This Girl (Slammed #3)

4.

 

the honeymoon

 

LAKE PULLS HERSELF up onto her elbows and rests her chin in her hands.

 

“You’re really enjoying this,” I say.

 

She’s smiling. “I don’t think I ever told you, but when you kissed me on the forehead that day it was the best kiss I’d ever had. Up to that point, anyway,” she says, falling back against her pillow.

 

I lean in and replicate the forehead kiss, except this time I don’t stop there. I plant tiny pecks all the way down to the tip of her nose, then I pull back. “Mine, too,” I say, looking into the eyes that I get to wake up to every morning for the rest of my life. At the risk of sounding cheesy, I’ve got to be the luckiest man in the world.

 

 

“Now I want to know all about our date.” She puts her hands behind her head and relaxes, waiting for me to spill it.

 

I lie back on my pillow and think back to that day. The day that I fell for my wife.

 

the first date

 

I HAVEN’T BEEN in this good a mood in over two years. I also haven’t been this nervous about a girl in over two years. In fact, I haven’t even been on a single date in two years. A double load, a full-time job and a child really interfere with the whole dating scene.

 

There’s half an hour left before Caulder and I have to leave for school, so I decide to do a little cleaning since I’ll be with Lake tonight. I’m hesitant to take her to Club N9NE on our first date. Slam poetry is so much a part of me; I don’t know how I’d take it if she didn’t connect with it. Or worse, if she hated it.

 

Vaughn was never into it. She loved Club N9NE on any other night, just not slam night. Thursdays were usually the one night of the week we didn’t spend together. I realize this moment is the first moment Vaughn has even crossed my mind since the moment I met Lake.

 

“Caulder, go make sure your room’s clean. Maya’s watching you tonight,” I say as he emerges from the hallway. He rolls his eyes and backtracks into the bedroom. “Clean is it,” he mumbles.

 

He’s been talking backward since he met Kel a few days ago. I just ignore him half the time. It’s too much to keep up with.

 

I take the overloaded bag out of the kitchen trash can and begin to head outside with it, but I pause at the hallway. Something about the picture of Caulder and me with our dad in the front yard catches my eye. I take a step forward and get a closer look. I’ve never noticed it before this moment, probably because it actually has meaning now . . . but in the background right over my father’s shoulder, you can see the gnome with the red hat from across the street. The same gnome Lake fell on and broke. The gnome is staring right at the camera with a smirk on his face, almost like he’s posing.

 

I glance at the rest of the pictures on the wall, recalling the moments they were all captured. I used to hate looking at these pictures. I hated the way it would make me feel and how much I would miss them when I looked into their eyes. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Now when I look at them, I mostly recall the good memories.

 

Seeing their pictures brings the realization back to the forefront of my mind that Lake has no idea of the responsibilities I have in my life. I need to tell her tonight. It’s better to get it out now, that way if she can’t handle it, I won’t be too far gone. It’ll be a lot easier to be rejected by her tonight, before whatever it is I’m feeling toward her becomes even more intense.

 

I close the lid to the trash can and pull it to the curb. When I near the end of the driveway, I see the back door to Lake’s Jeep is open. She’s leaning all the way across the seat, searching for something. When she finds what she’s looking for, she climbs out of the backseat with a coffeepot in her hands. She’s still wearing pajamas and her hair is piled on top of her head in a knot.

 

“That’s not a good idea,” I say, heading across the street toward her.

 

She jumps when she hears my voice, then spins around to face me and grins. “What am I doing wrong this time?” She shuts the door to the Jeep and walks toward me.

 

I point to the coffeepot. “If you drink too much coffee this early in the morning, you’ll crash after lunch. Then you’ll be too exhausted to go out with your hot date tonight.”

 

She laughs. Her smile is fleeting, though. She looks down at her pajamas, then runs her hands over her hair with a slight look of panic in her eyes. She’s silently freaking out about the way she looks, so I ease her mind. “You look great,” I assure her. “Bed hair looks really good on you.”

 

She smiles, then leans against her car. “I know,” she says confidently, looking down at her pajamas. “This is what I’m wearing on our date tonight. You like?”

 

I slowly look her up and down, then shake my head no. “Not really,” I say, eyeing her boots. “I’d prefer it if you wore the house shoes.”

 

She laughs. “I’ll do that, then. Seven-thirty, right?”

 

I nod and smile back at her. We’re about four feet apart, but the way her eyes are piercing into mine makes it feel like she’s just inches away. She smiles at me with an unfamiliar sparkle in her eye. Unlike the last two days, she actually looks happy right now.

 

We continue to stare at each other, neither of us speaking . . . or walking away. There’s a long silence, but it’s not awkward. The way she’s watching me this time seems more confident. More at ease.

 

More hopeful.

 

I decide to give in before the awkwardness does set in, so I take a couple of steps backward toward my house. “I have to get to work,” I say. “I’ll see you tonight.”

 

She lifts her hand and waves good-bye before turning toward her house. Not just a normal back-and-forth wave, either. It’s a fingers up and down flirty wave.

 

Wow. Who knew a simple wave could be so damn hot?

 

“Lake?”

 

She glances back at me, the corners of her mouth hinting at a smile. “Yeah?”

 

I point to her pajamas. “I really am digging this unwashed, straight-out-of-bed look. Just make sure you brush your teeth before I pick you up tonight, because I’m gonna kiss you.” I wink at her and turn back toward my house before she can respond.

 

“GOOD MORNING, MRS. Alex,” I say, careful not to sound too friendly. I have to watch every word that comes out of my mouth around this woman; she takes it all the wrong way. The inappropriate way. I walk past her desk and into the mailroom, then grab the contents from inside my box. When I exit the mailroom, she’s already rushing toward me.

 

“Did you get my note? I left you a sticky note.” She glances down at the stack of papers I’m holding.

 

I look at the papers in my hands and shrug. “I don’t know yet. I just checked my box five seconds ago.”

 

Mrs. Alex isn’t known for her kind demeanor, except toward me. Her obvious favoritism has become a running joke among the staff. A joke that I’m the butt of. She’s at least twenty years older than me, not to mention married. However, it doesn’t stop her from blatantly displaying her affection, which is why I only come to the mailroom once a week now.

 

“Well, I wrote you a message. Your faculty advisor called and needs to schedule a meeting with you.” She grabs the stack of papers out of my hands and spreads them out on her desk, looking for the note she wrote. “He said he needs to do your quarterly observation. I swear I put it right on top.”

 

I reach forward and swipe the contents of my mailbox back into a stack. “Thank you. I’m running late, so I’ll look through it later. I’ll let you know if I don’t find it.”

 

She smiles and waves good-bye as I back away from her.

 

Oh, shit. It was a flirty wave. I’ve got to quit coming in here.

 

“Have a great day,” I say, turning to leave as fast as I can. I’m relieved when the door to the administration office closes behind me. I’m really going to have to get someone else to check my mail from now on.

 

“You really need to stop leading her on like that,” Gavin says. I look up and he’s staring through the window at Mrs. Alex.

 

I roll my eyes. “Nothing has changed since high school, Gavin. It’s even worse now that I’m a teacher here.”

 

Gavin looks past me and waves at Mrs. Alex through the window and smiles at her. “She’s still watching you. Maybe you should flex your muscles; give her a little gun show. Or at least give her a nice view while you’re walking away.”

 

The thought of Mrs. Alex admiring me from behind makes me a little too uncomfortable, so I change the subject and walk toward my first-period class. “You and Eddie going to Club N9NE tonight? I haven’t seen you guys there in a couple of weeks.”

 

“Maybe. Why? You doing one?”

 

I shake my head. “No, not tonight,” I say. “We’ll be there a little after eight, though. My sitter isn’t available until seven-thirty, so we’ll probably miss the sac.”

 

He stops in his tracks just as we reach my classroom door. “We? Who’s we? Does Will Cooper have a date?” He cocks an eyebrow and waits for my reply.

 

I don’t usually hang out with students outside of work, but Gavin and Eddie have been showing up at Club N9NE every now and then for a few months. We sometimes sit together, so I’ve gotten to know them pretty well. When you’re teaching at twenty-one years old, it’s sort of difficult to completely cut off socialization with people who are practically your age.

 

“So? Who is she?” he says. “Who’s the elusive girl that may just be the end to Will Cooper’s dry spell?”

 

I open the door to the classroom and lose the smile as I switch on teacher-mode. “Get to class, Gavin.”

 

He laughs and salutes me, then heads down the hallway.

 

“THANKS AGAIN, MAYA,” I say as I head through the living room. “There’s cash on the table. I ordered pizza about fifteen minutes ago.” I grab my keys and shove my wallet into my pocket. “He’s been talking backward a lot so just ignore it. He’ll talk frontward if he has anything important to say.”

 

“You paying me double?” she says, falling onto the sofa with the remote in hand. “I didn’t agree to watch that other kid.”

 

“He’s just the neighbor,” I say. “He’ll go home soon. If he doesn’t, then yeah . . . I guess I’ll pay you extra.” I’ve turned to head outside when the boys make their way back into the house. Kel stops in the doorway and puts his hands on his hips, looking up at me.

 

“Are you my sister’s boyfriend?”

 

I’m thrown off by his directedness. “Um, no. Just her friend.”

 

“She told my mom you were taking her on a date. I thought only boyfriends took girls on dates.”

 

“Well,” I pause. “Sometimes boys take girls on dates to see if they want them to be their girlfriend.”

 

I notice Caulder standing beside me, taking in the conversation as if he’s just as curious. I wasn’t prepared to have to explain the rules of dating right now.

 

“So it’s like a test?” Caulder asks. “To see if you want Layken to be your girlfriend?”

 

I shrug and nod. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

 

Kel laughs. “You aren’t gonna like her. She burps a lot. And she’s bossy. And she never lets me drink coffee, so she probably won’t let you have any either. And she has really bad taste in music and sings way too loud and leaves her bras all over the house. It’s gross.”

 

I laugh. “Thanks for the warning. You think it’s too late to back out now?”

 

Kel shakes his head, missing my sarcasm completely. “No, she’s already dressed so you have to take her now.”

 

I sigh, pretending to be annoyed. “Well, it’s just a few hours. Hopefully she won’t burp a lot and boss me around and steal my coffee and sing to her really bad music and leave her bra in my car.”

 

 

Or hopefully she will.

 

Kel walks past me into the house. “Good luck,” he says, his voice full of pity. I laugh and shut the door behind me. I’m halfway to my car when Lake opens her front door and walks to the driveway.

 

“You ready?” I yell to her.

 

“Yes,” she yells back.

 

I wait for her to walk to my car, but she doesn’t. She looks ready. Why is she just standing there?

 

“Well, come on then!” I yell.

 

She still doesn’t move. She folds her arms across her chest and stands still. I throw my hand up in defeat and laugh. “What are you doing?”

 

“You said you would pick me up at seven-thirty,” she yells. “I’m waiting for you to pick me up.”

 

I grin and get in the car, then back up into her driveway. When I get out and open her door, I notice she’s not wearing the house shoes. I was sort of hoping she was serious this morning. It’s not quite dark yet, which is unfortunate since I can’t stop staring at her. She curled her hair and put on just a touch of makeup. She’s wearing jeans and a purple shirt that brings out the hue of her eyes, making them even harder to look away from. She looks . . . perfect.

 

Once we’re both in the car, I reach behind me and grab the bag out of the backseat. “We don’t have time to eat, so I made us grilled cheese.” I hand her the sandwich and a drink. I’m hoping she’s not too upset that we aren’t going out to eat. We just don’t have time. I almost went to her house earlier to let her know we weren’t, in case she didn’t eat, but I decided to throw something together at the last minute instead. I sort of wanted to see how she’d react to not being taken on a typical date. Maybe it’s a little mean, but she’s smiling, so she doesn’t seem to mind.

 

“Wow. This is a first.” She puts her sandwich on her knee and twists open her soda. “And where exactly are we going in such a hurry? It’s obviously not a restaurant.”

 

I take a bite of my sandwich and pull out of her driveway. “It’s a surprise. I know a lot more about you than you know about me, so tonight I want to show you what I’m all about.”

 

She grins at me. “Well, I’m intrigued,” she says before she takes a bite of her sandwich.

 

I’m relieved she doesn’t press me further about where we’re going. It would be sort of hard to explain that I’m taking her to a club on a Thursday night to watch a bunch of people recite poetry. It doesn’t sound near as appealing as it actually is. I’d rather let her experience it for the first time in person without having preconceived notions.

 

When we finish our sandwiches, she puts the trash in the backseat and shifts in her seat so that she’s facing me. She casually rests her head against the headrest. “What are your parents like?”

 

I glance out my window, not wanting her to see the reluctance in my expression. It’s the exact thing I was hoping she wouldn’t ask about until the drive home, at least. I’d hate for this to be the first thing we talk about. It would put a somber mood to the whole night. I take a deep breath and exhale, hoping I’m not appearing as uncomfortable on the outside as I’m feeling on the inside.

 

How the hell can I redirect this conversation?

 

I decide to play the game Caulder and I play sometimes on the drive to our grandparents. I hope she won’t think it’s too cheesy, but it’ll pass the time and may even help me get to know her better.

 

“I’m not big on small talk, Lake. We can figure all that out later. Let’s make this drive interesting.” I adjust myself in the seat and prepare to explain the rules to her. When I turn to look at her, she’s staring at me with a repulsed look on her face.

 

What the hell did I say? I replay my last sentence in my head and realize how it sounded. I laugh when it dawns on me that she completely misconstrued what I just said. “Lake, no! I just meant let’s talk about something besides what we’re expected to talk about.”

 

She expels a breath and laughs. “Good,” she says.

 

“I know a game we can play. It’s called, ‘would you rather.’ Have you played it before?”

 

She shakes her head. “No, but I would rather you go first.”

 

I feel like if I use some of the ones Caulder and I have used it would be cheating, so I take a few seconds to think of a new one. “Okay,” I say when I come up with one. I clear my throat. “Okay, would you rather spend the rest of your life with no arms; or would you rather spend the rest of your life with arms you couldn’t control?”

 

I remember when Caulder and I tried to get Vaughn to play this game on our way to Detroit once; she rolled her eyes and told us to grow up. I watch Lake, hoping for a different reaction, and she just stares at me straight-faced like she’s actually contemplating an answer.

 

“Well,” she says. “I guess I would rather spend the rest of my life with arms I couldn’t control?”

 

“What? Seriously?” I laugh, glancing over at her. “But you wouldn’t be controlling them! They could be flailing around and you’d be constantly punching yourself in the face! Or worse, you might grab a knife and stab yourself!”

 

She laughs. Damn, I love that laugh.

 

“I didn’t realize there were right and wrong answers,” she says.

 

“You suck at this. Your turn.”

 

She smiles at me, then furrows her brows, facing forward and leaning back into her seat. “Okay, let me think.”

 

“You have to have one ready!”

 

“Jeez, Will! I barely heard of this game for the first time thirty seconds ago. Give me a second to think of one.”

 

I reach over and squeeze her hand. “I’m teasing.”

 

It wasn’t my intention to keep holding on to her hand, but for some reason it feels right, so I don’t let go. It’s so natural, like we didn’t even contemplate the move. I’m still staring at our interlocked fingers when she continues with her turn, unfazed. I like how much she seems to be enjoying the game. I like how she seemed to prefer the grilled cheese sandwiches to a restaurant. I like girls who don’t mind the simple things every now and then. I like that we’re holding hands.

 

We play a few more rounds and the bizarre things she comes up with could give Caulder a run for his money. The half-hour drive to the club seems like it takes five minutes. I decide to ask one final question as we’re pulling into the parking lot. I pull into a space and reach over with my left hand to kill the engine so that I don’t have to move my right hand from hers. I glance over at her. “Last one,” I say. “Would you rather be back in Texas right now? Or here?”

 

She looks down at our fingers that are interlocked and grazes her thumb across my hand. Her reaction to my question isn’t a negative one. In fact, it almost seems just the opposite when her lips crack a smile and she looks back up. Just when she opens her mouth to respond, her attention is pulled to the sign on the building behind me and her smile fades.

 

“Uh, Will?” she says hesitantly. “I don’t dance.” She pulls her hand from mine and begins to open her door, so I do the same.

 

“Uh, neither do I.”

 

We both exit the vehicle, but the fact that she didn’t answer that last question isn’t lost on me. I grab her hand when we meet at the front of the car and I lead her inside. When we walk through the doors I make a quick scan of the room. I know a lot of the regulars here and I’m hoping I can at least find a secluded area in order for us to have some privacy. I spot an empty booth in the back of the room and lead her in that direction. I want her to be able to get the full experience without the constant interruption of conversation from other people.

 

“It’s quieter back here,” I say. She’s looking around with curiosity in her eyes. She asks about the younger audience when she notices pretty quickly that this isn’t a regular club-going crowd. She’s observant.

 

“Well, tonight it’s not a club,” I say. She scoots into the booth first and I slide in right next to her. “It’s slam night. Every Thursday they shut the club down and people come here to compete in the slam.”

 

She breaks her gaze from the table of kids and looks at me, the curiosity still present in her eyes. “And what’s a slam?”

 

I pause for a second and smile at her. “It’s poetry,” I say. “It’s what I’m all about.” I wait for the laughter, but it doesn’t come. She looks directly at me, almost like she didn’t understand what I said.

 

I start to repeat myself when she interrupts. “Poetry, huh?” She continues to smile at me, but in a very endearing way. Almost like she’s impressed. “Do people write their own or do they get it from other authors?”

 

I lean back in my seat and look at the stage. “People get up there and pour their hearts out just using their words and the movement of their bodies. It’s amazing. You aren’t going to hear any Dickinson or Frost here.”

 

When I look at her again, she actually looks intrigued. Poetry has always been such a huge part of my life; I was worried she wouldn’t understand it. Not only does she understand it, she seems excited about it.

 

I explain the rules to her regarding the competition. She asks a lot of questions, which puts me even more at ease. When I’ve explained everything to her, I decide to grab us drinks before the sac comes on stage.

 

“You want something to drink?”

 

“Sure,” she says. “I’ll take some chocolate milk.”

 

I expect her to laugh at her joke, but she doesn’t.

 

“Chocolate milk? Really?”

 

“With ice,” she says, matter-of-fact.

 

“Okay. One chocolate milk on the rocks coming right up.”

 

I exit the booth and walk over to the bar to order our drinks, then turn around and lean against the bar and watch her. This feeling I get when I’m with her . . . I’ve missed it. I’ve missed that feeling of feeling. Somehow, she’s the first person in the last two years of my life who gives me any sense of hope about the future.

 

I realize as I’m watching her that I’ve made a huge mistake. I’ve been comparing what her reaction to things might be based on what Vaughn’s reactions were in the past. It’s not fair to Lake to assume she would be turned off by the simplicity of the date or by the game we played on the drive here. It’s not fair to Lake that I assume she wouldn’t like poetry simply because Vaughn didn’t. It’s also unfair of me to assume she would push me away if she knew that I was Caulder’s guardian.

 

This girl isn’t anything like Vaughn.

 

This girl isn’t anything like any girl I’ve known. This girl is . . .

 

“She’s cute.” Gavin’s voice jerks me out of my thoughts. I look over at him and he’s leaning against the bar next to me, watching me watch Lake. “What’s her name?” He turns around and orders two drinks from the waitress.

 

“Layken,” I say. “And yeah. She is cute.”

 

“How long have you guys been dating?” he asks, turning back to me.

 

 

I look down at my watch. “Going on forty-five minutes.”

 

He laughs. “Shit. The way you were looking at her I would have guessed a hell of a lot longer. Where’d you meet her?”

 

The bartender hands me my change and the receipt for our drinks. I glance down at the receipt and laugh. It actually says, “Chocolate milk—rocks.” I fold the receipt and put it in my wallet.

 

“Actually,” I say as I turn back to Gavin, “she’s my new neighbor. Just moved in three days ago.”

 

He shakes his head and looks back in her direction. “You better hope it works out. That could get really awkward, you know.”

 

I nod. “Yeah, I guess so. But I have a good feeling about her.”

 

Before he walks away he points to the front of the room. “Eddie and I are over there. I’ll try to keep her occupied so you two can have your privacy. If she sees you here with a girl, she’ll be over there in a second trying to be her new best friend.”

 

I laugh, because he’s right. “Thanks.” I grab our drinks and head back to the booth, relieved that I won’t have to deal with introductions tonight. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.