Page 53
Story: Counter Play
The drive to the mall takes us on the highway, away from campus. I have the music on, yet it feels awfully quiet in here. I look over at Charlie.
“So, I know you want to go to that one home store with the fancy hardware stuff for a platter to engrave for your parents, but I need to run over to Target again. The rash guard the trainer uses has been making my skin break out, so I want to stop and get the kind I’ve always used.”
She’s playing with the hem of her T-shirt and looking out the window. “Okay, sounds good.”
“I don’t have a rash, but I like to use the rash guard under my shoulder pads and the back plate straps.”
There’s a country song playing that she likes. I make it louder, expecting a reaction from her. Instead, she just sighs a little as she looks off into space. I can tell when my girl has something on her mind.
I continue, only to gauge her distraction. “Some guys just wear a shirt under the pads, but it still rubs my skin raw. I’d like to prevent that from happening. Doesn’t feel too good.”
Taking my right hand off the wheel, I place it on her left knee and squeeze. She doesn’t look at me, but she places her hand over mine and links our fingers. I feel like there’s something she wants to say, but won’t. I’ll get it out of her by the end of this little shopping trip.
We park in a spot not too close to the entrance. I get out and swing around the front of the truck to her side.
I open the passenger door for her and reach over to unbuckle her. As I release the strap across her chest, the backs of my fingers graze her breasts.
“Beck,” she warns.
“Hmm? What, baby? Do you need something?” I smirk.
She just shakes her head and smiles.
There’s my girl.
I settle in close to her and lean against the doorframe. Brushing my fingers on her chin, I bring her face toward mine. “Hey. You okay? You’ve been kind of quiet.”
Her hand reaches up and takes hold of my wrist, but she doesn’t pull it away. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just talking to Arbor about some things today, and it’s got me thinking, is all.”
Okay, now I’m on alert.
“What kinds of things? School stuff or something else?”
I don’t want to assume it’s about me, but I get this feeling in my gut that it is. My intuition isn’t usually wrong; it’s something I learned to trust at a young age. I had to protect myself and my sister.
“Beck, I think we need to talk.” She eyes me warily.
I know that tone. It’s the one she used when we broke up two years ago. “Oh, fuck no. I’m not doing this again.”
“No need to get defensive, Beckham. I just want to talk.”
“Fine,” I say as I run my hand through my hair. “Charlene, what would you like to talk about?”
She scoffs. “See, this is why I didn’t want to say anything. It’s going to break this bubble that we’re in. But, Beck, I really think we need to discuss why we broke up. I think we have two different ideas about what happened, and I feel like, in order for us to move forward, we need to have the conversation.”
Her eyes are looking into mine, like she’s trying to read me. I’m really trying not to close off. My first response is to shut down and not talk. Which was how we got to where we were two years ago. My therapist told me it was okay to let people I trusted see who I was. And I do trust Charlie. It’s just that the stuff she needs to know, I’m not ready to talk about it.
Instead, I nod. “Okay, tell me what you think happened, and I’ll tell you what really happened.”
“Beck, I really don’t want to fight or upset either one of us. You keep saying things like I’m yours and we’re forever, and I believe you, but I can’t have this hanging over our heads. Can you? Do you really want to move forward together and have questions?” Her eyes are wide as she studies my face for a reaction.
“No, you’re right. But seriously, tell me what you think happened. I can already tell you that whatever Britney told you was a lie and not at all the truth.” To give her some comfort and show her I’m not mad, I hook a piece of hair that came out of her messy bun and tuck it behind her ear.
I can see her gathering courage to say what she needs to say.
“Okay, well, it was after you got back from football camp before school started our senior year.”
I nod, listening.
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