by Monica Cole
I can’t help it. I roll my eyes.
Mom sighs. “You know I like Canyon, but I don’t like the idea of you two being there without Mr. Beckett.” She goes back to sorting through bills as if to say this conversation is over.
I escape to my room, grab a fresh pair of pajamas, and then go take shower. After that, I spend the next hour torturing my brain with trig homework. I end up scribbling down answers for the ones I absolutely can’t do then turn on my stereo, close my eyes, and lie in bed. I think about what mom said about being alone with Canyon. It seems ridiculous for her to think something could happen when I’ve only known him for two weeks. Sure I think Canyon is attractive. I’d have to be blind not to notice. But just because I think he’s attractive doesn’t mean I have feelings for him. Doesn’t mean I’ve thought about sex or kissing or…Okay. Maybe I’ve thought about kissing him, but he has the kind of lips that make girls think bad things. The kind of voice you want to hear read poetry and a smile that sends tremors through your heart so fierce, it leaves a permanent mark. Really, he’s every girl's dream guy. If I were looking for a boyfriend, I guess he’d be my dream guy too. Rolling onto my back, I inhale, an unexpected scent invading my nostrils.
Strawberry.
I smell strawberry and…sweat? I blink my eyes open and nearly have a heart attack when I see Canyon standing above me, an amused grin wedged between his dimples. He’s wearing a black Under Armour shirt and gray gym shorts and his hair is damp, sticking up in disarray.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He drops down on the side of the bed, right by my legs. I push up with my hands and scoot against the headboard, folding my hands in my lap. His lips quirk, like he secretly finds something funny and I scowl to mask what that small gesture does to my insides.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, hoping I sound more irritated than breathless.
He leans back on his hands, arm grazing my leg. “You left something in my truck.” He reaches into his pocket and retrieves my phone. “Whitney called like ten times, so you might want to call her back soon.”
He slides the phone into my waiting hand, fingertips tickling my palm. I set the phone on the dresser then glance around the room, fiddling with the strap of my camisole. I have music playing in the background but not loud enough to mask the sound of our breathing. It sounds awkward and loud. Heavy. This isn’t the first time Canyon has been in my room. Actually, he’s been here almost every day since he started driving me to school. We usually hang out here, listening to music, doing homework, talking. It’s never uncomfortable. Never weird. Sometimes I’ll catch him looking at me and my heart moves around, almost like it was slow dancing. But right now my heart feels like its breakdancing or doing the tango. Something way too complex.
After staring at my hands for way too long, I look up. His eyes are on me, lips pressed together, a lock of hair falling carelessly across his forehead. My stomach does a backflip, taking my heart with it.
“You smell like strawberry and sweat,” I blurt out before I can process how stupid it sounds.
Smooth.
Freaking smooth.
His face breaks into a smile that’s nearly blinding. “I’ll talk it as a compliment.”
He bumps my leg with his elbow and takes a drink from the water bottle resting between his legs. I really need to get a grip. This isn’t like me. Like us. We’re friends. We’re comfortable with each other but for some reason I’m making this complicated. Maybe I’m thinking too much about what mom said. I really should stop thinking.
Canyon closes the lid on his bottle and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “So, have you just been lying in bed this whole time?”
“For your information, no. I’ve been doing trig homework.”
“Actually doing it or just writing down random answers?”
Busted.
I cross my arms over my chest, waving my hand flippantly. “Doesn’t matter. It’s done.”
He laughs. “Done wrong.”
I raise my arm to hit him, but he catches it midair.
“Hey, play nice,” he says, skimming his thumb over the inside of my wrist. I wait for him to release my arm but he holds on, his finger repeating the movement. Back and forth. Slow and soft. The sensation has me gripping the sheets with my free hand. Holding my breath. On the verge of screaming. My eyes flutter closed. It’s just an innocent gesture, but each stroke is so deliberate. I swear he knows exactly what he’s doing.
I open my eyes. He’s staring at me again. The same way he stared at me in his bedroom today. The way that makes me think my mom knows just what she’s talking about. Bad. Bad. Bad. This is bad.
His grip loosens but when I feel him pulling me forward, I lose all rational train of thought. He doesn’t take his eyes off mine. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. Not until my face is directly in front of his, his dark eyes consuming my vision. I swallow, lips parting. I look at his mouth and think about kissing. I wonder if his mouth is as soft as it looks or if it tastes like strawberry. The tip of my tongue darts out, skimming my bottom lip and his eyes are no longer on mine. His hand presses against the outside of my thigh, and I expel the smallest breath possible. But it stirs something in the air. In us. He leans closer. I close my eyes.
“Crap.”
My eyes fly open. Canyon is still looking at my mouth but the intense, glazed over look is gone, like he’s finally come off a high. He sits up slowly and releases my wrist. I scramble off the bed, getting my foot caught in the sheet in the process.
“Um, I forgot to tell you. My mom said we’re not supposed to be alone in our rooms together. Or our houses. We shouldn’t be alone together.” I toss the sheet back on the bed and go to stand by my closet, putting some distance between us. He gives me a confused look, like I’ve lost my mind.
“But we aren’t alone. Your mom and Parker are both here.”
I tug at my ponytail. “You know my mom. Always making up stupid rules.” I laugh nervously. “I just don’t want to make her mad. We’ve been on thin ice lately. The last thing I need is for her to ground me. I wouldn’t be able to go to the party with you.”
At the mention of the party this weekend, Canyon grins. “I thought you would’ve talked yourself out of it by now.”
I shake my head, fiddling with the junk on my dresser. “Nope. Not yet. But you should probably go before she comes back here.”
He gives me a curious look, shaking his head as he stands up. “Your mom knows I’m back here but I can take a hint.” He walks to the door, opening it enough to squeeze through. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I wave. “Alright. Good. Tomorrow.” I give him a thumbs up, and he chuckles, closing the door behind him. I collapse in bed then grab my phone, dialing Whitney’s number.
She picks up on the first ring.
“Looks like we’re going to a party.”
“You’re not wearing that, are you?”
Whitney hasn’t stepped two feet in my room, and she’s already frowning. I glance over my shoulder, checking out my outfit in the full length mirror hanging on my door.
“What’s wrong with it?” I turn and check out another angle. I’m still not seeing the problem with my t-shirt and cut-offs.
“God, you’re so helpless,” she groans and pushes past me to the closet. She pulls out a yellow sundress with spaghetti straps and flowy skirt. “Perfect.”
“I’m not wearing a dress,” I say as she stalks toward me. “I want to be comfortable.”
“What’s more comfortable than a sundress?” she argues. “It’s practically like wearing nothing. For someone who hates wearing pants as much as you do, you think you’d live in these things.”
I sigh.
“Please wear the dress, Elaine. You’ll look so pretty, and Canyon will love it.”
I whip my head in her direction, eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “Canyon and I are just friends. He doesn’t care about what I
wear.”
“But Canyon is also a guy and a guy can always appreciate a pretty girl in a pretty dress.”
Seriously, she has an answer for everything.
“Okay. I’ll wear the dress, but you are not touching my hair or make-up. Canyon’s going to be here in five minutes.”
She squeals, tossing it to me. I quickly undress, sliding the lacy material over my head. She helps me zip it up and when I look in the mirror, I’m surprised that it doesn’t look half bad. I slip on a pair of sandals and swipe on some lip gloss right as there’s a knock at the front door. I wasn’t expecting him to come up to the house, so I hurry down the hall to the living room to find Parker has already answered it. Canyon looks up in my direction, his brown eyes raking down the length of my body, excruciatingly slow, like an invisible touch hitting every inch of my skin. When our eyes meet, I’m positive my face is flushed, and I’m two seconds from running back to my room and changing back to a t-shirt.
Parker wheels back into the living room so Whitney and I can get by.
“Where are ya’ll going again?” Parker asks.
“The Cove,” Whitney says enthusiastically. “We’re sneaking into a St. Paul’s party.”
Parker chuckles. “Taking them into rebel territory?” His question is directed at Canyon who has his hands jammed in his back pockets, his eyes appearing to still be on my dress.
“From what Elle has told me, it seems like it. As long as they don’t get caught, they should be fine.” He winks at me, the gesture creating a weird sensation in the pit of my stomach.
“Alright, enough small talk. I’m ready to go!”
Everyone laughs as Whitney bounces impatiently on her toes.
Canyon tells Parker goodbye then heads out to the truck with Whitney right on his tail.
“I should be back before midnight but no promises.”
Parker grins slightly, his hand resting on the door. “Go have fun, Elaine. Mom’s getting off late, but I’ll be up until you get home.”
I nod and turn away.
“Hey.”
I glance over my shoulder.
“You look really pretty by the way.”
I drop my head, my semi-curled hair curtaining my face. The last time Parker said I looked pretty was the night I tried to take my life. I don’t miss the irony because tonight it feels like I’m doing the opposite. Like I’m finally starting to live again. I lift my head and smile, a genuine smile that almost feels foreign on me.
“Thanks. I’ll see you later.”
He wheels into the house with a small wave, and I climb into Canyon’s truck. Whitney and Canyon are fighting over the radio, so I slam down the preset button dedicated to rock music and shoot them a look to leave it. As we pull out of the neighborhood, Canyon rolls down the windows.
“Ready to get this night started?” Whitney whispers, nudging me with her arm. I steal a quick glance at Canyon’s leg pressed against mine and then lean back in my seat.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
We haven’t been here two hours and I’ve already broken most of my rules. I’m on my third beer, but that’s only because Canyon has been dragging me around, forcing me to socialize with his wasted St. Paul buddies. You need alcohol for the kind of conversations they have. Football. Girls. Sex. How much they can bench-press. Basically a bunch of stupid stuff I don’t care to hear about. I just sip my beer, pretending to be attentive. Whitney ran off with some guy not long after we got here but that was expected. Now I’m at Canyon’s mercy, and if I had to go by the way he keeps looking over at me, I’d say he’s enjoying making me suffer. Ten minutes later, Canyon dismisses himself from the conversation. He takes my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and leads me to a truck with a giant red cooler sitting on the lowered tailgate.
“Elaine!” Whitney waves from where she’s sitting on the sand, sandwiched between two guys. She motions me over, beer sloshing out of the can and down the front of her dress. I shake my head.
“I better go check on her.” I look at Canyon who’s chugging a bottle of water. He licks his lips, eyeing them closely.
“Okay. I’ll be here.” He heaves himself up on the tailgate, swinging his legs.
I walk to where Whitney is and take a seat beside her. Both guys look at me, but it’s the blonde whose blue eyes trail up my legs, lingering on my chest.
“Elaine, this is Reese,” she motions to blondie, and he lifts his gaze, flashing me an overly white smile, “and this is Cal.”
I offer them a small wave then steal a sip of Whitney’s beer. When she’s drunk, most of her conversations require alcohol, too, although her stories are somewhat more amusing. Cal seems to be the only one interested in hearing them though. Reese continues staring at me and the longer he does, I realize it doesn’t give me the same sensation as when Canyon does it. Reese is looking at me like I’m just another ass to lay. But with Canyon, it’s different. When he looks at me, it’s like he actually sees me. Like he’s searching past all the gross, messed up parts, down to the very core of my being. Sometimes I hate the way he looks at me. It scares me. But I like that he sees me. He’s the only guy that ever has.
My thoughts draw my attention to where Canyon is sitting on the tailgate, but he’s no longer there. I glance around, looking for his white t-shirt and khaki shorts. I spot him by the bonfire, with Lindsey Collins of all people. I know Lindsey because she used to go to Alden before she transferred to St. Paul last year. She’s your typical cheerleader snob. Rich, beautiful, and eager to claw your heart out. Right now she’s got her hands all over Canyon, boobs practically falling out of her dress. It’s kind of amusing because Canyon almost seems oblivious to it. That or he’s ignoring her, which pleases me more than it probably should.
The sound of someone saying my name jolts me out of my thoughts. Reese is standing above me with an outstretched arm, offering me his hand. I look over my shoulder to see Whitney and Cal racing hand in hand towards the fire.
Ignoring Reese, I climb off the ground, dusting the sand off my dress.
“You wanna dance, babe?” He snakes a hand around my waist and leans closer, breath laced with tequila.
“No thanks,” I say. I take a step back, but he matches my movement, fingers digging into my hips as he sways off balance.
“Come on. Don’t be such a stuck up bitch.”
His hand grabs my ass, but before I have a chance to punch his face in, he’s being ripped off me. Canyon yanks him back, but he doesn’t look pissed. Just eerily calm which is somehow equally as terrifying.
“Tell her you’re sorry and get out of here,” Canyon orders, his voice so deep, it almost intimidates me.
Reese pins me with icy blue eyes. “Sorry,” he spits.
Canyon shoves him away, watching as he scurries off in the other direction.
He turns to me, scanning my face thoroughly. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. I could’ve kicked his ass on my own though.”
His eyes widen. “He’s a linebacker for the football team. I highly doubt that.”
“We’ll never know now, will we?”
He gives me a ‘yea right’ look and shakes his head.
“So, I saw you dancing with Lindsey Collins.” I glance at him from the corner of my eye, trying to catch a reaction. He is staring out at the water, his face void of any expression.
“You know her?”
“She used to go to Alden.” I explain, digging my toes into the sand. “She’s notorious for getting in guys' pants, so I’d watch your zipper. The way she was hanging all over you, I’d say you’re her next victim.”
He looks at me, like this time he’s trying to read something on my face. “Is that such a bad thing?”
I shrug. “I guess not. If you’re into girls like that.”
My statement comes out sounding more like a question, and I hope he doesn’t notice. I am curious what kind of girls he is into. If they’re anything like Lindsey Collins. What I don
’t want him thinking is that I’m interested. Because I’m not.
He runs a hand over the back of his neck, dropping it at his side. “Lindsey’s pretty, but I’d never date her.”
My heart does a giddy dance, but I tell it to stop being ridiculous. “Not your type?”
He looks down, and I do my best not to squirm under his gaze. “I don’t really have a type.”
I snort. “What are you talking about? Everyone has a type.”
“Those are preferences. The physical stuff that eventually becomes irrelevant. I’m not saying it’s not important or that it doesn’t affect the way you feel for someone. But I’d rather have a connection with someone emotionally. Not just be attracted to them physically.”
My mouth drops open and all I can do is stare at him, baffled by his answer. Most guys would’ve responded with something physical. A personality type. But not Canyon. He wants something emotional. Something deeper. If I thought he couldn’t get any more perfect, I was so wrong.
“What?” He asks when I still haven’t said anything.
I shake my head, kicking up sand, “Nothing. I just don’t think you realize how many girls you could win over with that answer.”
For a second I think he’s going to say something but our attention is drawn to Whitney calling my name as she runs towards us, tripping through the sand.
“What are ya’ll doing? You’re missing out on all the fun.” She giggles, hooking her arm through mine and leaning on my shoulder. She places all her weight on me, but before I can topple over, Canyon’s arm shoots out to steady me.
“And it seems like you’ve been having a little too much fun,” I say, shivering when Canyon slides his hand down my arm. Whitney takes hold of my hand, dragging me with her.
“Come on, Elaine. The sun’s about to set. Please go watch with me.”
She pokes her bottom lip out, shaking my arm up and down.
“Okay. Okay.” I look back at Canyon and catch him grinning.
“I’m coming,” he assures me.
Whitney squeals, dragging me towards the bonfire. After grabbing a bottle of water, we sit down, laughing at a bunch of drunk guys attempting to wake board. Five minutes later the sun has set, the pink and gold hues tucked away under a blanket of darkness and twinkling stars. Lindsey approaches Canyon again and asks him to dance. Whitney is talking to a girl behind us with a pixie cut and multiple ear piercings and I’m…watching Canyon. The way his hands are plastered on Lindsey’s hips as she grinds against him. How he’s leaning down so she can whisper in his ear. With my legs curled against my chest, I wonder if I’d like dancing with Canyon. If I’d like the weight of his hands on my waist or having my mouth close to his ear, whispering things that make him laugh. I’m so busy imagining it, I don’t have time to avert my eyes when he looks my way. He smiles softly and I do the same before diverting my gaze and lying down on the blanket, my toes buried in the cool sand. My eyes close and I lose track of time.