Anything Less Than Everything

by Adkins, Heather

  Back in the present, Jill walked into my room without knocking, interrupting my thoughts and adding to the speculation surrounding my trip. “What are you wearing on the plane?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t thought about it yet.” Jill rolled her eyes at me.

  “Brooke, in about fifteen hours you are going to see a super famous, gorgeous athlete. You will be watched by all. Maybe even photographed. What you wear matters.” Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

  “Aaron doesn’t care what I wear. He’s my friend.” The more I said it out loud, the easier it became to believe it.

  “Whatever you say,” she said. “But my advice is to wear this.” She pulled the yellow and gray sundress we bought on our last shopping trip. I took it and laid in on the chair by my bed as she pulled some shoes and jewelry to go with it. I let her pack most of my suitcase, but put my foot down when she tried to oust my shorts, tees and running shoes. I was going to spend the weekend with an elite athlete, after all. I was just adding the last items to my suitcase when my phone rang. Jill rolled her eyes and left the room. I stuck my tongue out at her in return.

  “Hey,” I said as I answered the phone.

  “Hey,” he replied, then paused.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Just counting how many hours until I see you.” This boy could really make me smile.

  “Fourteen,” I said. And in fourteen hours I would be able to see Aaron smile instead of just imagining that he was.

  “Which means...” I could hear him calculating in him head, “...that you’ll be getting up in six hours?”

  “Five. Which means I should probably pack more and talk less tonight.”

  “And sleep.”

  “Yeah, something tells me I won’t do much of that, though.”

  “Whatever in the world would make it difficult to sleep tonight, Brooke?” His voice was thick with mock questioning.

  “Hmm, I don’t know. It might have something to do with the cause of my packing and waking up at a ridiculous hour.”

  “Oh, right, the conference.” His eyes were glittering with laughter, I just knew it.

  “If that’s what you want to call it,” I said. Despite my nervousness, I had no problem telling Aaron how excited I was to see him because I knew his excitement matched mine.

  “So how was your day with the family?” I asked.

  “Wonderful,” he said. “I got my fill, though, so I’m all yours for the weekend.”

  “I don’t mind hanging out with your family,” I said.

  “I do,” he replied.

  “Is this how you act after not seeing Brandon or the other guys for awhile?” I teased.

  “Of course,” he laughed. The conversation stalled there. My thoughts were on the fact that I’d be seeing Aaron very shortly. I guessed his were on the same.

  “I should probably go finish packing,” I said.

  “Yeah. And sleep. I need you awake for tomorrow.”

  “Yes, and sleep.”

  Neither of us made an attempt to hang up. “Okay,” he said finally, “I’ll let you go. Be safe tomorrow.”

  “I will. And, Aaron? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Yes, you will. Sweet dreams, Brooke.”

  Chapter 21

  The morning was pretty much a blur of getting ready, dragging Jill out of bed, last minute packing and stressing about the traffic. Fortunately, security was a breeze and I made it to my gate with plenty of time to grab a caramel latte.

  Once on the plane I sent Aaron a text: omw. I don’t think he was awake yet, because I didn’t get a reply before I had to power down my phone for takeoff.

  The lack of Nashville to Milwaukee flights meant a layover in Atlanta, one of my least favorite airports. Storms surrounded the area, and even though the pilot tried to fly around them, it was a rough flight. The new route also delayed our landing by about twenty minutes. Fortunately my connecting flight was only a few gates away, but even then I barely made it on time.

  The plane was full, and so I took the first seat I could find next to a girl about my age whose springy red curls screamed perkiness. I was tired and nervous and was really hoping to catch a short nap. Something told me, though, that that wasn’t going to happen with this particular seat mate.

  I’d barely had a chance to stow my purse and bag under the seat in front of me before she started talking.

  “Can you believe these storms?” she asked by way of introduction. “I hope it’s not raining in Milwaukee. Is that where you are going?”

  “It is,” I said politely, but without the extra that might encourage more conversation. She needed no encouragement.

  “Me, too!” I’ve never been there before. Have you?” I shook my head. “I’m going for some work training.” I smiled in acknowledgement and took out my magazine, hoping that would send the message that I didn’t want to talk. “Why are you traveling there?” Realizing that it was hopeless, I placed my magazine in my lap.

  “I’m attending a conference,” I said, “but first I’m going to spend a few days with my best friend who is from there.”

  “Ooh! A girl’s weekend! So lots of shopping and stuff, right?” My first instinct was just to agree, but somehow I knew this nameless girl would continue the conversation in ways I wouldn’t be able to respond to if I didn’t explain now.

  “Well, not exactly,” I said. “My best friend is a guy, so not so much on the shopping, I wouldn’t think.” Her eyes got even wider, which did not seem possible. “He plays college football, and so I’m guessing we’ll do something more athletic than walk the mall.”

  “That sounds so romantic,” she said.

  “Whoa, I said, best friend, not boyfriend. Nothing romantic there.”

  “Oh, right,” she said a little dejectedly. I opened my magazine again, and this time she let me read in peace. Unfortunately, though, I couldn’t concentrate on the words. All I could think about was that in about two hours I would get to see Aaron. Crazy.

  Because I was so late getting on the plane, I was seated in the way back, and had to wait forever to deplane. I fidgeted nervously, craning my neck to check the progress of the line. The first instant I could squeeze out of the aisle, I was gone, with nothing but a “have a nice trip” to perky girl.

  My heart pounded as I walked through the terminal. I tried to slow my breathing, hoping that would in turn slow my heart beat. I ducked into the first restroom I saw. Even though I knew I wasn’t supposed to care, I couldn’t help but want to look nice. Or at least decent. I combed through my hair and added some powder and lipstick. Not bad. I looked like me, and the reflection still surprised me sometimes after working so hard for so long to be someone else.

  I took a few more deep breaths. I could do this. I could see Aaron, whom I loved, and be okay with being his friend. It wouldn’t be weird; I would make sure of it.

  I left the bathroom and followed the signs to baggage claim, where Aaron said he’d meet me. The airport was huge and crowded, with confusing signage, all of which made the walk seem that much longer, which gave me time to get both nervous and excited again.

  When I finally found the right place, I scanned the crowd from the down escalator. There he was, standing near the windows in the rear of the space. Our eyes locked just as I made it to the bottom, and we both broke into smiles. It was all I could do to not sprint towards him; fortunately, Aaron’s tall frame allowed him to cover the space three times as quickly as I.

  As soon as we were within arm’s distance of one another, we threw our arms around each other in what can only be described as the best hug ever. So easy, so natural. So right.

  “I cannot believe you’re here,” Aaron whispered into my hair. I pulled away and looked up at him. And though I was ecstatic to see him, I was able to put the butterflies in their place easily and just be happy to be with my best friend. I can do this, I thought.

  Aaron retrieved my suitcase from the baggag
e carousel and carried it as we walked to his truck. It seemed a fitting vehicle for him: large, but sleek and simple in its design, plenty of room for his football stuff in the back. He opened my door for me (#56) and quickly walked around to his side and got in.

  As he drove through the winding lanes out of the airport, the realization that I was actually sitting right next to Aaron hit me. I was with my best friend. Finally. Who was much hotter than my memory gave him credit for. Ugh. I needed him to talk about ordinary, boring things so I wouldn’t have time to think about it. But he didn’t, instead letting being in the same area code be enough.

  I kept my eyes trained on the passing landscape in order to keep from staring at Aaron. The blur of trees helped calm me down. Until I felt Aaron’s eyes on me. I turned to look at him. “What?” I asked, my cheeks burning.

  “I just can’t believe you are here.” He was smiling that half smile I didn’t even realize I had missed so much. I smiled in return, though shyly. And then I realized something: this felt okay, normal. I was fine with being Aaron’s best friend. It was perfect, actually. I sighed in relief and turned back to Aaron.

  “So what do you have planned for us today?” I asked.

  “Well, assuming you’re probably running on latte right about now,” he glanced over at me with a knowing look, “I thought we’d start with lunch. Mom should have it ready about the time we get there.”

  “And you’re sure your parents are okay with me crashing at their place for a few days?”

  “Brooke. It’s fine. Mom is always complaining that the guest room doesn’t get enough use.”

  Traffic was light, and we pulled into a classic subdivision what seemed like only minutes later. “Almost there,” he said as he deftly navigated the cul-de-sac studded streets and turned into the driveway of a large house on a corner. “Here we are.” Aaron turned off the ignition and looked over at me. “Ready?” he asked, reaching over and squeezing my hand.

  “Whenever you are,” I answered.

  Chapter 22

  He brought my suitcase up the walk with me following behind him. The front door was unlocked, and he held it open for me to walk through. The visible rooms looked straight out of Dwell. Seriously. The accessories were perfectly coordinated, but didn’t look forced. And it somehow looked both magazine-worthy and comfortable at the same time. I resisted the urge to pull out my journal and take notes.

  But it was more than just the fact that it was a nice house. It felt like I belonged here, and not because the decor agreed with me. In the past I had gone to friends’ homes and felt weird in my surroundings. Like the furnishings mimicked the vibe in the rooms. Spencer’s house-both his parents’ and his college space-was like that. I had never been all that comfortable there, always feeling out of place. I tended to sit primly on the edge of the furniture. I assumed the difference was because I was so much more comfortable with Aaron than I had ever been with Spencer. With my boyfriend. And like with Spencer, the friendships where I felt weird being in their home eventually faded. It wasn’t consciously a result of the house, of course, but there was certainly something to it.

  “Aaron, honey, is that you?”

  “Hey, Mom,” he called back. His mom walked around the corner, looking like an accessory for the living room. She was dressed casually in capris, a fitted top and ballet flats with hair and makeup done. And, yet, it wasn’t overdone. Her face broke into a smile in greeting.

  “Brooke! It is so good to finally meet you!” She walked toward me with open arms, enveloping me in a hug. “I’m Liz.”

  “I forgot to warn you,” Aaron said, as he leaned back on his heels, hands in his jeans pockets. “Mom’s a hugger.”

  “Yes, I am,” she said, giving me a quick squeeze. “How was your flight?”

  “Good,” I said. I couldn’t help but smile at her warmth and friendliness. “Thank you so much for letting me stay with y’all. I hope I’m not imposing.”

  “Pshaw,” she waved my comment away. “We love having Aaron’s friends visit. Especially when it gets him home for a few days,” she added with a wink at him. Aaron rolled his eyes.

  “Lunch ready?” he asked. “I’m sure Brooke is starving.”

  “Brooke!” I said with mock alarm. “You’re the one with the bottomless pit for a stomach.” Liz laughed, nodding.

  “Everything is ready. Aaron, why don’t you show Brooke the guest room and help her get settled. I’ll go hunt down Sara.”

  Aaron led the way up the grand front staircase. He stopped at the second door and gestured for me to go in. The room was lovely, like the rest of the house. A bed dressed in neutrals with a French twist graced one wall; a dresser sat across from it; a comfy looking chair snugged into a corner. Aaron placed my suitcase in the chair.

  “The bathroom is through here,” he said, opening a door next to the dresser. I followed him into the space. “Extra towels are in the closet there--” he pointed to a door, “and there’s a small drugstore under the sink if you need shampoo or toothpaste or anything.”

  “And what’s through that door?” I asked, indicating a door directly across from the one leading to the guestroom.

  “Uh, that’s my room,” Aaron said, just a bit uncomfortably.

  “Oooh! This I have to see,” I teased. I walked into his room without waiting for an invitation and took a look around. It was neat--much neater than I expected of a boy’s room. The bed was actually made, the comforter a basic navy, the furniture simple. Certificates, plaques, and sports and car posters covered the walls; trophies filled the flat surfaces. “Wow,” I said. I knew you were accomplished, but this is impressive.”

  Aaron blushed. “I keep trying to put them in storage, but Mom finds them and gets them back out. It’s a little too ‘Ode to High School’ for me.”

  “Well, how else would anyone know about all the cool stuff you’ve done? It’s not like you’d ever tell anyone.” I shot him a look. A few weeks before I had stumbled across an article listing some of Aaron’s high school records and awards. He’d never mentioned to me that he held the record for most passing yards in a game in the state. Or that he once had two touchdowns and two interceptions in a game when injuries forced him to play both sides of the ball. I’d given him a hard time then about not sharing this type of information with his best friend.

  “Lunch is ready!” we heard his mom call from downstairs.

  “Saved by the dinner bell,” Aaron said with as much cheese as he could muster.

  I rolled my eyes at him and followed him downstairs.

  The spread on the kitchen table about stopped me in my tracks. Barbecue sandwiches piled high on a platter. Some type of slaw with colorful veggies. Fruit. Baked beans. It was a feast.

  “Mrs. Davidson, this looks incredible,” I said.

  “Please, call me Liz, honey,” she replied. “But thank you.”

  “Mom likes to overdo,” Aaron added. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  A teenage-girl version of Aaron, though with blonde hair, ambled into the room as we were sitting down to the table. Sara, obviously.

  “Hey, sis,” Aaron greeted her. “This is Brooke.” She ventured a weak, disinterested smile.

  “I assumed,” she said. I wasn’t sure how to take that, exactly.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said with my best smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “I bet not as much as we’ve heard about you,” she mumbled so low that only I heard. I blushed, though if it was because Aaron had been talking about me or because of her annoyance at that, I wasn’t sure. Aaron shot her a look and then started eating; I followed his lead.

  I caught Aaron looking at me more than once during lunch. He still seemed in a bit of shock that I was there, in the flesh. I should have been the one in shock that I was sitting in future pro football player Aaron Davidson’s house. We’d smile shyly when our eyes met, but instantly go back to our food.

  There was a weird tension, but probably only I was aware of it
. All of Jill’s talk and the girl on the plane must have gotten to me. I couldn’t blame Aaron for looking at me; after all, it had been two months since I had seen him-literally seen him-and I was trying to soak up as much of him as I could, too.

  I decided to distract myself, to be productive. Liz began clearing the table, so I jumped up to help her.

  “So,” Liz said as I helped her carry dishes over to the sink, “what plans do you two have for this afternoon?”

  I raised an eyebrow as I looked over at Aaron, interested to know the answer to that question myself.

  “Well, since it’s not too hot out, I thought maybe we could take a little hike, show you some of our beautiful Wisconsin landscape,” he said. Since I had spent most of the day sitting in a chilly plane, moving around in the warm sunshine sounded like a great idea to me.

  A few minutes and a quick change later, we were out the door and on our way. The park he took me to was about a ten-minute drive from his house. He pointed out landmarks as we passed-the elementary school he attended, his football buddy’s house. He pulled into a parking lot surrounded by verdant trees and we got out of the truck. I couldn’t see anything around us except the trees. Then I looked up.

  “We’re hiking that?” I spat at him.

  “It’s not that bad. Promise.”

  “So says the guy who spends a good portion of every day working out,” I reminded him.

  “Oh, whatever. You can handle it. It looks steeper than it is. Really.” I looked at him, unconvinced. He smiled my half smile and said, “C’mon.” Of course I would follow him. I’d probably follow him anywhere. No, scratch the probably: I would definitely follow him anywhere. And I would have done it before #57 on the list.

  We headed up the mountain (okay, hill) at a leisurely pace. The path was paved for the first few hundred yards, so it was an easy walk. When the trail turned from asphalt to dirt, however, I started wondering if my running shoes were going to cut it. But the shade was nice, and we were still able to keep up a conversation. Aaron walked ahead, but never let me lag by more than a few paces.