by Annie Brewer
Silence takes over the conversation.
I begin to wonder if he hung up. And then I hear his voice again, “I’ll be picking you up. Wanna give me your flight information? I’ll be parked on the curb, most likely.”
I give him the itinerary, even though I’m confused. “I thought your mom was picking me up?”
“She was, but…”A pause. “Would you rather she came, instead?”
Crap, that sounded wrong. “No, I just didn’t expect—”
“To hear from me? I know. Look, I’m sorry for…” he sighs in frustration or annoyance. I can picture him running a hand through his hair until the strands were every which way. He always did that, I remember. “Let’s just talk later.” Who is he frustrated with? Me now? Himself? I can’t tell.
I just reply “Okay.”
More silence follows. It feels awkward and I don’t like it one bit. We were never this uncomfortable with each other. And this is only from afar. How will it be when I’m there? What has changed? I hope I’m just over analyzing this and it’s really nothing. But so far, it seems I’m setting myself up for disappointment. Maybe this whole trip was a mistake.
He clears his throat and says, “So, uh…” ’He’s struggling to find something to say and it makes me want to cry. With everything going on in my life, I wouldn’t have thought things would be so distant between us. I always hoped this—us—would be the one constant I could count on. But I should’ve known better after two years of silence. He’s changed and I have to accept it. I bite my lip, staring out the window as it gets darker. “Have a safe trip.”
I can see my reflection through the glass, feel the tears run down my cheeks. “Thanks,” I wipe my nose with my hand, rubbing it on my clothes.
I almost hang up the phone, but hear him say, “Hey Addie,” as if he had an afterthought, making me pause. “I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
I swallow, feeling a smile stretch across my lips and I wipe away the tears. “Me too, Ky.” I hang up, noticing my hands trembling in my lap with a little sweat. I think about how weird the conversation we just had was. But maybe once I’m there, things will be less uncomfortable and more normal, like we’re old friends getting reacquainted, instead of total strangers with no past history.
Sighing, I lean my head back until it’s time to board the plane, praying for an easy flight. I’d like to sleep the whole way there, if possible.
I wake up when the flight attendant announces our arrival in Portland over the loud speaker. I gaze out the window to see it’s dark and rainy. Good thing I packed pants. I love wearing shorts; usually, our weather in Texas allows me to work on my tan. It can be brutally hot in the summer, to the point of not wanting to set foot outside. It’s mainly the humidity that worsens the heat. Still, I love the summer sun.
Here, I hear it rains a lot. Not sure if it’s true, just something I heard. It’s also a little chilly. I see goose bumps popping up on my bare legs as I follow the passengers to baggage claim. My sweater is in my suitcase, which is making its way around the conveyor belt on the other side. I try not to block anyone’s view and maneuver toward the front so I can grab my luggage right away. I’ve heard horror stories of people losing theirs or someone grabbing the wrong one. I would freak out if I lost all of my clothes.
Someone bumps into me and then turns my way with an apologetic shrug. “Sorry.” The nice guy I sat behind on the plane, who helped put my bag in the compartment above, smiles when he recognizes me. “Have you seen your suitcase yet?” he’s checking the nametags on each of them that zip past us.
I nod, noticing it pass by. “Crap, yes. It just went around.”
He quickly reaches over to grab his big black one and I scoot out of the way to give him room. “Well”—he puts the handle up to get a better grip—“I guess, this is my departure.”
I spot mine coming back. “Okay,” I respond but keep my eyes on the suitcase while speaking to him. “Thanks for the hand earlier.” Leaning over the metal, I grip the handle and haul it over to the floor.
He’s holding his phone, probably to call his ride. He tosses over his shoulder with a nod. “No problem, have a good trip.”
I wave to him as he walks away and then I’m left alone, in an airport full of strangers, in a different state, away from home. Suddenly, I’m overcome with the realization that Kyler is here, somewhere. I glance at my watch. Dallas is two hours ahead of Portland, so it’s only after eight PM here. I always forget about the time difference, which is really confusing.
Taking a deep breath, I decide to just move along and quit being such a damn scaredy cat. For God’s sake, I’m wasting time. Strolling through the double doors, I step outside and realize I don’t know what kind of car he drives. I have no idea what to search for and it’s raining at night. This is awesome. I pause under a covered bench area and try calling him but get his voice mail. Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic.
I send a quick text to Layla: I’m here. Made it safely. Yay.
A minute or two later, I get a reply. Great. Glad to hear it. Flight was good? Meet any hot guys on the plane? Haha. I know you’re rolling your eyes at me. But you need to hook up with a hottie…just sayin’.
She was right, I was rolling my eyes as soon as I read that. Her mind is always on hot guys and sex. There’s more to life than that, I think. More for me, at least. And I know she just wants me to have fun and live a little. After the last guy I dated, though, I’d rather focus on photography and dance. I hope to make a living out of one of them. Guys might get in the way of that. And besides, who says in order to be living, you have to have a guy at your every waking moment? I can live for myself. I have to.
No hot guys yet, but who knows? This is like a whole other world out here. Anything’s possible. ;)
That’s my girl. Good luck…and don’t forget to take pics of Kyler. Toodles.
Since the rain has stopped to only a drizzle, I move out from under the bench, wondering if Ky’s here yet. He said he’d be by the curb. Now I’m nervous. I peer to my left, not seeing many cars parked along that side of the street. Not any that I could see him driving anyway. I glance to my right, no cars or anyone I recognize. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I think I spot a person. I quickly shift my gaze, feeling uneasy as if being watched. But I let my eyes wander back and see a guy standing—no, leaning—casually against another covered port with his hands inside his pockets. Something about him so familiar and yet, different at the same time. He’s staring right at me and suddenly my feet are quicker than my brain, leading me right to him.
I stop in front of him, locking eyes with a pair of dark ones, the same ones I’d know anywhere. “Ky,” I whisper, feeling emotionally and mentally overwhelmed and, without thinking, I throw my arms around his neck. It catches us both off guard, almost knocking him backward. Luckily, he has good balance and keeps us grounded. “It’s so good to see you,” I mumble into his shoulder, holding on for dear life. I catch a whiff of rain mixed with his cologne and breathe him in.
At first, his response to my hug was hesitant and I almost pulled away for fear I had crossed a line. But he finally returns it with equal ardor so, naturally, I lost it. “Didn’t think I’d show, did you?” he asks when he takes a step back, amusement coloring his voice. He pushes down on my ball cap, with a shake of his head but doesn’t say anything. I can only imagine what my hair looks like under there. Good thing it’s covered. I wonder if he’s just surprised by my love for baseball, or maybe it’s the team that has him wanting to laugh at me. He smiles down at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Addie.”
Losing control of my emotions in front of him wasn’t planned. I guess after not seeing someone for a while, especially if that someone was special to you, can sputter your emotions out of control when you do see them again. And again, I cry.
His grip on me tightens as one hand moves up and down my spine as he’s whispering close to my ear, “Shhh, everything w
ill be okay. I promise.” He says that over and over to reassure us both I suppose. And even though I know better, I let myself believe him for this one moment. Because, despite the crap I’m dealing with at home, I know while I’m here with Ky, everything will be okay. And that’s enough for me.
It has to be.
Chapter Four
I can’t explain how it felt to see Addie again. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel at all. I knew there was gonna be a lot of unresolved feelings I had hoped would’ve dissolved in time. But one thing is for certain, when I saw her come through the double doors and she walked past me as if I hadn’t been standing there, waiting for her, I observed her posture and body language. She seemed so nervous and timid—a contrast to the Addie I remember. I wasn’t certain how long it’d take before she would notice me.
I didn’t expect to be attacked when she realized it was me staring like some creeper. But holding her in my arms, as her emotions unraveled, it felt right. Like no time had passed and we were still as close as ever. I knew it wouldn’t last long, though. Reality was going to come back and knock us out, making us face the harsh truths. However, I took advantage of that tiny second I did have. And, man, it was worth it.
Brent drove us in his mom’s car, a Ford Contour, which had more room than my truck would have had for her luggage and whatnot. He parked it in the garage and decided to wait after I told him I had needed time alone before she arrived. My nerves were jittery and I needed air to clear my head. I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy ordeal. Seeing her from a distance¸ though…it was killing me not to make my presence known right away. Apparently she’s a baseball fan, which doesn’t surprise me. She’s always enjoyed sports. And I think she’s sexy with a baseball cap hiding her long blonde locks—even if I shouldn’t be thinking such things. I can’t control the direction my mind goes. It’s been a while, and those feelings I had then come back stronger than ever.
I shake my head and grab the handle of her suitcase from her grip, ready to take it to the car. She swats at me, saying she can get it and I laugh. “Seriously? You’re not gonna accept my help?”
“I can do it.” She places a hand on her hip, offended. “I have two hands, you know.”
I put my own hands up in surrender. “Okay, have at it.” I’m not used to anyone denying my offer to help them. Most girls would drop everything to have a guy do it all for them. Maybe not most, but the ones I’ve been around. They treat people as if they’re owed. Expecting guys to carry their books to class all the time. This is a nice change. As I scan the street, checking for traffic, I remember something. Pausing, I grab Addie’s arm and pull her back when she starts walking ahead. “I need to tell you something before we go to the car,”
Her expression of confusion and surprise she was just wearing relaxes a little. She moves back and sets her suitcase up straight, waiting patiently.
I shove a hand into my hair, searching for a good way to explain why Brent is with me and how much he knows. Might as well tell her the truth, she deserves to know. After exhaling a breath, knowing exactly what I’m going to say, Addie takes control first.
“Okay, spit it out.” Her brows furrow and she bites her lip. “You’re making me nervous.”
I stifle a grin. “My best friend, Brent came with me tonight.” Her eyes narrow a little so I press on for reassurance. “I trust him, which is why only he knows anything important that goes on.”
She drags her lip between her teeth, averting her gaze and blows out a breath of air. “So, he knows about my situation?”
Fuck. How do I tell her yes without sounding like a blabbermouth? “Only that you’re staying here for a few days. He wanted to meet you in case, you know, I made an ass of myself.” I rolled my eyes dramatically to make light of her obvious discomfort. I give her a faint smile to ease some of the tension. “You’ll like him.”
She offers a sideways grin. “Oh yeah?”
I return her smile with my own, feeling the nerves dissipate. “Yep, I’m sure of it.” I nod for her to follow me when the street is clear to walk across and start searching for the car. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
***
I give my friend a pointed look, curiosity getting the best of me. “So, what do you think?” I casually ask him about Addie once she’s disappeared into the bathroom to talk to her aunt. We took her to the Waffle House since they’re said to have the best waffles—appropriate name—and this place is relatively new in town. It’s one of a few in the state, but pretty popular in the South apparently. Addie was excited to see something familiar to home, raving about their food. I’m diggin’ it, for sure.
“I like her,” Brent says before taking a sip of his soda, eyeing me. “She’s very sweet. A little timid…but maybe she’s just tired.” His arm rests against the back of the booth he’s sitting on, across from me. He raises a finger with his other hand as he adds “She’s definitely more your type than Shelly is.”
That comment makes me chuckle lightly, though I’m unsure how I feel about it. I reply to his other comment and say, “She’s not really a timid girl. Then again, we haven’t seen each other in a while and I guess I can’t expect a happy reunion.” As we’re conversing, my eyes keep going back to the door the whole time, waiting for her to pop out. For a brief moment, I consider checking on her to make sure she’s okay. Instead, I force my attention to my friend and say, “Thanks for coming with me.” I scratch behind my ear, a nervous tick that springs on once in a while. “I’m not sure why I’m acting like a baby.”
He laughs, shaking his head, and then cocks an eyebrow at me. “You aren’t being a baby, just a guy who likes a girl. It’s understandable to feel nervous in your situation.” He leans forward and rests both elbows on the table, folding his hands under his chin. “I haven’t seen you like this about anyone.” He pauses. “Except her.”
Damn it, why does he have to point out these things? I’m not ready to think about any of it now. “She needs me as her friend,” I argue. “I’m not telling her anything. She doesn’t need the added stress.”
Again, my eyes avert to that damn door as if willing her to come back out. I’m just hoping the conversation with her aunt is going well and I think that’s why I’m so antsy. I don’t know the whole story, but enough to know her aunt is in on her plan of her being here. Still, something keeps nagging at me. And I can’t figure out what it is.
“Sorry,” I hear her voice as she rounds the corner toward our booth. I set my fork down and get out so she can climb back in. “My aunt, bless her heart, is just nervous. She kept talking and talking, asking questions, so worried.” She shoves her phone back in her purse and smiles nervously at both of us. “Well?”
“What?” I ask, confused.
Her eyes fall on my plate and back up at me. “Either you were really hungry or you really liked your waffles.” She smiles, probably hoping it’s the second one. And then she narrows her eyes, suspiciously. “Or you gave your waffles to him.” She gestures to Brent.
I quirk an eyebrow at her before picking up my fork to take a bite. There’s not much left considering how much I’ve eaten. I was pretty hungry, but that’s not the only reason I inhaled my food. “I’ve always loved waffles.” I slide the fork around in the syrup that’s still left on my plate before bringing it to my mouth. I close my eyes with a moan as I chew and swallow it, which only makes Addie laugh and Brent shake his head, embarrassed. Peeking at her through one opened eye, I add, “But I really like these waffles.”
Brent rolls his eyes. “Clearly.” He tosses Addie a wink and nods his head. “You’re a baseball fan, I see.”
She touches her hat. “Oh, I forgot I was wearing my cap.” Her eyes flick to mine. “Should I take it off?”
I tilt my head. “What for?”
She shrugs. “My dad never liked seeing hats worn at the table. He always said it was rude and disrespectful.”
I lean close to whisper in her ear. “Your dad’s not here,�
�� I slowly move out of her personal space before I make her uncomfortable. “And we”—I gesture to Brent and myself—“don’t care if you wear your baseball cap.” I tap on the bill until it covers her eyes, and she pushes my hand away with a mock-glare. “Rangers fan,” I scoff.
She crosses her arms in defense. “That’s right.” I’m teasing her about the Rangers—which is just for fun, I don’t really dislike them—earning a punch to the shoulder. It doesn’t bother me, though I grab and rub the spot in mock-pain. Narrowing her eyes, she wiggles a finger at me. “They’re my team, so be nice.” I hold my hands up and call a truce.
Brent’s phone goes off loudly with a text, stealing my attention away from Addie because I have a feeling I know who it is. My head tilts, a question shows in my eyes, but I wait while he reads. I catch Addie pushing her fork around her plate with her head down, not really eating. She seems to be lost in her head. I give her arm a nudge until she looks up at me. “Everything okay?”
She offers a small nod. “Just tired.”
“So,” Brent says to us both, abandoning his phone now, “are you cool with coming back to my house? We can watch movies or play some air hockey.”
I’m down for whatever. The question is, is she? The fact that she just stated she was tired makes me hesitant. I don’t want her to be overwhelmed or afraid to say no if she’d rather go to sleep. Before she can respond, I answer for both of us. “I have to get my truck since it’s at your house.” I pause and gesture with my shoulder beside me. “But I think we should let her get some rest before we drag her around.”
“Yeah,” Addie agrees. “Good idea.” She smiles at Brent. “But I love air hockey, so I’ll definitely take you up on that.” Awesome. I love it, too. For some reason, it makes me happy she’s still into sports. She folds her hands on the table. “So, what is there to do in Whitmore, Oregon?”