“Yes, I did, and thank you. You were right”—I had to pause to keep myself from crying—“it was too much, but I love it.”
“Well, I’m glad because that was the whole purpose of getting it for you. It fits, right?”
“Perfectly. How did you know my ring size? I don’t even know my ring size.”
“I’ve held your hand enough to figure it out,” he said with a little bit of humor in his voice. “So will you wear it?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” I realized after I ask that he knew me too well. I had never once worn anything other than my watch. This was something that most people would miss day after day, but not Brad. He didn’t answer right away, and I could hear him let out a heavy sigh. It must have been a bad fight this time. With me gone, Claire had to come up with new things to fight about, and I was sure she made their first official “non-Becca” fight interesting. Before I could ask, he interrupted and pulled me from my thoughts.
“I miss you,” mumbled Brad. I could hear that he meant it. It had only been four days since I saw him last, but I missed him too. “She doesn’t get it,” he continued, and then it dawned on me. They were still fighting about me, and I was not even there anymore.
“What was it this time?” I asked, knowing the answer already.
“The usual. You are still a threat to her, even though you are so far away.”
“Doesn’t she realize that she’s your girlfriend and not me?” Even though I wish I was, I thought to myself.
“Well, I kind of broke up with her, and she blames you.”
“What?” I screamed, completely shocked.
“Well…” he started to say but never finished it.
He was holding something back. He wanted to tell me—I could feel it. Did this really have anything to do with me? I know he loves me—he always has in one way or another—and I will always love him. But we were worlds away from each other, and that made a huge difference. I wish it didn’t, more than anything, but it did, and we couldn’t change those facts. If we had started a relationship months ago, we could have tried to continue it. You cannot start a relationship from a distance. It just won’t work.
“Why, Brad? Why did you break up with her?”
“It’s hard to say, but I was just done. It hasn’t felt right in a few months, and I felt like I was stringing her along. Plus, I’m not a cheater, and every time I think about you I feel like I’m cheating on her. I’ve felt this way for a while now, but it wasn’t until you left that I realized that I didn’t want to do it anymore.”
Wow! It really was because of me, at least partially.
“I want to be with someone who turns me inside out with one kiss,” Brad continued. You could hear the desperation in his voice. “Someone who makes me want more out of life. Who can see inside me and feels the same way. What I really want is to be with you.”
“Wow!” I realized I was saying it out loud this time, and I meant to. I wanted to tell him how I felt, that I wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. “I wish that things could be different, you know that, but I don’t want you to put your life on hold for me. I want you to find someone that makes you happy, but that person can’t be me right now. We can’t hold on to something that isn’t there.”
Where did that come from? Those were not the words that were just swirling around in my head. The line was silent, as if we were both pondering what I just said. Before he could say anything, I began to realize why I chose those words. I couldn’t share my feelings because at this moment, they didn’t matter. The only relationship we could have right now was friendship, and as his best friend, that was what he needed to hear. We could hold on to that. Our friendship was solid. Damn, my subconscious!
“I know, and I understand. I almost didn’t kiss you in your car that day because I knew we couldn’t be together.” Another heavy sigh came across the line, and I knew that if I didn’t get off the phone with him, I would change my mind.
“Work it out with Claire, Brad. She’s a nice girl. Even if she’s not your forever, then she can at least be your right now.” I had to stop and wipe the tears from my cheeks before I continued.
“I will always love you no matter how far apart we are, but I will be really pissed at you if you sit around and allow yourself to be miserable.”
“I love you too, Becca. I always will. Good night.”
“Good night, Brad.”
I fingered the ring on my right hand as I closed my phone and ended our conversation, knowing that things will never be the same. Of course, we would still talk and still be friends, but this would always linger between us. I picked up the photo that was still staring at me from its fallen place on the bed. I walked over to my desk and placed it in the center of my photo board that I had yet to hang on my wall.
The piece of ribbon holding the picture to the board was running right down the center of the picture between me and Brad. It was splitting the picture in half, Brad on one side and me on the other. How much more symbolic can you get? Not only were our hearts split between being friends and wanting more but we were also separated by miles and miles of country.
Anger began to well inside of me. Anger at my mom. Anger about the move. Anger at Brad for waking up my feeling and for acting on his. The anger was bubbling over, and I finally threw my phone like I originally wanted to, shattering it into pieces, just like my heart.
Chapter Three
I spent the next two days unpacking, blasting my music, and trying to do something besides think about Brad. The problem with that is that every song reminded me of him. Every photo I hung reminded me of something we had done together. The photo he had given me as part of my gift was still the only one on my board. It had somehow become the focal point of my room. I was looking at it more and more every day, thinking about the possibilities. I found myself thinking about the things that would change and how I wished that things could be different.
Then, of course, there was the ring. I had yet to take it off, and I was sure that I wouldn’t be able to. Ever. Sometimes it felt like that was all that I had left of him. If I took it off, I would be letting him go in a sense, and I wasn’t ready to do that. He was still my best friend. I still loved him, unconditionally. I still wanted to be with him. The more I entertained those kinds of thoughts, the more I believed that it was possible. It all seemed possible until I would look out the window and remember that I was two thousand miles away from making those dreams a reality. My mind was whirling around in a circle most of the time these days.
My mom noticed my ring the morning after I put it on. I was in the shower when she came in to let me know that she was going to the grocery store. She must have spotted it on the bathroom counter because I heard her gasp over the spray of the water. I gave her the shortest version of the story, and I was pretty sure that she had started to cry. I was not sure if she was crying out of guilt for moving us or because she realized how sweet a gesture it was for Brad to make. She left the bathroom and was off to the store by the time I finished my shower. We haven’t talked about it since.
On Saturday morning, I realized I had yet to leave the house since arriving and in two days, I would be starting school again. I needed to get a new phone, and I needed to find my way to school. Being a little OCD at times comes in handy, so when I realized these things, I planned a little adventure for myself. I may not be able to be on time when I need to be, but if there were no time constraints and I was in complete control, my OCD would kick into overdrive.
After showering and leaving my mom a note, I grabbed my purse, keys, and tennis bag and headed out. I had the address of the phone store in my GPS by the time I pulled out of the driveway. Our new house was nice. It was not as large as the one we use to live in, but I had my own private space, and that was really all I needed to get through the next five months before I could go back to Michigan. The yard was expertly landscaped before we moved in. It’s amazi
ng what someone can do with rocks, sand, and a few plants. It was different from what I was used to seeing, but it looked nice and blended in well with the rest of the neighborhood.
An hour later, after spending two hundred of my dad’s hard-earned dollars, I had a new phone in my hand, and most of the numbers from my old phone had been transferred over. I had damaged my memory card a little bit when I “accidentally” dropped my phone down some stairs, or so I told the service representative. I was only able to get numbers that had been stored in my phone the longest. Basically, I had Brad’s number, moms, dads, and a few family members. I knew most of my friends’ numbers by heart and sent a mass text with my new phone number the second I got in my car.
I followed the navigator’s directions to the school, and as I pull in, the sheer size makes me cringe. My little town, my little school, where everyone knows everything about everyone was lost to me at this point. The entire campus of my old school could probably fit in the parking lot I’m sitting in. This place was huge!
I could only see about four buildings from where I was parked, but I knew that there were probably more just out of sight. I gathered all my courage and opened the door. It’s January in Tucson. January, to me, usually meant layers of clothing, a thick coat, scarf, gloves, and winter boots. There was no chance of playing tennis outside in January when you live in Michigan. Here, January means a sweatshirt, maybe a light coat and jeans. Today I was wearing my running pants over my tennis skirt and a hooded sweatshirt. I planned on warming up on the courts, so I knew that a jacket would have been too much.
As I crossed the enormous parking lot, I realized how quiet it was, how alone I was. I shuddered at the thought of someone sneaking up on me, and my senses went on high alert. I clutched my keys, knowing that I had Mace if I needed it. I walked up the stairs leading to the campus, and as I broke the top enough to see the rest of the school, my breath caught in my throat. It was beautiful. There were at least eight buildings plus what looked like the gym and maybe a theater. None of the buildings were attached to each other. It was a completely open campus. The best part was the open quad in the middle, where I could see students probably gather before school or to have lunch.
I gave myself an unguided tour, roaming around freely. I passed the gym and rounded the corner to see the tennis courts come into view. There were ten courts side by side, and I couldn’t help but smile. We had four courts at my old school, and we were lucky to get ours resurfaced every couple of years. These courts were in pristine condition, and there were a ton of them to choose from.
I raced back to my car and grabbed my bag. Entering the courts felt surreal. I hadn’t been on an outside court since before my accident at the regional competition last spring. All of my rehab had been indoors, and then the snow had started to fall, making it impossible to practice on my own once my shoulder was healed. This was going to be the first time I was able to practice on my own without the watchful eye of my coach or trainer.
I shrugged out of my running pants and pulled my sweatshirt over my head. I felt the cool breeze on my skin and immediately shivered. It was cold enough to need thick clothing, but I was going to be sweating in a minute, so I tried to ignore it. Grabbing my favorite racket, I headed for the closest court. No time like the present to get my shoulder working again, right? I bounced the ball a couple times and then threw it up and over my head. I pulled my shoulder up and dropped my racket. Crap!
I must have screamed it because I heard the echo through the silence. I rubbed my shoulder and started to run through the strengthening exercises that my trainer had been making me do, up until about a month ago, that is. I hadn’t seen the gym in over five weeks with how crazy my life had become, my body, at least my shoulder, felt like it after one attempt to serve.
I stretched for about five minutes and went through the motions with my shoulder like I was going to serve for another five. Once I felt like I wasn’t going to cry from the pain, I picked my racket up from where it had fallen. I did a few more minutes of practice swings to adjust to the weight of the racket, and then I couldn’t hold back any longer. I bounced the ball a couple times, tossed it up high, and slammed it across the net. Out.
Well, my shoulder was working just fine, but my aim was off. I hit a few more, and slowly, my shoulder hurt less and my aim improved. By the time I couldn’t feel any more pain, my aim was exactly where I wanted it to be, and I felt alive for the first time in over a month. Tennis had always been my go-to when I needed to calm down, when I needed to think, or when I needed to vent. My inner calm resurfaced today, and I was thankful that I was able to find it again.
I gathered up my balls from around the courts and started to pack my bags when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Slowly grabbing my keys, I moved the can of Mace so that it was hidden in the palm of my hand. I kept pretending like I didn’t know someone was behind me, letting them think they had the element of surprise. The closer they got, the more my body started to shiver, and I could feel the goose bumps on my arms and legs.
“I would prefer if you didn’t spray me in the face,” he said.
I still had my back to him, and I knew that he was still a good distance away from me, but I could feel the tingles run up my spine. His voice was smooth, deep, and oh so sexy.
Slowly, I stood up and turned. As I took in the view, I felt my knees go weak, and I thought I was going to pass out. I let out the breath I had been holding and tried to smile, but my lips were protesting. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, but the rest of his amazingly delicious body was visible. His voice and his body were a perfect complement to each other.
Unconsciously, my thumb ran across the palm of my hand and started to move my ring. “Why is that? Afraid I have good aim?” I tried to sound snarky, but I was sure I sounded unsure and weak, maybe even a little scared. The simple words made me breathless, and I had to inhale deeply.
“I can see that your aim is great. I’m actually more afraid you will use your racket on me than the Mace.”
He was trying to lighten the mood, and it was working for some reason. I didn’t feel as uneasy as I was before. After all, he looked like he was about my age, so being at the school was not that out of character, and his natural good looks and to-die-for body made me want to wrap myself around him more than it made me want to run. Crap!
“What’s the matter?” he asked this with a twinge of concern on his face, and I realized that I was thinking out loud again.
“Nothing. I just have to get home.” I tried to sound nonchalant, but I was pretty sure it didn’t work. As he took a tentative step toward me, I wanted to step back, but my legs were weak again, and I was afraid any movement on my part would cause me to fall. Another step and he was within arm’s reach to me, and my body was reacting to him in a way it had never reacted to anyone, except Brad recently.
“What are you doing out here all by yourself? Isn’t it more fun to hit the ball back and forth than chase after them every five minutes?” As he said this, I realized that he had two tennis balls in his hand and that he was trying to give them to me. I reached out, and as my fingers brushed across his hand, I closed my eyes. Once I realized I was doing this, I opened them quickly to find him smiling at me, and I could feel his gaze deep within my soul. His sunglasses were not hiding much of anything from my body.
“Yes, but I needed the practice. Thank you for returning these, but I really have to go.” I made myself step away from him, tucked both balls under my skirting, and grabbed my bag. I didn’t look back as I exited the courts, but I could feel his eyes on me. My body shuddered at the thought of him watching my every move, but then I realized that he had been watching me practice.
It’s finally the first day of school. This sucks. I arrived early, and the parking lot was still pretty empty. I trudged up the stairs to the building marked Administration and opened the heavy double doors. I walked into the first office to find an elderly lady sitting behind the counter, with her h
ead buried in a pile of paperwork. I cleared my throat to let her know I was there, and without looking up, she told me she’d be right with me.
I took a seat in one of the plastic chairs by the wall and waited. After about five minutes, I saw another elderly lady walk in, and she smiled at me. I took that as an invitation to speak.
“Hi! My name is Rebecca Blake, and I need to get my schedule. My mom registered me last week sometime and was told that I could stop in this morning and someone would have it for me.”
“Sure, sweetheart, give me just a minute,” she said with a big, sincere smile on her face.
I walked up to the counter and waited. The first lady still had her head in a pile of papers and never once glanced at me. I wondered for a moment if she’d fallen asleep since her head was resting on her hand until she glanced up at me. She didn’t smile; she just pretended like I was not there and went back to whatever she was doing before.
“Okay,” the second lady said, bringing me back from my thoughts. “I don’t have anyone here this early to show you around, but if you want to wait, I have an office aide during first period and she can help you.”
“No, thank you. I should be able to manage. I have enough time to at least find my locker and my first few classes before first period starts,” I said.
“Well, that sounds like a good plan. It looks like your first class is in the farthest building, second floor. If you want to find the rest of your classes first, that should help you make it there on time. Good luck, Rebecca, and welcome to Tucson.” Her smile was still sincere, and I wondered how the two old ladies got along, being that their personalities were completely opposite from one another.
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