Anything Less Than Everything
Page 19
I waited for him to continue, to explain.
He turned to me then, looked into my eyes with piercing intensity. And softness. I almost didn’t hear him start talking again, so intrigued was I by the paradox of his gaze.
“That spot, it was where I went to figure things out. There are ghosts of conversations there that I never spoke aloud to anyone. Feelings felt there that I never shared with anyone.
“It wasn’t about the view, or about the landscape,” he said as he looked back out over the water. My eyes went there, too, to try to see what he saw in that moment. “There’s a part of me there, a part of me that no one else knows. And I’m okay with that, because there are some parts of me that I kind of like to keep to myself, you know?”
I nodded. I did know, but until now I didn’t realize that that was okay.
“But I always thought--hoped--that one day I’d find someone who I not only wanted to know everything about, but who I would want to know everything about me.
“And that’s where I was less than truthful with you.” He took a deep breath. “It’s not that I decided only to show someone my spot if they were really special; it’s that I decided to not bring anyone there unless I was in love with her.”
My heart stopped. Did he just...? My eyes shot to him, to his already on me, to those clear blue eyes, even bluer against the sky. They pleaded with me to understand, to respond.
“I--I love you, Brooke.” he said softly. Then, with more conviction, “I love you. I think I have since that first night we talked on the swing at your house. I tried not to fall for you, because I’m terrified of making a mistake and losing you as my best friend. And of how crazy it is, with the distance and everything. I almost told you how I felt so many times this past week, always talking myself out of it, telling myself it was the right thing to do. But then I left you, and it got so much harder. I haven’t slept all week, I--I can’t stop thinking about you…”
I cut him off, gently laying one finger on his lips to stop the rush of words. I couldn’t believe the words I was hearing, every thought and fear I’d had, he’d had, as well. He stopped, his eyes expectant as he waited for my reaction.
“It was you,” I said. “The man I designed for myself years ago, before I had ever heard your name or seen your face. You are the everything I promised to wait for.”
And then I said the words I told myself I would never say aloud. “And I love you, too.”
I was staring so intently into his eyes that the rest of his face was out of focus, but I could see the initial surprise transform into joy.
He cupped my face in his hand, bringing me to him, and his lips brushed mine, soft, sweet caresses that bloomed into more. I have heard people say that “time stood still,” and laughed at the cliché, but in those moments (okay, minutes...many minutes) it really did. The sounds of the city disappeared, the landscape blurred. It was just us, and in those kisses, innocent, yet passionate, we each expressed every emotion we felt for the other, all without words.
And just like that, we were a we. A thousand emotions and thoughts were scurrying in my mind, tripping over each other, knocking each other down. My heart was beating too fast, my breathing irregular. But still, in spite of all that, there was a calmness in my spirit. Aaron kissed me. Aaron loves me.
When our lips finally parted, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to him, resting his chin on the top of my head. We stayed that way for awhile. No words were needed--we were beyond that.
“I can’t believe you drove all night to see me,” I said. We’d walked down to the edge of water, hands twined together. More than once, Aaron pulled me to the side and we kissed. Each time we’d look at each other afterwards smiling, like we still couldn’t believe what was happening.
And I couldn’t.
“Is your coach going to be mad?”
“Probably,” he said. “But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”
“But you have to go back...”
“Yeah. If I make it back by tonight’s film session he might only make me run for the next month instead of the next year. But today is a rest day, so no workouts, just meetings. I sent him a text before I left last night--this morning. I told him I had to take care of something, that I didn’t want to let the team down but that some things were just more important and I couldn’t give my full attention to football until I did.” He looked at me then, telling me he loved me with his eyes. I melted.
“So what happens now?” I asked. Less than three hours after beginning our relationship, we would be going in separate directions, with no chances to see each other again in the near future.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess it will be like it was before, but not.” He was right, and other than the fact that I would miss him--his eyes, his smile, his kiss--I somehow knew we’d be okay with that. I mean, we’d fallen in love that way, so it followed that we could stay in love that way. It was unconventional, but hadn’t we always been? And the irony was not lost on me: so often I had worried that our friendship would not endure the distance--I’d thought about it just the night before--but I had no doubts that our romance would be fine. What a difference an I love you can make.
The goodbye at the airport was long, but not long enough, with each of us taking just one more kiss or hug to last us.
As I headed down the hallway to security, I turned to get one last look at my Aaron. He smiled, lifted his hand in a small wave. And I felt like crying I missed him so much already, but my heart held too much happiness for that.
Chapter 31
“Don’t forget to get these forms signed and bring them back tomorrow!” I hollered over the bell.
So far we’d made it through the first half of the first day of school, and the teachers were as ready for lunch as the students. First days meant messed up schedules, constant interruptions, and the knowledge that no teaching was going to occur. It was nice to be back in a routine, though, to have something to keep me busy.
It had only been a couple of weeks since I’d boarded the plane and put 500 miles between Aaron and me. When Jillian had picked me up at the airport that night, she’d greeted me with, “So, are you engaged yet?”
“Not quite,” I’d replied, letting her decide which of the potential meanings for that phrase I intended.
Aaron and I had both changed our relationship status on BEsocial at the same time, going from “unattached” to “in a relationship with...” The comments on that had been instantaneous and hilarious, ranging from “I knew it!” (Marcie) to “Somebody owes me some money, cause I CALLED it!” (Brandon) to “OMG! When did this happen?” (Leighann).
Since then we’d talked whenever we could, making plans for visits and calls. I would go to his first game on Labor Day weekend, as well as one just a couple of hours away from me a few weeks later; he would visit me for Thanksgiving; we’d meet at whatever Bowl they went to over the holidays. It wasn’t perfect--far from it--but we would at least see each other every month, probably more once his season ended.
And just as Aaron had predicted, not much had changed, except that our conversations ended not with “sweet dreams,” but “I love you.” It might not have been perfect, but it was just right. For us.
“Brooke?” I heard Marcie calling me from outside my classroom. She popped her head in the door.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?” She walked into my classroom and sat on the edge of my desk, picking up the new frame I’d added the day before. It was one of the pictures Sara had taken that first night at their house. She emailed them to me after learning about Aaron and me along with a message: As soon as I started editing these pics I knew you two were perfect together. My photography teacher says photos don’t lie, that they always have a way of capturing the real emotions of the subjects. And I could tell that you loved each other and that you wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt my brother.
Marcie sighed. “He is seriously gorgeous, isn’t he?”
“Careful,” I
said, eyebrows raised, “he’s taken.”
“Only you, Brooke, could go to dinner at your grandmother’s house and leave with a super-hot, famous, soon-to-be millionaire boyfriend. Never mind that he’s also thoughtful and considerate.” I smiled at her assessment of Aaron. I didn’t care about the fame and fortune, but he was pretty incredible.
“Um, Marc? You know I love to have you visit, but did you come in here for something?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, putting down the frame. “I was just in the office and there was a delivery there for you.”
“Do I want it?” I asked. I envisioned stacks of paperwork or the junk mail that book companies so often sent.
“I think so,” she said with a smile. “I would.”
I walked down the hallway to the main office, side-stepping the several parents there to register their children and students already in trouble for violating the dress code. The secretary looked up from her computer when I approached.
“Miss Burrows! I’m glad you’re here. You have a delivery. We put it back there so it wouldn’t walk away” she said indicating a table behind her.
On the table sat a hot pink polka-dotted flower pot filled with a heart-shaped topiary of jasmine, its tiny white flowers scenting the entire office. I knew whom it was from, of course, but I still was nervous with anticipation as I opened the attached card.
My Brooke,
Happy first day of school! I am thinking of you--as I always am--but especially today. I know how you feel about flowers, but these looked like the ones climbing on the swing at your parents’ house so I couldn’t resist. And they should last awhile. I miss you and love you.
Love,
Aaron
Unlike the vases of roses so many guys sent, at which I had so often turned up my nose, these flowers had no expiration date. They might not always bloom as perfectly as they did now: a few flowers might even wither and die before being replaced with new blooms. But with attention and care, they could last indefinitely. Maybe even forever. And that was a symbol I could hold on to.
1.
Brooke’s List of Qualities in the Perfect Guy
1. sensitive to the needs of others
2. good sense of humor
3. supportive
4. not controlling
5. will work hard to support a family
6. ambitious--has goals
7. can carry on an intelligent conversation
8. loves me for who I am
9. willing to admit when he is wrong
10. flosses
11. can cook
12. is good with kids
13. passionate
14. enjoys spending time with me, but...
15. has his own interests
16. trustworthy
17. kind-hearted
18. doer, not just a talker
19. faithful
20. is a good listener
21. cares about his appearance--not a slob!!
22. respects me and my ideas
23. values learning
24. willing to take risks
25. challenges me
26. gets excited about my accomplishments
27. shares my values and faith
28. willing to go outside his comfort zone for me
29. will back me up
30. protective, but not jealous
31. honest
32. shows he cares about me
33. has to be taller than me
34. gets my sense of humor
35. is romantic
36. thinks I’m the most beautiful girl in the world
37. considerate of my feelings
38. is gentle
39. values our relationship
40. thinks of me as an equal, but...
41. still willing to be the man
42. able to fix things--handy
43. is nice to his mom
44. well-rounded
45. intelligent--uses multi-syllabic words
46. is a good kisser! lol!
47. doesn’t try to change me
48. is excited to share things with me
49. doesn’t give up when things get hard
50. puts me and our relationship first
51. keeps his promises
52. respects my family, even if he doesn’t like them
53. looks sexy in a baseball cap
54. loves dogs, hates cats
55. thinks about me first thing in the morning
56. is a gentleman
57. likes football
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The completion of this book is not the fulfillment of a childhood dream as is so often the case. I didn’t see myself as a writer until I was several years into my teaching career and in the middle of a graduate program. Even then I didn’t see myself as a writer of fiction. At all. But I required my students to write fiction, and I was bothered by the fact that I was requiring them to do something I myself was unwilling to do. I started playing with this little story, and when I reached the 25,000 word mark, I decided I should probably go ahead and finish it. So to my students, thank you. Thank you for giving me material (whether you knew it or not), for brainstorming solutions with me, for being my first readers. Your comments after you read it made me want to keep working to make the story even better. Your numerous favorites and retweets and enthusiastic replies to my tweet that the book was finally finished brought me to tears. This book is for you and because of you. Thank you.
To Jay Callis, my favorite English teacher, thank you for telling me I was a good writer. I’m not sure I would have believed anyone else. PS: I still have the senior analysis paper I wrote for your class, the one with the comment that my analysis was “awe-inspiring.” I look at it when I need a confidence boost.
To the Leadership Team and Teacher Consultants of the Middle Tennessee Writing Project, thank you for helping me realize that one does not have to have The Next Great American Novel as a goal to legitimize the writing. Thank you also for pushing me to share my writing with others. That was—and is—hard for me, but I’m a better writer for it.
To Avery and Kyle, thank you for being excited about the things that excite me. Thanks for listening to my writing and writing woes when I asked you to, and staying out of my way when I needed you to. I love you both more than anything.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Heather Adkins lives with her husband and daughter on a (non-working) farm just outside Nashville, Tennessee. She teaches high school English to the best students in the world, and hopes they leave her classroom with a desire to go learn something else. In addition to teaching teenagers, Heather regularly presents and facilitates workshops for other teachers of writing. When not teaching or ignoring the endless pile of laundry, she enjoys crafting, party planning, and watching college football.
Anything Less Than Everything is her first novel.
Copyright © 2014 by Heather E. Adkins
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
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Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Brooke’s List of Qualities in the Perfect Guy
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR