Masochist-someone who obtains pleasure from receiving punishment, aka Amanda Marie Kelly. I wasn’t even a good masochist, because no pleasure would be received from what I was about to do.
I couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day on anything except the impending Noah and Beth date. I needed and wanted to know why Noah kept it a secret from me. I was meeting him after school today.
I signed up to work on the school paper again this year. I loved writing. I planned on majoring in journalism in college. I was undecided on what area of it I wanted to focus on; television, newspapers, or the internet. Maybe I’d even write a book someday. All I knew was I wanted to write.
Noah had been asked to play on the varsity baseball team this year. It was pretty unheard of that a sophomore would be playing for the varsity team. He was a fantastic player, always had been. The school paper wanted an article written on him and had assigned it to me, obviously because we were friends, it certainly wasn’t because of my baseball knowledge.
I thought it would be great to conduct the interview at the baseball field. Something magical happened to Noah when he was out there and I wanted to try and capture that with the article and accompanying picture.
Tony Hoffman was the school paper’s photographer. We got the pictures out of the way first. Tony had Noah pose in a few baseball stances and sitting in the bleachers under the sign that bared the school name and mascot. When the pictures were done, Tony left, leaving me and Noah alone.
I went through the standard questions even though I already knew the answers. Like, how old were you when you started playing baseball? Which player influenced you the most? Then I moved on to the deeper questions.
“Okay, I only have one more questions then I’ll set you free.” I glanced away from my notes and smiled at him. “What made you first fall in love with the game?”
“My dad, he loves the game. He introduced me to it when I was 4 years old. That’s when I watched my first game on TV, sitting next to him on the sofa with a liter of orange soda and two huge bags of chips on the coffee table.” A slight smile played across his face. “I don’t remember who was playing. It didn’t matter. What mattered was I got to spend time with my dad sharing something that he loved.
The first couple of years I played t-ball and little league I liked playing the game, but the best part was always the time he and I spent together. No matter how busy he got at work, he would make it to every practice and game.
When I was six, he took me to my first pro game at Fenway Park. The Red Sox played the Minnesota Twins, 9-1, Sox. I was in awe of everything; the players, the stadium, the field, the stands, the dugout, the food, the parking lot,” he chuckled. “My dad gave me one of the best days of my life.”
As far as the game itself, I love everything about it; the teamwork, the way the bat feels in my hand, the sound of the ball hitting the leather glove, the smell of the grass, and concession stand food. I love looking up into the stands and seeing the fans and the most important people in my life.”
Our eyes locked. The affection in his held me for several seconds. I wanted to crawl into his lap and hug him forever. Thank god I had brought a recorder to record his answers. There was so much reverence and love in his voice when he talked about his father, I had been too captivated to take notes.
Obviously caught up with emotion, he cleared his throat and said, “Sorry Tweet. I didn’t mean to ramble on.”
“You didn’t ramble. You were perfect.” I couldn’t stop staring at him.
“So, any more questions?”
“No. I’m good. Thanks for doing this.”
“No problem. I wouldn’t miss spending time alone with my girl,” he said, winking at me.
At that point, I didn’t need to know why he kept the date a secret. It felt petty asking him about it after he had just given me that beautiful answer. I started to fidget, tapping my pen rapidly on my notebook.
“What’s wrong, Tweet?”
The voice in my head kept repeating, get up and leave Amanda. NOW! Do not ask him about the dance, not now. DO NOT ASK!!!
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the dance with Beth?”
Letting out a deep sigh, he rested his elbows on his knees. He took his baseball cap off and ran his hand through his hair as he swallowed hard a few times before starting to speak.
“You know what, forget I asked,” I interrupted and began to quickly gather my stuff. Standing I took one step in front of Noah before he grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t run away from me. Sit back down.” His voice was steady and raspy. I took a deep breath and sat beside him. We didn’t look at each other. “I felt guilty. I know I’m getting ready to sound like a p-ssy, but I was disappointed that you didn’t ask me.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to go.”
“I don’t give a shit about going to a dance. I wanted to go with you and I was hoping you would want to go with me, but you never said anything. When Beth asked I said yes for some reason. I wished I hadn’t after it came out of my mouth. She seemed so excited and happy. I couldn’t tell her I changed my mind.”
“Why’d you feel guilty?”
“I don’t know. It felt like I was cheating on you.” He paused for a moment, as if he were struggling with what to say next. Looking over at me, he said, “Tweet, I’ve been having certain thoughts and feelings about you.”
I sat in silence. My head was spinning. I wasn’t prepared for this conversation. I could feel my throat starting to close up. The muscles in my neck and shoulders were tightening. I needed to get away from here. Noah’s words were replaced by a whooshing sound in my ears as heart and pulse rates rose. Then I felt a warm hand touch mine and it brought me back. I turned my head to see a pair of light blue eyes that I could get lost in.
“I think about you all the time, Tweet,” he said, lacing his fingers through mine.
“It’s nice to be thought about.” To date, that was one of the stupidest things I had ever said.
He smirked at me. “When you’re around, I want to touch you, hold your hand, or put my arms around you. I want to kiss you again.” He continued to hold my gaze, looking for some reaction on my face and in my eyes.
I swallowed a big gulp of air. I was ten seconds away from a full on panic attack. I could feel beads of sweat starting to form on my forehead and neck. My throat closed a little more and my muscles twisted even tighter. I didn’t know what to say, so I did what I usually do. I ran.
“Um…Noah, I have to go.”
Those beautiful eyes that were filled with caring a second earlier looked shocked, hurt, and pissed off. “You’re leaving?!” He definitely sounded pissed.
“I need to go check and make sure Tony got enough pictures and…um… Look, I’m sorry. I’ll see you later. Thanks again for the interview.” I had been clutching my backpack in one hand while Noah held the other. I got up and walked quickly away, pulling my hand free from his grip.
Honesty is not always the best policy when it hurts the person you care about the most and pushes them away.
I hung out in the journalism classroom for an hour before heading home. My hope was that Noah had already left school. I felt horrible running away from him like I did, especially since he had been so wonderful and sweet. He caught me off guard. I don’t do well on the fly, not when it comes to important things. I just needed some time to clear my head and collect my thoughts.
Brenda, a senior student reporter, was nice enough to give me a ride home. I entered my house taking in the aroma of my mom’s five star spaghetti sauce. Tossing my backpack on the kitchen counter, I found Mom hard at work frosting a chocolate cake.
“Hey. Mom,” I said as I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. I walked over to where she was and leaned back against the counter. “What ‘cha doing?”
“Well, sweetie, I’m spackling the walls,” she said, throwing a quick smirk my way.
“People often ask me where I get my smart-assness from,” I said.
“Do you let them know it’s from your father’s side of the family? You know they’re all afflicted.”
I noticed the table was set for six. There were only three of us in the house now that Emily was off at college.
“Why’s the table set for six?”
“The Stewarts are having dinner with us tonight,” she answered.
“Why?” The word felt thick in my throat.
“Because they have to eat, sweetie.”
She handed me the chocolate covered spatula and moved the cake over to the table.
“All of them?” I asked, my mouth full of frosting.
“Last time I checked, they all ate food.”
She was moving around the kitchen at warp speed, getting things ready for our dinner guests. She was a great mom, really, especially when she made extra frosting because she knew how much I loved it. However, there were those times, like right now, that it felt as if she and the universe were plotting against me.
As I sucked every last drop of frosting off the spatula, I could feel my nerves already starting to overtake my body at just the thought of seeing Noah later. I tossed the spatula in the sink, grabbed my things off the counter, and headed to my room. I heard my mom say, “Dinner will be in about two hours,” just before I shut my bedroom door and tried to figure out how I was going to get through this dinner.
I had too much nervous energy, so I went for a quick bike ride. I just rode in my neighborhood, completely avoiding Noah’s street. Usually cycling cleared my head, helped me focus, and come up with answers to whatever problem I might be dealing with at the moment. Today I had so many thoughts and feelings running through me that I couldn’t get a grasp on any of them.
When I got home, I showered and changed into my gray and white striped tank dress. I toweled dried my hair some and then let it air dry. I was sitting at my desk working on Noah’s article that was due by the end of the week. I figured I would stay in my room until I was summoned to dinner. I had been working for about thirty minutes when there was a knock on my door.
“Yeah?” I asked.
The door opened slightly. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The butterflies that were whirling around in my stomach and the goose bumps across my skin told me who stood in my doorway.
Noah poked his head in. “Your mom wanted me to tell you dinner is in twenty.”
“Thanks.”
He stood in the doorway for a minute before stepping completely inside my room, closing the door behind him. He walked over to me, placed his hands on the back of my chair as he looked over my shoulder, and asked, “What are you working on?”
“Your article,” I said, tilting my head back and looking straight up at him.
“Make me look good.”
“There’s no other way for you to look.”
Where the hell did that come from, Amanda Marie Kelly?
When he’s this close to me, I get flustered, and I can’t always control what comes out of my mouth.
Smiling at me, Noah crossed the room and sat on the end of my bed, leaning back on his arms. I turned my chair to face him. I knew he wanted to talk. I still didn’t know what to say to him. My feelings were completely confusing to me. I needed him in my life. I knew I wasn’t good enough for him, but I couldn’t stand the thought of another girl having his attention. The pull I felt towards him kept getting stronger and with what he said to me earlier today, I wasn’t sure if I could control these feelings much longer without acting on them. But, I knew acting on them would be the worst thing for our friendship. For now, I figured I would just wait to see if he brought it up. I would just have to wing it.
“Tweet, what was the deal today?”
“What deal are you referring to?”
“Don’t do that. Now’s not the time to play dumb.”
“You seem to be under the impression that I play dumb.”
“Why’d you run away from me today?”
“I really had to leave.”
I was starting to feel anxious and when I feel anxious, I have to move. I walked over to my dresser and fumbled around until I found my brush. I pushed the bristles forcefully through my hair before piling it on top of my head, and pinning it securely. I could see in the mirror, Noah watching my every move.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because we we’re having guests for dinner.” I was trying to keep things light and breezy. By the look on his face I could tell Noah wasn’t in the mood for light and breezy.
Siting up straight he began to shake his head. Huffing in frustration, he said, “Dammit Tweet, would you stop being such a smartass for one minute.” I turned to face him. “You do this every time there’s something serious to talk about.”
“Do what?”
“Make jokes and then run away.” He kept his voice low, but he was fuming.
He ran both his hands over his face a couple of times while waiting on my response.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Please talk to me.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“Then I’ll start,” his voice was soft as he continued. He stood and walked slowly towards me. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever noticed and the last girl I’ll ever notice. My first kiss was the greatest first kiss in the history of first kisses because it was with you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I took a step back, bumping into the dresser. He was standing right in front of me, his light blue eyes holding me captive. He placed his hands on the dresser, on either side of my hips, and leaned in close. My breathing accelerated. I felt his lips lightly brush across my temple. The shivers he caused were off the charts. His lips moved down to my ear, skimming lightly across my skin like a feather. The feel of his warm breath on my neck caused my head to spin. I had to lean back more on the dresser to support myself. Once his lips reached my ear, I heard in a whispered tone, “I want you to be more than my best friend. I want you to be my girlfriend. What do you want, Tweet?”
I knew this would happen. I’m weak. I snapped. I couldn’t take it any longer, the months of dreaming about him day and night, the constant butterflies in my stomach caused by him. He was so close. His lips left a trail of heat wherever they touched, his words made me melt, his eyes where that beautiful shade of blue, and he smelled like sweet fresh oranges.
I had reached my breaking point when I breathlessly whispered, “I want you.”
Noah pulled away slightly and tilted his head. As his lips moved in closer, my breathing became more erratic, and my heart was pounding against my chest wall. The new sensation between my legs was driving me insane.
His gaze traveled up and down my face, landing on my eyes. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.
My eyes automatically fluttered closed. I felt the slightest touch of his lips on mine. My mind was whirling around as my body responded to him. Suddenly, a loud knock reverberated around the room startling us both. Noah jumped back, turning away from me. The quick movement caused me to fall forward slightly. We heard my dad yell, “Dinner!”
Noah glanced at me over his shoulder, a look of terror flashed across his face.
“Don’t worry. He won’t come in,” I said.
My dad was famous for the knock and walk. He implemented it the day he came in the front door to find Professor Tampon, aka my mother, giving a 12-year-old Emily and two of her friends a lecture on the proper use of feminine hygiene products, with visual aids.
Steadying myself, I ran my hands down my dress, smoothing it out. I looked over at Noah. He still wasn’t facing me. My eyes started at his broad shoulders and then traveled down his muscular back, to his hips, where his hands rested. His biceps strained slightly against the material of his shirt. I shook my head trying to clear it of thoughts of Noah’s body.
I took one more quick look of his fantastic back side before clearing my throat, and asking, “Noah, are you coming?”
His chin was tucked into his chest as he held up his index finger, indicating he needed a few minutes before he would be able to join us. I felt it was best to leave him alone, so I went to dinner.