“Best birthday EVER!” she bellowed, then ran into a wall—a smart smack right on the top of her head. “Ouch!”
Jeremy jumped off the counter and rushed to her. He dropped to his knees and cradled the top of her head—an intimate move, but he thought the situation called for it.
“Hey,” she said softly. “You’re supposed to be watching me.” Slightly accusatory, but in a sweet way.
“I know. I’m sorry. You’re too fast on this thing.”
“Hey, is that hand of yours still dirty?”
He smirked. “I washed it. You don’t remember?”
“I don’t remember anything.”
“Amnesia?”
“So bad. I think I have to start my life over completely.”
“Would that be bad?”
“I don’t think so.” She giggled. “Oh, sorry Brandon. I don’t remember being your girlfriend, so I guess I’m not your girlfriend anymore. Oh, well!”
Jeremy smiled.
“Oh, sorry Casey. I don’t remember you being my BFF. Guess I better get a new one. That’s life!”
He laughed.
“Oh, whoops! I don’t remember any of my friends.” And then she looked straight into his eyes. “Except for Jeremy. I remember him. And—” She paused. “—I . . . I think I’ll keep him.”
She invited it. God, did she ever! And he was this close to giving it to her. A kiss. A deep, searching, I’m-gonna-make-you-love-me kiss. His face hovered mere inches above hers, and he watched her eyes close expectantly, pretty lashes fluttering to the movement of her eyes behind lavender lids. She wanted to be kissed on her birthday. And he wanted to do it.
But then he remembered she had two beers. She was silly and tipsy and dating another boy. Everything about it would be perfectly wrong, and he would regret taking advantage of her.
“Hey,” he whispered.
She opened one eye.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Nothing broken but my pride,” she replied.
“I thought you knew to leave your pride at the door when you hang out with me.”
She smacked her forehead with the heel of her palm. “I keep forgetting that.”
“Lemme help you up,” Jeremy offered.
Her face fell. “Really?”
Oh, yeah. She wanted that kiss.
“Yeah. Really.”
His body ached for her. Yes, teenage hormones definitely played a role, but this wasn’t just sexual attraction. He could spend the rest of the night listening to her chatter away into the early morning hours. He wanted more than her body. He wanted her time. He wanted all her thoughts and feelings. He wanted her to say and do whatever she liked. It was her—the complete Regan—he craved.
He looked down at the sound of a soft snore.
“Regan?”
Nothing.
“After two beers, Regan?”
Still nothing.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered, and scooped her up, cradling her like a baby. “What do I do with you now?”
Her arm dangled lifelessly. She really did pass out. He didn’t know where she placed her car keys. He couldn’t drive her home like this. She had to wake up. Eventually.
He made his way to a lawn chair sitting next to his Camaro, and sank into it slowly. She groaned and turned her chest toward his, nuzzling his neck with her cheek and nose. It tickled and sent shock waves through his arms. He tightened his grip on her and listened for the even sound of her breathing. Barely detectable.
“I hope you had a nice birthday after all,” he whispered, lips pressed gently against her forehead. It was a bold move, but she was asleep.
“I did,” she whispered back.
He tensed. She didn’t move. He looked down at her face. Her eyes remained closed, like she’d answered him in her dreams. But he knew better, and he wondered what she was up to, trying to trick him like that.
~
It doesn’t matter what she does. She could do anything. Be anyone. Hurt my feelings over and over. Say the sweetest things. Make me cry. Make me laugh. Tear me to pieces. Build me back up. Take everything away from me, and give it back. Play games. Be real. She could do it all, and I would still love her. I would still want her. Because broken people don’t know when enough is enough.
~
Perfect day for a soccer match. Unseasonably cool. Sun bright and hopeful in the sky. Packed bleachers. Everyone came out to watch the Ridgeview girls battle River Run. Big time rivals. Lots of history. Lots of shade-throwing in the stands and out on the field. Regan avoided the bleachers as much as possible. She didn’t want to know where the scout camped out. Better to pretend there was no scout at all. It was only her entire future riding on this game. No pressure or anything.
“Feet, don’t fail me,” she whispered, looking down.
“You don’t have to play your best game,” Casey said earlier in the locker room. “You just have to play well enough.”
Regan snorted. Casey always said the exact wrong thing before games. She was Regan’s biggest and worst cheerleader.
“And don’t worry about Brandon,” Casey added. “You two will work it out, but you’ve gotta communicate.”
Regan ignored Brandon’s calls all weekend. Thank goodness Monday was a holiday. She hid from him today because she still hadn’t decided how best to break up with him. Casey knew something huge happened between them over the weekend, and she only pried once before she realized it was better to leave her friend alone. She’d never seen that look in Regan’s eyes—like she could kill someone. Like she would kill her if Casey didn’t stop pressing.
“Um, okay,” Regan replied. She rolled her eyes.
“What? Not good?”
“No. Not good at all. Why are you even mentioning him to me right now?”
“I’m just trying to give you perspective!” Casey argued.
Pfsst. Perspective. Like this chick had any perspective. She was in a bad relationship with a bad guy from a bad crowd.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Regan replied curtly, lacing up her cleats.
“Whoa.”
“Just sayin’. I love you to death, but get out of the locker room, and stop giving me advice.”
“It’s compulsory.”