“I don’t understand how you can listen to this alternative crap, Tate.”
I sit on the bed scowling at her but still unable to control the smile that wants release. I give her a hard time, but I love nothing more than to see her happy.
And she’s so damn cute right now.
“It’s not crap!” she argues, widening her eyes at me. “It’s the only album I have where I can listen to every song with equal enjoyment.”
I lean back on my hands and sigh. “It’s whiny,” I point out, and she puckers up her lips while she plays air guitar.
Watching her—something I could do every minute of every day—I know I’m all bluster. I would sit through a million Silverchair concerts for her.
Things are changing between us. Or maybe just for me, I don’t know. I hope for her, too.
What felt friendly and easy before is different now. Every damn time I see her lately, all I want to do is grab her and kiss her. I feel like there is something wrong with me. My blood runs hot whenever she wears the short, little jean shorts like the ones she’s wearing right now. Even her baggy, black Nine Inch Nails T-shirt is turning me on.
Because it’s mine.
She borrowed it one day and never gave it back. Or I guess I told her she could just have it. One night when I noticed that she was sleeping in it, I didn’t want it back anymore. The idea of my shirt on her body while she sleeps makes me feel like she’s mine. I like that I’m close to her even when I’m not here.
“Oooh, I love this part!” she squeals as the chorus starts, and she rocks out harder on her invisible instrument.
Even a little sway of her hips or scrunching up her nose makes my pants tighter. What the hell? We’re only fourteen. I shouldn’t be having these ideas, but dammit, I can’t stop it.
I mean, shit, yesterday I couldn’t even watch her do her math homework, because the pensive expression on her face was so adorable that I had a strong urge to haul her into my lap. Not touching her downright sucks.
“Alright, I can’t take it,” I blurt out and get off the bed to turn off the music. Any distraction to kill the hard-on that’s growing in my pants.
“No!” she screams, but I can hear the laughter in her voice as she grasps at my arms.
I shoot out and lightly jab her under the arm, because I know how ticklish she is. She squirms, but now I’ve touched her, and I don’t want to stop. We nudge each other back and forth, each of us trying to get to the CD player.
“Alright, I’ll turn it off!” she yells through a fit of laughter as I move my fingers into her stomach. “Just stop!” she giggles, falling into me, and I close my eyes as my hands linger at her hips and my nose in her hair.
What I want from her scares me. And I’m afraid it would scare her, too. I know it will definitely scare her father.
But I’ll wait, because there is no other choice. For the rest of my life, I won’t want anyone else.
It’s time to man up and tell her.
“Let’s go to the pond tonight,” I say softer than I want. My voice cracks, and I’m not sure if I’m nervous or frightened. Probably both.
Our fish pond is where it needs to happen. It’s where I want to tell her that I love her. We go there a lot. Picnics or just for walks. It’s not unusual for us to sneak out and ride our bikes up there at night.
She leans back and looks at me with a casual smile. “I can’t. Not tonight.”
My shoulders slump a little, but I recover. “Why?”
She doesn’t look at me but pushes her hair behind her ears and walks to the bed to sit down.
Dread stomps into my brain like a big, fat rhinoceros. She’s going to tell me something I don’t like.
“I’m going to the movies,” she offers with a close-lipped smile. “With Will Geary.”
I swallow, feeling the thump in my chest damn near break a rib. Will Geary is in our class, and I hate him. He’s been sniffing around Tate for a year. His father and Tate’s dad play golf together, and that’s one part of her life that I’m not involved in.
Will Geary doesn’t have anything on me. His family doesn’t have more money or a better house. But his family is involved with Tate’s, and my parents are…well, not involved with anything. Tate’s dad had tried taking me golfing once or twice, but it’s never stuck. Fixing cars is where we bond.
I narrow my eyes, trying to reel in the anger. “When did that happen?”
She only makes eye contact with me for a second at a time. I can tell she is uncomfortable. “He asked yesterday when our dads played golf together.”
“Oh,” I almost whisper, my face rushing with heat. “And you said yes?”
She folds her lips between her teeth and nods.
Of course she said yes. I took my damn time, and another guy swooped in.
But it still hurts.
If she wants to be with me, I guess she would’ve told him no. But she didn’t.
I nod. “That’s cool. Have fun.” The pitch in my voice probably gives away how hard I’m trying to sound like I don’t care.
I start walking for her bedroom door. “Listen, I have to go. I forgot Madman needs some food, so I’m off to the store.”
She’s mine. I know she loves me. Why can’t I just turn around and tell her? All I have to do is say ‘don’t go’, and the hard part would be over.
“Jared?” she calls, and I stop, the air in the room almost too thick to breathe.
“You’re my best friend.” She pauses and then continues, “But is there maybe any reason you may not want me to go with Will tonight?”
Her shaky voice is hesitant like she’s scared to speak, and the moment fills the room like a broken promise. It’s the moment when you know that you can have what you want if you’re only brave enough to say so. It’s a split second when everything can change, but you * out because you’re too afraid to risk the rejection.
“Of course not.” I turn around and smile at her. “Go. Have a good time. I’ll see you tomorrow.”