by Ginger Scott
“They’re tits, boys. Get over them,” Cass says, walking over to the check-in table and leaving me both mortified and in awe all at once.
When I turn back around, Nate’s eyes are back on me. He’s rubbing his chin, laughing because Cass caught him.
“Sorry, nothing to see here,” I say, grabbing my chest and squeezing. It’s like an out-of-body experience, and I can’t believe I said something so bold and brave, but the way he smiles makes me feel proud.
The program director starts calling everyone into the main gym for activities, so we all follow Paige through the doors. The crowd is a little overwhelming, and my feet feel stuck to the carpet. Paige is far ahead of me, and Cass and Ty are close behind her. I can feel my chest crackling, fighting to breathe, when suddenly Nate’s hand rests on my back. His touch makes my eyes blink rapidly, and it feels like a thousand volts into my heart. And then…calm.
“Come on, we’ll survive this together,” he says, his breath hot against my neck and ear. Despite the dozens of strangers packed in the small space around me, I’m still standing…and breathing. And I think that’s because of Nate.
For the next hour, we break into groups and meet new people based on the various things the moderator calls out. The first grouping is based on the middle initials. Mine is Anne, so I go to the A group, and I go there slowly. Breathe. Breathe deeply. Nate is with me again, and instantly I relax.
“Andrew,” he says, shrugging.
“Anne.”
While in our group, the moderator reorganizes us by birthdays, first asking for months—Nate is still next to me for February—and then by dates.
“What’s yours?” he asks, his fingers out like he’s calculating.
“I’m the fifteenth,” I say, hearing someone next to me say they’re the fifteenth, too.
“Sixteenth,” Nate says, and he puts his hand flat along my spine again, keeping me close.
“Now I’d like everyone to turn to your right, and put your hands on the shoulders of the person in front of you,” the moderator calls.
Nate is in front of me, and there’s a small, quiet girl with curly hair behind me. I still feel my muscles tighten when she puts her hands on me, but I’m able to endure it. I think it would be worse if it were one of the other guy’s in the group, but I’m comfortable here between this girl and Nate.
The moment my fingers connect with his shoulders, I feel it again—it’s that heart-speeding-up kind of feeling. I know I should forget about it, bury it, and stuff it away deep inside—because I only have enough energy to focus on being a human. I don’t have the capacity to focus on being a girl. But I can’t help this reaction. His muscles are hard, and I feel every curve of his shoulders and the grooves along his back.
“That’s it, Thirty-three. Dig in right there,” he jokes, while I massage and work his muscles. The girl behind me can barely be felt, but I’m letting my fingers and thumbs rub all along Nate’s broad shoulders and back.
“Switch!” the moderator calls, and I turn quickly, knowing that Nate’s hands are seconds away from my bare skin. I’m both thrilled and worried that I wore a shirt with spaghetti straps. I try to put my focus on the shoulders of the small girl in front of me, doing my best to stare at the words on the back of her shirt, but I don’t give her near the attention I gave Nate. I’m more patting her shoulders in circles.
Nate’s fingers sweep my hair over my shoulder first, and I hold my breath the entire time. I can hear him breathing behind me, like I’ve tuned out every other sound in the gym, and I flush when I realize my arms are covered in goosebumps. I know he sees it, and for a moment, I think I feel him blow gently on my neck. His fingers finally find my shoulders, and my lips part and let out a sigh. Thank god he can’t see my face right now.
His touch is slow and deliberate, his thumbs circling gently along my back and his fingertips feeling every inch of bare skin on my shoulders. My eyes are locked on the moderator, and internally, I’m begging her to forget about the next announcement; when I see her pull the mic to her lips, I almost cry.
“Okay, now freeze right where you are. Slowly, I want you all to sit on the lap of the person behind you.”
I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for this. I can’t be a girl. Maybe I can dazzle Nate again with Paige’s blatant nipples. I’m looking for her, actually wanting her distraction, but she’s a dozen circles away. Cass seems to have bailed out completely—instead, sitting along the wall with Ty, and they’re both watching Nate and me, giving each other commentary. She catches me looking at her and lifts her hand from her knee for a small wave.
“I got you,” Nate says over my shoulder, sending the goosebumps I just got rid of right back along my arms. Without warning, I’m suddenly sitting back, his hands firmly on my hips, guiding me onto his legs. Everyone is giggling—everyone…but me. My body is starting to shake, and I know he can feel it.
“You won’t fall, I’ve got you,” he says over my shoulder.
I’m not worried about falling, I’m worried about not being able to get out once I’m tangled with other bodies. And maybe I’m worried about how sitting on Nate’s lap is going to make me feel.
His legs are just as strong as his shoulders, if not stronger. They’re solid, and long, and warm; I can feel my back pressing against his chest, which is also solid and strong—unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I don’t even notice the girl in front of me sitting on my lap; I keep my hands along her shoulders for support. Sparing a look downward, I see Nate’s hands still along my waist—and for just a few seconds, my mind fools me, and I see Josh’s hands instead.
Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I wish my vision away. Josh is not here. When I open again, I see the differences. The last time a boy touched me here—anywhere—his hands were soft and young, the hands of someone who’s barely lived. It’s only been two years, but it seems eighteen is so very far from sixteen. Or maybe it’s just the way Nate is built. His hands are rough and weathered, and large enough to wrap completely around my midsection if he wanted them to.
I must have been holding my breath the entire time, because it seems minutes have passed without my knowledge, and I’m on my back with Nate’s perfect, dusty blue-gray eyes staring back and forth from one eye to the other. His lips are moving, but I don’t hear any sound. I don’t hear any sound!
It doesn’t take long for my heart to react, and suddenly I’m sitting and fighting and punching to break free. Exits, where are the exits? Why are Josh’s hands on me again? Why is he stopping me?
“Rowe! Rowe! Breathe!”
Breathe. That’s right; just breathe.
I blink. It’s like one of those sand drawings where slowly everything falls into place, and I can see the entire picture. Most of the other students are leaving the gym, and the music comes back into focus. I see Cass standing over Nate’s shoulder. And Nate—Nate is holding me at my shoulders and looking with concern into my eyes.
“Wha…what happened?” I ask, wondering why the room is no longer filled with freshmen sitting in circles.
“You fainted,” Nate says, moving his hands from my shoulders to my face. The way he’s squeezing my cheeks makes me feel as if I’m making a fish face, and I scoot away from him. “You hit your head. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. Just…just a little confused is all. How did I get on the floor?”
His hands are back on my face, and he’s looking at me closely. I’m not sure he has any qualifications to be giving me a concussion test, but I let him look this time, mostly because I like the way my head feels in his hands.
“You were on my lap, and then all of a sudden, your entire body went limp. The girl that was balancing on you fell, too. She hit her head hard!” He cringes, and I feel terrible; all I want to do now is find that quiet, curly-haired girl I took out with me.
“Is she okay?”
“I think so. Her friend was with her and took her to the health center. She was walking though, so
I’m sure she’s fine,” Nate says, lifting me up to a stand by pulling under my arms. His hand quickly finds its way to my back again, and despite the cold sweat covering my body, I feel a rush of heat.
During our walk back to the dorm, Ty invites everyone to hang out in his and Nate’s room; I notice Paige perk up at that thought. She’s standing on the other side of Nate, asking him question after question—about baseball and what position he plays, and what his number is, and what time his games are so she can watch. He’s giving her clipped answers, which strangely pleases me.
“I know sometimes practices are open. I’d love to come watch you play,” Paige says, grabbing ahold of his other arm and looking at him with the most annoying doe eyes I’ve ever seen. Something inside me snaps; I shirk away from his side and wrap my arms around my midsection, squeezing.
“Yeah, maybe you can come watch and analyze his swing, tell him he dips his shoulder too much, and that’s why he doesn’t get the pop he should off the bat,” I mumble to myself, rolling my eyes while I look out at the buildings leading up to our dorm. I barely finish my sentence when Nate’s hand finds my shoulder again, and he spins me to look at him.
“Say that again,” he says slowing us down enough, Paige has to continue with Ty, Cass, and a few of the other students who live on our floor.
“Nothing.” I’m squeezing myself tighter now, wishing I didn’t just throw a baby fit because I was jealous.
“That was not nothing, and you know it. How do you know I dip my shoulder? And how do you know what dipping a shoulder means?” he asks, his eyes squinted, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looks at me while we continue now, well behind our friends.
If I could have one super power, I would want the ability to enact re-dos in life. Because right now, all I want to do is relive the last two minutes and keep my damn mouth shut. But since that’s not going to happen…
“I Googled you.” I feel like an idiot.
“You…Googled me?”
“Yeah, I Googled you. After our lunch, I wanted to see how good you were, because I could tell you were being modest. And you were being modest, by the way. The Indians wanted you!” This is called diarrhea of the mouth.
“You…Googled me,” he says again, his accent making that word sound so much better than it does when it leaves my lips.
“Yeah, well…your on-base percentage is impressive. So I found a video and watched it. Noticed your swing. That’s it.” I actually feel angry now, and I don’t know why.
“You watched my swing. And…on-base percentage?” He seems shocked that I know what I’m talking about, and for some reason, it pisses me off.
“You’re being kinda sexist, don’t you think?” I say, picking up my step to catch up with the others.
“I’m sorry…you’re cyber-stalking me, and I’m the one being creepy?” he asks, half laughing.
“First of all, I didn’t call you creepy, I called you sexist. And I wasn’t stalking you. I just like to do a little background checking on people before I trust them. And you stalked me first, mister Rowe with an E on Facebook!” I actually huff that last part out and am somehow able to hear how crazy my rant sounds. I look at him from the corner of my eye and catch his snicker. Soon we’re both laughing.
“Fair enough,” he says. “Okay, just tell me this. How do you know so much about baseball?”
“My dad coaches for a high school. I’m a bit of a sponge for knowledge. And when you’re homeschooled, you end up watching a lot of day games on television,” I say, my mind trying to block out all of Josh’s games I used to watch.
Nate’s stare is intense, and he doesn’t say anything for a while, which only makes my discomfort grow. By the time we reach the dorm, my head is pounding—partly from my fainting spell, and partly from the stress now rolling over and over inside me. When the elevator reaches our floor, everyone turns toward Nate and Ty’s room, but I stop.
“Aren’t you coming?” Nate asks. I catch Paige’s eyes looking at me over his shoulder, begging me not to. A defining moment—and I know that if I went, this flirting thing I’ve been doing with Nate would only continue. And where could that possibly go?
“I can’t. I’m still not feeling so well. I’m going to go to bed. But you guys have fun. I’ll catch up with you later,” I say, the strange tinge of regret eating away at my insides.
Nate doesn’t respond, but his smile fades, and he sucks in his bottom lip while he studies me with his eyes. I raise my hand and hold it up with a still wave before turning down my hall to head to my room. It takes me a minute or two to finesse my key from my pocket, and when I finally have it in the lock, I feel my heart actually sting. I just gave up on something because I’m afraid. And it hurts.
Chapter 7
Nate
Everyone crashed in our room last night. One of the hazards of being the room that sneaks in alcohol—everyone sort of stays for the party.
Cass and Ty seem comfortable, cuddled up in the corner of his bed. She’s different for him. Normally, he’d be hot after her sister, who is completely wrapped up in the blanket on my bed, her dress hiked up enough that I’m literally staring at the underwear hugging her ass.
We all did shots last night, but I stopped after one or two. No one noticed; I think that Paige chick thought I was just as lit up as she was. I let her crawl into my bed, and I even entertained the idea of making out with her. But she had this giggling fit over dumb shit she was saying, and it was so damned annoying, it helped me keep my head on straight.
If I ever want to curl up in my bed with Rowe, I can’t entertain myself with her roommate. So I let Paige lay on my chest until her giggling stopped and she passed out. Then I crawled over her and slipped out of the door to the study lounge and slept on that miserable-ass sofa for a few hours.
I need my shoes. That’s the only reason I’m back in this room right now. And I think I can get to them. I just hope Paige doesn’t wake up while I’m in here. I can barely stand her on two shots of tequila. I think sober me would want to run from this room screaming.
“Pssssst.” Ty’s head is lifted from his pillow, and he’s motioning for me to come closer.
“Hey dude. I have workouts. Just gonna grab my shoes and take off. I’ll be back around noon. Wanna grab lunch at Sally’s?” I try to keep my voice in a low whisper so I don’t wake up Cass.
“Yeah, I’m fucking hungry, yo,” he says, rubbing his stomach.
“You were pretty much on the liquid diet last night,” I say, patting him once on the shoulder while I sit on the edge of his bed and slip my foot in my shoe. “All right, I’ll see you later. Maybe…let’s meet there? I don’t want to have to run into…”
I nod my head to my bed where Paige is still deep asleep. Ty lifts an eyebrow at me and I shake my head no.
“She passed out. I slept in the lounge,” I say, finally standing.
“Hey,” he whispers just as I’m about to go. I look at him, and he lifts his head a little more, looking over at Paige again and then back at me. “Why’d you lie about your middle name and your birthday?”
I was wondering when he’d give me crap over that. I lean over to make sure Cass is asleep this time. When I look back at him, I just wink, and he chuckles softly, slapping his hand to his forehead.
“You’re a hopeless romantic,” he says. “I’ll make sure Cass knows you slept in the lounge. Don’t want any of that getting misunderstood.”
“Thanks, man,” I say, giving him knuckles.
I wait at the elevator for a few extra minutes, and then I decide to take the stairs, which are closer to Rowe’s end of the hall. The closer I get to her room, the less I breathe, trying to listen for any sign of her being awake. But the bottom of her door is dark. She’s either still asleep or long gone. Either way, she’s going to realize her roommates never came home. And I hope like hell my brother keeps his word.
Rowe
I woke up early since I never showered last night.
I figured most of the dorm would be asleep, so I could take my shower alone. Seems anytime after eleven and before six is good.
Paige and Cass were both gone, or they never came home. I suspect it’s the latter. I spend my entire shower wondering where Paige slept, wondering if Nate paid any attention to her. Since she’s not here, I’m guessing he did, and I hate that my mind keeps conjuring up visions of her sitting on his lap, kissing his neck, making out with him. Jealousy is the theme of the day, I’m afraid.
My laptop keeps staring at me. I haven’t written him in two days. Ross says it’s good for me to write to him, but he also says I shouldn’t make it a ritual; I should make it something I do when I need it. When I want to feel better about things. And I want to now. But it feels wrong to write to Josh about another boy.
I flip my laptop open anyway, and go right to my Facebook messages to read the few sentences Nate sent me. Then I click into his profile and sift through his pictures. There are a lot of him with his brother, and a few of him with his family. He looks just like his dad—sharp, angular jawline, and the clear grayish-blue eyes. His mom is beautiful, dark black hair, blue eyes, and a tiny frame.
I decide to keep going, flipping through some photos from his high school. There’s a girl in a few of them, mostly the ones that look like they’re from some dance or something, and she’s pretty too. She looks like an athlete, her arms are muscular and there’s just something about her smile that looks strong—fearless. Her hair is close to the same color as mine—almost a muddy brown. From the number of photos of them together, I would guess they had been together for a while.
There are a few more photos that are more recent, and those are the ones I’m obsessing over. They look like they were taken this summer, and there’s a different girl in every one—and a lot of them look like Paige. Each time I click to a new scene, I see Ty and Nate, holding a beer in one hand and a girl in the other. Sometimes the girl is on Nate’s lap, and other times he’s carrying her around on his back. His stupid charming smile is the only thing that stays the same.