Dating: For the Block

by Stephanie Street

  Holding his hand wasn’t enough, anymore. He needed a hug. Heck, I needed a hug.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered against his shoulder.

  He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t push me away, either. In fact, I could hardly breathe for how tight he held me.

  “Sorry,” he murmured when we broke apart. “I don’t usually talk to anyone about this stuff.”

  “That’s probably not a good thing, Gray.” My hand massaged lightly over his chest before I caught myself. It wasn’t even like that. I just wanted to comfort him, be there for him. I knew a little how he felt. While both of my parents have been a part of my life. I couldn’t deny the fact I felt abandoned by my mom and little bruised by the knowledge that ultimately she’d chosen Mark over me.

  “What’s there to say? My dad’s a douche and now he wants me to forgive him and I don’t want to? He’s getting married. So, not only does he want to barge into my life, he’s bringing some woman I don’t know like he thinks she can replace my mom.”

  “As if anyone ever could.” Despite our plan to keep our parents from dating each other, I had nothing but respect for Grayson’s mom. She seemed like a strong woman and he loved her very much.

  His lips curved into a small smile. “Right?”

  Neither of us said anything for a while after that. Instead, we sat quietly, Grayson’s arms wrapped loosely around my waist, while mine rested against his chest between us. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t at all. It was nice and I felt closer to Grayson than I had to anyone in a long time. Even Brooke.

  “What about you?” he asked, interrupting the stillness. “Why did you move in with Coach? You’ve never done that before, have you?”

  I shook my head as my throat clogged with emotion. “No,” I whispered then cleared my throat and started again. “No, I haven’t. Just visits over the summer and at Christmas. A couple of Spring Breaks.”

  I felt more than saw his frown. “So, what happened? I know you said your mom and step-dad moved to Alaska, but couldn’t you have gone with them?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. All these emotions were making me tired. Giving into the desire, I laid my head on Grayson’s shoulder. He repositioned us so we fit more comfortably in the tiny space. He felt good. Smelled good, too. “Mom got married last fall. Right before school started. Mark’s a great guy. I like him, but it was different. It’s always just been Mom and me. I tried to give him a chance, you know?” Grayson nodded, his jaw moving against the side of my head. “I want her to be happy. I knew she was lonely, but after they got married, Mom dropped the bomb that Mark’s job was transferring him to Alaska and they were moving just after Christmas.”

  “That really stinks.”

  “It did! So bad. I begged her to stay behind, just get me to graduation, but she didn’t want to do that. I didn’t blame her, not really. They’d just gotten married. But jeez, what about me?” I sighed. “I know that’s selfish-”

  “No, it isn’t,” Grayson interrupted, adamant. “Couldn’t you have stayed with someone? Your friend? What’s her name? I’m sorry, I can’t remember.”

  “That’s okay. It’s Brooke. And when she wouldn’t agree to stay behind, I begged her to let me stay with Brooke’s family. They have the room and we went to the same school, were involved in the same activities. It would have been perfect. But Mom said if I wasn’t going with them to Alaska, I had to come here and live with Dad.”

  “Man, that’s rough. Right in the middle of your senior year? That’s just not right.” Grayson shook his head.

  “I know, right? But there was no way I was going to Alaska. I mean, I’ve heard it’s pretty, but I’m from California! Who in their right mind would want to move from California to Alaska? Not me, I can tell you that.” I settled my cheek deeper into his chest. The car was toasty from the heat and snuggling into Grayson felt so good even with the console between us, I wanted to just fall asleep right there.

  “Well, as much as all of that sucks for you, I for one, am glad you’re here.” His arms tightened around me and I decided I’d been wrong about Grayson. I mean, I had already kind of come to that conclusion, but right there in his car with his arms around me? I had a hard time believing Grayson was anything but a really sweet guy.

  “I thought you were a player,” I blurted out.

  Grayson’s hands that had been tracing patterns on my arms, stilled.

  “That’s why I was so,” my voice trailed off. I hadn’t planned to say any of that.

  “Angry? Full of hate for me?” Grayson filled in the blanks.

  I pushed against his chest. “I never hated you,” I denied.

  “Uh, yes, you did. I tried avoiding you to keep you from throwing up every time you saw me.”

  That made me laugh. “Okay, maybe I hated you a little bit.”

  Grayson lifted his hand showing me his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Just a little.” We were quiet for a moment and then he asked. “Because you thought I was a player. Does that mean you don’t anymore?”

  I thought about that before answering. “I don’t know. Are you?”

  “What do you think? Do I act like a player?” he asked.

  “Well, kind of. I mean, you have a lot of admirers.” He did.

  “So, because girls like me, that means I’m a player?” He sounded defensive and I hated that the ease we’d fallen into was being ruined. But I had only myself to blame.

  “No. I don’t mean that.” How to explain it to him?

  Grayson sat back, his arms falling limp at my sides. “You think I’d play girls? That I’m that kind of guy?”

  Hearing the hurt in his voice I wondered how I could ever have thought it of him, but how to explain how it had all come about.

  “I’m sorry!” The only way to fix this was to be honest. “I, um, I-” Crap. It was harder than it seemed.

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. This is all fake, anyway, right?” He pulled further away until my hands fell away from him and he was no longer touching me at all. “We’re just putting on a show for our parents until we figured out how to keep them apart for good.”

  “No-”

  But he wasn’t having it.

  “I should get you home. It’s getting late.” Without even giving me a chance to explain, Grayson shifted into reverse and sped out of the parking lot. We were about five minutes from my house and it was a long, quiet five minutes while I tried to figure out how to fix what was wrong between us.

  Grayson’s jaw was clenched tight and he wouldn’t look at me as he drove. I knew that was safest, but he could have at least glanced my way while we were stopped at a red light. But he didn’t. And it hurt. I focused my eyes out the window.

  “Oh, my gosh. Gray, look!” I pointed out the window.

  “Holy crap!”

  The next thing I knew, Grayson flipped on his turn signal and pulled into the parking lot of the cafe we’d seen our parents at a couple of weeks ago.

  They were there again, in the parking lot, locked in an embrace.

  17

  Grayson

  I was angry. Mad. Furious. And hurt.

  She thought I was a player? That’s why she didn’t like me? For the last four years I’ve done all I could do to not turn out like my jerk of a father, and she thought it was true anyway?

  The heat from my frustration fogged the window beside me. My fingers clenched the steering wheel so tightly it was a wonder it didn’t crack under the pressure. Stupid car! Stupid girls! Stupid me. For believing in love for once. For believing things might actually work out for me just one freaking time.

  Of course, that just wasn’t how my luck played out. Ever.

  I pulled to a stop when the light turned red, determined not to give Mia the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten to me by letting her see the moisture I fought welling in my eyes. I was just so sick of it. So sick of everything.

  “Oh, my gosh. Gray, look!”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw
her point out the window. I didn’t want to follow it. Didn’t want to see what she was looking at, but I did it anyway.

  “Holy crap!” was what I said, but it wasn’t what I was thinking. And then I wasn’t thinking.

  Faster than I should ever be driving in a residential area, I whipped my ancient Subaru around the corner and into the parking lot of the diner and pulled up right next to my mom and Mia’s dad. Kissing.

  There was no plan. Just reaction. I got out of the car, slamming the door behind me, and stormed over to where Coach Tillman’s lips were plastered to my mom’s.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I screamed, yanking his shoulder with enough force to separate their mouths. On a sub-conscious level I had a feeling I was going to be traumatized by this moment for years to come, but that didn’t stop me from proceeding.

  “Grayson!” Mom gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  Oh, my gosh! Her lips were red and swollen. I was going to throw up. I closed my eyes and pointed at her.

  “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at work!” It was a train wreck and I couldn’t seem to stop myself. “Why are you making out with my basketball coach?”

  I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Grayson, son. Just take it easy.”

  Jerking away, I spun to face him. “Stop kissing my mom!” I was acting like a two year old throwing a tantrum, but it was too much. My mom. My coach. My dad. Mia! My Mia!

  Coach Tillman shook his head slowly. “Grayson, it’s okay. We can talk about this-”

  “No! We can’t. You don’t understand. This whole thing,” I pointed at the car where Mia stood, her mouth hanging open. “This whole thing was because of you.” I jabbed my finger in Coach’s chest. “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you!”

  “Grayson, what are you talking about?” Mom grabbed my arms and turned me to face her, but I wasn’t having it and pulled away.

  “This, Mom! I’m talking about this! You and him.” I jabbed my finger at Coach again. “And me and her!” I pointed at Mia.

  “Grayson. I know this is awkward, but it doesn’t have to be-” Coach Tillman began to say.

  I laughed. And not a humorous laugh, but the laugh of a crazy person. Loud and obnoxious and absolutely insane. I literally felt like I was having an out of body experience. My mom was kissing my coach and I was madly in love with his daughter who hated me. You couldn’t make this up!

  And I was just freaking getting started.

  “It isn’t even real,” I shouted, waving my arms all over.

  “Grayson!” Mia hissed, finally taking a step toward me.

  “What does it even matter? Look at them! They don’t care about us.” I was on a roll and no one could stop me.

  Well, except my mother when she slapped me right across my cheek.

  “Grayson Alexander Levitt, you will explain yourself right this instant and you will apologize to Coach Tillman and me.” She shot a glance at a stunned Mia watching us. “And Mia.”

  I stood defiantly, holding my hand to my stinging cheek. Mom’s cheeks were red, now, and her lips were pressed into a thin line I recognized all too well.

  Coach Tillman stepped forward, then, wrapping his arm around Mia. Tears streaked down her cheeks, their appearance finally jerking me out of my anger induced fog.

  “Mia-” I took a step toward her. The last thing I wanted was to hurt her.

  Coach moved to block her from me in a protective gesture that made me want to punch him. I was the one who loved her!

  Whoa. What?

  “You two have some explaining to do,” Coach said in his teacher voice. He said ‘you two’ but he was looking directly at me. And so was Mom.

  Dropping my face into my hands, I wondered what I’d done.

  “Grayson?” Mom asked, her tone meaning business.

  I’d done it now, so what did it matter? Might as well tell them. It’s not like our plan was working, anyway. We’d just stumbled across them kissing in a public place in the middle of the night.

  “It wasn’t real, Mom. Mia and me. We made it up.”

  Mia gasped, tears pouring down her cheeks. I wanted to go to her, tell her it wasn’t fake to me and I’d give anything for her to be my girlfriend for real. But it was too late for that. She probably hated me all over again and there was no way her dad would ever want her to see me after this.

  “Why would you do that?” Mom asked, clearly perplexed.

  “Why do you think? To keep the two of you apart!”

  Mom reared back, her mouth hanging open.

  I’d truly lost my mind. And probably the only girl I’d every really cared about. And my mother was sure to hate me. By the look on Coach’s face, I’d be lucky to play in another game of basketball the rest of the season.

  And Mia.

  Mia tucked her face in her dad’s shoulder and refused to look at me.

  Yup.

  Life as I knew it was over.

  “Why?” Mom’s voice cracked as she spoke. Great. I’d made her cry, too. I really was just a huge jerk. But dang. Didn’t they think about what they were doing to their kids?

  “My basketball coach, Mom?” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

  Her face blanched before crumpling. Tears overflowed her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  “Grayson. That’s not fair.” Coach Tillman took a step toward Mom, his expression filled with pain and concern. But Mom wasn’t having anything to do with it.

  “Dennis,” Mom said, placing one hand on my shoulder, avoiding his attempt to comfort her. “Maybe we should let things calm down. Why don’t you take Mia with you and I’ll have Grayson drop me off at the hospital. I think we all need some time.”

  “Michelle,” Coach began as though he might argue with her edict, but then he nodded. “Okay.”

  His eyes softened as he looked at my mom. My. Mom. And I hated him. He was taking my mother. And he was taking Mia.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” he said quietly to her.

  Mom nodded to him before turning her gaze to me. Any softness she’d shown toward Coach was completely gone once she faced me.

  “Get in the car, Grayson.” Her tone left no room for argument. Not that I would have at this point, especially with her death grip on my arm. Besides, I’d pretty much convinced all three of them to hate me, not just Mia.

  Mom got into the passenger’s seat since she had to go back to work. Slowly, I made my way to the driver’s side and opened the door. Before I sat down, I looked over the hood of the car. Coach stood watching us with a perplexed expression on his face while Mia cried from where she remained sheltered under his arm.

  Yeah. I was a jerk.

  With a sigh that came from deep down in my soul, I got in the car and started it.

  “Mom-”

  “Grayson, take me to work and do not talk to me,” she interrupted. “I’m likely to say something I don’t really mean and there has already been too much said this night. Now drive.”

  And so I did.

  And she didn’t say a word. Not when I pulled up to the curb. Not when she opened the door to get out and not when I blurted, “I’m sorry.” She didn’t even pause or look back. She just marched through the automatic doors with her back ramrod straight.

  It was a long Sunday. Mom came home before I woke up and was in her room fast asleep once I did. I didn’t hear anything from Mia and I was too chicken to reach out to her. I’d definitely made a mess of everything. After fixing myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch, I grabbed a basketball from my room and drove to the neighborhood court.

  I’d been there for about an hour, shooting basket after basket when a familiar vehicle pulled up and Coach got out. I kept shooting and pretended not to see him.

  “I had a feeling I’d find you here,” he said, shagging the ball after I hit a free throw and lobbed it back to me.

  Squaring up, I aimed for the hoop again and shot. Swish! Nothing but net. Coach nabbed t
he ball and passed it to me again. I dribbled once, twice, three times and took a deep breath, the ball positioned in front of my forehead. I bent my knees and shot. Swish!

  “How many is that?” Coach asked, catching the ball under the net and holding it against his side.

  I didn’t want to answer, but he had the ball hostage. “Fifty.”

  Coach whistled low and shook his head. “In a row?”

  I nodded. Reluctantly. I had the best free throw percentage on the team three years running. It wasn’t much, but I practiced a lot. Free throws might seem like an easy basket and the shot was easy, but free throws were often high pressure shots, sometimes all the difference in a close game. I hardly ever missed due to pure muscle memory.

  “How many before that?” he asked.

  I was a little surprised he knew I’d shot so many. “One twenty-nine.” I’d planned to keep shooting until I made at least one-fifty in a row. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do today.

  But Coach had other plans.

  “I think we need to talk, Gray.”

  He had the ball still as he walked to a wooden bench by the playground equipment where all the mom’s sat while their kids played. I didn’t want to follow him. Knowing he had my playing minutes in the palm of his hand was the only reason I did.

  Coach Tillman sat at one end of the bench and I sat at the other, as far away from him as I could without sitting on the ground.

  Neither of us spoke for several long moments. And then he said, “I owe you an apology, Grayson.”

  I was so shocked, I looked at him when I’d promised myself I wouldn’t. He held the basketball in his hands between his knees, spinning it around and around between them. His eyes, however, were focused singularly on me. I searched them for insincerity, but all I found was an open honesty I wasn’t expecting.