Almost: a love story Part 17

Legs. Smooth, tanned, long, beautiful legs.

"What are you doing?" she asks. Her eyes dart away as she gestures wildly toward her house.

Cinnamon-suns.h.i.+ne, legs, and...car died.

My mind clears a little. I follow her pointing finger in time to spot two people who'd trailed behind Jess and were now heading straight for us.

Parents. Parents!

She starts waving and smiling, but is talking to me through her smile. "Drive away. As in NOW, or you'd better be ready to pretend your name is Corey Nash and explain why you don't have blond hair and blue eyes."

My heart has never pounded so fast.

Jess's mom calls out, "Honey, wait! We'd love to meet your friend."

I remember this woman's voice from years ago and panic. Explaining my looks are the least of my worries where these people are concerned. If they recognize me, I'll be shot on sight.

I slam my foot into the clutch, throw the car into neutral and turn the key, revving Bessie, my 84 Honda Accord, back to life in a way I know might make her stall again.

The car complains and shoots out her triple backfire, but she stays alive. The exploding noise seems to startle Jess's parents, and they freeze momentarily on the walkway.

"Honey! Young man? Yoo-hoo. Corey? Just one minute please." Jess's mom jerks forward like she's been released from an invisible catapult. Her father is frowning and shooting me and my car a heated glare that rivals one of Jess's.

I pull my ball cap down and hunch my shoulders, pretending not to hear. In two seconds I back out of the driveway, pulling away from the curb with a lurch.

Jess leans out her car window and calls out, "Bye! We're late. Got to pick up the gang. See you this afternoon!" She waves wildly, smile on double-high now.

I can't breathe at all.

We don't speak for three whole blocks.

On my part, the silence is for two reasons: 1. I think I've swallowed my tongue, and 2. Jess has stretched and crossed her ankles, which makes me notice her legs again. I make the mistake of glancing over at her just then.

c.r.a.p!

Three reasons now: 3. Her cute prairie-girl braids are over-the-top adorable and, are playing a part in my complete mental shut down!

This girl is perfect...my crush will be forever.

"Holy c.r.a.p!" It feels good to say it out loud. "And c.r.a.p!"

"I tried to warn you. I texted MOS DOS," Jess says, wrongly a.s.suming I'm talking about what just happened. "That should have tipped you off."

"MOS DOS means parents?! Girl, are you deliberately trying to kill me or simply get me killed? If you'd typed MOM and DAD you'd have used the same number of letters, and that would have actually made sense!"

"I didn't think of that." She looks so surprised and then chagrined I feel bad for yelling. "But...everyone in the texting world knows that MOS means Mom Over Shoulder. And DOS means-"

"I get it. I officially flunk you on texting. Delete all memorized text message abbreviations from your mind. And accept no more texting advice from your eighth grade sister. She's a menace and you know it." I shoot her a grin and finally, have to laugh. "I almost had a heart attack back there. MOS DOS? Really?"

"Oh my G.o.d." Jess laughs along with me. "I am sorry." She bursts into a long fit of giggles. The happy, bright sound brings the air back into my lungs. "You should have seen your face," she adds.

"You should have seen yours. I can't believe you told them we were going to get the gang. This is not 1955. And, gosh golly, I don't want to b.u.m you out but, today, there is no gang." I shoot her a glance. "Just me. Mich.e.l.le bailed for a shopping trip with her mom, and Corey's grounded for back-talking about ch.o.r.es. You okay with that?"

"Oh. Yeah, I'm good." She shrugs as though she doesn't care, but I've spent enough time with her now that I can tell otherwise. She's nervous. I take note of the dark circles under her eyes. She also looks really tired.

"How was your night?"

"Good. Actually." She's nodding-too much. I'm sure it's a lie.

"I want to know what a good night means to you." I dart a glance directly into her eyes, wondering if she'll open up. Her expression has turned wary so I keep my attention on the road. "Did you sleep?"

"Not much, and that's why it was a good night." She stares out her window. Again I feel that she's lying. "What did you bring for lunch? Can we eat first? If I don't eat real food with these babies, my tummy hurts." She flashes two Red Bull's nestled inside her pack, obviously taunting me.

"I hate that you always drink that stuff," I say, letting her win on the subject change. Today is my attempt at *turning it all off and getting back to business'. I can do this. Despite her d.a.m.n legs, I can do this.

"Red Bull's tasty," she adds. "You should try some. Maybe it will get rid of that glazed look you've had since Thursday. If you ask me, I'd say you're the one not sleeping," she teases.

I shrug, wis.h.i.+ng I could tell her that *glazed look' is me, trying to fuzz-out my gaze so I can't see her cute face so clearly. "Tasty or not, that stuff isn't exactly a recommended pre-hike drink. Will you be able to hike after not sleeping all night?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. But I can't attempt it without my daily dose of caffeine a.s.sistance, so back off my staple food...I need it, and I love it." She closes her bag.

"Deal. Will you tell me more about the nightmares? Why you have them?" I ask gently, risking a glance at her now closed off and defensive expression.

"Pfft. Tell me why you don't like Coach Williams? Or, how come you don't play ice hockey for our school anymore? Corey and Mich.e.l.le told me you're really good. As in you're free-ride scholars.h.i.+p good. I saw Coach Williams at the rink the other night and asked him about you. He said he's holding a spot for you on his team. Anytime."

"Did he, now?" I cover, not surprised that Coach made good on his threat to check up on Jess. This is my chance to shut up and leave it all alone-but instead I decide to tell her some of it. If I open up to her, maybe she'll open up to me. "Coach Williams and I had a fight. It's stupid, simple, and private. But it was big enough to put me off ice forever, okay?"

"Whoa. A fight? About what?"

"Nope. Your turn."

"I don't like talking about my nightmares. They're stupid, complicated and private. Just like yours. You wouldn't understand. Let's just say they put me off sleeping for life," she quips, tossing my words back at me.

I cringe as I catch the truth and meaning behind what she said. "Tell me a little? Are you some sort of insomniac?" I try again.

She crosses her arms. "No. Well...yes. But not a willing one. I crave my bed like some people crave chocolate, but if I fall asleep when it's dark outside the nightmares are worse-dreadful, endless. So I try not to encourage them." She looks at me through her lashes-like she doesn't want me to notice she's watching my reactions to what she's saying. "After three years of therapy and never being able to understand them, staying awake all night is way easier than chancing my random nightmares. And it works. I don't get them if I nap during the day." She lets out a long breath. "You'll think I'm crazy now. People who are sane don't do therapy year after year. Oh-and newsflash-the therapy never worked on me."

I feel slightly sick. Helpless. "I'm sorry. Really sorry."

She shrugs and stares out her window. "Don't be. I don't want pity. I don't deserve it. The nightmares-they're partly my fault because I can't get over them. Not directly, of course, but after my parents spent thousands of dollars, after I've tried every pill available, we've all found out I'm simply not curable. In the big scope of things-it's not so important."

"What?" I almost shout, angry that she seems to totally believe that. "You, not being able to sleep is major important. Jesus, Jess."

She shrugs. "Other people have way worse things to deal with than nightmares and not sleeping. Like poverty, cancer, war. There's people who live with no legs, or a family member dying. My random sleep schedule is small in comparison. Besides, I'm used it. I'm like an ER doctor. Always on the night s.h.i.+ft. No big deal. Honest." She pulls her arms tighter over her chest.

"Yeah, but you're on the day s.h.i.+ft with me," I say softly.

"Yep." She laughs a wry little laugh.

"So...you're exhausted, all the time?"

"Like a model's always starving." She jokes, but I'm not laughing. "I try to hide the not sleeping from my parents. During school I can pull it off, but this summer...it's been more difficult. With the interns.h.i.+p plus my clingy new boyfriend I can't catch up. I've been forced to sleep at night...only that's not going so well."

"Because of the nightmares. You've been having a lot of them?"

"What is this-my tribunal?" She rolls her eyes at me and her expression is so comical, that I almost laugh. Almost, because I know she's doing that to play off the seriousness of what she's told me.

The girl is falling apart and it's my fault.

My heart twists as she finishes, "I have to work out the kinks. I won't slack off again, I swear. Sleeping while you work for both of us was a one time thing, if that's what you're worried about."

"h.e.l.l! Is that what you think?" I grip the steering wheel and turn onto a two-lane road marked with a sign that reads: Red Rocks Hiking Area 4 Miles. "Will you tell me what the dreams are about?" I venture again.

If she says yes, then I'll park this car and tell her the truth. Here and now.

"Never."

"Never?" I draw in a half-breath and hold it. I wish she hadn't just slammed the door so hard on me. I'm not surprised. The girl is so strong, so stubborn...so alone.

"It's nothing personal." She meets my gaze. "I've learned the hard way that *sharing' any specifics stops my progress." She taps her head with an index finger. "After years of messing with this baby, I keep the lid on Pandora's Box locked tight. Don't even attempt to crack me. Stronger people have already tried and failed. Plus, I'll hate you if you try." The look she gives me is wide-open and deadly. "I'm serious-I've told you enough, okay?"

I try to tempt her. "Sure. Of course, but that means I can't tell you my secrets."

"I don't want to know yours; mine are hard enough to deal with." She smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes.

I nod, keeping my own fake smile in place. "Topic closed. I wouldn't want you hating me. I mean that. And-well-" I forge ahead...just in case. "If you ever want to talk about it, about anything, please don't hold back. I'll listen. I will."

"Thanks." Her expression is weighted. She's beyond sad. She's tormented.

Does she remember? Does she remember me at all? I drive on, reaching the end of the paved road. My mind clouds like the dust picked up by my tires. I'm again, remembering that night-her-how she looked, how she'd cried. What I could have done better. Cold sweat, sadness and my guilt should push me through the floor of this car and swallow me into the road.

I'm such an a.s.shole. A coward. I should tell her. I should...but I can't risk causing her any more pain.

"Can I say one more thing, though?" she says after the quiet and the dust threatens to choke us both.

"Anything."

She takes her small pack onto her lap and fiddles with the straps. "I like that you know. About me-like we're friends. We are, right?"

"h.e.l.l yes, we're friends. Money aside, Jess...yes. You don't go to Geekstuff.com plastic-boot-camp together and not end up friends." I pull into the parking area and kill the engine, then turn to face her. "Just ask me if you need to sleep. I'll help you find a way. I mean it. I'll cover for you. I hate to think you're tired all the time. It's going to kill me if you don't let me help."

She flushes. Her ice-blue eyes hold me fast. "I don't know why, but with you things always seem so easy. The past two weeks, our contract and this," she points to the hiking trail. "If it gets bad, I'll tell you, but don't get all parental and worried. That would kill me. You have no idea how much fun I've had this summer already."

"You have?"

She sighs and puts her hand to her forehead. Her cheeks go one shade pinker as she continues, "Yes. I'm being a dork. Just...thanks for everything. You didn't have to partic.i.p.ate but you did. I might be tired all of the time, and I know that kind of freaks you out-but, I'm great. Happy. It's thanks to you, okay? I...really trust you now, and...thanks for letting me have this summer."

"I...wow...uh." My mind's reeling. What can I say?

Not the truth. That's decided.

"Jess..." I start, searching for the right words but I can't think thanks to the brutal ache in my heart. I'm stuck in the middle of everything. She'll never give me a chance to be with her if she knows what I know, what I've done. And if she ever figures that out, it will become apparent that I don't deserve a chance to even be in the same room with her.

So...what am I? What does this make me-today? I wonder. Am I her friend? Or am I the worst person in the world, past and present. For not coming clean on the truth. I should. I will. I can do this.

But what truth should I go with first? That I'm biting my tongue b.l.o.o.d.y so I don't tell her that I love how she smells? Or, how about that I've got my hands glued on this steering wheel so I don't lean in and take her face in my hands, allowing my fingers full access to the wispy curls that I've been dying to touch since day one? Should I mention I've spent eons of time wondering what it would be like to kiss the perfectly s.e.xy bottom lip she's been chewing since I parked this car?

Oh, G.o.d. What is the right thing to do?

If telling her what I know is the right thing, hanging out with her so I can make her smile-being this girl's one friend-has become my personal everything.

Which will help her more? Truth, and more pain-or having a friend? I admit, I'm also being selfish. Greedy. Weak. Fine. I can own that not telling her seems much easier-for both of us.

Besides, if I come clean, here and now, I won't get to do this hike with her.

I'll never get to take her skating. It's doubtful she'll ever let me put my arm around her shoulders again, either. Having her next to my side, smiling up into my eyes or better, glowering at me will be over too.

"Jess..." I start up again and realize I've been staring at her lips this whole time. "I'm...I don't know...I'm just happy you consider me a friend, that's all." It takes her a second to meet my gaze. Hold up. I could swear she'd been staring back at my lips!

Impossible.

"Okay...good." She flushes and tosses me my favorite *back-off' glare. One I completely welcome. The girl is so good-and so dead on.

If only she'd punch me in the eye right now, I'd feel a bit less like the devil.

Instead she says, "Let's just do this hike-date-thing before I start snoozing on you. Glad we had the talk but eesh...can you say awkward moment?"

"Yeah. And, awkward moment."

She rolls her eyes and we both laugh.

Without looking back, she dashes out of the car, heading for the large wooden trail map. She calls over her shoulder into the open window, "Which one of these hikes are we going to do?"

"You pick." I pretend to be busy turning the old fas.h.i.+oned crank on my window while I untangle my thoughts and deal with the fact that my legs have turned to Jell-O. It could be a side effect from my new level of pure self-loathing. But it's also a side effect of all of the blood rus.h.i.+ng out of my head and into other embarra.s.sing places.

My fault for staring at her lips. Or is this one her fault for staring at mine?

"H-U-I-M-S," she shouts. "That means: Hurry Up I'm Starving. I just made that up! Good, huh? I wonder if I can get that approved on the national board of text messaging?"

"Don't quit your day job," I tease, glancing up as I reach across the pa.s.senger seat for the other window. She's tossing an empty Red Bull into a recycling bin as she cracks open a second. She beams me with an extra cute I dare you to bust on me for drinking this smile.

I grip the crank, almost snapping it off in a white-knuckled panic attack as she crosses in front of the car heading toward a covered picnic area.

Legs. Legs. Long, tanned, smooth legs.

"What are you doing?"

"I'll be right there." I hold up my cell phone. "Checking messages. I have to leave one for Gran so she doesn't worry," I lie and close my window all the way.