Absolutely (Larson) Page 6

  She has a death grip on my ear buds, but her arms have gone limp at her sides. I hug her tighter to me and she tries to pull away. I let her, but place my hands on the sides of her face. I tilt her head up.

  “Ashlyn, hey,” I say quietly, “You don’t have to apologize to me. Calm down.” She sniffles.

  “You don’t have to lie! I saw how pissed you were at me. None of this junk that keeps happening to me is my fault!” She says it like she’s trying to convince herself still. She’s also getting louder, about to escalate again. “I didn’t ask for any of it! I don’t want any of it! I did one stupid thing—one—and look at me. I'm apologizing to you for my life being crap!”

  She spins back around to stomp off, but I catch up to her, stunned by her rant. She thinks I'm mad at her? It’s my turn to jump in front of her, to face her. The chick just turns around and heads back the other direction.

  I look down just as she does and notice the brownies spilled out on the ground. We both go down for the box, only I take hold of her hand while I clean up. Her eyes fall on our hands then into my eyes. I’m trying to be gentle because of what she’s been through. Then it hits me. I know, I know, but while I was getting poked in the chest, my only goal was safety…

  “Wait. You think I was pissed at you on Friday?” I ask her, standing up with the box in hand.

  “You were,” she accuses, “Then you left me there all alone.” It’s the sadness in her voice as she stands slowly that has me setting my backpack and the white box back down on the sidewalk. I step right up to her, trying not to intimidate her, and pull her back in for another hug. I tuck her head back under my chin and stroke her hair. Ashlyn doesn’t try to get away from me this time; her breathing calms. The she burrows her head all the way into my chest.

  “Ashlyn,” I say, “I wasn’t mad at you.”

  “You weren’t?” she says, her voice muffled by my shirt.

  “I promise. If you could’ve seen—” but the memory of her disheveled appearance is too strong. I'm gritting my teeth and balling my fist on her back.

  I try to explain myself again. “I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad about what happened to you and at who did it to you.” I could hear the anger tingeing my voice.

  Slowly, timidly, her arms snake around my back. All the fight goes out of her. She’s all the way in my arms. Despite the circumstances, her body against mine is incredible. I'm trying to focus on her emotions at the moment, but the attraction I feel for her is distracting. And unnerving.

  ***

  Ashlyn

  It’s Monday and I'm heading toward Kiel. I am afraid he’s still mad at me. When we meet up I give him what I hope is an apologetic smile when I hand him the bakery box of brownies. Men can be reasoned with through their stomachs, at least that’s what my mom, grandmothers, and aunts all say.

  I tell him I made them, not that he heard me the first time around. This is beyond frustrating me today of all days. I give him homemade baked goods and all he’s got to say is “ok”?

  I've got bigger crap than this to handle. I'm not going to dwell on his lack of social skills. I'm not. I can’t.

  Would it kill him to say thank you? I want to toss my hands up in the air and yell ‘ARGH’ like Charlie Brown when everyone lets him down. But I don’t. Again, bigger crap in my life going on besides Kiel’s bad manners.

  There is one thing I need to say to him though. Well, I’ll be repeating part of it from Friday. I work my way up to it and say it, knowing he won’t hear it the first time, which in this bizarre relationship actually works in my favor for once. I stumble over my words the first time around, and the second time I say them comes out better.

  What gets to me is that he freaking nods! No ‘thank you for the brownies’ and now no response to my thanks and apology! No way, no freaking way, am I letting it slide! He was the one who got all pissed off on Friday and left me in a parking lot. Left. Me. He has the audacity to nod?

  Any inane response would’ve been better, like he could’ve said, “Stuff happens.” Anything! And I wouldn’t be about to bite his head off. I wouldn’t want to hit him right in his nodding face!

  It may be a culmination of 3 weeks of humiliation, but I have had it. Someone is about to bear the brunt of it all.

  I. Choose. Him.

  I let him have everything, screaming at him, poking him in the chest. Until all that’s left is sadness. When I reach that point, Kiel pulls me to his chest. The last thing I need is him holding me, but this is more of a hold than a hug by someone who doesn’t want my finger pounding in his chest any longer. He is not letting go.

  Then. Oh, then he tells me to calm down! All bets are off again as I yell at him again. I try to leave, but he stops me. I see the brownies on the ground and feel silly and stupid for bringing them. We both go to pick them up.

  He finally gets his chance and tells me that he wasn’t mad at me. He didn’t realize it seemed to be directed at me. I get swept back up into his strong arms. The calm starts to win out over the anger and sadness. I didn’t think about what he must’ve seen, what he must’ve been feeling. He tries to explain it but it chokes him up.

  The anger he felt spills out in the few words Kiel puts together to describe the incident. Only that anger isn’t at me, it’s for me. Relief floods me.

  I lift my arms and wrap them around him, stepping fully into his arms. We’re almost as close as two people can be while fully clothed. A small part (perhaps not too small), wants to be that close to him. Being there makes me feel comforted. Safe.

  I breathe in his cologne—something mildly spicy and warm. My eyes close as I take it all in.

  In my agitated state, I hadn’t noticed his hands, but now I feel his fingers splayed across my lower back, holding my hips in place. It’s a very intimate position.

  Seconds pass as I take stock of the sensations coursing through me. His cheek on the top of my head, his cotton shirt against my cheek, the Texas heat beating down, and the wind blowing gently offering some respite.

  Kiel shifts subtly and places a tender kiss on the top of my head. He moves me away, guiding me backward with his hands on my hips.

  He studies my face carefully before saying, “You feeling OK? Calmed down?” His hands come up to brush the hair off my face. I nod. That one tiny movement makes me chuckle ruefully. That’s what set me off in the first place—the noncommittal nature of a nod.

  “Yes. I think I'm doing better now. Somewhat. But I bet I look like hell.” I let out a deep sigh, scrubbing my cheeks with my free hand. “I'm gonna just go home and call my mom. Have her call me in sick.”

  Kiel stands there, looking down at me, seeming lost, like he wants to say something to me but can’t—or won’t. Running my fingers through the back of my hair uncomfortable with the silence stretching out, I say, “Sooo…um, I'll see you tomorrow.” I give him a small wave and spin on my heel slowly to leave.

  His hand wraps around my arm, startling me. I flick my gaze down to his hand holding me carefully in place and up to his eyes. He smiles a half-smile and says, “You still have my ear buds.”

  I look down at my still-gripped left fist. I didn’t even know I still had them. Disappointment settles in my stomach. What was I expecting him to say? Some declaration of feelings? That holding me in his arms had him just as unsettled as I am?

  Yeah, so that was what I was expecting. Sad, I know.

  Without even glancing back up at him, I open my fist and let the ear buds fall to the sidewalk and keep walking. It’s childish, I know. Right now, I simply do not care.

  I'm almost to my house when it dawns on me that staying home from school is going to look like I let them win. Like I'm defeated. My absence will be the ultimate mark of guilt. I already have my hand on the gate latch but remove it, rolling my eyes and groaning aggravatedly. I turn back around and nearly jump out of my skin and gasp. Kiel is standing less than ten feet from me. “Crap!”

  “Sorry, it’s just I know you don’t like to walk al
one. I’m going to, uh,” he jerks his thumb over his shoulder, “go to school now. For what it’s worth, I think you should too.”

  I roll my neck back and lean on the fence. “I sorta already came to that conclusion on my own before—”

  “Before you thought I was a stalker?” he finishes for me.

  “Ha. Yeah,” I reply.

  Even though I've already made the decision, I’m unwilling to move from the fence. Kiel is getting impatient. He shoves his ear buds back in. Well, who asked him to stick around anyway? He can wait or leave. I do know that if he leaves before I’m ready, I’m staying. If he waits for me to get up the nerve, I’m braving school.

  His decision apparently made, Kiel stepped back and leaned on the fence with me. A few minutes pass in silence before I push away from the fence. I point my body in the direction of the school and tilt my head at him, wordlessly asking if he’s coming with.

  Just as wordlessly, he joins me. We fall into our usual pattern.

  “Today is gonna totally suck. Can I borrow your phone?”

  “What?”

  “Can I borrow your phone?” I repeat, grumpy.

  “Yeah,” Kiel answers before digging it out of his pocket and handing it over. I punch in Mom’s cell phone number.

  She picks up after the first ring. “Hello?” she answers warily, not recognizing the number.

  “Hey, Mom,” I say. “Just wanted to let you know I'm running late to school. Didn’t want you to worry or anything.” In such a small town, parents were generally contacted for tardies. It’s pretty uneventful around here.

  “What happened?” she asks, worried regardless. “Is everything alright?”

  “Yeah, Mom. That’s what the ‘didn’t want you to worry’ part meant.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kiel’s mouth tip up in a smile. Great. He’d turned his volume down.

  “Ok, honey, be safe walking.” Mom pauses. “Whose phone is this? One of your new friends? I didn’t know they walked with you.”

  “They don’t, Mom,” I sigh and cringe. No sense lying. “I’ve been walking to school with someone who happens to live a street over. Look, Mom, I’ll talk to you later. Bye!” I say quickly and press end. I mumble, “Crap” as I hand the phone over. Dang. It’s already ringing.

  Kiel takes the phone back trying to stifle a laugh. He peers at the screen and back at me, then answers.

  “Hello,” he says in a mature manner. “Kiel Fuller,” he answers her. A pause as my mom talks, “A senior.” Then “Yes, ma’am” several times. “No problem…Good-bye.”

  He isn’t bothering to hide his amusement after he ends the call. Jerk.

  “What did she say?” I can’t help asking. What could she possibly have said to Kiel? He laughs off my question, though. “No, really. What did she say?”

  This has been a craptastic morning, weekend, week, start of school, whatever, and he’s about to feel the wrath yet again!

  ***

  Kiel

  Probably wasn’t the smartest thing I've ever done, following her home after the fight (or whatever category that fell under). But I know she hates even that short distance before our paths cross. She’s a social creature…and may have seen too many horror flicks. At least I know where she lives now.

  Not sure what I’ll do with that information, but I've got it.

  ***

  Now I’m just waiting for her. She says she’s concluded that school was the better option. But she ain’t moving. It’s obvious she's waiting on me to make a move. So I lean with her. The desire to put my arm around her shoulders and get close to her is strong.

  Not sure how long I can resist.

  I'm standing there resisting until Ashlyn’s moving away from the fence and motioning for me to hurry up. The opportunity is lost. She doesn’t know I haven't turned up my music as she asks, the first time, to borrow my phone. But I play like it’s as loud as ever. I let Ashlyn slide when she only repeats the second half of what she said.

  Crazy as it sounds, I have the sudden urge to hear all the things she has to say.

  I know Ashlyn’s digging herself a hole as soon as I hand over the phone. She's about to submit herself to 20 Questions—Parental Version. I'm trying unsuccessfully not to grin.

  When she hangs up and tries to pass me the phone, I don’t need the Psychic Connection to tell it’s about to ring. I take it and answer it. Mrs. Ramos talks and I respond, politely. An abundance of yes ma’ams follow.

  “Have you been walking with my daughter to school?” “Did I do the cake for your parents’ twentieth anniversary this summer?” “They’re wonderful people. One more thing…She’s my baby. Take care of her.”

  Once I hang up, Ashlyn is on my case, wanting to know what her mom said. Her face is going beet red. At this rate, we will never make it to school. We’ve stopped walking. Again.

  I should take pity on her and tell her, but this is funny in its own way. But her jaw is working, and I'm not ready for another meltdown. I laugh and raise my hands in surrender.

  “Whoa! Settle. I’ll tell you, but you have to start walking.” She's still unappeased. But walking at least.

  “Besides the pleasantries, my name, her name, et cetera,” I get an impatient glare from her. “She asked if I’d been walking with you, asked if she’d made my parents’ cake, and…told me I have to take care of you.” I said the last part really fast and rubbed my neck.

  “She told you what?” Ashlyn asks, incredulous.

  “She told me I have to take care of you.”

  Ashlyn snorts. Mrs. Ramos’ sentiment could not have been more spot on. Ashlyn drops the topic; we go silent, and I get my ear buds back in. I keep the volume turned down to a Godly level. You know, in case she has anything more to say. Those red blotches on her cheeks are cute but dangerous. My chest still hurts from her outburst.

  Beside me, Ashlyn is mumbling, and I get to hear every word. “Take care of me? Craziness. My mom is crazy.”

  I'm kinda offended, in a tongue-in-cheek way. I wait to hear what she has to say next. But there’s silence until we reach the school. Ashlyn speeds up. I guess to get to her locker before I do.

  “What fresh hell do they have for me today?” she grumbles, stalking off. I laugh. Whatever hold she has on me tightens as she walks headlong into her personal nightmare.

  When I get to my locker, I see her banging her head on the lockers. Instead of the reaction she’s had in the past, Ashlyn is tearing the picture in two and wadding it up into a ball. The splotches are back. She takes a deep breath and opens her locker door, tossing the wadded up pieces of paper inside.

  I stand there gawking, but she doesn’t see me watching. She gathers her stuff and heads to the office for a tardy slip.

  My locker is decked out in streamers and my jersey number is outlined in gaudy glitter. It’s hideous but the thought that Ashlyn might’ve done it makes it more attractive.

  ***

  Tardy slip in hand, I enter English. I have no choice but to sit in front. We’re reading Gilgamesh, an ancient epic. At least it’s silent reading because my mind isn’t on the story at all. It’s on the events of last week. I look down at the book and my eyes go to a particular part.

  A slippery path is not feared by / two people who help each other

  I read on, now intrigued.

  Take my hand, my friend, we will go together.

  But the one who walks in front protects himself and saves his comrade

  Well, isn’t that insightful? I immediately turn around and half of the class looks up. It’s been nearly silent (even though cell phones are out under desks). The sudden movement catches their attention.

  But I'm only looking for one set of hazel eyes. She’s looked up and smiles tentatively at me, but my huge grin has her smile spreading. I know Mrs. Ramos had it right. I'll be there to take care of Ashlyn, to help her if I can.

  Chapter 7

  Ashlyn

  We eventually make it to school. Luckily, Kiel can’t
hear me as I grumble. He thinks I don’t see him standing there witnessing another of my break downs. Banging my head on a locker is right up there with punching a dashboard. Don’t try this at home, boys and girls.

  My tormenters have chosen a particularly unflattering picture of me fleeing the gymnasium after being assaulted. Everything about me is a wreck. I can see why Kiel was furious. I would’ve been berserker-mode, out of control as well. It doesn’t make me feel better, but it’s a relief to understand his reaction.

  ***

  Ah, bless Jenna for my saved seat in English. Jackson is all the way on the other side of the room, oblivious. He winks at me. If Kiel had seen that, Jackson would be a dead man.

  Reyna, however, is dangerously close. She leans in to stage whisper, “I hear Jackson is an amazing kisser. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for you, sweetie.” Her expression mocks pity as she taps me on the arm with her pen. I don’t give her the satisfaction of responding. But I can’t help being upset.

  Jenna snorts behind me and says, “Like she’d know.” What does that mean, I wonder. But my attention goes to the door.

  Kiel comes in and takes the only seat available in the front. Reyna’s head turns to watch him hungrily and her pen goes between her teeth in some school-girl-sexy act.

  That scenario had not even occurred to me until just now. Reyna is lusting after Kiel. The head cheerleader and the star quarterback. Wasn’t that the way things worked out in high school, at least here in Larson? Would Kiel want that? A place on the homecoming float and a memorializing picture in the annual.

  He doesn’t seem the type, but I've known (and I use the term loosely) him for less than 6 days. These thoughts are racing through my head instead of the words of some ancient tablet.

  The quiet is disturbed when I hear someone moving. I slowly look up and into Kiel’s intense chocolate brown eyes. I have no idea what has him smiling at me with such amusement, but it makes me smile, too. His attention makes it worth being here.

  He faces the front begrudgingly, as Mrs. Branch calls his name.