“I’ll be right back, it’ll take a few minutes to figure out where I put the damn things,” he grumbles in explanation.
“Okay,” I agree, hopping out anyway once he’s out of sight. Supposedly it’s women who take forever, but I’ve been inside that barn and it’s spacious. Men are notorious for forgetting things, or maybe that just pertains to birthdays and anniversaries, but I’m not going to take the chance. I think it’ll take more than a few minutes.
Not that I have the chance, I have a mission to complete. Skipping over to the old tire swing, I put some of my weight on it to test the strength of the rope, double-checking that it’s not dry rotted. The limb dips a normal amount but I don’t hear any snapping or cracking noises. Since it seems well enough, I nestle my hips inside.
This is something I always wanted to try so badly when I was younger, but bouncing around and lacking even the tiniest of yards most of the time prevented it. Besides, even if there was a suitable location to put one, I’m not sure my slight and elegant mother could have managed to fashion one for me. It’s humorous picturing her in stilettos, climbing a ladder to string up a rope. And placing those manicured hands on a dirty old tire? Not in a million years.
Still, you always observe those pictures or hear stories describing majestic childhoods, and so many times a tire swing is included. Even though I’m 17 years old, I’m itching to have a little fun. I push off, swinging back and forth a few minutes, enjoying the wind in my hair, the feeling of flying. That sensation of lightness… it’s a luxury in and of itself.
When’s the last time I wasn’t exhausted, weighed down by dread and anxiety?
Besides today, I’m not sure I can remember. Dragging my feet across the dirt to stop myself, I glance over at the barn. Still no sign of Gray.
Since I’ve got a little more time, there’s one more thing I’m just dying to try. I plant my big toe firmly to the ground, winding the rope up as tight and high as I can manage, and then tuck myself tightly inside. It starts off slowly, then quickly picks up speed. Soon, the world begins spinning around me like a whirlwind. I’m getting dizzier than I knew was possible, but it’s just too much fun. Finally, it begins to slow down and gradually come to a stop.
I instantly understand what all the hype is about. This would be a monumental element of a fun childhood, but sadly my time here has come to a close. I need to get out of here before I’m embarrassed by my childlike urges. Wiggling out slowly, I attempt to remove myself from the tire-swing contraption.
I’m not going to lie, I can hardly hone in on any one thing, and my legs consist of gelatin as one foot meets the ground. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bright idea after all. I release the rope as I step off, and for a moment, I’m sure my vertigo has subsided and I’ve gotten the hang of it.
But I’m quickly finding out that what had felt like upright, was more like topsy-turvy. The ground drops from beneath me as the branches of the tree overhead levitate in the opposite direction. My hand swipes out, seeking the rope, but with all my wooziness working against me, I come up short. Out of time and unable to brace for impact, I resign myself to the idea of pain. Just as my back and possibly even my head is supposed to smack the ground, a set of firm hands encase me.
AGAIN.
If there was an award for klutz-of-the-year, I’d be the winner for consecutive years running.
“Are you always this accident prone?” he asks. The truth just won’t do, and here’s why… I know he won’t believe me if I tell him that I’m usually, in fact, way more attune to what I’m doing and ever-cautious. What I’ve been showing him, however, is the complete opposite. Apparently, this could be the new me.
OUTSTANDING.
“Pretty much,” I mutter, as I attempt to get a glimpse of him while upside down. My eyes are moving in crazy directions while trying to clear my vision, and I feel a little foolish.
“You didn’t get hurt did you?” he asks in a humor-laced voice.
Finally, the fuzziness in my sight dissipates, and our eyes meet. I didn’t even realize his face was so close to mine, or that he’s kneeling on the ground right beside me. He must have lunged just in the nick of time to keep me from getting hurt, although, I don’t think that short of a fall would have done very much damage. I’m still thankful I don’t have to find out.
We’re up close and personal, sharing breaths. From the proximity between us, all the minor details of his face are prevalent, which only leads me to believe the same is likely true with me. Aside from overthinking all the flaws he could possibly be observing, I’m enjoying the view. Crinkles that have only recently begun to form at the edges of his eyes signal plenty of laughter and happiness in his life.
His dimples are barely perceptible as he smirks down at me. I don’t know how they got by me yesterday, maybe it was being stuck on his eyes or just his overall domineering presence, but those dimples are nice to look at. Endearing, and having the effect of boyishly softening his rugged appeal.
If I wanted to I could grab the neck of his shirt, yank it down, and our lips would meet.
Just.
Like.
That.
What am I saying? I DO want to. What an amazing first kiss that would be. If you’ve watched the movie Spider-man, the Tobey Maguire one, then you might be able to visualize what I’m getting at. That upside-down kiss won the MTV movie award for the Best Kiss of the Year. Every girl was fantasizing about that one. Apparently, I still am, except Gray would be so much more yummy than some dude in a leotard.
Since when do I say words like yummy to describe a man? The answer would be since I met Gray about 36 hours ago, but who’s counting?
I’ve never had such a desire to experience someone’s lips brush against mine, move with mine. Are they as soft as they look? Warm? Too wet, or just right?
All these questions are popping into my mind uncontrollably, and God do I want to answer them all right now. But unfortunately, I just can’t, no matter how much I want to.
There’s a variety of reasons for that, the front runners being that a) I barely know him, b) I don’t know what I’m doing at all, c) He’ll think I’m a slut, and d) He’s my new friend’s brother, and my landlord.
I realize he asked me a question, and here I am being weird and taking way too long to answer. Thankfully he doesn’t know what I’m thinking, but can he FEEL it?
What was it he asked again? Oh yeah, if I’m hurt.
“I don’t think so, but I do feel a little strange,” I answer truthfully because this is a strange feeling, as it’s one I’m unfamiliar with. Standing up, he walks around to the front of me, extending an arm to help me up off the ground. He doesn’t comment on what I said so I’m left wondering what he’s thinking.
Can he tell that I wanted to kiss him? Does he find me pathetic, the young high-school girl crushing on the older guy?
I don’t know very much about the adult version of the male species, so I can’t gauge his reactions to me. On top of all that, he’s difficult to read in general.
He holds onto my hand a few moments, making sure I’m balanced, before dropping it like I’ve suddenly burned him. The loss of contact makes my palm tingle, and I’m instantly craving its return.
“Jumper cables are in the jeep. Let’s get a move on it, Princess, before you lose your independence,” he grits out, sounding even more gruff than usual, as he begins walking in the direction of the vehicle.
I follow suit. When I hop inside, he begins speaking to me right away as opposed to the extended silence of earlier.
“So, what was your little stunt with the tire-swing for? You know that things been there, untouched, for years. It could have broken right when you got to swinging at full velocity. Bet you probably don’t consider things like that, although, you should. From what I’ve witnessed so far, you’re not too graceful,” he admonishes.
“Look, Gray, I’m glad you were there to catch me…”
“Which time? As I remember there’s been two in
the past two days,” he interrupts.
I give him the stink-eye.
“I’m well aware. I wasn’t finished. Like I said, I’m glad you caught me, both times…” I look sternly at him, daring him to cut in again, “HOWEVER, I highly doubt I would have even been hurt. You put yourself more at risk of being hurt, hurling yourself in my path in your attempt to catch me. You could have broken a bone or something…”
He narrows his eyes, a clear indication of his belief I’m being farfetched, and I’ll admit I likely am.
“You’ll be relieved to discover I actually did examine it. Checking to make sure it was, in fact, still sturdy and wouldn’t buckle under my weight. I tested the rope, and the branch as well. Guess what? It was fine. My reasons for wanting to swing around like a child are my own,” I pronounce with finality to my tone.
“Maybe your reasons for wanting to behave like a child, are because you are one,” he huffs.
My veins literally grow blistering like my blood has begun to boil. How dare he? Today he says I’m a child, and yesterday he called me “little girl.”
Well, screw him. I’ll show him how much of a little girl I am. From now on, I’ll exude nothing but my usual cool demeanor and I’ll refrain from acting out or participating in childish follies.
But perhaps, just this once, I’ll defend my reasons even though my childhood is entirely my business and mine alone.
“If you must know, my mother and I have moved around a lot. When I mentioned it at the dinner table last night, I don’t think I clarified correctly. Since the age of six or seven, I’ve not lived in the same spot for longer than eight months and even that’s a stretch. Constantly being uprooted and moving around just to settle in and have it happen all over again, that’s not the type of lifestyle conducive to a remarkable adolescence. Think about the way childhood is portrayed. In stories, in the movies, in pictures… there are certain things symbolic of a good childhood. Forts, clubhouses, treehouses, bicycles, and puppies are all things most people would think of. Tire swings are another one, or for me anyway,” I explain, glancing at him to make sure he’s still with me.
“I didn’t get ANY of that growing up. No opportunities to enjoy things like a tire-swing, which by the way, I had a hankering for, so badly. So, when I saw the opportunity present itself, I just took it. Without thinking twice. Maybe it is juvenile like you say, I’ll even agree to that. But for me, it’s just checking off a list, making me experience something like that makes me more knowledgeable, and now I’ll never have to wonder again what it’s like to swing on a tire swing… now I’ll even be a little less resentful of the way I was brought up, which wasn’t how my mother wanted me to be at all, but she was left with no choice nonetheless.”
Gray’s brow furrows as he takes all this in, and I realize I may have presented more information to him than I should have, and he may be having information overload.
Damn him for making me so angry I don’t think.
He surprises me, not by cutting off the subject like I expect him to, but by instead seeking more.
“What about a puppy? Did you at least have one of those?” he asks.
“Never. Moving around all the time and long car-rides aren’t a very good environment for raising a puppy. I begged my mom for one for years, and even tried to persuade her into letting us keep one just until we moved, but she finally helped me understand how it wouldn’t be fair to the animal. It probably wouldn’t have been good for me either.”
“That’s a shame. Lyra and I both grew up with a dog. Pockets. That was her name. We had her from the time she was a puppy. She grew up with us, which made her very protective of us. Followed us both everywhere, but especially Lyra. Pockets was smart enough to know who the most vulnerable was, and that Lyra needed her the most. We both loved that dog,” he doesn’t blink, eyes glazing over with a faraway look as he reminisces. “She died not long after Mom did. Two months after. The loss of Mom gutted us. I know this sounds stupid talking about an animal and all, but Pockets dying was like another low-blow that the Universe served our family when we were already down. She really was like family to us, which my dad always thought was ridiculous but Mom understood,” he replies wistfully.
“That sucks. You’ve never thought about trying to get another dog? Like one from the shelter or something?” I inquire.
“Nope. I’m not opening myself up to having feelings for anyone again. Animal or person. The more things you love, the more susceptible you’ll be to getting hurt,” he asserts with such poignant certainty, that it makes me sad for him.
Sure, I don’t really believe in the “L” word, not in the sense of soulmates and such, but I do believe in the love shared between those you are close to, like my mom and me. I know he loves Lyra and his father, so that’s not really the case, but he’s closed himself off from everyone, especially making new friends.
Can losing a parent and a pet really cause him to be so closed off, or are there other underlying factors?
There has to be some other stuff that’s happened in his life to have triggered such strong reactions.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I tell him, pausing in thought for a moment, before continuing.
“I’d love to have a dog since we’re staying here for about a year. Maybe, if we set up where we will move after this well enough in advance, Mom and I can make it work with having a pet,” I muse aloud.
“There’s a ‘No Animals’ clause in the lease your Mother signed,” he informs me, and my mood immediately deflates.
I was SO close to checking off another item on my list of ‘goals, wants, and needs,’ no matter how insignificant it may have been.
“Oh,” I discontentedly utter.
We’re silent for a few minutes as we pull onto the main road and start through town. I watch the scenery whir by as I contemplate all the things in my life, past and present.
“Have you had the opportunity to check out any of the shops around here yet?” Gray fills the void with benign banter.
“No, but my mom did yesterday. I know she at least perused the boutique and the supermarket.”
“My Mom used to be a part-owner of that boutique. Her friend, Pam, still runs it. Lyra could probably get you the same discount she gets if you’re interested.”
“I’ll have to go look there. I could use some wardrobe updating. Thanks for the tip,” I smile. Gray nods his head as we turn off Main Street toward the school.
“You know after you get past the rough exterior, and the fact that you like to goad people you’ve just met, you’re a pretty sweet guy. I’m surprised someone hasn’t snatched you up yet. You’re like, a woman’s dream package… Handy with car trouble like I’m going through. Possessing Edward Cullen super speed so that you can save people from falling and getting hurt. Most importantly, you take the initiative to step up to the plate when necessary. I’m surprised all the Mommas in this little town aren’t throwing their daughters into your direct path.” The amusement on his face washes away, revealing a mask of indifference.
Oh, Hell… Can’t take it back now.
His fists twist as he grips the steering wheel more tightly, muscles so taut that veins pop out. I should be more concerned with his reaction to my philosophies on him, but I guess I’m shallow today. Like cosmetics on a female, his inkwork only plays up some of his best features, and my sight momentarily clings to him.
There’s no doubt in my mind that he sticks to a strict exercise regimen, being not only defined but also swift acting and agile. His jaw ticks as my words bounce around inside his head.
“I already told you, I’m not looking to care for anyone else. It just leads to a bad mood and getting hurt. Besides all that’s bullshit. And as for all these ‘attributes’ you’re associating with me, that’s how a man should be. I’m not anything special. I just do what I would expect from someone else,” he replies with such passion that I’m suddenly left at a loss for words.
We squeal tires pulling into
the senior lot. From the way he makes quick work of putting the jumper cables to use, I’m led to believe he’s way beyond ready to get rid of me. Yet, even though I can tell he’s in a hurry, he still takes the time to point out what he’s doing and why making sure that I can repeat the process in the future if needed. After connecting the red clamps with positive and the black clamps with negative, cranking the Jeep back up and waiting a few minutes, my car finally cranks to life. Gray removes the jumper cables and hands them to me.
“Want me to put them away?” I ask, confused seeing as how I’m not aware of where he normally stores things in his vehicle.
“Yeah, I do want you to put them away. In your vehicle, Sloane. You might need them in the future and I might not be around. Besides, I have more of them back home,” he explains, scratching the back of his neck.
So first, he shows me how to operate the jumper cables, which I already knew the gist of but I humored him anyway not wanting to be rude. Then, he gives them to me to keep in my car in case I ever have another emergency. That’s kind of, I don’t know… sweet? Should I be this affected over such a small gesture?
“Um, thanks a lot Gray.” I drag my toe over some loose gravel on the pavement. “I’m sorry for causing you trouble, and taking up your time,” I apologize, training my eyes anywhere but on him.
“Sloane, look at me,” he commands. Reluctantly, I do so. His ochre eyes could probably burn a hole straight through my soul. The intensity is too much. “It was no problem, and I had nothing better to do today than to help a damsel in distress.” The corner of his mouth twitches as he jokes, lightening the mood, but the sincerity of his words ring true to my ears.
While I can’t help but to return his smile, warning bells are going off. From my knowledge, people don’t go around offering help without a reason to do so. That’s just how the world works, and with the way he’s been saving this damsel (three times in the past two days if we count the near-falls, and the jump-off), the list keeps getting longer. He’s probably going to cash it in all at once.
Love on the Run Page 9