Gravity

chapter 9

I paced back and forth in my room with my phone in my clenched fist. I had been repeating the same routine for about twenty minutes. Maybe the number was fake? Walk, pause, look at phone, walk. Maybe the whole thing was some horrible prank Lainey and Madison conceived over a tanning session.

Finally, I typed out a text, and forced my thumb to hit SEND. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Except possible humiliation. Having the text forwarded to everyone in school...

The phone shook in my hand. Every second I waited for a reply, I grew more anxious.

Thirty seconds later, the phone beeped. I almost dropped it on the carpet.

Tomorrow after school is good, his reply to my suggestion read plainly.

I let out a breath, and sank onto the floor beside my bed. I set down the phone next to me and my hand bumped something beneath the dust ruffle. I slid the object out. It was a familiar photo album, the glittery pink front covered with heart stickers. The anticipation in my chest melted into a numb block.

I thumbed through the photos of Jenna and me together. Birthday parties, on vacation. Smiling gleefully in almost every shot. I pitied the girls in the pictures, who didn't know how much their life would change when they got older. Guilt slithered through me again. What was I doing? Maybe I was just distracting myself.

I leaned my head back against the side of the bed, and shut my eyes, the photo album still in my lap. Jenna wouldn't trust Henry for more than flirting, I was certain of that. But that was Jenna, or at least, Jenna the next generation, whose buoyant attitude had crashed in flames somewhere along the way.

I wondered if she really had run away. It wouldn't be that out of the question. I denied it initially because I couldn't imagine her keeping such a big secret from me. But even I had to admit that things had changed in the last months of our friendship. And then there were all the times she had complained about feeling trapped in Hell, and hating her parents.

I wondered what she would think of me now.

Of most people I've heard it said that if they were gone, they would want their friends to move on and be happy. Not Jenna. Jenna would want me to set up a shrine and stand vigil to it every night. And I knew I wasn't doing enough. Over the summer, I had walked through every street and inch of woods surrounding her house. I had put up flyers all over town. I had answered every question her parents and, eventually, the police peppered me with, and there were stacks of pages worth. But it wasn't enough, and I knew it.

When I went to sleep that night, I had a different kind of dream.

Henry stood at the end of a thin ribbon of sidewalk. He waited patiently for me, his arms crossed in front of him. I walked to him, because there was nowhere else I'd rather go. His eyes were trained on my every step, and I couldn't walk fast enough. I reached him and our mouths met. Hands sliding through each other's hair. Tongues twisting. I had never had a dream like this.

We were on the couch in the basement then. His mouth broke away from mine, as he pulled his shirt up over his head, tousling his hair. There was nothing but a blur underneath, where his chest should be.

Someone knocked on the door. Persistent, they wouldn't stop, even though I tried to block it out. As much as I feverishly wanted to keep kissing him, I couldn't ignore the sound.

"I have to go," I whispered. His face retained its patience, his eyes soft and watchful.

"I'll always be here," he said.

I stood up off of the couch and walked through the filmy haze. Then I was standing in front of the back patio doors, staring outside. Someone stood out in the darkness, I knew, but I couldn't see them.

That's when I woke up. The black air in my room suffocated me.

Nerves plagued me all day, to the point where I couldn't eat lunch or I knew I'd throw up. The dream I'd had about Henry made me both more aware of my feelings and more conflicted. Henry and I didn't acknowledge each other in school, and I wondered idly if he had changed his mind. I even scrolled through my text messages to make sure his reply was still there; it was.

I didn't talk to Theo about it, even though she had been there when Henry had first brought the suggestion up. Instead we compared notes we had taken in Spanish, our other class together, and kept our chatter to mundane topics.

After the bell rang in Art class for school to be over, I stayed behind as I had the other day. Only this time I was waiting for Henry instead of trying to avoid him. My stomach was a pit of nerve soup as I stood up.

Lainey tried to walk out with Henry and he said goodbye to her. I couldn't help but be a little pleased at the stunned look on her face as she watched him walk back to my seat. I looked down at the floor; a little afraid her eyes would become lasers and bore a hole in me.

"Are you ready?" Henry asked me in a low voice. I nodded. "Do you need me to carry anything?" He held out his arms, almost as if to hug me. I bit down on my grin.

"No, thank you," I said softly.

"Is somebody picking us up?" he inquired, grabbing his own books off his desk and holding them underneath his arm.

"I actually walk home," I said. "I don't live far." My speech stuck behind my tonsils, and I cleared my throat.

"Great," he said, the usually-present smile arriving. "We can take advantage of the warmer weather before it says goodbye."

We walked out of the emptying school and through the parking lot. Out of nowhere, shyness had overtaken me, rending me speechless. I watched the cars pulling into traffic; I couldn't even look at him, afraid I would either start laughing and be unable to stop, or I would faint.

"What did you think of the quiz in History?" he asked as we made it to the sidewalk. I shrugged my shoulders, which had tensed up considerably.

"Half the time I don't know if Wick is being serious or not," he said, shaking his head. "I have a hard time editing my notes down." I knew I should respond with my own opinion, but I couldn't find the words.

We walked in silence for a few minutes, me berating myself inside my head. The sunlight made the gray sidewalk shimmer. I knew I was making a fool of myself, but I didn't know how to stop it. It was like watching a slow-motion video of a person jumping to their death from a skyscraper.

"Won't it be great when we can start driver's training?" he asked, still trying to get me to talk. "Finally be able to go wherever we want." I nodded noncommittally.

"What's with you?" he asked finally, stopping in his tracks. "You've barely said a word this whole time."

"Sorry," I said, finally turning towards him. He was almost exactly the same height as I was, maybe an inch taller, so I looked straight into his eyes. "I don't mean to be so awkward, I just...I've never been great at talking to guys. They all think I'm weird."

He smiled, not a smirk, but a genuine, nice smile. "Don't worry, I'm safe. Nothing freaks me out. You could tell me anything and I wouldn't think you're bizarre. Well, almost anything. You've never murdered anyone, have you?"

I shook my head, and a short laugh came out of my throat.

"Ha! I knew I could do it," he declared triumphantly.

"Do what?" I inquired.

"Make you laugh. You're always so serious around me. You've made my day, dear." He nudged me with his shoulder.

The old-timey affection was not missed, nor was the physical touch, but I chose not to comment on either of them. The dam on my words was broken, however, and I started talking back to him.

"You promised you'd bring up our discussion the other day," he reminded me.

"I did," I agreed.

"Why is it so bad that I'm friends with those people?" he inquired, searching my eyes.

I looked down at my feet. "They're awful."

"They're not so awful," he argued. "You just think they're better than you or something. Well, I'm here to tell you it isn't true."

I blushed, feeling my features become a little look of shock for a moment until I smoothed it away. "How did you know I felt that way?"

"You hunch your shoulders," he offered, looking up at the sky as he thought of other reasons. "You look at people as though you're afraid they will bite you at any moment. Why?" When he asked the question, he looked at me again.

I didn't have a real answer. Jenna felt like too sacred of a topic.

"Ever since we were little, I remember knowing I was different than them," I said, gazing up at the halo around the sun. "And it wasn't just their clothes, or the fact that they had white chocolate raspberry brownies at the bake sale when I had plain old chocolate chip."

That made him smirk. "So what was it that felt so different?"

"It was like they knew how much more important they were than me, and they never let me forget it," I said. I had never really analyzed the situation so much before.

"But nobody there is more important just because of how much their parents checks are worth," Henry countered.

That caused me to chuckle again. "That just tells me how new you are," I said, playing with the zipper on my coat. "And how innocent and sheltered from the world you must be. Money always buys power."

Henry pushed his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. I wondered for a moment if I offended him.

"Innocent is not the word I would use," he said, then appraised me. "Can you keep a little secret?"

"Sure. As long as it's little," I teased.

"My parents are mostly pushing me to hang out with specific people. To them, it's never too early to start networking."

"Ah." Sounded like Claire in overdrive.

"Ever since we moved back here in May, we've had a ton of dinner parties and social get-togethers that I have no interest in. I've had to wear a tie more than once, to give you an idea. They're all old friends, my parents and their parents."

"So your mom and dad used to live here?" I asked. He nodded, looking curious as I fit the pieces together. "Hugh said something about that."

"Who's Hugh?"

"Oh, my dad," I explained. "My parents were kind of hippies, I guess, when I was little. I've never called them mom or dad, just their names."

"My parents would kill me if I called them by their first names," he said ardently.

"Metaphorically, I hope," I said.

"Not really," he said, looking ahead as a couple of little kids cut us off on bicycles. "Respect is the number one rule in our house. I have to call my father "sir." My parents are both lawyers, and they bring the courtroom home with them." That impressed me and made me wonder how he had turned out so down to earth at the same time.

The leaves on the trees had only begun to change, dots of color in the green flush. I wondered if he was warm in his sweatshirt as the sun beat down on us, even despite the cool breeze. I was debating taking off my coat myself. I plucked the hair elastic around my wrist, whipping my hair up and not entirely believing this whole conversation was real.

We turned onto my street after a few minutes. A few people were out mowing their lawns, or tending to their fall flowers.

"This is my house," I said when we arrived, with a faux grand gesture of my arms. "Ta da." He laughed, his eyes crinkling again. I don't know if I'd ever seen someone with a more genuinely happy smile, and it made his face more impossibly gorgeous the more I saw it. The goofiness I had once seen in it had disappeared.

Hugh was standing in the dining room when we walked in, waiting like a bouncer to either okay Henry or kick him out.

"Hugh, this is Henry," I said, watching his reaction for signs of trouble, ready to shield Henry from oncoming missiles.

Hugh shook Henry's hand, his eyes like an airport scanner. No detail unnoticed.

"Nice to meet you," Henry said cheerfully.

"Likewise," Hugh said, attempting gruffness. "My daughter hasn't told me much about you, other than your interest in helping her learn. So pardon me if I have some questions."

"Dad..." I moaned, putting my hands over my eyes. Let the mortification begin. Odds were Henry would never want to come back.

"Sure, anything you want to know," Henry said.

"What do your parents do for a living?"

"They're both attorneys. My father is in criminal defense and my mother deals with real estate disputes."

Hugh was unfazed. It probably counted as points against Henry's parents, consider how much the legal system irritated him.

"Where did you used to live?" Hugh continued.

"Westchester, Pennsylvania."

"Any siblings?"

"I have a sister, Andrea. She's a freshman in college at Villanova."

"Okay, I think that's enough third degree," I burst in, before Hugh could continue his investigation. I put my hand on Henry's chest without realizing it. "We need to be studying."

Henry looked down at my hand and grinned at me. I took it away, as if I had burned myself, heat prickling across my face.

Seemingly satisfied, Hugh sat back down at his laptop. The bridge was now crossable, apparently.

"Just so you know, the walls are very thin in this house," he said pleasantly.

Henry grinned widely and looked down at the floor, his shoulders shaking as he contained a snicker. I didn't get Hugh's meaning at first, but when I did I was horrified.

"Hugh! Please!" I implored him.

"Go study," he said.

Henry and I went into the den, and I shut the accordion doors so we would have some privacy. Since the walls were so thin and all.

"I'm sorry about my father," I said, gritting my teeth.

Henry laughed, his good mood only boosted by the interaction. "That's just the typical dad rundown. I would do much worse if I had a daughter. She probably wouldn't date until she was twenty-five."

"Well, still." I set my backpack down on the coffee table.

"It must be nice to have a parent home when you are," he continued, following my lead by dropping his notebook and book next to my stuff. "My parents are never home."

"Most people would love that, you know," I said, glancing at him sideways.

"Yeah, probably. I told you I'm not normal."

"Hugh and Claire are always watching over me," I complained, flopping down onto the couch. I was hardly ever in this room except to get books. The entire wall we were facing contained bookshelves crammed full of heavy volumes. Like I didn't have enough of my own. "Even when Claire is at work, she sends me texts. They worry about me all the time. Which I get, but I feel like I'm in an invisible cage or on a leash. I wish my parents were both out of the house sometimes."

Henry sat down next to me on the couch. His sudden proximity made my skin warm up. He smelled really good, of some random cologne but not put on heavily, just a hint of it in the air. It seemed bizarre to have him in my house, sitting on a couch I'd sat on a million times. At school, he was a distant, untouchable prize, but here, he seemed truly real.

The thought occurred to me that Lainey had probably told him all kinds of nasty things about me, and about Jenna. I tried to keep my mind off of it. I gripped the edge of the couch cushion with my hands.

"I did like being alone, for a long time," he admitted. "But now I mostly just wander around my house all day, reading. I could make you some high class microwave dishes. Sometimes I just drink and fall asleep."

"Drink, like alcohol?" I asked. I didn't much like being around drunk people; they always found themselves far more hilarious than anyone else in the room did.

"Not often. Just nips from what my mother has in the cabinets," he said, shrugging. "It helps me let go. Does that bother you?"

It didn't, not that much. I was more concerned with what he'd said about reading. "What kind of books do you read?" I asked. Most of the boys our age barely knew how to write their own names, let alone read for pleasure.

Henry looked bashful, copying my stance with his hands gripping the edge of the couch. He looked up at me from beneath his eyelashes. "Fantasy novels."

I chuckled. "You mean, like dragons and wizards and that kind of thing?"

"Yep, the very thing." He sat up a little, looking defensive. "And what do you like, romance novels? I bet you have a whole collection of sappy, sentimental vampire books sitting dog-eared on your nightstand."

He was only teasing, but he could see in my face that he had hit the nail on the head.

"I like escaping into a world that's more exciting than, well, this," I said, indicating our surroundings. "And what's wrong with romance?"

"Nothing at all, dear," he said. It was a strange word for him to use again, something my grandmother would say, but out of his perfect mouth it sounded lovely. "I hope to someday fall head over heels myself."

I let a little breath out of my nose, tugging a loose thread from the couch with my wandering fingers.

"Underneath this dashing exterior, I'm a huge nerd," he continued. "I'm just warning you before we continue any farther down the rabbit hole. Promise you won't tell anyone."

"You keep making me promise you things," I observed dryly. "What do I get out of it?"

"Something great. I'll figure it out," he said, and winked at me. "For now, though, don't you think we should get started?"

We opened our books, and actually did study for several hours. He helped me figure out a few things.

"I'm so stupid at this," I said at one point.

"You're just getting frustrated," he countered gently.

The usual lack of confidence I had began to break, due to having someone who believed I could accomplish the work. There was no room for me to just give up, like I normally did.

At first it was hard to concentrate. Up close, the complicated details that made him so attractive were evident. His brown eyes seemed to almost glow, framed by long lashes, and a well-defined nose balanced his face. A sprinkle of barely-visible freckles crossed over his cheeks. I took every opportunity I had to glance at him, studying every feature, trying to preserve it in my head for later. When he spoke, I realized he had a tongue bar glinting in between his teeth.

I could feel the warmth from his body, even a foot away. Was the room always so small? He had lowered his already deep voice to an intimate tone, making warmth bloom in my belly. But I started to get into the work, the daunting page of unions and intersections not so intimidating now. As I began getting answers correct, it felt like an ego boost.

At one point, I wrote down an answer that I had a feeling was wrong. He slid the pencil out of my fingers, making me shiver involuntarily as he corrected my mistake.

"This is how you write a complement of a set," he said.

"Oh," I said, still able to feel the touch of his skin on mine.

He moved closer so that we our clothing brushed together, his eyes on the notebook paper we were using for scrap work. I couldn't help but glance at his face again.

"I'm sorry," I said for about the tenth time. I was worried about wasting his time.

"Believe me; I'm usually really impatient if someone isn't getting it. You're doing fine. You're not the tragedy you think you are, so stop apologizing," he scolded lightly.

We finished up with several of the lessons I needed to know for the quiz on Friday. And I actually felt like I understood what I had just done. I hoped the feeling remained when he wasn't around.

Light came through the slats in the blinds, making a zigzag pattern on the gray wall.

"That must be my dad," Henry said, gathering up his stuff. He had called him several minutes before, a brisk conversation that did indeed prove his use of the word Sir. "Time went by fast, didn't it?"

"Yeah, it did."

I didn't want him to leave, suddenly afraid to be alone with my thoughts. Guilt always seemed to pop up the instant I was away from him, guilt for being here to experience anything when Jenna was not. I got up and peered out through the blinds. A shiny black Lexus sat in front of the house.

"Nice car," I said. I dropped the slat, and turned around. "So you really are rich?" I asked, and instantly realized it sounded tactless. "I mean, you know. Your family. With them being lawyers I suppose you would have to be..."

He just laughed. "I suppose so. Why are you so shocked?"

"You seem too humble to be from that kind of money," I admitted.

"It's just a part of who I am. Not the sum total," he said.

He tugged his sweatshirt on over his head. He had taken it off earlier and laid it across the arm of the couch. For a moment I flashed out of nowhere back to my dream, and looked away. He didn't notice my distraction. I walked him out of the room and to the front door.

"Bye," I said, leaning in the open doorway, wishing I had a reason to make him stay longer.

"Bye," he repeated, turning to leave. Then he stopped, and faced me again, flipping his hood over his hair.

"We could do this every week, if it would help," he offered.

"Okay," I said, feeling the smile grow on my face.

"It was fun. And besides, I have nothing else to do. Please don't make relegate me to putzing around my house," he said, putting his hands together as if in prayer. "Save me from my boredom."

I couldn't help but laugh. It was extremely flattering. My laughter pleased him, and he looked satisfied, one side of his mouth smirking. It made him look incredibly sexy.

"Same time, same place?"

"Sure," I said. Henry waved at me. Blackbirds were printed on the white fabric inside his hood, framing his face.

Rain had begun to patter, promising colder weather. I closed the door, and waited for the inevitable crash.