One True Thing (4 page)

Neither Mitch or Nina seem to notice the stares as they sit back in their seats.

“My friend’s in the bathroom,” Nina leans toward me. “She’ll be right back. Mitch texted that you guys had a great game.”

“It was good,” I say with a nod, then turn to see what’s on tap.

“Good?” Mitch says. “Our boy here is on his way to being scouted.”

“Really?” Nina says, her dark eyes intent on me. I don’t like the way she looks at me. Like she’s looking through me almost.

I turn away from her gaze. “I suppose. Let me get some drinks.” I jump up from my seat. “Nina, another beer? Mitch?” There’s a mostly full glass in front of her friend’s seat, so I walk up to the bar alone to get three more beers, focusing on SportsCenter on the TV behind the bar as the guy pulls our drinks. When I turn back around to the table, I see a girl with long, light brown hair sitting in the formerly empty seat and I take a deep breath. How am I going to get out of this without looking like an asshole? I’ll have to just stick to one beer and then make some lame excuse for why I have to be home before ten.

“Here you go,” I say, balancing the three beers in my hands as I lower them onto the table.

“Thanks Ty,” Nina says, wiping the drops off the side of her glass.

I turn to her friend. “I was going to get you one, but—” The rest of the sentence disappears into thin air.

“I’m good,” she says, shaking her head and taking a sip of the beer in her glass. She smiles at me and lifts her brown eyes to mine and I can’t help but feel the familiar pull of desire. All those months, passing in the hallway, walking up the stairs without a word and now she’s sitting here at a table right next to me. I’ve never seen her hair outside of the bun before and it’s beautiful, cascading in shining waves down past her shoulders. Instead of the usual workout top, the black shirt she’s wearing is silky and shiny and held to her shoulders by whisper-thin straps.

“Jenna.” I don’t even realize I’ve said anything for a few seconds.

“You two know each other?” asks Nina, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Sort of,” Jenna says, her soft Texas accent infusing each word.

“We, uh, live together,” I say, and then realize how that sounds. “I mean, in the same building. I have an apartment down the hall from hers.” God, I sound like a dumb-ass.

“Well, look at that,” Mitch says, punching me in the arm. “Small world and all.”

“I guess so,” I say, sitting down next to Jenna. It’s distracting and delicious to have her sitting next to me. Her hands are tiny, almost delicate as she plays with a coaster. It’s all I can do not to reach out and touch her, to see if her skin is as soft as I’ve imagined. To see if her lips taste as beautiful as they look.

“Nina said you had a game down by Abilene today,” she says.

“We did,” I say, taking a sip of my beer to hide my embarrassment.

“I’m from a small town right near there,” Jenna says.

“Yeah?” I say, pretending that I don’t know a thing about her. I think about the tiny towns we passed through and wonder which one was hers. Of course she wanted to get away.

“Grand Junction,” she says. Then she laughs, and it’s a beautiful, almost deep sound. I realize I’ve never heard her laugh before. “Although the only thing grand about it is the name and the railroad depot closed something like a hundred years ago.”

I can’t picture Jenna in one of those micro towns. She’s too beautiful to be contained in a small, dusty place. “Couldn’t wait to get out?”

Jenna shakes her head. “Not really,” she says with a frown. “I love it there. Tons of space to run around and do whatever you want. There’s a creek that runs through town that’s great in the summer and Gramps built a treehouse in the backyard that you can sleep in. Everyone knows who you are.” She takes a thoughtful sip of beer. “Which, you know, can be good or bad.”

Interesting. I didn’t expect that answer. “Hmm. I thought everyone under the age of 70 would be dying to get out of a town like that.”

“Why?” She looks insulted and I immediately feel bad.

“Well…there’s not much to do I guess.”

Jenna’s not letting me off the hook. “There’s plenty to do.” She sits up straight and looks at me with her head tilted to the side. “Just like a city boy to start ragging on the country when he doesn’t know a thing about it.”

I smile at her. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s been asking questions. “How did you know I’m from the city?”

There’s a flash of hesitation in her eyes, but it’s gone in a second. “Nina said you were from San Francisco. And you don’t exactly sound like you’re from Garvin.”

I run a finger around the rim of my glass. “That obvious, huh?”

She shrugs noncommittally. “And you don’t dress like a good ol’ boy.”

I look down at the band t-shirt I’ve got on. I know exactly what she means, but I’m sort of enjoying this conversation. “It’s just a t-shirt and jeans.”

She squints at me. “Not too many people running around campus in a Zeppelin shirt and Nikes,” she says, looking around the bar. “Wranglers, trucker caps and work boots are standard around here.”

I lean forward on the table. “Something wrong with that?”

There’s a glint in her eye that’s almost a challenge. A challenge I’d better ignore if I know what’s good for me. “No. I didn’t say there was anything wrong with that.”

“Okay,” I say, putting both hands on the table. “I apologize for talking smack about your town.”

She shakes her head. “Just because you’re from Frisco, you think you’re all that. Just because I’m from a small town doesn’t mean I’m an idiot, you know. Someday, when I’m done traveling and doing everything I want to do, I’d love to settle back down in Grand Junction. Maybe raise a family there.”

“Okay, okay.” I’m trying not to smile at how annoyed Jenna is. “I said I was sorry.”

“Fine,” she says. “Apology accepted.”

“By the way,” I say, knowing I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. “Don’t call it Frisco.”

Jenna takes a swig of beer. “Why not? I hear people on TV calling it Frisco all the time.”

“Only people who’ve never been there.” I shrug. “I’m just trying to help. Someday, you might get out of a cab in Union Square on your way to a day of shopping at Macy’s and the minute you slip and call it Frisco the street gangs will be all over you. I’m only doing it as a public service.”

“Well, thanks,” she says. I can tell that she’s not sure if I’m kidding.

“So what are you going to go off and do once you leave Garvin State? What’s your major?” I ask, like I don’t already know.

“Dance.” She glances down and runs her finger through a drop of water on the table. “I know, I know. It’s ridiculous to come to the middle of Texas for a career in dance.”

“It’s not exactly the Bolshoi,” I say.

Jenna looks a little surprised. Dance isn’t my favorite thing, but Mom used to drag me to the ballet every couple of years. “I can’t argue with that,” she says.

“So why here?”

“Madame Azarov. She runs the studio here and she’s amazing.” Jenna gets a look in her eye that I recognize. It’s passion and desire. The same look ballplayers get when they talk about the majors. “I’d go anywhere to study with her.”

“So what do you want to do after you graduate?”

“Dance. And choreograph if I can. New York, Paris, London—anywhere.” She looks at me as if she’s deciding something. “You have to promise me you won’t laugh.”

I like that she’s confiding in me. It makes me want to keep her secrets. “I won’t laugh.”

“Hand up and swear,” she says.

I hold one hand up. “I swear I won’t laugh.”

“I’m going to audition for American Dance later this year.”

“The TV show?” I’ve seen a little of it when I was passing through the living room at home. Olivia’s addicted and sits in front of the TV with her phone to vote for her favorites every season.

She nods a little sheepishly. “I know, it sounds stupid…”

“No, it doesn’t,” I say quickly. “Those people are amazing.”

“I don’t even care about winning, I’ve just wanted to be on it from the first time I saw the show. The exposure, the choreography…it’s a great opportunity.” She takes another sip of beer. “Provided I make it past the first auditions.”

“I’m sure you will,” I say and I hope she knows that I’m not being a dick. I really mean it. Jenna’s got confidence and grace that makes me believe that she really will do it. She’ll do whatever it is she wants.

“I’m only a sophomore,” she says. “So if it doesn’t work out, I’ll just come back here.”

A sophomore? I lean forward. “How old are you?”

Jenna glances around conspiratorially. “Nineteen.” She grins. “Fake ID.”

“Nice,” I say approvingly. She looks so straight-laced that I love the tiny bit of a naughty edge. My mind wanders to what else might be naughty about her and I have to drag it back. “I had one too—mostly to get into clubs and things.”

“Are you a senior?” she asks.

“No. A junior,” I say. “I did a couple of years in a local college before coming here.”

She glances up at me. “So, do you like San Francisco?”

“I do.” I know there’s a little too much pride in my voice when I say that, but I love my hometown, especially the parts you don’t see on a travel show—the seedier parts of Market Street, a club in the Mission, playing ball in Golden Gate Park. When I walk through the city, it feels like I own it, not like I do here where I feel like an alien most of the time, like I’m playing a game but nobody ever told me the rules.

“Why are you all the way out here if small town life is so crappy?” There’s the challenge back in her voice again. I don’t mind it at all.

“Baseball,” I say. “I got recruited to come out this year.”

“And he’s on his way to the majors,” Mitch says, leaning over the table.

“God, would you shut up about that,” I say, tossing a balled up napkin at him.

“Well, it’s true.” He turns to Jenna. “If Ty can keep up the great year he’s having, he’ll be the one on SportsCenter this time next year.”

I shake my head. “Don’t listen to him. I’m doing okay.”

“We should come to a game sometime,” Nina says.

“You should,” I say to Jenna.

“Maybe I will.” She smiles at me, her eyes turning up at the edges, and I feel an undercurrent running through our conversation. An undercurrent that I’m not in too big of a hurry to kill, despite all of the warning signs.

Two hours later there are several plates of chicken bones and a bunch of empty glasses in front of the four of us. Nina and Mitch are huddled in a corner talking to each other and honestly, I’d almost forgotten they were there. At some point, Jenna pushed her chair closer to mine so that our knees are almost touching, her hand brushing my leg as she gestures to try to make a point.

The sound of a glass shattering on the floor makes us all look up as boos and catcalls fill the air. The guy who dropped it bends to pick it up as his friends point and laugh.

For the first time all night, there’s a long silence between us, but it’s not because we’ve run out of things to say. It feels as though the conversation has barely started.

“I should probably go,” Jenna says, looking around the bar. It’s gotten even more crowded while we’ve been sitting here.

I don’t want her to leave, but I know it’s not right to ask her to stay. Not when I shouldn’t take things any further than this table.

“Aw, come on, it’s Saturday night,” Nina says, looking over at us with raised eyebrows.

“I have a class in the morning,” Jenna says.

“You have ballet on a Sunday?”

“African dance,” she says. She looks at us and shrugs. “I like to branch out.”

Nina sits up and reaches for her bag. “I’ll run you home.”

It feels like Jenna is going to walk out of here and things are going to be like they’ve always been between us—a brief nod in the hallway, or a ‘thank you’ when I hold a door open. I know I shouldn’t encourage her, but I don’t want that back. “You guys should stay,” I say quickly. “I can take Jenna. I’ve only had one beer the whole time we’ve been sitting here.”

Jenna hesitates. “Are you sure?”

No. I’m not sure at all. “It makes sense, we live in the same place. As long as you don’t mind riding on the back of my bike.”

“No,” she says with a small smile. “I don’t.”

“Great!” Mitch says, leaning back into Nina. “You two kids run along.”

We grab our stuff and wave goodbye. The air outside is still warm as bathwater as the bugs hurl themselves at the lights over the doorway. One thing I could get used to, is a warm Texas night. It’s never warm at night at home. The minute the fog rolls in off the ocean it feels like winter, even in July.

“Sort of feels like a set-up, doesn’t it?” Jenna says as we walk toward my bike.

I wonder if she thinks I had something to do with it. “If I didn’t know better.”

“I swear I didn’t know it was you when Nina invited me,” she says, kicking at the gravel in the parking lot.

“Disappointed?”