I'll Be the One

by Hazel James

  Totally doable.

  When I started driving, Dad put solar-powered lamp posts along the driveway since it’s a long one. I never really thought how helpful they are until I look in the rearview mirror and realize the last four or five are out. Instead, I pull back up to the house, do a three-point turn in front of the garage and drive out the proper way. I make it halfway down when a car pulls in, blocking me from getting to the road. I can’t see who it is because the headlights are shining right in my eyes. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. With a huff, I put my car into reverse—again—and return to the top of the driveway where it widens so I have room to go around it. The vehicle with the blinding headlights follows me. Who the hell is coming to my house at seven o’clock on a Wednesday night? Just as I try to shift past it, the door opens and my foot slams on the brake.

  James.

  I throw open my door and run to The Beast.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, my heart pounding even harder than it was before.

  “I came to see you. But apparently you had plans?” He looks me up and down, taking in my outfit—soft-as-butter leggings, a long shirt that Avery calls a tunic and some ankle boots. It’s something she got me for Christmas that I finally decided to wear. I figured it would make for a great groveling ensemble.

  “I was driving to your house. To apologize.” God, he’s gorgeous. My first instinct is to reach out and touch him, but I don’t know if that’s what he wants. The shot of confidence Gran gave me earlier is fading fast. His face is void of all expression, and the shadows from our headlights prevent me from seeing his eyes clearly. For all I know, he decided breaking up was a good idea and came here to tell me just that. At least he didn’t do it at school. I should thank him for that. “Anyway, I’m sorry for Monday night. None of that was your fault. I just overreacted.”

  I turn to my car to shut it off when he grabs my arm. “Where are you going?”

  “Uh. Inside. I’ll let you get back to whatever it is you were doing,” I say, gesturing at The Beast. I turn toward my car again, but he tightens his grip.

  “You don’t want to hear what I have to say?”

  “It’s okay. I totally understand.” I can’t bear to look at him. I thought not being with him would be the best thing, but now that he’s so close, I’ve changed my mind. I wish I could take back everything I said Monday night in his truck. He steps closer and lets go of my arm.

  “Are you done?”

  “With what?”

  “Being a dumb girl. Because I’d really like to kiss you now, Mrs. Tennyson.” Before I can finish gasping, his lips are on mine, stealing my breath and swallowing my cry of relief. I’m vaguely aware that my parents are inside about a hundred feet away, but I don’t care. His kisses are frantic. He cups my face with his hands and pulls me even closer. We use our lips and tongues and teeth to hold an entire conversation without saying a word. Gentle nips and sweet strokes replace everything I meant to say, which is good because I don’t think I could form a complete sentence if I tried. The only thing that breaks the moment is my need for air. Stupid lungs. We stand in the driveway bathed in headlights, gulping in the cool evening air. He brings his forehead to mine, then tips his head to the side and kisses me on the cheek.

  “We good now?”

  I laugh and kiss him in response.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. You sort of stole my thunder, you know.”

  “How’d I do that?”

  “I came over here with Lucy. I was gonna sing you a song I wrote tonight to win you back.”

  “You wrote me a song at work?”

  “Yeah, I was pretty worthless. Mandy took pity on me.”

  “I still wanna hear it. Will you still play it for me? Please?” I offer up my best puppy dog eyes and clasp my hands below my chin.

  “Fine, fine. Have it your way,” he says, grinning. We both turn off our vehicles and he returns with his guitar. “Is your dad home?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Well, the last time I was here, I was dressed as Jamie. I just hope my disguise was good enough.”

  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” I open the front door and pull James inside.

  “Mom? Dad?”

  “In the living room!” Mom calls. “Are you back already?”

  “Sort of,” I say, as we round the corner. “Apparently James and I had the same idea. You remember James, right Mom?” She jumps off the chaise lounge.

  “Hi! It’s good to see you again.” She hugs him and winks at me over his shoulder. I didn’t even know Mom knew how to wink. Dad closes the recliner and walks over to us.

  “Dad, this is James.” I search for any hint of recognition in my Dad’s eyes as they shake hands, but everything seems okay.

  “Please call me Stan. It’s nice to meet you, son.”

  “Likewise, sir.”

  “Is it all right if James and I go to my room? I promise to keep my door open.” I expect a silent standoff, but surprisingly Dad’s the one to respond.

  “As long as it stays open, that’s fine. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some Walking Dead to catch up on.”

  “Thanks, Dad!” I grab James’ hand and walk toward my bedroom when Avery’s face flashes on my phone. I push the “end” button, but five steps later, she calls again. I let out a frustrated sigh and swipe to answer it.

  “What’s up?” She’s hysterical, and I can’t make out anything she’s saying. “You need to calm down. I can’t understand you.” James comes up to my side and rubs my back. I shrug my shoulders and mouth, “I don’t know” as Avery launches into another round of tears. “Avery. Calm down. Take a deep breath. Good. Take another. What’s going on?”

  “I n-need you to come g-get me f-from the h-hospital,” she chokes out.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “F-Fletcher’s mom r-rushed Sam here because she swallowed a p-penny. Sh-she was breathing, b-but it wouldn’t c-come out. We m-met them in the emergency r-room and I helped F-fletcher do the p-paperwork. That’s his d-daughter, Ray. Daughter.” She loses it again, and I know getting anything else out of her is pointless.

  “Okay, stay there. I’m on my way.” I turn to James to apologize for cutting the evening short, but he stops me before I can say anything.

  “My truck’s blocking your car. I’ll drive.”

  I quickly explain what’s going on to Mom then hop in The Beast after James opens the door.

  “So I guess Fletcher’s a dad?”

  “Yup.”

  “You knew?”

  He exhales. “Yup.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It wasn’t my place to.” He grabs my hand and kisses it. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  “I don’t think I’m mad. Just shocked. Dude. Fletcher has a kid?”

  I buckle my seatbelt certain of two things: I’m gonna have an epic weekend, and I have a one in eleven million chance of dying before that happens. Statistically, I’m safer in a plane than in a car, but I don’t see how that’s possible. Cars don’t drive seven miles above the ground.

  I didn’t really give the fear of flying much thought when I agreed to come to New York City with Avery and Rachel. After we took her home Wednesday night, she asked her dad to update the tickets. I guess it’s cheaper to switch the names than it was to cancel them. Avery said she needed to take a break and process the fact that Fletcher is a dad instead of a big brother. I get that. Ray asked me if I knew what was gonna happen between them. I don’t, but I’m hoping I can talk with Avery this weekend and give her Fletcher’s perspective.

  As far as the trip goes, I was surprised that Rachel’s parents said okay, even after they heard I was going too. Avery pulled out all the stops—tears, her breakup and the eighteenth birthday card—and Ray had to promise to FaceTime her parents every night.

  “You gonna be okay, James?” Avery asks from the window seat. She called dibs on that before we even got to the airport. Rachel took the
middle, and I sat in the aisle seat. That’s fine by me. I’d rather not stare out at the ground the whole flight.

  I give her a thumbs up between deep breaths. Rachel rests her hand on my knee, which I hadn’t realized was bouncing so hard. Combined with my sweating and pounding heart, I must look like an addict on a comedown. I search the seat back in front of me for a tiny parachute, but only find a sticky Sky Mall magazine and an empty candy wrapper.

  “Are you always this nervous before you fly?” Rachel asks.

  “I couldn’t tell you. This is my first flight.” I reach for the bottle of water in my backpack as the flight attendants start their spiel with all the ways we could die. If we crash over water, some yellow inflatable life preserver is supposed to help us. I’m pretty sure that’s just to make the bodies more visible for the search teams. “Affirmative, I have a positive visual on the rubber duckies in the wreckage.” Do sharks like the color yellow? Are they colorblind? Are we even going to fly over water?

  “But you’ve spent your whole life moving around. How have you never flown?”

  “Easy. It’s called cars. Except for the one time we took a train.”

  “Wow, that’s something I never expected to hear.”

  “Mom was a hippie. How can we appreciate traveling through the country if we couldn’t roll down the windows and breathe in the scenery? Plus, gas was cheaper than plane tickets.”

  “I guess that makes sense. Don’t worry though, we’ll be just fine. The flight’s only an hour and a half. We’ll be there before you know it.”

  Or, we could be dead before we know it. My grip on the armrest increases as we taxi away from the terminal. Fuck, I’m too young to die.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re cleared for takeoff. Please make sure your seatbelts are buckled.” If my seatbelt was any tighter, I’d cut off circulation to the lower half of my body.

  “This is my favorite part!” Avery squeals.

  “Yes, hurdling into the air and hoping the principles of physics hold are my favorite parts too,” I say, trying to not whimper like a little bitch. Rachel laughs and gives a squeal herself, then looks over at me.

  “Hey.” She cups my face in her hand as the pilot increases the speed. The nose lifts off the ground and her lips meet mine. By the time our tongues tangle, my stomach feels like it’s on a roller coaster—glued to the seat one moment, and then lodged somewhere between my ears the next. Logically, I know that’s because we’re airborne now, but I’m giving Rachel all the credit anyway.

  She’s a damn good kisser.

  Ever the thoughtful girlfriend, she keeps me distracted for most of the flight. I might be sporting a case of blue balls for the rest of the night, but I consider it a small price to pay.

  “We’re making our final descent into New York LaGuardia. The flight attendants will come through one more time to collect any remaining trash and to ensure your seatbelts are buckled.”

  “Eeek! This is my favorite part!”

  “That’s what you said about takeoff,” Rachel says.

  “No. Look.” She opens the sunshades—there are two windows in our row—and instead of seeing my impending death below, I’m greeted by city lights. The sun must have set while Rachel and I were inspecting each other’s mouths. I’ve seen pictures of Manhattan, sure, but nothing compares to the sight of a million lights shining from its skyscrapers.

  “Holy shit.” I crane my neck to see as much as possible. The pilot banks to the right, which brings more lights into view. “That’s incredible.”

  “Looks like you’re not so scared anymore.” Rachel smirks and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

  “Nah, I’m feeling nice and loose. Well, most of me anyway.” I wink and adjust my pants just a bit before looking out the window again. Rachel rolls her eyes and facepalms.

  An hour later, we’re in front of Avery’s dad’s condo on the Upper West Side.

  “Don’t worry about your luggage, I’ll have those up just shortly.”

  “Thanks, Jensen!” Avery high fives the driver who greeted us at baggage claim. Rachel mentioned Mr. Murphy being some rich business dude, but she didn’t elaborate. I’m beginning to realize that having a driver is the tip of the iceberg.

  “Hey, Moe! Good to see you again!” Avery hugs the gray-haired doorman before we enter the lobby.

  “Miss Avery, how you doin’?”

  “Now that I’ve seen you, I’m excellent. Heading up to see the old man now. See you tomorrow?”

  “Sure thing, sweets.”

  “So you have a thing for older guys, huh?” Rachel jokes as we step into the elevator. Avery punches the button for the twenty-fourth floor.

  “Moe has been the doorman in this building since I was in elementary school. I used to sit outside with him after school and eat candy. When I became a teenager, he’d interview any boyfriend who came over and mention his connections to the Mafia.” She giggles at the memory.

  “Moe’s in the Mafia?” I can’t help but ask.

  “No, dummy. It was all for fun. He loved messing with their heads.”

  The elevator stops and within ten seconds, I’m speechless. Avery’s dad isn’t just rich. He’s fucking loaded.

  “Hey Pops, we’re here.” She leads us through the foyer into a living room twice the size of the one at Rachel’s house, which is huge to begin with. The ceilings have to be at least twenty feet high. The walls feature art and opulent drapes and there’s even a baby grand piano in the corner.

  “Hey, glad you made it!” He hugs her and shakes our hands. “I’m Todd Murphy, it’s nice to meet you.” We meet almost eye-to-eye, though it looks like I have about an inch on him. His skin is quite a bit darker than Avery’s. She definitely has his smile, though.

  “Hi, Mr. Murphy. Thanks for the flight and for letting us stay here,” I say.

  “Please, call me Todd. And don’t mention it. I had some rewards points that were going to expire, so you actually did me a favor. Now those damn credit card people will quit hounding me.” He smiles and gestures to the couch. “Would you like to have a seat, or are you hungry?”

  Avery wrinkles her nose. “Who cooked—you or Hannah?”

  “Does it look like the building burned down?” he says with a laugh. “Hannah cooked, of course. She left some plates in the fridge for you.”

  “Yes! Come on, y’all are about to be impressed.” We follow her into the kitchen, where she pulls out three plates of chicken parmesan.

  “Has Hannah worked here since you were in elementary school too?” Rachel asks.

  “No, she came after we left. Dad can’t cook to save his life. If it wasn’t for Mom, and now Hannah, he’d starve.”

  Avery was right about being impressed. The food was phenomenal, and just what I needed since I didn’t eat much before the flight. I glance at my watch and realize it’s already ten p.m. Judging by the amount of adrenaline I’ve dealt with today and the size of the meal I just ate, it won’t be long until I pass out.

  “Hey, what room am I staying in? I think I’m gonna hit the sack after a quick shower to wash the plane off of me.”

  “I’m pretty beat too. I’ll give y’all a quick tour.” She grabs Rachel’s hand and leads us through the sprawling condo. It’s a three bedroom, five bathroom. I’ll never understand why people need more toilets than beds, but whatever. I’m not here to judge. Her dad’s room is across the house, and the other two bedrooms are on the Central Park side of the building. She opens the door to her room, which is tastefully decorated in a Parisian theme. Go figure. Her suitcases—because the girl can’t just pack one for the weekend—are sitting just inside the door.

  “Is Jensen a ninja or something? I didn’t even see him come inside,” Rachel says, laughing. She angles her head into the room. “Hey, where’s my suitcase?”

  “It’s down here,” Avery says, leading us to the opposite end of the short hallway. She opens the door and flips on the light. As promised, Rachel’s suitcase is there. Right next
to mine.

  “Um. Avery?” Rachel points to our luggage. “Why is James’ suitcase in here too?”

  “I may have left out that detail when we were talking to your parents.” A devilish grin creeps over her face. “You and James are rooming together this weekend. My bed is a twin and Dad doesn’t believe in air mattresses. Hannah will make us a big breakfast tomorrow, so I hope you’re hungry. Oh! This will be y’all’s bathroom.” She points to the door we’re standing in front of before turning back toward her bedroom. “Goodnight!”

  Rachel and I stare at each other in the hallway, neither of us making a move. Sweet baby Jesus. “I promise I had no idea this was going to happen,” I say, holding my hands up in surrender. The last thing I want her to think is that I only came because I knew about the sleeping arrangements. Not that I’m remotely sad about the news. I am a dude, after all.

  “I believe you. Uh. Should we get ready for bed, then?” She peeks at the doorway, then back to me. Redness creeps over her cheeks and a giggle slips past her lips.

  “You don’t need to be nervous, you know.”

  “Why’s that? Is this the part where you tell me you’ll be a perfect gentleman?”

  “No, it’s the part where I remind you this isn’t our first time sleeping together.” I wiggle my eyebrows, then enter the room and flop down on the bed. The very spacious bed. It’s gotta be a king, or maybe even a California king. “Dibs on this side!”

  “Um. You’re in the middle.” She’s standing at the foot of the bed with her hands on her hips. I admit, I’m jealous of her hands.

  “Hey, it’s not my fault you didn’t call dibs first,” I offer with an innocent shrug.

  “Fine. I call dibs on the first shower.”

  “I could help you with that, you know,” I say, rubbing my hands together.

  “Nice try, Romeo.” She grabs her toiletries and pajamas out of her suitcase and disappears down the hallway. I spend the next ten minutes fantasizing about what’s going on beyond that door. Now I’m glad she decided to shower first, because I’m gonna need a few extra minutes to… relax… when it’s my turn.