Shut Out

by Kody Keplinger

  “That’s what makes it a game,” Cash teased, grinning and looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “The first person unable to piece together the image loses. I like winning. So I give you an elephant.”

  “Jerk.”

  “Clock’s ticking.”

  “There’s a time limit, too?” I asked, panicked.

  “No,” he laughed. “Now I’m really just messing with you.”

  I sighed and looked up at the stars. At least there were a lot out tonight. That made finding the shapes easier. But an elephant? There was no way I could find an elephant in the sky. Just as I was thinking this, though, the lines began to form in my brain, connecting one star to another in a somewhat animal-like shape.

  I picked up Cash’s hand and he extended his index finger, willing me to draw through him. Slowly, I traced the stick-figure outline of the elephant. I started with each leg, then did the back, but when I got to the head, I halted. These stars would make a better dog or cat, because I couldn’t find the trunk. My eyes scoured the tiny lights, hoping to find some way to connect the final pieces, just as Cash began to hum the Jeopardy! theme song in my ear.

  Then his wrist began to move without my guiding it, and Cash connected a few stars jutting upward, making a trunk pointing toward the air instead of at the elephant’s feet, as I’d been imagining. He drew his finger back down, making the animal whole. Lopsided and irregularly shaped but whole.

  “Nice job,” he said, as if I’d figured out how to finish the constellation myself.

  “You let me win,” I said.

  He shrugged and gave me a small smile. “It was your first time.”

  “Well, thanks for being gentle.”

  Cash cracked up, and when I realized what I’d just said, my cheeks flamed.

  “I-I mean—”

  “It’s no problem,” Cash choked out between laughs. “Any good guy would have made it special for you.”

  I buried my face in my hands. “Oh, God.” But I was laughing, too. With anyone else, Chloe excluded, I probably would have been mortified. But in that context, it really was funny.

  “All right,” he said, taking my hand again as his laughter eased. It felt so natural, so normal, that it didn’t even faze me to have him hold my hand. “So do you think you can win on your own next time?”

  “Of course I can.”

  He smirked and leaned against my arm just a bit, his fingers still wrapped around mine. “Prove it,” he said.

  “I will,” I said defiantly. “But you have to go first. And this time, you have to make an… an octopus.”

  Cash hesitated, then looked up at the sky before turning back to me. “Game on.”

  * * *

  Cash and I played the Star Game for hours, talking between each challenge. He explained his position in soccer to me—though the explanation really flew right over my head—and, after he caught me counting the seconds as I waited for him to complete my newest constellation assignment (Santa Claus), I’d been forced to confess my control-freak neuroses. Which, shockingly, didn’t send him running back into the party.

  “So when you’re nervous, you count?”

  “Not just when I’m nervous,” I said. “It’s… all the time. I count the seconds during pauses in conversations. I count the minutes when I’m waiting on something. Sometimes, when I’m kind of panicked or anxious, I count my heartbeats. Something about counting makes me feel like… like I have the power. Like knowing how much time has passed or how many steps I’ve taken from one place to another will somehow keep me in control of the situation.” My hands twisted in my lap. I couldn’t believe I was telling Cash this. It wasn’t something I’d shared with anyone besides Chloe. “I know it’s crazy.”

  “I don’t think you’re crazy,” Cash said. “I think you’re…”

  I looked up at him just as he trailed off. It was too dark to tell, but I thought he was blushing.

  “I’m what?”

  He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his hair. I wanted to touch it, feel the short, dark strands. “I think you’re kind of amazing.”

  One, two…

  I was holding my breath, my whole body tense as I waited for his next words. Then I realized, with a little bit of a shock, that it was the first time I’d been anxious in a few hours. He’d had me so relaxed, so at ease—until now.

  Three, four…

  What was he going to say? What did I want him to say?

  “I mean,” he added, “you are surprisingly good at the Star Game. Until tonight, I’d never found anyone who could compete with me.”

  “Do you, um, play with many other people?”

  “Well… no. Honestly, you’re the only other person I’ve played with besides my mom. We played when we’d go camping when I was a kid, but that’s been years. I usually just do this on my own. So… you’re the first person to be able to compete with me. No lie.”

  “So… your mom really sucks at the game, huh?”

  Cash laughed. “She couldn’t even make a triangle… but I was nine, so she may have been letting me win.”

  “The way you’re letting me win right now?”

  “Yeah… just much more subtle. I never would have guessed back then that she was helping me.”

  Before I could respond, I felt Cash’s hand wrap around mine. He nudged my index finger out and pointed it to the sky.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. “I haven’t challenged you yet.”

  “No,” he said. “But I just saw one on my own. Look at this.”

  And I watched as Cash traced my finger along a line of stars, following a few more into a curve, and then another, until a long line connected them all at a point.

  “A heart,” I murmured.

  And my own skipped a beat.

  I cleared my throat. “You know, that’s, um, a little cheesy.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  I turned toward Cash just as he turned toward me. I closed my hand over his, and then he was leaning and I was leaning and it felt like a gravitational pull. Like moving toward Cash was the most natural thing in the world.

  And that’s the way the kiss felt, too. Natural. Like I’d been kissing him forever. Like we were supposed to be kissing each other at that moment. Maybe for every moment after.

  My phone buzzed in my back pocket just as Cash’s free hand moved up to cup my cheek.

  “Sorry,” I murmured into his mouth as I pulled away. “It might be an emergency… or something.”

  He nodded and turned away, running a hand over his head again.

  When I flipped open my phone, I found a text from Chloe.

  Going back 2 shanes place. Can u get another ride or want me 2 take u back now?

  I glanced over at Cash and felt the butterflies beating their wings against my rib cage. Four hours ago, I would have given anything to leave this place. But now, as it approached midnight, I wanted nothing more than to stay here. Or be wherever Cash was, anyway.

  “Um, hey,” I said, summoning all of my nerve. “Do… do you think you can give me a ride home when you take your friends?”

  He turned to look at me. “Yeah, of course. There’ll be room in my car.”

  “Great. Thank you. My ride is leaving and… well, let me text her.”

  I replied to Chloe and shoved my phone into my pocket. I turned back to Cash, and he smiled.

  And kissed me again.

  I gave Cash directions to my place after he drove his drunk friends home about an hour later. It was with some regret that I watched my house draw nearer. I didn’t want the night to end. I didn’t want to be away from Cash.

  Everything about Cash made me melt. The smell of his cologne. The way he said my name. The constant spark in his green eyes. And knowing that no girl had gotten this far with him—knowing that I had kissed Mr. Unattainable and that he’d called me amazing—made me feel special and real and giddy.

  We’d spent only a few hours together, but I already felt so connected to Cash. B
eing myself with him, relaxing around him, came so easily. More easily than it did with anyone else.

  We made out in his car for a few minutes after we pulled into my driveway. Slow and easy. He didn’t push me further than I wanted, and I was grateful. I was still getting over Randy, after all. I didn’t want to rush anything new.

  But then he was pulling away from me. His thumb traced along my lower lip as he said, “You should go inside. You don’t want to worry your parents.”

  “Just my dad,” I murmured, wanting to keep kissing him but knowing he was right. If Dad woke up and found the door still unlocked, waiting for me, he’d be angry. I was already an hour past curfew—banking on the fact that he’d go to bed early and never know the difference.

  “Give me your phone,” I said.

  Cash handed me his cell phone, an old-school Nokia like they’d had when I was in sixth grade. I couldn’t help smiling as I programmed my number in for him. He grinned at me when I handed it back, and he kissed me one last time. Quick. Smooth. Leaving me longing for more.

  “I’ll turn on the headlights so you can see to get in,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  The lights flicked on, illuminating the driveway and glaring off the back of Dad’s van.

  “Football fans, huh?” Cash said.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Well, you know. My brother used to play, and they supported Randy, of course.”

  I wasn’t thinking about the rivalry then. I wasn’t thinking about sports at all. It was summer. I was free from it all. Or so I thought. But Cash’s face darkened just a little at the mention of football, and I quickly realized my mistake.

  “Give me a call,” I said, reaching for the door handle. “I had a great time tonight. Really.”

  He turned to face me, and I thought his eyes still looked a little guarded. Or maybe he was just tired. Or maybe I was, and my vision wasn’t what it usually is. Because his voice sounded normal.

  “I had a great time, too,” he said. “Good night, Lissa.”

  “Good night.”

  I climbed out of his car and ran up the sidewalk. I stopped on the porch and watched as Cash’s car disappeared around the corner. When the last glow of his taillights had gone, I walked inside.

  But the joy of that night faded pretty fast.

  Even after everything I thought we shared, Cash never called me. I waited for three weeks, and not a peep. Not even a text message. It was like that night had never happened—and sometimes I wondered if maybe it hadn’t. If I’d imagined it. Dreamed it up as a way to get over Randy. Like an idiot, I hadn’t gotten Cash’s number for myself.

  Not that it would have mattered. He’d rejected me. That much was clear.

  In the long run, though, it was for the best. At the start of August, Randy crashed his Cougar. Despite that night with Cash, I was still in love with Randy, and I was just so happy he hadn’t gotten hurt that when he called me to apologize for our fight, I ran back to him.

  And I was lucky, too. Because we’d both realized that breaking up was the biggest mistake ever. So we got back together that night, and I decided to put Cash behind me.

  Easier said than done.

  Isn’t that how it always works?

  chapter eight

  I was really excited for my date with Randy that Friday night, until I opened the front door and got a good look at his face.

  “Oh, God. Randy, what happened?” I asked, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the sink while I opened the medicine cabinet and located my extensively stocked first-aid kit.

  “I’m fine, really,” he said, putting a hand to the thin cut running along his left cheekbone. “Kyle threw a rock at me in the parking lot after practice. I think he meant to hit the back of my head, but I turned around and—”

  “Kyle, the soccer goalie?”

  Randy nodded as I cleaned a little dried blood off his cheek with a washrag. “Asshole,” he hissed. “I planned to come over here right after I showered and changed. I didn’t get blood on my shirt, did I?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s not a deep cut. Here, this might sting a bit.” I dabbed peroxide along his cheekbone with a cotton ball.

  “Well, at least it makes me look all rugged and sexy,” he said with a grin when I’d finished cleaning up the little cut.

  “Yeah,” I said, pressing a Spider-Man Band-Aid onto his cheek. “Real sexy.”

  He laughed, but I didn’t. Randy was hurt. Not severely, but he’d spilled blood because of this stupid, ridiculous feud. How many more boys would suffer because of this rivalry?

  None, I decided. Because the strike started tonight. Officially.

  “Ready to go?” Randy asked, squeezing my hand as he slid off the sink. “The movie starts in half an hour, and we still have to drive out to Oak Hill. I figured we’d eat dinner afterward.”

  “Sure. Let’s go,” I said once I’d put away the first-aid kit. I was already impressed. He’d actually taken the time to plan out the date and everything.

  He smiled and put an arm around my shoulders, leading me toward the front door. “I’m surprising you, by the way. You’re going to love the restaurant.”

  I flinched. “You know I hate surprises.”

  “Trust me. You’ll love this one,” he said, opening the car door for me. “I hate to brag, but I did awesome tonight.”

  To tell you the truth, he really had done a great job. Instead of taking me to see some gory action movie, like I’d expected, he actually picked a romantic comedy. Granted, the movie as a whole kind of sucked, but the fact that he’d tried that hard really said something.

  To top it off, he even took me to Giovanni’s, an expensive little Italian restaurant a few blocks from the theater. Despite his insistence on surprising me (surprises always made me uneasy), it was the nicest date Randy had taken me on since we’d started dating last year.

  And not a soccer player in sight to ruin the evening.

  After dinner, Randy took me back to his house, just like he’d planned. It was only ten thirty and I didn’t have to be home until midnight, so we had plenty of time to do whatever we wanted.

  Of course, I knew what Randy wanted to do.

  We walked up to his room and just sat on his bed for a while, talking about how bad the movie had been.

  “But the actress—she was pretty hot,” he said. “That shower sex scene was… wow.”

  I rolled my eyes. Tonight, after such a great date, I was totally loosened up. “She had a butt double. You know, where someone stands in as the actress’s butt? It wasn’t even edited well.”

  Randy grinned at me. “Jealous?”

  “Of her butt double? No.”

  He leaned forward, putting his hands flat on the bed, one on either side of my waist. “You’re really hot when you’re jealous,” he told me. “But there’s no need to be. Because, to tell you the truth, you know what I was thinking during that scene?”

  “Do I want to know?” I asked.

  “I was thinking about how much I wanted to reenact that part in the shower with my hot”—he kissed my cheek—“sexy”—he kissed my neck—“gorgeous girlfriend.” He kissed my lips gently at first, then pulled away just a little. “And how she wouldn’t need a butt double because she’s perfect already.”

  “You smooth talker, you.”

  “I was also thinking how much sexier I am than that guy she was screwing in the shower.”

  I laughed.

  “I am, aren’t I?”

  Instead of answering—because, to be honest, the actor in the movie was pretty fine—I closed the gap between us and kissed Randy again. We sat there on his bed making out for a while, but after a few minutes I felt Randy’s hand on the small of my back as he tried to ease me backward.

  I pulled away, putting a hand on his chest. “No—I mean, not tonight.”

  For a second I felt guilty, as Randy’s hands dropped away from me and he turned to stare in the other direct
ion. We’d really had a wonderful night, and I hated to ruin it by upsetting him.

  But I’d taken an oath, and it would be worth it in the end. The rivalry would be over soon, and Randy and I could have many more perfect dates just like this one.

  “You want to watch a movie or something?” I asked, standing up and straightening my skirt over my thighs.

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “The night has been so great—you had a good time, right?”

  “Yes. Of course I did.”

  “Then why not end it on a good note? Make it special?”

  “I just… don’t feel like it tonight. But we can watch a movie or something, and that will end it on a good note, too.”

  “We just watched a movie.”

  “We can watch another one.”

  “Lissa,” he whined, giving me puppy-dog eyes, “please? If you don’t want to, we can, like, do other stuff.” His suggestive smirk made it clear that “other stuff” didn’t mean watching a movie.

  I stared down at the carpet, fiddling with the hem of my skirt. “I told you. I just don’t feel like it tonight.”

  He tilted his head to one side and stuck out his lip like a pouting toddler. “Come on. I’ll do anything. I’ll beg.” He flopped onto his back, sticking his hands in the air like a dog waiting for his belly to be rubbed. He even made whimpering pup noises.

  “Stop it,” I said. “You’re silly.”

  “You love me.”

  “I do.”

  He sat up and looked at me seriously. “Then why not?”

  I could have told him about the strike then, about our demands that the rivalry end, but I couldn’t force the words out. After the good date, I didn’t want to upset Randy more than I had to—and I knew that finding out about the strike wouldn’t exactly lighten his mood.

  “I’m kind of tired,” I told him. “I got up early this morning to finish some homework and I’m just exhausted. I’m sorry. But you don’t have to take me home yet. We can just curl up on the couch…. What do you say?”

  Randy sighed and stood up. “Yeah, I guess that sounds okay. This night is supposed to be all about you, after all.” He kissed me on the cheek. “But this means we have to have a night all about me soon, where everything goes my way.” He grinned and squeezed my shoulder before heading out of the room and walking downstairs.