I'll Be the One

by Hazel James

  Like I said. I’m a dude.

  She comes back into the bedroom in a cloud of vanilla, and I have to restrain myself from biting her. I’m pretty sure that smell could wake me from a coma. “You better have left me hot water, Mrs. Tennyson.”

  “I could have showered for six hours and there’d still be hot water.”

  The bathroom is ridiculous. There’s no other word to describe it. It’s half the size of my bedroom, and the shower is sectioned off by a wall of glass bricks that curve around like a shell. It features six different jets along a wall of natural tile and one that pours water from the ceiling. Rachel left her body wash on the shelf, and I decide it’s exactly what I need to help me… unwind.

  A few minutes later, I’m clean and ready for bed. My eyelids are heavy by the time we both peel back the covers. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask with a yawn. I don’t want her feeling uncomfortable. “I’m sure there are about eleven different couches I could crash on.”

  “No, it’s fine.”

  I sleep in just boxer briefs at home, but I’ve upgraded to boxer shorts on top of them for tonight. My shirt’s gotta go, though. I lift my eyebrow when Rachel sucks in a breath. “Still okay?” She looks me up and down, and her cheeks redden for the second time tonight.

  “Yeah. Just don’t get mad at me if I stare. And don’t get any big ideas.” She points her finger at me for emphasis.

  “I’ll even put a pillow between us if that will make you feel better.” I place one of the gigantic shams in the middle of the bed and settle in. “Good night, Mrs. Tennyson.”

  “Usually you’re FaceTiming me when you say that,” she says with a soft giggle. Her hand finds mine over the pillow. “Good night, Mr. Tennyson.”

  Yes, this is the single greatest night of my life.

  “James?” she whispers a few minutes later.

  “Hrmh?”

  “Do you think we could ditch the pillow?”

  “That can definitely be arranged.” With one quick motion, the pillow is on the floor and Rachel’s in my arms. I don’t know what feels better—the soft cotton of her tank top or her long hair trailing across my chest. I kiss the top of her head and close my eyes, enjoying the sound of our breathing and the beating of our hearts.

  “James?”

  “Hmmph?”

  “Why do you smell like vanilla?”

  You’d think falling asleep next to the girl of my dreams would mean I’d actually dream about her. Sadly, I was wrong. I’ve had some messed up dreams lately and at least this one didn’t fall into that category. Instead it was just… weird. It was about my volunteer shift at the animal hospital on Thursday—the day after Rachel and I made up and Avery found out about Fletcher. Dr. Brooks had me working the front desk because the receptionist was out. About an hour before my shift ended, Vivien Tanner and her mom came in with an ancient cat. He’d had a few seizures and they were there to put him down.

  Dr. Brooks took Mrs. Tanner and Roscoe to the back while Vivien filled out the paperwork. I had to give her credit though. For as much as she tried to get my attention in school, she seemed to be behaving herself that night. She returned the clipboard and paid for the visit, then went back to the waiting area and played on her phone, never making eye contact with me. I heard her sniffling as I finished re-filing the day’s charts, but ignored them. Vivien struck me as the kind of girl to take a mile when you give her an inch, you know? When they persisted, I felt like an ass, so I walked over to the chair next to her.

  “I’m sorry about your loss.” I had no idea what she was going through because I’d never had a pet before Laz. I’d be pretty bummed if something happened to him.

  “We’ve had that cat since I was two.” She whimpered again, so I grabbed some Kleenex off the bookshelf and passed it to her. She dabbed her eyes and fiddled with her phone a bit more. “I really appreciate your kindness. I know I must look like a mess right now. When you see me at school, just pretend like you never saw me with mascara running down my face, okay?”

  “You have nothing to worry about, Vivien. You’re a beautiful girl.” Against my better judgment, I offered her a quick hug then stood to return to the front desk.

  “Thanks James. That means so much to me.”

  “Any time.”

  Brushing my weird dream aside, I turn my attention to the feeling of Rachel’s body next to mine. Part of me wishes I could ditch our plans for the day—whatever they are—and stay just like this. We still need to sit down and figure out our schedules for the next few months. Mom said I could fly up here once a month to see Rachel (thank you, extra money from selling the farm), and I’m pretty sure Fletcher will let me crash at his house. It’s not the most ideal solution, but it’s the best one I have at the moment. I realize that I never had a chance to sing the song I wrote for her and make a mental note to do that when we get home. Technically, I don’t need to since we’re back together, but I’d like her to know how I felt when we weren’t.

  “What’s that you’re humming?” Her breath is huskier than normal, and the sound travels straight to my groin. I hadn’t given much thought to that morning issue guys deal with, but it’s becoming more pronounced as each second passes.

  “Humming?” I release her body and shift to my side to stare her. And also to put some distance between my midsection and hers. Boxers can only hide so much.

  “Yeah, I woke up to you humming. What was it?”

  “The song I wrote for you. I didn’t get a chance to play it for you yet.”

  “Well then, we’ll have to fix that.”

  She kisses me on the cheek then sits up to stretch, revealing the design on her pajamas—polar bears and ice cream bars. “I meant to compliment you on your choice of nighttime apparel. Very cute.”

  “What would you do for a Klondike bar, Mr. Tennyson?” she asks with a wicked grin.

  “I plead the fifth.” I need some space before I embarrass us both, so I decide it’s a good time to get out of bed. I rummage through my suitcase on the way to the bathroom when Rachel leaps off the bed and kneels down in front of me. I suck in a breath and will all of my appendages to behave themselves.

  “Um. Can I help you?”

  “I can’t believe I forgot about your other two tattoos. This is gorgeous.” She traces her finger over a tattoo of a compass and treasure map that wraps around my left calf.

  “Why does the banner say ‘Home Sweet Home’?”

  “With as much as we moved, I figured I could use all the help I could get to find my home.”

  “And did it work?”

  “It did. I found you. My home and my treasure all in one. And God, that sounded a lot less corny in my head.” I facepalm as we both laugh.

  “And this is tattoo number four?” she asks, tapping the top of my left foot.

  “Yup. It’s the Braille word for faith.”

  “What’s the story behind that one?”

  “This was actually the last one I got. I was talking to Gran about my map and compass tattoo and I mentioned being worried that I’d never figure out where I was supposed be. What if I never found the ‘X’ on my map, you know? She said I needed to keep the faith, even when I couldn’t see it. So, blind faith.”

  “Leave it to Gran to have simple answers to life’s problems.” Rachel shifts over to her luggage. “Did she tell you she came to see me on Wednesday?”

  “No, I had no idea.”

  “Yeah, she talked some sense into me. Which included her calling me stupid a few times.” She laughs and pulls an outfit from her suitcase. “It was a nice visit though. We talked about y’all’s move and what that means for us.”

  “Gran reminds me of that girl from Peanuts that sets up the sign that says ‘Psychiatric help, five cents. God, I’m gonna miss her.” I’m trying to adapt her “struggle with joy” mentality, but it’s not always easy. I pull my clothes from my suitcase and look up to see Rachel’s eyebrows drawn together.

  “Why would you
miss her? You’re moving to Florida, right?”

  “Right. I didn’t want to, but that changed when I found out about her cancer.”

  “Gran has cancer?” Her hand flies to her mouth and tears well in her eyes.

  “She didn’t tell you?” Shit. I drop the clothes in my hand and pull Rachel into my arms. “I’m so sorry, Ray. I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about it yet. I found out Wednesday morning. When you said she came to your house, I figured she told you too. She’s dealt with it off and on for the last several years, but it’s back and it’s not going away.”

  “How can someone as amazing as Gran have such a horrible disease?” she asks between sobs.

  “Fuck if I know. I still can’t believe it either.” We sit on the bed as I fill her in on everything Gran told me, complete with her dirty jokes. Thankfully, they did their job, and Rachel finally smiles.

  “You know what this means, right?” she asks, wiping her face.

  “What?”

  “We’re gonna need all of her pie recipes.”

  Avery didn’t skimp on the NYC tourism plans. So far, we’ve covered Jane’s Carousel and Battery Park with a lot of ogling in between. Rachel made us walk across the Brooklyn Bridge on the way back and took no less than four hundred pictures along the way. She decided she wants to decorate her dorm room with a mosaic of our pictures, including a photo of our hands making a heart at every place we’ve stopped. I like to tease her about it, but I don’t mind.

  “James, wait! I wanna get one of us kissing with the Statue of Liberty in the background!”

  “Babe, you took that about five minutes ago. I know, because you texted it to me right after.” I lift my phone as proof. “See? Liberty in love. And you got the one of our heart hands. I’m starving and Avery promised us Chinese. Why don’t I get a photo of you hailing your first taxi?” A guy across the street catches my attention as I snap the picture. He’s well-dressed in dark jeans and a black jacket, yet he doesn’t look out of place in the middle of the runners and families visiting Battery Park. His dark hair is cropped short, giving him the appearance of a clean-cut guy. He’s too far away for me to get a better look at his face, though. Aviator sunglasses block his eyes, but I can still feel him staring at me. It’s one of those movie moments where everything fades away except you and the person watching you. Except this feels more like a scene from a horror movie than a chick flick. Instinctively, I grab Rachel’s hand and lead her into the taxi. I keep eye contact—well, sunglasses contact—until the last possible minute. I don’t know who he is, but I don’t like him.

  “Hey, do you know that guy?” I ask Avery when she shuts the door.

  “What guy?”

  “The one over there.” I point, but the spot he was standing on is now empty.

  “Why would you think I know a random dude on the street in the middle of New York City?” She shakes her head and laughs at me, then gives the cabbie the address to the restaurant.

  “Wait.” I pull up the photo on my phone and zoom in to show her, but I guess I caught him as he hailed his own cab because his hand is blocking his face.

  “Yup, I totally know him. That’s the kid who sat next to me in fifth grade. Seriously, James?” She gives me another headshake and turns her attention to her own phone.

  “You okay?” Rachel asks quietly, eyeing me.

  I look out the back windshield one last time as the cabbie eases into traffic. “Yeah, I think so. Something about that guy gives me the willies. He was probably a director for a porno movie looking for his next star. Too bad you’re only seventeen,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. The last thing I want is her worrying over nothing.

  At least I hope it’s nothing.

  The cab ride was short and didn’t end with any major whiplash, so I consider it a victory. Avery’s dad gave us his credit card for an all-expenses paid day in the city so taxis and food are covered. I’m glad she had the sense to take us to an all-you-can-eat buffet in Chinatown because I’m finishing my third plate. “What did you say your dad does again? I couldn’t imagine forking over my credit card to my teenager and her friends,” I ask around a mouth full of chicken fried rice.

  “He’s a hedge fund manager.”

  “What is that?”

  “I have no idea. When I was little, I told my teacher he took care of the landscaping at banks.” She laughs and spears another pork dumpling.

  “Do you miss living in the city?” Rachel asks.

  “Sometimes, but he and Mom were so unhappy that I was glad when we moved to North Carolina. The city is an amazing place, but I wouldn’t want to raise my kids here.”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “It’s hard to explain.” She pauses for another bite of lo mein. “It’s like the city forces you to grow up too fast. I mean, y’all saw the kids on the train by themselves this morning. Nine and ten years old, and it’s perfectly normal. Just try to imagine Sammy riding the train by herself five years from now.” She frowns and twirls more noodles around her fork. “I miss her.” She hasn’t talked much about Fletcher since Wednesday night, but she’s obviously still upset. “Anyway, enough of that.” She signals for the check. “I have more to show y’all and the day’s not getting any younger.”

  When the waiter comes, she scribbles her dad’s name and passes out our fortune cookies.

  “You go first, James,” Ray says.

  I break the cookie and take a bite before I read the fortune. “When you’re lying on black and white, make sure your choice is right.” For a split second, my body feels twice as heavy and goose bumps erupt all over my body. I plaster a smile on my face and slip my jacket on before anyone notices.

  “Lying is never the right choice,” Avery says with an eye roll.

  “Avery, it wasn’t like he was lying to just you,” Rachel says quietly. “He was doing what he thought was best for Sam.”

  “Well, what’s best for Avery is no lying. After everything I told him about Derrick, he should have known better.” She cracks open her fortune cookie. “A man with brown eyes has a surprise for you. Just what I fucking need.” She rolls her eyes again.

  “Okay, Mrs. Tennyson. Your turn,” I say, trying to ease the tension around the table.

  “You will be hungry again in thirty minutes. James, I think I got yours by mistake.” She sticks her tongue out at me. On the way out, I slide my fortune into my wallet. I need to figure out what it means and why I reacted the way I did.

  “Where to next, Beef?” Rachel asks.

  “It’s time to see the city from the top. We’re going to the Empire State Building.” Her smile’s back, which is good. We can save the serious discussion about Fletcher for later. Avery leads us through crowded streets to the subway. I have no idea how far underground we are, but I’m pretty sure we’d survive the zombie apocalypse down here. The girls take a slew of selfies on the way, and Avery snaps a not-so-discrete picture of the guy next to me. Apparently there’s a thing on Instagram called Hot Dudes Reading. Who knew?

  The doors open to music at the 34th Street and Herald Square station, so we walk toward it. Four guys have set up a makeshift stage and we catch the last few seconds of a song. “Is it always like this?” I ask Avery.

  “What, random shit in the subway?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Always,” she says with a laugh. “We could probably go a few stops up and see a man with a dancing dog.”

  When they start into the next song, I grab Rachel’s hand and start dancing with her. If there’s such a thing as perfect moments in the universe, this is one.

  “What song is this?”

  “It’s called Cold Night by You Me at Six.” I don’t bother telling her any more than that and sing to her instead. I’ve always loved this song, but after the news about Florida, it’s even more fitting.

  “Thanks, everyone! We’ll be back in a few.” The lead singer steps down and walks into the men’s room.

  “That was pretty badass, dude,”
I tell the guitarist.

  “Thanks man! We’re just out here havin’ some fun and makin’ a few bucks.” He takes a hit off an e-cigarette and tunes his guitar. “If you like what you heard, we’ve got a couple of CDs for sale.”

  “Arizona Grace, huh?” I ask, picking up a disc. “Y’all ever been out there?”

  “Nope,” he laughs, but doesn’t elaborate.

  “You should. The scenery is worth the trip.” I take a ten out of my wallet to pay for the CD and turn to Rachel. “Can you put this in your purse?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Tennyson.” The look on her face tells me she’s up to something.

  “Excuse me, what’s your name?” she asks the guitarist.

  “Lenny.”

  “Hi, Lenny.” She flashes a grin at him. “I have a request. Would you mind if my boyfriend borrowed your guitar?”

  “What?” we both ask in unison.

  “He wrote a song for me a few days ago, but hasn’t had a chance to play it yet. I figured he could keep the crowd warmed up while your other guy is in the bathroom.”

  Lenny and I look at each other, then back at Rachel.

  “Uh. I guess?” He looks about as confused as I do but lifts the strap off his shoulder and holds it out toward me.

  “A little warning next time, Ray?” I smile and shake my head. I can’t believe she’s doing this to me.

  “You shouldn’t need any warning,” she says with a smirk. “A good musician is always ready, right?”

  “Whatever you say.” I take the stage and adjust the mic. “Okay, Ray. Technically, I don’t need to sing it to you, but here’s your song. This is Be With Me.”

  He winks at me, then strums the opening chord.

  Be With Me

  When you walked in that room

  My heart started beating for you