“Jamie.” It was tempting to just never stop. I loved him and most nights I’d just as soon crawl into his bed to sleep curled under his arm, against his body, rather than go home.
He stilled above me, his forehead dropping to mine as he caught his breath. It did things to me to know I was the reason for his loss of breath, made me feel things I worried I shouldn’t. Things I worried he didn’t.
Jamie balanced on one elbow beside me, his other hand reaching for mine where they caressed the bare skin of his back under his shirt. A little embarrassed, I adjusted the hem of his t-shirt and placed my hands higher on his back.
Dang, I loved the feeling of being able to touch him. We’d become more than a little familiar with each other’s bodies and I loved that I knew him so well. I loved that I knew the patterns of his breathing, the different beats of his heart. I loved the feel of his skin over his shoulders and at his waist. I loved the calluses on his palms from lifting weights as they scraped over my skin as he touched me just as freely.
With a frustrated sigh, Jamie pushed himself off the couch.
“Want some water?” he asked as he made his way to the fridge.
“Yeah.” As comfortable as we’d become in some regard, things had become awkward in others. And talking after making out was the worst. Jamie always seemed...angry. He was always sweet when he walked me home, but there was this part of me that felt like he was upset with me for calling things to a halt.
I knew we needed to just talk, but I was scared. What if he really didn’t want a relationship with me? What if I’ve risked more than a decade of friendship for a week of the most amazing kisses I feared I’d ever experience in my life?
And so, I kept quiet. Because as long as we didn’t talk about it, maybe it wouldn’t end. And, oh, how I didn’t want it to end!
“Here you go.” Jamie plopped down on the couch beside me as he tossed a water into my lap.
“Thanks.” All that kissing had made me thirsty. I twisted off the cap and took a long drink. Beside me, Jamie did the same. I took in our rumpled appearance and a snort escaped.
“What?” Jamie eyed me as he took another long swig.
I gestured between us. “We look like we just-” I stopped wondering why I’d even gone down this road. “Never mind.”
Jamie grinned at my embarrassment. “What? We look like we just made out for a solid hour and a half?”
I dropped my head into my hand. “Oh, my gosh. What are we doing?” Oh, no! I hadn’t meant to say that!
But it was too late. Keeping my head down, I cast a sideways glance at Jamie. His smile faded and his expression turned serious.
“I guess we haven’t really talked about that, have we?”
I shook my head.
Jamie sat back on the cushions with a sigh and I hated the distance between us. Five minutes ago, we were side by side, wrapped in each other’s arms. Now, there was a foot of upholstery between us and it felt as though it could have been ten.
I wasn’t the only one struggling. Jamie’s hands reached up to scrub vigorously over his cheeks and eyes. When they dropped back into his lap, I noticed for the first time the dark circles under his eyes, and I felt guilty. Here we’d been staying up until all hours of the night on top of school and both of our sports schedules. Jamie’s arms were dotted with bruises and scrapes from football. While his body had always been lean, the exercise he’s been doing during weight lifting and conditioning has added bulk and definition. He’s been working hard and I’ve been keeping him up every night.
“It’s okay. I should go. We can talk later. You look tired.” I moved to stand, but Jamie stopped me, taking my hand in his and pulling me down into his lap.
“I don’t want you to go, Bales.” He nuzzled my neck with his face, the faint scruff on his cheeks scratching lightly against my skin.
My heart settled with relief. I hated that I needed this kind of physical reassurance about our relationship. I wanted him to tell me how he felt.
“I can’t stay here, James,” I said as my arms tightened around his shoulders.
“I know. I just want you to.” He leaned his head against my shoulder.
We hadn’t talked about much, but the boundaries seemed to be a given. We kissed, but we didn’t go any further.
“I want to, too,” I whispered into his hair.
Jamie sighed as he pulled away. With me still on his lap, he stood, making me laugh.
“Let’s get you home.”
Pausing only to slip on some shoes and pick up the flip-flops I’d put on just to run between our houses, Jamie carried me like a koala to my back door. He hadn’t said anything, but I had a feeling he preferred it to the front because it was out of the view from his mom’s office window.
We didn’t talk much and he only placed one quick kiss on my lips before I made my way inside. I knew things couldn’t go on like this forever, but that didn’t stop me from wishing they would.
Jamie
I waited until Bailey was safely inside. Used to be I couldn’t be bothered to get off the couch to make sure she got home okay, instead waiting for a text to let me know she was inside her own house. It wasn’t a far walk, but it was always dark, and I was a jerk. Or I had been. I’d recently discovered the error of my ways and made sure Bailey wasn’t going to be assaulted in the dark after leaving my house.
How could I never have thought of that before?
That was just one of the many things I hadn’t paid attention to in the past when it came to my best friend. Man, I’ve been a fool. And blind. So very blind. And I still didn’t know what I was going to do about it. Basically, avoidance has been my plan. Avoid talking by spending our time together kissing. It was still my favorite past time, even more so now that I was kissing Bailey. I could tell she was feeling a little rejected tonight and I felt bad. But I also didn’t think she had a clue how hard it was for me to calm down after being with her like that and it made me irritable.
Ha.
What an understatement. And it wasn’t like I didn’t have a hundred other things on my mind. Bailey was important to me and spending time with her was more fun than anything else I was doing, but I was also worried about tomorrow’s game. There was a lot of pressure for me to perform, to help my team win the game and showcase my abilities for recruiters.
But the truth was, I was distracted. I was distracted in all the best ways by Bailey and my growing feelings for her even as I struggled against the need to push her away and keep myself from getting in any deeper with her. I already feared my heart was too invested and I worried about what was next for us.
I worried about all the hiding, too. I was an ass. Bailey deserved to have a guy that was strong enough to admit his feelings, not just to her, but to the whole world. And there was a part of me that wanted to shout it from the rooftops that Bailey was my girl, but I squashed that impulse each and every time it reared its ugly head. Because doing that meant I was committed and I what if I wasn’t? What if I said I was and ultimately, I wasn’t ready?
I should just end things now with Bailey. I should focus on football and the opportunity to play at the next level. I had a chance, a real chance to accomplish all my goals. What was I thinking getting involved with a girl? Even if that girl was Bailey.
I wasn’t just hiding things from Bailey. I still haven’t talked to my mom about football. It ate at my conscience on a daily, almost hourly, basis, making me welcome the distraction making out with Bailey provided.
See?
I was an ass!
What if I really did get offered a scholarship? Even a Division 2 school would be appealing. I didn’t even care as long as I got to play and there were always opportunities to transfer if I could prove I was good enough.
I let myself in the front door of our house with a sigh. I didn’t have to solve all my problems tonight, thank goodness. I just needed to get some sleep and play a good game tomorrow. Everything else was just going to have to wait.
&
nbsp; A sound down the hall stopped me at the top of the stairs leading to the basement. Straining my ears, I listened.
She was crying again.
For a second, I had some clarity. I’d lost my father, but she lost her husband. Maybe it was my changing relationship with Bailey, but suddenly, I understood a little better how she must feel. I let my thoughts focus, go down that road. What would it feel like to never see Bailey again? To never hold her? Kiss her? Ever again. Just the thought of such a future made my whole-body ache.
What kind of comfort could I offer my mom to help her with that kind of pain?
The sound of glass shattering drew me down the hall.
“Mom?”
She didn’t answer.
My heart beat wildly as my anxiety ratcheted up.
“Mom?” I called again more urgently, pausing outside her bedroom door. Her sobs had quieted, but she needed help to clean the glass.
I knocked loudly in case she hadn’t heard my voice and waited a few seconds before opening the door.
The sight that met my eyes was heart wrenching. My mother, her small frame hunched over in her motorized wheelchair, was a wreck. Her wispy blonde hair hung loose and damp from her tears, strands sticking to her cheeks and forehead. Her blue eyes, the same color as my own, were bloodshot and puffy from crying.
Across the room, on the floor, an eight by ten picture frame lay in pieces on the floor, the wooden frame splintered and the glass shattered.
I made my way into her bathroom to retrieve a washcloth from the linen closet. After running it under cool water from the faucet, I wrung it out and walked it out to her. Without speaking, used the cloth to gently wipe her face. I brushed her hair back from her cheeks and mopped the blotchy skin of her neck.
“Baby,” she cried through her tears, her limp hand reached out to rest on my forearm.
“Mom. It’s okay.” I continued to blot the washcloth on her face until some of the redness from her tears calmed down. When I finally set it on the arm of her chair, she fell against me, fresh tears leaking from her eyes and soaking the front of my shirt.
It had been a few weeks since the last time she’d cried like this, at least, as far as I knew. I wondered how many nights she sat up here alone in her room, crying and missing my dad.
“I’m sorry, baby. I don’t want you to see me like this.” She clutched at me and it reminded me of the times I’d done the same to her when I was a child, the times she’d comforted me after skinning a knee or getting into an argument with my friends. She’d always been there with a hug and reassuring words. In the end, I always felt better after she held me.
I wondered if she ever felt any better after crying on my shoulder. For some reason, I wasn’t sure she did.
“Mom,” I choked on my own emotions. I felt tears stinging my eyes, but kept them back.
I stayed there, knelt beside her chair, until she was completely wrung out with no more tears to cry. I lifted her into her bed, making sure she had a bottle of water and a box of tissues within easy reach. Her eyes were closed before I even pulled her blanket over her shoulders.
I stood for a long time, watching her sleep, her breathing uneven and broken still and wondered how I would ever be able to leave her after graduation. She was independent despite her limitations, but there was always the possibility that she could fall or- hell, so many things I couldn’t wrap my mind around them. But this, this sadness was more distressing, more worrisome. I knew she’d be upset to know how concerned I was for her every time I left the house. It was different when Dad was alive. She was never alone, not physically or emotionally. I could only do so much. A son couldn’t offer the same comfort. My feelings for Bailey were teaching me that more completely than anything else could have.
Satisfied that she was going to sleep through the night, I stepped over to the broken picture frame on the floor. I’d have to wait until morning to clean most of it up with the vacuum, but I could take the bigger pieces with me and throw them away. And hopefully salvage the photo. Carefully, I picked up the wooden frame and dislodged the photo from the edges.
I recognized it immediately. It was a picture taken on their honeymoon, standing on the same mountain Mom slid down when she injured her spine ten years later. I haven’t seen it for a long time. It wasn’t one she kept out, displayed on the wall or on her dresser. For a moment, I considered what must have been going through her head to make her dig out that photo. It was easy to forget about her grief when she hid herself away from the world as she lost herself in her novels.
With the picture held lightly between my fingers, I went to put it in the drawer of the nightstand on Dad’s side of the bed. I’d tell her where it was if she asked, but maybe it would be a good idea for her to not see it for a while. Something about that photo had set her off tonight and not just with sadness, but anger, too.
I deposited the larger pieces of the broken frame into the garbage can in the kitchen, turned off the lights, and checked to make sure the doors were locked before making my way downstairs to my room. I stopped just long enough to use the bathroom and brush my teeth before falling into bed.
I was exhausted. It seemed that everything was crashing down around me. Even the amazing opportunities coming my way brought stress and conflict I didn’t know how to resolve.
And Bailey.
Not for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to acknowledge just how important Bailey was to me. Our friendship had endured a lot of changes. Growing up but not growing apart had required a conscious effort on all our part. Our combined determination to remain close meant the bonds we’ve created were strong. I’ve always believed them to be unbreakable.
Sitting upstairs at my mother’s side, I realized how fragile it all was. The bond between my parents had been strong. I’d always believed there was nothing that could tear them apart. I was wrong. Tonight, showed me just how deeply a heart could be broken. Tonight, I learned if I allowed my relationship with Bailey to continue to grow, just how broken I could be.
Chapter 19
Bailey
Jamie was acting weird. That morning on the way to school, he held my hand, but hardly said a word. We walked into school like we always did, not touching, and when it came time to part ways, he barely acknowledged me. No secret smile. No promise to see me later.
I wanted to blame it on pre-game jitters. Things between us had been amazing. But when I saw him in the halls between classes, he was laughing and joking.
And flirting.
And I swore, he was avoiding me. I’d tried to catch his eye more than once and he looked the other way. Each time he’d been engaged in conversation with someone nearby, so I could have attributed it to that, but it was different from the way things had been all week. Since the first day he kissed me for real.
I wanted to be patient. I wanted to let Jamie figure out what he wanted, but deep down I knew I was giving him an out. I was letting him use me just like he’d used all the other girls before me. Sure, our relationship went deeper because we’ve been friends for so long, but in the end, Jamie didn’t want to be my boyfriend. He didn’t want commitment. And that meant I was just another girl in the long string of his NCMO girls.
The thought made me sick. I wanted to reject it. Jamie and I had been kissing all week. I knew I meant more to him than those other girls he’d kissed, but obviously not enough to stick around for the long haul. He was just avoiding it because he didn’t want to hurt me because of our history. I got it. I really did. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Because it did.
At lunch, I sat where I usually did with some of the cross-country runners. Dallin and Jamie and the rest of the football team held court at the table in the center. I didn’t want to sit with them, I didn’t. And after a half hour of watching girls throw themselves at Jamie, including Elise Bradshaw sitting on his lap for ten minutes, I didn’t want to sit in the cafeteria at all.
I had practice after school. The football team left as soon as
the final bell rang. I didn’t have a chance to see either Jamie or Dallin. They had an away game over an hour away. I wouldn’t be able to go. In years past, Jamie was my ride or we’d convince an upperclassman to take us, but they were usually Jamie’s friends not mine. I settled for going home after cross country and wallowing in my own insecurities.
The kids were all in bed and I’d just begun my second movie of the night when Mom found me, fat and happy with empty candy wrappers all around as well as a half-eaten bag of Oreos, on the couch in the front room.
“No game tonight?” She eyed the mess around me, but didn’t say a word as she took a seat in the rocker recliner, Delia propped against her shoulder. At two months old, Delia was getting better. She still wouldn’t sleep through the night, but she was getting better about being awake during the day, which made her more tired at night. Mom was finally starting to look a little more like herself.
“It’s away.”
Mom frowned. “How come you didn’t go with Jamie?”
Ohhh. Yeah. I forgot. I hadn’t told my parents about Jamie playing football against his mom’s wishes. “Um. Well, he-” Dang. Should I tell her?
“He, what?” Mom’s interest was piqued. She adjusted her shirt to feed Delia. She wasn’t going anywhere and short of running away from this conversation, I’d have to confess Jamie’s sins for him. I was a terrible liar.
“He’s playing,” I blurted with my eyes squeezed shut.
When Mom didn’t say a word, I narrowed one eye to gauge the expression on her face.
“You knew?” I shouldn’t be surprised, she really did have super powers.
Mom nodded. “I’m willing to bet Kara knows, too.” Kara was Jamie’s mom.
The Perks of Kissing You (Perks Book 3) Page 13