressed and ready to go by noon.”

  Jack hands me my sun dress to slip on over my swimsuit. “I’m thinking you should probably s this d.”

  I turn my body to face him. “I think you watch too much 30 Rock on Netflix.” Jack shakes his head in jest. I place my hand on his firm bicep. “I also think that you’re the best, most handsome man one could ever know, my sweet, sexy Jack.”

  Jack leans forward and gently pecks my nose whilst smiling. I put on my dress, gather my things, and in my best responsible-adult-who-was-a-cheerleader voice, I let everyone know it’s time for them to get some rest. Some of the group groans, but I remind them that they have tomorrow and the next day to party into the wee hours of the night.

  Jack and I retire to our suite, and he has far more success in sleeping than I, as evidenced by his softly sawing logs next to me in bed. I use the still moment to breathe everything in: Jack’s sweet, manly scent; the large, dark room around me; being in Florida at a cheerleading national championship with a squad I coached; the fact that I’m a doctor; and that I am infinitely happy beyond belief. Jack is everything my life needs and wants. He is my everything. Jack must feel the energy of my aura increase, or maybe he just feels my legs squirm and shake in the bed, because he stirs.

  Rolling onto his side to face me, he sleepily asks, “Are you still awake?”

  “No, you’re just dreaming.”

  “Then I guess I was dreaming that this bed is one that takes quarters and says ‘Magic Fingers’ on it, because it’s been shaking like crazy for a while.” Jack’s right eye barely opens as he purses his lips that are swollen from sleep. He looks disheveled and sexily sleepy. I grin back as I push his dark hair away from his eyes. “Nervous?” he asks.

  “Actually, no. I would be a liar if I said that I’m not nervous about the competition tomorrow, but I was just thinking about how I’m not nervous about anything else. I’ve never been so happy and sure about anything in my life. Normally, being so content would make me nervous in itself, but for once in my life, I feel like everything has fallen into place as it should.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, because I’ve felt it for a while now. Really, I’ve just been waiting for you to come around, but I knew that if the amount of time it takes for you to get dressed for anything is any indication, I might be waiting a while.”

  “You’re not as cute as you think, you know.”

  “Yes I am.”

  Jack grabs my waist, sliding me across the bed, turning me toward him, and pulls me tightly into him.

  I breathe into his bare chest, “Yes you are.”

  Jack kisses my head, and with his arms around me, I fall asleep to the rhythm of his slow, deep breathing for a few hours.

  ***

  I’m wandering about the room excitedly, whilst brushing my teeth, when I ask Jack, “Have you seen my nude colored bra?”

  “What?”

  “My bra.”

  “I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

  “My bra,” I enunciate more clearly, toothbrush in mouth, looking at him as if I’m making perfect sense.

  “Babe, all I hear is ‘mmm mmm,’” he mimics the sounds he hears.

  I wring my hands to my side in frustration and take the toothbrush out of my mouth. Pointing to my chest and trying to keep the white suds from running down my chin, I say, “My bra.”

  “Your what?”

  I mime putting on a bra across my boobs.

  “Ohh. Your bra?”

  “Yes,” I answer in exasperation with toothpaste rolling out of the corner of my mouth. “You took it off of me last night.”

  “Oh.” Jack eyes the small, immediate circumference around him. “I don’t know.”

  Unjustly annoyed, but annoyed all the same, I slap my feet across the bathroom tile in frustration so I can rinse out my mouth and have a proper conversation. Huffing, I go back into the bedroom and begin looking around the bed while Jack sits in an armchair acr
oss the room reading our complimentary copy of The Wall Street Journal. I spot my bra resting on the floor under some throw pillows that had definitely lived up to their name, pick it up, and jerk it around in my hand. “Was that so hard?”

  His line of sight raises to focus above the edge of the newspaper to me. I hear the paper rattle in his hands as he chortles silently, which irritates me that much more.

  “I’m so glad you think everything is funny. Meanwhile, I’m trying to get ready and am probably going to be late because I couldn’t find my freaking bra that I asked for a few times.”

  Jack in his ever wonderfully patient and gentle demeanor, quietly puts down his paper, and pads toward me with a serene smile. I turn away from him, determined to still be aggravated, and pull my clothes out from the closet. When I turn around, Jack is there, in my bubble, smiling soothingly. He runs his palms down my arms, delicately takes the clothes out of my hands, and places them to the side. His sweet, sparkling eyes smile at mine, yet he says nothing aloud. Some of the tension in my neck and shoulders melts away.

  Before I can say something about my inappropriately aggressive behavior, the smooth timbre of his voice fills the space. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand you, Sweetie.”

  My shoulders droop in remorse. “No, Babe, I’m sorry for acting like this. It’s not your fault. I’m just-”

  “Nervous. I know. You don’t have to apologize or say anything else; I get it. Let me know how I can help calm you and make your day easier.

  Suddenly, the moment feels surreal, but not in that out-of-body-experience way, instead in a way where you just think I can’t believe this is happening to me. People are not this patient or kind or understanding or loving. Especially not with me. But it is me with whom he is all of those things. Most people are quick to get defensive and attack me in return, but not Jack. Jack evaluates the situation and sees that perhaps my actions and emotions being displayed are not so congruent with the ones I’m actually feeling. Oh, Jack… I so don’t deserve you, but as long as you think I do, I’m not letting you go.

  “You just did. Thank you.” I lift up onto my tiptoes and place my lips on his.

  “For the record, I’m going to brush my teeth later and talk to you at the same time, and we’ll see how easy it is for you to understand me.” His lips turn up into a sly, sexy smile.

  I roll my eyes with a smile. “Challenge accepted.”

  As I am about to turn away from him so I can get dressed, Jack stops me and brushes my cheek with his thumb. Just as my insides heat up, feeling special from the delicate gesture of simple but intimate physical contact with me, he says, “You had some toothpaste on your cheek.”

  Touché, Mr. Croft.

  *****

  Jack

  I have never been more filled with anticipation and excitement for someone else than I am today. Journey and her team have worked harder for this than I’ve ever witnessed anyone push themselves toward a goal before. They more than deserve to be in the finals. I don’t know what I’m watching, although Journey has tried to teach me, but compared to the many other teams I’ve seen perform, they are just as good, if not better, as everyone else. Journey’s anxiety and nerves tend to manifest themselves as anger and irritability, and it’s honestly one of the things I love about her. If you don’t recognize it, it can be frustrating, but I love her feistiness, and I wouldn’t change her spirit for anything. Her fiery nature is also what makes her a fighter and formidable in everything she does.

  I’m not allowed, nor would I feel right if I stayed, backstage, so I join our crowd of supporters in the audience. We have recruited some other schools that are either now out of the running or not competing in this category to help cheer on our squad. I never imagined myself decked out in Kleinert High School related colors in my adult life, but I dressed the part today, of course in my own, professional style with dark washed jeans and a grey, fitted polo that matches the school’s grey. Journey has on grey, fitted skinny jeans and a sleeveless, flowy top that’s the high school’s official school color of a greyish, hazel blue. The muted colors look fantastic against her skin and the delicate layer of freckles on her shoulders, and it sets off the deep, wild red in her hair. As much as I wanted to stare at her all day, I casually wished her and the team good luck as I took my leave from the area. Just before I could walk away, Jenny gave me a tight hug with nervous fear flitting in her eyes. I gave her a reassuring look, then left to take my seat among the crowd.

  Whistling and cheering loudly is becoming increasingly natural to me. I used to worry about someone seeing me behaving in a way that was uncouth or that draws attention to myself, but the energy that Journey and the girls she’s inspired give when they are doing what they love is extremely contagious. I might even venture to say that it’s fun. I don’t know that I will ever give Journey the satisfaction of knowing that, though. I’d never live it down.

  I can picture Journey’s leg shaking as she stands backstage, waiting for the results. After what seems like a painful amount of time, all of the squads take the stage for the awards ceremony. It is announced that Kleinert was awarded fifth place, and we emit ear-rupturing cheers. They didn’t expect to make it to the finals, much less place. That fifth place trophy may as well be first, because it means just the same to everyone involved.

  Journey’s beauty as she celebrates the accomplishments of both those young ladies and herself energizes my soul to see her this way. Her skin glows warmer than ever, and I see not a shroud of negativity or anxiety in the air around her. She is purely in the moment and immersed in every morsel of pleasure it allots to her. I am resplendent to merely observe her folly, but am happily drawn in when she seeks me out to give me one of the tightest hugs she’s ever doled out to me. Her smile is perfection- wide, bright, and brilliant -curling upward toward her ears, setting off her jade irises and highlighting the trail of freckles across her nose to her cheeks. I feel privileged that she wants to share this moment with me. I lift her so high that her feet leave the floor and she laughs in zeal. I want to kiss her with as much emotion as we are sharing, but one: this isn’t my moment, and two: there are parents everywhere whom I am sure would not delight in such an outward display.

  In lieu of throwing all of my excitement into a kiss, I simply kiss the top of her head and say, “I’m so proud of you. You are amazing at everything you do. I love you so much.”

  Journey blinks her dazzling eyes. “Thank you. For everything. I love you too.”

  Jenny rushes to us, placing her arms around our embrace, squealing. “Oh my gaaaawd! I can’t believe it!”

  Journey and Jenny continue to bounce, squeal, and exclaim their glee. The other girls, one by one, wrap their arms around us in a group hug. I would excuse myself, but by the time I realize that they’re all holding on with no plans to let go anytime soon, I’m already looking down on several giant, bobbing hair bows- seriously, can hair bows get any larger? -and surrounded by several squad members. I tower over all of them, which makes me very much out of place. I formulate an escape plan to allow them to have their own celebration, but I feel Journey’s hands grip me tighter. My face changes to display my joy in her wanting to keep me with her as I catch the eye of Brad, a team member’s dad. He shoots me a glad-it’s-not-me-stuck-in-the-middle look, and I simply shrug in return. Brad quickly smirks and nods in understanding.

  Each group hug member eventually files out of the fold until we are back to a traditional two-person hug, shared by Journey and myself. We ultimately break our physical contact, but something tells me that we have shared something special. Never before have I felt not only accepted, but expressly wanted in someone else’s world. Before now, I knew how much Journey loves cheerleading. I knew she was talented and had no doubt how special she is to everyone she encounters, but it’s as though she’s not only invited me to see a glimpse into the secret garden of her heart, but she’s given me the key, and wants it to be ours.

  I didn’t know that seeing someone
not only realize the fruits of their labor, but indulge a passion, would be rewarding to me in its own right. I see that coaching others, aiding them to realize their potential, and helping others help themselves isn’t something Journey enjoys- it is as much a part of her being as she is mine. I have a deeper understanding of what inspires her and keeps her going, which has strengthened my bond to her tenfold.

  Although I had no question prior, I now know, completely and indubitably, that she was meant for me, and my need to show her is so strong, I literally ache.

  Chapter 22

  April

  Journey

  “Do you know what today is?” I ask, nuzzling into Jack’s neck.

  “No, what?” He flashes a coy smile.

  I thump his nose with my middle finger. “Shut up, you do too.” I move my arm to thump his ear, but he grabs my wrist and stops me. I attempt to resist, but he overpowers me. He always does, and I never mind when it happens. We playfully tussle on the bed until I am completely pinned under his body.

  “What a precarious position in which you seem to have found yourself, Doctor Ferrer,” he teases me, looking down into my eyes. His face is close to mine, and I attempt to lift my head to kiss him, but he adds more force to my wrists, rendering me unable to lift off of the bed.

  “You don’t play very nice, Mr. Croft.”

  “I play as nice as you want me to.” His heat boors into me as I smile back expectantly.

  “Always so eager, aren’t we?”

  “With you? Yes.” Jack continues holding my wrists above my head, moving his face closer to mine. “In any given moment, on any given day, I want you. You’re always in my thoughts in some way, shape, or form, and I have no plans of ever changing that.”

  As if his handsomeness wasn’t enough of a turn-on, he always has some sort of panty-melting words to say that keep me coming back for more. “I don’t know how I ever went so long without you.”