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Authors: Elle Jefferson

Wishful Thinking (5 page)

BOOK: Wishful Thinking
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I know by the friends I keep you’d think I’d be a total dog and into casual sex, but I wasn’t. The feelings Summer stirred up scared the shit out of me.

No that’s a lie.
 

My feelings didn’t frighten me, Summer did. She was one of those girls. All self-assured, never looking for someone’s approval or fishing for compliments. She intimidated me.

“Who cares who took me home. I’m here with you.”

“Look, it’s just, you know how I feel about Trevor.”

Summer pushed away from me, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, "Oh my god, how in the world did I become the guy in this relationship?"
 

 
I pulled my pants back up and picked up my shirt.
 

“Why does it matter whether it was Trevor or any other guy that took me home? I’m with you or don’t you trust me?”

“Don’t go there,” I said pulling my shirt over my head, “it’s not about trust."

“Then what is it about? At first I thought it was sweet, that you waited and didn’t push out of respect. Now I don’t want to be respected I want you, and …” she tilted her head and crossed her arms, “… are you not attracted to me?”

Why did everything seem to be overly complicated today? And why did sex have to make me so awkward? I thought about it non-stop. I pictured Summer and I in a hundred different positions on a daily basis.
 

Dramatic sigh. “I’m very attracted to you, that’s the problem."

“Whatever.” Summer left me standing in the foyer and made her way down the hall towards the main kitchen. I followed. She rummaged through the fridge and closed it holding two sodas. She slid one across the kitchen island to me and opened the other and took a swig. We stayed silent staring at each other.
 

I took a sip of my soda and set it down on the counter. I walked around the island to Summer’s side and cupped her face between my hands. I pressed my forehead to hers. One deep breath and I kissed her with every bit of passion and desire I felt for her. She wrapped her fingers into my hair. I put my hands around her waist and lifted her up onto the counter never breaking contact with my lips. My hips pressed into hers and she wrapped her legs around me pulling me snugger against her body.

When I finally pulled away we were both panting. Her hazel eyes continued to stare into my blue ones. She ran her hand along the side of my face caressing my cheek. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”
 

“You’re lying. Something’s on your mind I could tell when you picked me up this morning. You seemed off.”

I didn’t like discussing feelings. I also didn’t like how well Summer seemed to pick them up in me. My phone started to vibrate inside my pants pocket. Thank god saved by the phone.“Sorry,” I said pulling it out. I touched the screen, “It’s my dad.”
 

Summer sighed. “Go ahead.” She let go of me and hopped off the counter. I turned my back to her when I answered, “Hello … yeah … uh-huh … okay I’ll be home in twenty … yeah bye.” I hung up and tucked my phone back in my pocket. Summer was gone.
 

When I didn’t find Summer in the living room or foyer, I headed upstairs to her bedroom. Her door was open and she was lying on her bed playing with her phone. “Found you,” I said jumping onto the bed next to her.
 

“Didn’t know you were looking.”

I lay on my side and propped my head on her chest. “I have to go.” I picked up her hand and laced her fingers through mine.
 

She looked down at our entwined hands, “I’m sure you do.”

“Come on, don’t be like that.” I leaned forward and placed light kisses along her neck and shoulder. “Do you need a ride again tomorrow?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Mmhmm,” she said.
 

I kissed her hand and let go, “Bye babe.” I gave her a quick kiss on the lips and left.
 

When I got home classical music was blaring through the house. As I neared my dad’s den the sounds of violins, piano and cymbals were so loud I expected to open the door to a live orchestra playing.
 

“Hey, dad, I’m home."
 

No response.

He was lying on the couch one leg draped over the side bouncing in time to the music while his other leg lay propped up on the armrest. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow and one arm rested over his head, covering his face.
 

“Hey, dad, I’m home,” I shouted.
 

He picked up a remote from the coffee table and aimed it at the wall quieting the music. He glanced at his watch, “That’s a record. Hopefully, you didn’t speed to do it.”

“Be real, it takes like thirty minutes to get from one side of this town to the other, and I wasn’t on the other side of town, I was like two miles away.”

He looked mollified. “How was practice?”

“Saturday’s game is canceled,” I said still standing in the doorway hand on the doorknob.

My dad sat up and looked at me, “Why?”

I shrugged.
 

“How is Summer?”

I shrugged again. “She gave me her notes to help me study for our history test.” My dad didn’t need to know what she really gave me, well almost gave me if not for my big mouth.

“Nothing else to share?"

“No, I’m just going to take a shower and then I have a paper to—”

“Junior, come, sit down.” Dad patted the seat next to him.
 

I tapped the doorknob and then let it go and headed over to the couch, but I didn’t sit down. "What’s up?"

“You tell me.” My dad fidgeted with his watch.
 

“If you’re looking for specific details from me maybe you could enlighten me as to what they are.”

Dad ran a hand over his salt and pepper waves, “There’s nothing at all?”

He was starting to get on my nerves. If he was accusing me of something then he should come out with it. “Seriously dad, what the hell are you talking about?"

“I’d appreciate you watching your language.” My dad got up, “Follow me,” he said and left the den. He ushered me into his home office down the hall and walked over to his desk pointing to a drawer.
 

“Yeah, it’s a drawer,” I said.

“Look closer,” he said.
 

I rolled my eyes feeling a headache coming and leaned forward to get a better look at this drawer and that’s when I saw what he was pointing at. The lock and surrounding wood were damaged. I ran a finger over it, “Okay, so what?” I asked standing back up and crossing my arms over my chest.
 

“Did you do that?"

That’s what it all came down to—him assuming everything wrong was somehow my fault. These moments tried my patience and made it hard for me not to lose my composure or yell. One fuck-up on an otherwise perfect record and it didn’t matter. As far as my dad was concerned I was un-trustable and the suspect of every offense.
 

Sure I talked back, but what kid didn’t. Parents don’t know everything and from time to time it’s good to remind them of that. I got good grades. I didn’t do drugs. Okay I smoked pot a few times too, but that’s it.
 

None of it deflected what I did when I was eleven. Yes, I acted out and injured my best friend Dean in the process, but you see if you aren’t a little angry after finding your mother face-down in your living room not breathing.

My emotions overwhelmed me at that age and I acted stupid, but no matter how many good things I did since, none of it erased my one royal fuck-up.
 

I backed away from his desk, “Why would I break into your desk? Because I’m so desperate to see the cases you’re working on? Please.”

“You sure,” he said scrutinizing my face, “I’m not mad I just want to know if—”

“Whatever.” I headed out the door of his office. “I didn’t do it, I don’t give a shit about the stuff you hide in your desk.” I said over my shoulder as I made my way down the hall and upstairs to my room.
 


The room was silent. Blackness engulfed the area around my bed. Sweat dripped down my forehead. Waking up didn’t shake the heavy weight pressing against my chest.

My hand trembled as I pulled back the covers expecting to see blood everywhere. There wasn’t anything but a light sheen of sweat covering my skin. I rubbed my scalp behind my right ear feeling for the scar. It ached and I continued to rub taking deep breaths as I did.
 

It took a while to calm down. The sweat dried, my ragged breathing steadied to a regular cadence and my hands stopped trembling. I continued to rub at my scar until I was fully awake and the dream pushed from my thoughts.
 

The clock glowered from my bedside table, 4:30 a.m.
 

No more sleeping pills for me, I thought once I was completely calm. They helped me get to sleep, but they made my dreams lucid. I scooted back and leaned against my pillows.
 

School didn’t start for another five hours and going back to sleep wasn’t an option so I went for a run instead.
 

I taped a note to my dad’s bedroom door and headed out into a freezing spring morning. The streets were deserted. Only idiots and insomniacs came out at this hour. Streetlight and moonlight proved ineffective against the dark. Frigid wind made warming up a feat all its own. It also blew foliage and loose snow about which rustled evergreens lining the sidewalk causing eerie crackling and scratching sounds. A shiver crawled up my spine. It didn’t feel right.

A
 
calico cat darted out from some shrubs. The cat sensed it too.
 

“Damn cat,” I hollered stumbling over my own feet and stopping to catch my breath. I cursed the cat some more and watched it dive for the street. I was so focused on cursing I didn’t hear footsteps or ragged breathing until they were right beside me and by then it was too late.

At first it felt as if I slammed into a tree and then said tree reached around and punched me in the head. My vision blurred and I swear crisscrossing headlights were gunning for me. I scrambled to get to my feet, but my legs had turned to spaghetti and couldn’t handle my weight. A little girl skipped between the beams of light. I couldn’t make out any details beyond her pigtails bouncing. Both of us were going to be killed. Then as fast as pigtails had arrived she left leaving me to be the one mauled by headlights.
 

A heavy Jersey accent filled my ears saying, “Don’t move or I’ll hit you again.”

Headlights shifted from my left side to hovering above me, blurring into one and then spreading into four. Two cars were after me? Impossible cars didn’t fly. A dark shadow eclipsed the changing light. “James? Oh my god is that you?”

My thoughts were scrambled I couldn’t make heads or tails of anything.
 

There was a loud clank, followed by two hands pulling at my shoulders. “Are you okay?” Accent asked.
 

I assumed I was alive since I didn’t think my head would throb this bad if I were dead. “Did you get a plate number?"
 

“I didn’t hit you that hard, come on.”

The fuzz started to clear from my mind making me realize I was splayed out on my back on the sidewalk. And it wasn’t a car, or tree rushing at me, but new girl—Claudia. She was silhouetted against the streetlight, lighting up the left side of her face. Her ponytail fell over her shoulder brushing against my arm as she crouched over me using the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe at my forehead. “Ow!” I swiped at her hand.
 

 
At least I was pretty sure it was her.

 
“What the hell was that?” I asked still dazed and trying to sit up.
 

“I’m sorry I didn’t know it was you, you scared the shit out of me,” she said yanking my chin left then right. She inhaled and stood placing her hands on her hips, “I think you’ll need an ice pack for that."

“What hit me? A car?” Sitting up made me dizzy and I grabbed my head to keep the sidewalk from twisting.
 

She started searching around for something. “What are you doing out here anyway?" She bent down and picked something up from some bushes to our right. She stuck out her hand to help me up.

Standing up made me sway. “I was trying to go for a run, what’s your excuse?"

“The same. Where do you live?”

“Back that way,” I said pointing to an evergreen next to me.
 

“You live in a tree?”

“Yes—I mean no—maybe. I don’t know it’s that way somewhere.”

She grabbed my arm and placed it over her shoulder, “Come on I’ll walk you to this somewhere.”

“It’s not necessary, I’m fine.” I pulled my arm away from her, but quickly put it back when I saw sidewalk coming up fast. “Okay, maybe you could walk with me so I can protect you."

“Yeah, protect me, of course.” She slipped her arm around my waist and we started walking. “God you’re heavy.”

“Thanks,” I said and smiled.
 

BOOK: Wishful Thinking
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