by Sally Henson
We gaze at earth's satellite, and I replay the beautiful angel seeking me through moonlight tonight. My body still yearns to touch his lips, but holding his hand is keeping it somewhat satisfied. In the not-too-far distance along the creek, we hear the chant of a nocturnal bird. Lane turns to me, and I stare back at his wide eyes. Both of us amazed at the sound, we remain quiet, excitedly listening to the song, “whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will.”
I speak as quiet as possible. “Whip-poor-will?” He smiles, nodding, eyes still excited as though he just discovered a new species. “I've never heard one back here before … this is so rare.”
We stay for a little while longer listening to the night, admiring creation. Then we make our way back through the path in occasional beams of moonlight that find portals through the canopy above. Our fingers laced together. It’s been a dreamy night in more ways than this filtered moonlight.
At the end of the path, Lane breaks the soothing silence as we amble toward my house.
“You're working tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, I need the money.” I hope I don't have to work with Stacey.
“Do you have something to drive?” An offer to take me.
“I think so. I'll call if that changes, thanks.” My body sighs at his thoughtfulness. That's so sweet.
“I'll see what the gang’s doing tomorrow night. Maybe we can meet at the diner or something.”
We near the door to my house. “Sounds good.” It's late. “I'm glad you came over. It didn't start out to be a very good evening. Thanks for changing that.”
His lips turn up. “Trust me, it was my pleasure.” I chuckle and try to keep from smiling, but only succeed in keeping my lips together. Stopping, he places my hand between both of his, keeping his fingers entwined with mine. His lips softly press against my palm, and then he releases my hand. My arms and legs tingle at his lip action. He turns to walk toward his truck. After a few steps in that direction, he does a one-eighty to look at me. “Best friends?” He questions me as he walks backward.
I need to sit down. “No matter what.” I brace myself against the siding of the house.
He opens his door and waves before getting in his truck and bringing it to life. I watch his taillights move down the drive and turn right. My body sinks down to sit on the step.
Still smiling, I stay seated for a few minutes before going inside. I thought I’d be the one fighting Lane off after he admitted his feelings for me, but he was a total gentleman tonight and didn't take advantage of my moments of weakness.
Sometimes he has this eerie ability to know what's going on in my mind. I want to remain best friends and leave the other feelings between us dormant. After all the electricity between us tonight, I'm not sure it's possible now. He's long gone, and I still want to touch his face and feel his lips on mine. Mmm, he looked and smelled unbelievable tonight. I roll my head back against the door. Between the love-hate relationship with this town, the best friends more than friends relationship with Lane, and the possibility of either following my dreams or keeping my dad's support, my internal war is facing a potential three-front fight on the horizon.
The puteulanu luna totally messed with my head tonight, but down deep, I know it was me allowing my feelings to surface. Lane glowed as beautiful as an angel. I snort and shake my head. I had to fight myself off. We've walked that path hundreds of times together growing up, even hand in hand, but for the first time, it meant something more than friendship, and I admit, I more than like it.
11
Tobi and I have a daily routine: volleyball in the mornings, farm chores, after which we hang out with Lane and eat a late lunch, and then it’s back to volleyball. One deviation is the interdenominational youth group my youth minister, Tristan Shaw, and Miss Braun started last year. There's a short meeting tonight after open gym. We're supposed to bring a calendar or a list of events coming up in the school year.
Though I don't spend time with anyone other than our group of five, last year was fun. I kept to myself with my comments, but the lessons were good and thought provoking. I relate well to Miss Braun’s teaching style. Plus, Lane, Tobi, and Haylee were always there. Sometimes Cameron would show up, too.
Youth group meets in a loft apartment downtown, and we're late due to our little detour for some extra electrolytes at the store. We fly up the stairs, taking two at a time. Tobi trips halfway up and slides down, ramming into me, nearly knocking me down the stairs.
“Tobi!” I yell at her. My mouth’s open, eyes bulging, waiting for her apology.
She just looks at me wide eyed and in shock. “I'm so—” She busts out laughing. “Sorry.” She continues in one of those “this isn't funny but I can't stop” giggling laughs.
My mouth twists and my brows draw in as I glare at her.
“You … should … see … your face.” She manages to get out between cackles and breaths.
Though I'm still disgusted, I can't help myself but laugh, too. It's contagious. I'm wiping tears from my face when Miss Braun opens the door to investigate the commotion.
Her brows grow taught as she looks down the stairs at us. “You girls okay?”
We nod, trying to calm our hysterics, chalking it up to exhaustion.
Her forehead smooths out, and she smiles. “Come in when you get it together.”
We set there for a minute, collecting ourselves It's been a while since I laughed that hard, even if it was at myself. Trudging up again, I push Tobi up the stairs to get her to pick up the pace, and she stumbles, setting off giggles again. At least we're able to control it this time.
Tobi opens the door, and we sneak in. Across the room, there are teenage bodies planted in donated furniture arranged in an ellipse. They've already started survival trivia without us, so we move quietly to an open, enormous chair that holds us both. Tobi plops down with a sigh. I, however, sit gingerly next to her, giving her a jab with my right elbow.
We listen intently to get the lay of the land, so to speak. Tristan, the youth leader, is asking the questions, going around the room in an orderly fashion. Fiddling with the label on my drink, I listen to the answers given, chuckling now and then, looking up on occasionally at a jokester.
He asks the next person. “Is it safe to drink your own urine?”
They respond in disdain. “Uh, that's the question I get?”
My eyes shoot up from my bottle to the wall straight across from me as my breath catches in my throat. No. Way. My face grows solemn as all the joy is sucked out of the room by the voice uttering those six words. I feel a little sick to my stomach. Slowly, I turn my head to Tobi with a glare that could shoot daggers at my command. She stares back with her mouth gaping open and her eyes are as big as saucers.
“Yep. It's the next question, and you're the next person.” Tristan’s bright demeanor won’t hold a candle to this black hole. He has no idea what he's messing with.
“What kind of question is that? I mean, it's disgusting.” Stacey is such a whine-bag. Some of the girls are agreeing with her. It doesn't matter what comes out, that voice is as pleasant as a feedback squelch from a speaker.
“What do you think? Is it safe for someone to drink their own urine?” Tristan tries to reign in the push back.
I hear a scoff, then a chortle that makes my ears bleed. My solemn frame of mind gives way to a flare of anger. I lean forward, peering to my right to put the face to the voice. Unbelievable. Youth group is one of the few places I thought I wouldn't have to deal with this Stacey Faniger.
She narrows her eyes when she sees me. “Is it safe to drink your own urine, Regan?”
I can almost see the venom oozing over her lips and down her chin, burning holes into the wood floor, as the smoldering smoke floats toward the ceiling. The stench that fills the room's atmosphere is a combination of burnt wood and hostility.
Doing my best to show no emotion—trying to retract the heat of anger and my scrunched-up nose—I say nothing, merely turn my head back s
traight, shooting my eyes forward and lean back against the chair. Tobi bumps me with her shoulder, scrutinizing me with questions plastered all over her face. I return the look in echo, shaking my head just enough that only she can see.
Is there no safe place, no haven? She didn't come to this youth group one time last year. Stacey’s never set foot in my church, Tobi's church, Haylee's church, or any other church that I'm aware of, and now here she is at a calendar-syncing youth-group meeting. Is she trying to make my life as miserable as possible?
Something’s gotta give.
What if she’s trying to change?
I doubt it. She has some other motive for being here. She didn't seem to act any differently from usual.
Who am I to judge? I don't know her thoughts or motives. I'm not God. Maybe she does want to change her evil ways.
Just because you're a Christian doesn't mean you’re stupid.
I shake my head and growl under my breath trying to rid myself of this internal argument.
Survival trivia ends with refreshments. The best place for me is between my friends and near Miss Braun right now. I search for light red hair woven in a long braid. There she is. Tobi drags Haylee over with us. We’re discussing volleyball practice and open gym with Miss Braun when she walks by.
Miss Braun catches Stacey's attention and motions her over. “I think you girls all know each other, don't you?” Miss Braun knows we know each other. There's like, what, one-hundred fifty kids in the whole high school? I look down and roll my eyes, stifling the biggest sigh of annoyance in the world. The three of us reluctantly mumble some form of the word yes. Stacey just stands there with a fake smile batting her fake lashes.
I'm not going to hide from her. “Hey, Stacey. So, you're interested in being part of the youth group?” My speech is pleasant and sincere. I truly do want to know her intentions.
“I'm not sure. I thought I'd check it out.”
“Yeah? Who invited you?”
“Miss Braun suggested I come tonight.” She keeps a totally fake innocent smile and continues to bat her totally fake eyelashes at the four of us. If Miss Braun doesn't see right through that crap, she's not nearly as intelligent as I've been giving her credit for.
Tobi joins the inquisition. “Do you and your family attend a church in the area, Stacey? I don't think I've seen you at First Methodist before.”
She juts her chin out and stands a little taller. “We're Catholic.” She sounds like she’s bored out of her mind as she takes the time to talk to us peasants. “We haven't found a church yet.” Wow, that's been what, ten years ago?
“St. Mary's church is about two blocks from the diner,” Haylee offers up. “Oh, and there's one north of town in the country, too. Over in Alto there's St.—”
“We're very glad you came tonight, Stacey, aren't we girls?” Miss Braun reaches over to give Stacey's shoulder a squeeze. “It's time to continue our meeting.”
We move like molasses back to our seats, questioning without speaking. Miss Braun invited her? It’s her job as a youth sponsor, right? But doesn't she know the lies, deceit, and destruction that fills Stacey? How it oozes out of every pore in her body? Does she not know what she did to Susanna? And how she continuously places me in her cross-hairs?
Miss Braun stands at the end of the ellipse, addressing us. Her creamy light skin is stark against the black tobyMac T-shirt she's wearing. “We have three goals for the Trumpets this year.” As she speaks, her sparkly, blue-green eyes hold our attention. Somehow, she says as much with her eyes as her words. Although her thin appearance comes across as timid and meek at first, her personality is anything but.
Haylee, Tobi, and I decide to bolt as soon as we can, and I shove the thought of Stacey infiltrating yet another part of my life deep in the crevices of my brain.
12
“Thank you for dinner tonight, Mrs. Stone. It was great.” Lane stands and pushes his chair under the table.
“Ready?” I'm itching to go. It's the last night to spend with Tobi before she heads off to the State Fair for a week.
He nods and steps toward my Dad to shake his hand. “Good night, Mr. Stone. It was nice of you to invite me for dinner. Thank you.”
I hook Lane’s arm and pull him with me to the door. “See you later.”
“Be home before midnight, young lady.” I roll my eyes while my back is turned to Dad.
At the door, I turn around to answer Dad as Lane opens it for me. “I will.”
“You kids be careful.” Mom calls out the door at us.
As soon as the door shuts, I bolt for Lane's truck and hop in. He seems to be taking his time. “Hurry up.”
“What's the rush?” He starts the engine and pulls out of the drive.
“It's almost seven-thirty. We only have four hours before I have to be back home.”
“It's still daylight. We have plenty of time.” He's all Mr. Cool and Collected.
“We have four hours. Four hours fly by when you're having fun.”
“The fun won't begin until sundown.”
“What fun? What’re you talking about?”
He glances at me and says playfully, “You'll see.” I prod him for several minutes. He gives no response. I unbuckle my seatbelt and lean toward him. “Tell me.” His face is unchanging, his eyes on the road. I move over a little closer, resting my arm along the back of the seat behind his shoulders, inching closer—my eyes boring through his will power.
He turns on me, a little startled by my movements. “You better get back on your side of the truck and put your seat belt back on if you know what's good for you.” I almost chuckle at how wide his eyes are.
I lean over and place my lips next to his ear and decide to mimic the voice Lane does that's a low lullaby. “Lane Oliver Cary, what are you keeping from me?”
He slams on the brakes. I brace myself so I don’t fly into the dash or out the windshield. “Are you trying to kill me?” I shriek.
He puts the truck in park and flings off his seatbelt. My heart is pounding against my ribs. Before I know what's happening, I'm pinned in his arms. With his cheek against my cheek, I take a slow deep a breath. Well, as deep and slow as I can, considering I'm nearly hyperventilating. His cologne swirls around me like an enticing aroma, fogging my judgment. His skin draws my lips to it like a magnet.
“There are consequences to that type of behavior.” His voice coaxes, “Regan Leann Stone.”
How do I combat that? He's much better at the voice thing than I am. It turns my will into a wet noodle. On top of that, adrenaline and heat courses through me, while butterflies dance the mambo inside my chest. My body is unmoving, but my mind races with thoughts of our night under the blue moon and what ifs. I don't know what possessed me to try to act like I'm “all that” when clearly, it’s he that is “all that.” My lips continue to inch closer, and it's the only part of my body it seems can move right now. I'm out of breath. One of Lane’s hands slowly slides up my back into my hair. My lips brush his skin and his chest swells. He stops breathing.
“Yo! Yo! Yo!.” My bad behavior is interrupted by Tobi's text. I'm both frustrated and relieved. Neither of us moves, but Lane grunts a noise expressing his frustration with the interruption. I turn my head so that my cheek is flush with his. “Yo! Yo! Yo!” The rise of the muscles in my cheek against his give me away, and my eyes don't stop their giggling when he pulls back to look at me.
“Hmm,” he muses, jutting contorted lips and squinting one eye at me. I can tell by the look in his eye he wants to kiss me. I blink away the fog.
My grin becomes a smirk. “Are you going to answer Tobi, or are you going to hold me captive?” Reaching around me, he pins both of my arms in one hand. “Hey!” I squirm underneath him. He pulls his phone out of the pristine ashtray in the dash, reads the text, and types an answer with his other hand.
“We've been summoned.” Instead of letting me go, he presses his cheek against mine for a moment. I'm swimming in his fragrance, and it ca
uses my common sense to evaporate. His fingers find their way back into my hair, and I start to lean my lips where his scent begins when he pulls away. His action leaves my body stunned.
He gets back behind the steering wheel and fastens his seat belt. “Buckle up.” I swallow and blink away my symptoms of being that close to him. He eases the truck forward and looks over at me. “And stay on your side of the cab, unless you want me to come over there and finish this dance.” I fake like I've got myself together, but the desire to plant my lips on him hasn't gone away, yet.
That was quite thrilling; a taste of power, knowing how he reacts to me. Satisfied for now, we turn on the main road southbound to Tobi's, listening to the radio. It won't take fifteen minutes before we make it to her house. In that short time, I consider the what-ifs again, with Lane singing in the background.
What if we did kiss, again? What if we tell our parents how we feel? What if...
Stop … focus on your future, Regan.
But he’s the best thing in my life right now.
By the time we arrive at Tobi's, I feel guilty for my actions and turn down the radio before he shuts the engine off. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that.” I peer over at him seeking forgiveness.
He sees right through me. “You can try to run away from this.” His finger circles between us. “But it's not going to go away. It's taken years to grow into this.” He's out the door and opening mine as I unbuckle. Holding his outstretched hand, I slide down from the seat and lace our fingers together, like we did walking down the path the night of puteulanu luna. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. My future plans are nowhere in sight, my only focus at the moment is Lane. I was in such a rush to get here, but now—now I could stand here, fingers laced, memorizing the flecks of sky in his beautiful blues and tracing the curve of his lips that once touched mine. I could lean in and press my lips ...