“I know,” I say.
“Sorry, Ally, I shouldn’t have said anything,” Knight says. “I’ll meet you outside,” he nods to Rain, shows her his keys, and strides out.
“He just. Ryan means a lot to him,” Rain says.
“I know.”
She gives me an apologetic smile. I leave the office the opposite way she does, out onto the deck.
Everyone’s so freakin’ worried about Ryan. Sweet Ryan. Awesome Ryan. Don’t let that dirty, poor Ally mess him up. Like he’s an angel and I’m something from hell that’s going to burn him.
No one’s worried about me. No one’s asking about me. No one’s telling Ryan to back off. Why does everyone assume he’s the hero and I’m the villain?
I catch my reflection in the mirror. I get it. I play the part. I keep everyone out. But deep down, I know I’m not that hard. And I know I’m not bad.
I’d never play Ryan, I’d punch anyone in the face who hurt him. But no one else sees that.
I’ve taken care of myself for a long time. I haven’t usually resented it. I tried to let someone else care and it went bad. So I went off alone again. And it was all fine, until Ryan.
Ryan, who keeps reminding me that deep down somewhere I don’t want to acknowledge, I want more.
I want so much more than this.
A whistle blows outside and I snap back to attention. It’s my job after all. Where was I?
I hear a splash and run towards it, feet pounding the hard deck, searching for Ryan with my eyes. I don’t see him.
Gwen, the guard on station, is standing there, frozen. Damnit.
It’s always hard to tell what a guard will do until they have their first save.
The person stroking out to the drowning victim is Ryan, fully clothed in his sup polo. He has Gwen’s tube, tucks it quickly him and the vic, and swims back steadily, her in his arms. The vic’s a pretty girl, long blonde hair, the golden kind, not white like mine. She looks small and safe in his arms, and for a second, I’m jealous.
But I turn it off, like I can just turn a knob and it’s gone. I’m good at locking things up like that.
I reach down to the vic, who has just reached the wall. She won’t let go of Ryan. She’s just clinging on to him. I reach for her hands.
“Grab my hand, I’ll pull you up.”
She looks up at me, somewhat hesitant. I’m not Ryan. Not gentle and unintimidating.
“I’m fine,” she says. She stands up and leaves her hands on Ryan’s shoulders. “Thank you for saving me, Ryan.” she tells him with a shy smile.
Ryan blushes.
My mouth drops, and I pull my jaw back up. “You know each other?”
“No,” she says, “it’s on his tag.”
“Oh. Of course.” I back away. Ryan’s looking up at me now, an odd expression on his face. Is he wondering why I’m here helping with the rescue when he clearly has it under control? ‘Cause that’s what I’m wondering. “I’ll uh, I’ll just go.”
“You can’t be in the lap lane if you can’t swim,” Ryan says to Emily, moving out from under her hands. “I’ll either need you to get out or put on a lifejacket.”
Gotta love a guy who has no problem telling a grown woman to put on a lifejacket. I grin to myself as I walk over to the kids area where a guard has just blown a whistle because two women are in a screaming match over deck chairs. I break them up, threaten them both with ejection, and suddenly no one cares about chairs anymore.
I brush my hands off, wait for any more double whistles, and head to the guard room for water. I can’t find mine in the fridge, and then I see a bottle hovering just above where I’m searching. I grab it and shut the door.
“Thanks,” I say, turning to face whoever just saved me.
A pair of searching green eyes meets mine. “You’re welcome.”
I back away from him like he’s a fire and I’m gas.
He sighs. “Is there something wrong, Ally?”
“No. I mean, why does it matter? I made myself clear the other day, right?”
“Yeah, I just.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”
“Fine.”
“Sounded like a fight.”
“I took care of it.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
“I know.” The air crackles between us. I still don’t like the thought of that woman in his arms. But it doesn’t matter. He bites his bottom lip. His upper lip has a really defined shape, and it’s emphasized when he does that.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, I’m just sick of you being so innocent.”
“I’m not innocent.”
“Then why are all your friends standing up for you?”
“Isn’t that what friends do?” He looks out at the deck. Nothing happening. Typical Tuesday.
“I don’t know.”
“You’d stand up for me,” he says.
“How do you know?”
He shrugs. “I’d stand up for you.”
“I don’t need anyone to stand up for me,” I say, tossing his water bottle back to him, still open, so that it sloshes on him. I like his hair a bit wet. I stop at the door, wrap my hand around it and turn back to him. “But yes, I would stand up for you. If you ever needed it,” I say.
He smiles at me. It feels like we’re back on somehow. Not where we were when we ate cloud steak, but somewhere nice. Somewhere safe.
***
I get off mid-day. Chris and Sarah are coming in for the afternoon sup shift. I sit at the main table. Ryan will be off in a few minutes. He’s on the guard shift and he’ll need to make sure they finish their rotation. Amy comes into the break room.
“Hey Ally.”
Her brown hair is fuzzy from the humidity. It’s soft and thick, and you sort of want to pet it. “Hey babe.”
“Don’t call me babe,” she says, flopping into a chair, tired but not too tired to bat her eyes at me. “You might give me ideas.”
“Heaven forbid,” I say, pulling my (Knight’s) baseball hat around to the back so I can see her better.
I’m not worried about it though. Amy’s about as into girls as I am. I think she’s just afraid to disappoint her mothers with the news that she’s straight. Everyone knows it but her. And maybe Geoff, who’s always trying to prove it to her, and always irritated when she’s flirting with a chick. Like now.
“Geez Amy, keep it in your pants,” he grumbles, passing us to go to the fridge. He’s a few inches taller than me. He started when I did and we got along right away. He has full sleeve tattoos. Stocky, very strong. Scruffier than Knight and Ryan. Has a motorcycle. Runs with some of the same crew I do. From the other side of town compared to peeps like Amy and Ryan.
“Hey G.” I hold out my hand for a knuckle bump and Geoff returns it, then grabs a chair next to me and straddles it, ignoring Amy, who’s now glaring at him.
“I don’t see why I should,” she says. “None of the guys do. Keep it in their pants, I mean.” She turns to me in a way that blocks him out of the convo. “So how are things going with Ryan?”
I can see Geoff’s eyes widen in my peripheral vision. Shoot. “There are no things. We’re just coworkers. Why the hell is everyone asking me about this?”
“Maybe because Ryan has been here four years, longer than most of us, and we haven’t seen him date. Not really.”
“Don’t like it? Next time don’t crap where you eat,” Geoff says.
“I didn’t crap where I eat. In fact, I don’t crap at all,” I say, more loudly than I meant to. Geoff and Amy both look behind me. Amy clears her throat.
A deep cough sounds from behind me, and my face goes red. Amy and Geoff burst into simultaneous laughter.
“He’s behind me, isn’t he?” I turn slowly.
He tries to keep a straight face, and then moves his hand suspiciously across his mouth in a way that look suspiciously like wiping away a smile.
“Something fu
nny?”
He smiles and presses his lips together. “Not really.”
“Nope, just Ally, who doesn’t crap,” Geoff says.
“Mmhmm.” Ryan laughs as he goes to the fridge and takes out lunch. “That sounds uncomfortable.”
My ears are burning now. “Fine, have a laugh. Go ahead.”
“Ally, calm down.” Amy puts a hand on my arm. “There’s a party tonight. My place. Come with me.”
I glare over at Ryan.
“He’s invited too.”
That’s not what I was going for. I sigh and put my hand over my face. “Great.”
Amy turns to Geoff. “You aren’t.” She yells the address to Ryan, right over Geoff’s head. Geoff rolls his eyes. I’m sure he’ll be there. He winks at me, and I smile.
“Don’t encourage him, Ally.”
“Sure, sure,” I say, standing.
“You gonna be there, Ryan?” she asks.
My ears stand up at this. I wait on pins and needles, but don’t turn to look. He doesn’t say anything. The guard room door opens, and closes.
“Rude,” I say.
“You know, that’s just Ryan,” Amy says, covering a yawn with her hand. “He gave a shrug though, so maybe that means something? You know he doesn’t like to talk.”
“I know.” He talks to me though. At least he did before I scared him away by saying he wasn’t my type and I couldn’t possibly like him and he should just give up.
“Come over to my house now. You can help me get ready. And I can get you ready,” Amy says, rubbing her hands together.
“Ugh.” I groan. But I do need a friend right now. “Okay.”
“Let me get my lunch. We can eat at my place.” She goes to the fridge. “Hey Ally, I got yours too.”
“My what?”
“Your lunch.”
“I don’t have a lunch.”
“Yeah you do. Oh wait, hold on.” She pulls something out. “There’s a note on it.”
I stomp over. “Give me that.”
It’s a Tupperware, with two perfectly wrapped sandwiches inside. There’s a note on the top.
“Hope you like it. Stinky fish not included.”
I pull it open, take one out, and bite into it.
Just like I like it.
Sonovabeech.
I tell Amy I’ll meet her outside and run out the guard doors. No Ryan. I run outside, put my hand above my eyes to scan the sidewalk. I don’t see him. Then I do, far across the parking lot. I break into a run, nearly lose my hat, and have to grab it and hold it on to run.
“Ryan!”
He turns, and his ponytail lifts in the wind. “Ally? What’s wrong?”
I reach him and bend forward to catch my breath, hands on my knees. “Sonovabeech, just how I like it.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just how I like it.” I throw the rest of the sandwich at him, it bounces and he catches it with one hand. I guess on top of everything else, he has panther reflexes.
“And that’s a problem?” He lifts his shoulders and stares down at me.
I stalk towards him, back him up against the driver’s side of his car. “Yeah, it’s a problem.” I jab him in the chest, enjoying the quick feel of his muscles. “You’re making things complicated. You’re messing me up. And you don’t seem to get what everyone else does. That I’m not good enough for you.”
His eyebrows lower, and I slam into his mouth. His lips are firm against mine, his hands still at his side. I hear a squishy thud as he drops my sandwich. I push hard against his lips, put my hand up to pull on his hair. I’m trying to make it rough, bruising. Trying to see if he’s game. I can’t part his lips. What the hell?
He puts a gentle hand on my shoulder and pushes me back. “Ally, what was that?”
“What do you think? I’m trying to molest you!” I push him back, hold his arms against his sides. I kiss him again, push his head back till it rests against the car. His lips open, and he laughs and pulls away.
“Ally, you can’t molest me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want you.” His face is so calm, and clear. How can he just say what he means like that?
“Well, I don’t want you,” I say. I’m no good at being honest. Not when I can get hurt. I wipe off my mouth. “That was just punishment for the sandwich.”
“Sorry?” he says, a small smile playing at the corners of his gorgeous mouth. I want to feel his chest. But I won’t. I have some freakin’ control.
“You better be at Amy’s party.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Why?”
“’Cause by then I’ll have thought of a better punishment.”
His eyes widen. How can someone so big look innocent? I wish I was innocent. I wish I was still protectable. Everyone has already given up on that. “I’ll try.”
I shrug. “See you there.”
I have to go eat that other damn sandwich.
***
“Too femme,” I say, staring at the mirror and trying to rub off my blush. Who wants clown cheeks?
“It looks good,” Amy says.
“Why do you have to do everyone’s makeup?”
“I don’t know, it’s just what I’m good at. I do it for my moms. Maybe I’ll do cosmetology school some day.”
“Fat chance, with your parents.”
“I know. I think they’re hoping that after my year off I’ll go somewhere Ivy League.”
“Could you?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to apply.”
I nod. “‘You know, you gotta live for you at some point. Not them. They would want you to be happy.” Not like I should know anything about parents. But I know hers seem like good ones. It’s kinda unfair that she has two moms, and I have none.
There’s a knock on the door, and Shannon, Amy’s mom, pops her head around the corner. She’s pretty and blonde, short and curvaceous. Sort of a blond version of Amy, even though Amy is adopted. “You girls need anything?”
“No, thanks mom.”
“Ally! You look adorable! Lisa, come see this!” Shannon puts her hands on my shoulders to lean in and study my face. “So cute!”
Lisa comes around the door. She’s tall, athletic, and has hair shorter than me. She’s still feminine and pretty, but tough as well. Hard where Lisa is soft. She gives me a sympathetic glance, because she’s been subject to Amy’s makeovers before.
Amy just doesn’t seem to get that some of us just don’t have any desire to wear the damn stuff.
“Did I hear someone mention Ivy League?” Shannon asks.
“Mom! Eavesdropping.”
“Sorry, sorry,” she says, pulling back and wringing her hands. She leans back against Lisa. “We were just walking by. Couldn’t help it.”
Amy groans and puts her hand over her face. Lisa winks at me and pulls Shannon out of the room.
I know they think we are more than friends. Amy likes to let them think that. Seriously, she’s about as scared to come out of the straight closet to her gay parents as a gay kid would be to come out to their straight parents. I sigh.
“What’s up?” she says. “Thinking of Ryan?” She flutters her eyelashes, and it’s cute. So I try it, but it feels awful, and judging by Amy’s laugh, looks awful too.
“No.”
“Those were nice sandwiches he made you.”
“What?” I jerk back. “How did you know?”
She stands and puts her brushes away, then sits on the twin bed across from the one I’m sitting on. “Who else would do something like that?”
“Why? Because I’m unlikeable or something?”
“No, I just think someone else might have been afraid to. Ryan marches very much to the beat of his own drum.”
“He’s a weirdo, if that’s what you mean.”
She laughs, and goes to her jewelry box. She pulls out a necklace, and earrings. “You’re silly,” she says, handing me the trinkets. “Put these on. They’ll match well.”
> “Match what?” I glare into her sparkling brown eyes.
She drops the trinkets in my lap and runs to the closet. She cackles and pulls something out. “What you’re wearing tonight.”
“Oh no,” I say, backing up. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not getting that on me. No way, no how.”
But she creeps closer, a maniacal grin on her pretty little tan face. “Come on Ally, just for one night.”
“No, you can’t make me,” I put a hand out and back up till I hit the headboard.
“We’ll see about that.” She tackles me, and after a prolonged struggle, I get out from under her, weird pink thing in hand.
“Fine, fine. I’ll put it on. Sheesh.”
“I’m just willing to fight for beauty,” she says.
I stomp to the bathroom and throw it on. I stomp out and stand with legs spread. “So?”
“Well.” She laughs. “Maybe it would look better if you took your shorts out from underneath.”
“I’m not wearing this thing without shorts.”
She goes to the closet, pulls out something only a bit longer than a pair of drawers. “These, then.”
“Those aren’t shorts, they’re underwears.”
“They’re for working out.”
I frown down at them, stretch them in my hands. “They’re tight.” I go into the bathroom and put them on. “I can’t wear these,” I say. “They’re like a prison for my butt.”
“They’re Spanx, that’s the point.”
“They’re horrible. Besides, I don’t have anything to spank.” I’m a rail, unlike her, with her soft curves. I’m jealous, but then again I’m not, because she’s vulnerable, and I’m not, so much. Curves don’t help you run, or fight.
“Well, you said you had to wear shorts.”
“Fine.”
I cross my arms. My ears are on fire as she looks me over. I feel like I’m crossdressing. I mean, I do feel like I’m a girl inside, but not this kind. Like I’m somewhere between boy and girl, and that’s where I’m comfortable.
“Do I look like a drag queen?”
She frowns and looks taken aback. “No. Are you kidding? Did you even look in the mirror?” She pushes me back into the bathroom, forces me to face the mirror. I’m so much bigger than her but she’s great at pushing me around.
But she’s someone who cares, and I don’t want to lose that. I don’t have much of that. Unless you count Ryan and his damn sandwiches.
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