Page 10

9

TJ

Water twisted and swirled as it slid over the rocky creek bed, winding its way through the forest where it would eventually find its way into the lake or the Missouri River. I wasn’t sure which. It wasn’t important. I could have watched it for hours, lost in my thoughts.

I slipped off my shoes and socks and slipped my feet into the cool water, sighing in pleasure at the relief it offered from the heavy heat of the day. It reminded me of sliding a foot out from under the covers at night when I got overheated. Amazing how that small action could do the trick.

Carefully, I sat on the creek bank, leaving my feet in the water, finding a muddy patch among the rocks to bury my toes.

I was due at Gram’s in a little over an hour for our annual Labor Day cookout, but I’d been restless in the dorm by myself, so I’d come out to Astaire early. I’d be lying if I said coming to this spot hadn’t been premeditated. I think I’d needed to see it again. To lay eyes on the place where I’d first met Jimmy. To convince myself the magic of that afternoon wasn’t all in my head.

I’d tried to give him space this week, but I was pretty sure all I’d done was make things even more awkward. I’d never had so much difficulty interacting with another human in my life. It was frustrating as hell.

So I’d come here, and I’d found a regular old creek in a regular old forest. And even though Jimmy wasn’t here, I knew he was a regular person too. That afternoon five years ago had felt magical, but that was just my dramatic side talking, and I needed to let that shit go.

As if my thoughts had summoned him, a voice behind me said, “Hey,” and I turned to find Jimmy standing just a few feet away. It was exactly like the moment I first met him, only our positions were reversed, with him standing and me sitting.

“Hey,” I returned lamely.

“Can I join you?” He looked hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he’d be welcome. That thought made me sad.

“Sure.”

My eyes tracked him as he closed the distance between us, sat beside me, and removed his shoes and socks. He slipped his feet into the water next to mine and then looked at me with a small smile. “I want to say I’m surprised to see you here, but I’m not.”

I chuckled lightly. “Same.”

“I almost turned around when I saw you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Are you?” His brows shot up quizzically, sliding under the riot of curls framing his face. They were out of control in the humidity. I thought I might love them even more this way.

“I am. Why would you think I wasn’t?”

He huffed and turned to look out at the creek. “You barely spoke to me this week.”

“I was trying to give you space.”

“Oh.”

He still wasn’t looking at me, and I felt the need to elaborate. “That first week, you barely said anything. Which was fine. I figured you were just shy. But then you said I was intense, and my brother and mom basically said the same thing, so I thought maybe you needed me to back off.”

“I am. Shy, I mean. And awkward.” He picked up a stick and began poking it into the mud. “And when you asked me whether being intense was a bad thing or not, I wasn’t sure how to answer. I liked touring the theater building with you that day. And talking about books before that. But sometimes I look at you, and I feel so small.” A flush crept up his neck, but he continued, “It seems like you just take on the world full steam ahead. You’re confident and charming and…I’m none of those things.”

“Are those things you want to be?”

“What?” He turned to look at me, his face registering surprise.

“Do you want to be charming and confident?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Confident, yes. Charming…I don’t know. I know I don’t want to feel awkward all the time.”

“What makes you think you’re awkward?”

“I just never know what to say. Or if what I’m saying is the right thing. So I end up not saying anything.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve put my foot in my mouth because I said something without thinking? The world needs more thoughtful speakers. Or even just people who know when to remain silent. But that doesn’t mean you should hide yourself. There’s a difference between holding your silence so you don’t hurt someone and muting yourself so no one gets to know who you truly are. If words are hard for you to come by, I can be patient. But I still want them when you’re ready. I want to know you, Jimmy. I’d like us to be friends.”

“Yeah?”

His expression was full of wonder, like I’d just offered him the most precious gift. It made my heart ache, wondering if friendship was such a rare thing for him. “Of course.”

He chucked the stick into the water and we watched as the current carried it away. Eventually, he drew his knees closer to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees. I let the silence spread between us, sensing he was working up to something. The birds chirped and there was a rustling in the trees, and then he spoke.

“My mom left us when I was fifteen.” I held my breath, his quiet words like a punch to the gut. All the sounds of the forest faded, my focus entirely on him. “That was why I came here that day. I’d just found out she’d left the day before, and I needed to get out of the house. She took almost everything with her and my brother was at work. Sitting in that empty house was like being bludgeoned over and over with the reminder that she was gone. That she loved herself more than she ever loved us. It felt like the walls were closing in, and I had to get out of there.”

I ached with the need to touch him. To pull him into my arms and mend all his broken pieces. Hugs were freely given and freely received in my family. But as surely as I knew his mother was an awful human being, I knew touching him right now would snap him out of this moment and I might never hear the rest of the story.

“Sitting here in the forest that day, I could finally breathe. I was sad. And depressed. And scared. But I could breathe. And then you came along.” He tilted his head so his cheek rested on his knees, his eyes meeting mine. “I didn’t know what to make of you. You were so…bold, I guess? I don’t know. What’s the opposite of painfully shy? Whatever it is, that was you. And it scared me. But also…I was captivated.” He flushed prettily at that, and I couldn’t help but tease him a little.

“Captivated? Have you been reading my Regency romance novels?”

The blush spread. “I might have picked up a few after I met you.”

That pleased me more than it should have.

“Do you remember what you said to me before we ran home in the rain?”

Before I kissed him for the second time.

“I told you that you were stronger than you think.”

“Yeah. You did. And I thought it was crazy. How could you possibly know that? But I held on to those words, tucked them into a secret place inside me, clinging to them when life felt impossible. You got me through some dark moments, and I didn’t even know your name.”

I was stunned. And honored. Though I’d been right about his strength. He’d only given me a glimpse of what he’d been through—I was sure there were lots of gaps to be filled between then and now—but being left by your own mother was enough to break anyone. Yet he hadn’t been broken. Not at all. A quiet determination hid beneath that shy exterior and served him well. I suspected there were many depths to be discovered, and I wanted to be the one to discover them.

“And then you showed up in my dorm room, and for as much as I’d built you up in my imagination, you were still somehow more . And just like back then, it scared me.”

“I offered to see if we could get the room assignments changed.”

“I know. But I was afraid I’d never see you again, and that scared me more.”

* * *

Jimmy

My heart was racing, like it was going to pound right out of my chest. I couldn’t believe I’d said all of that. That I’d admitted how he’d affected me that day. It was rare that I spoke so much at one time, and typically only with Sammy. I didn’t think I’d ever said so much to Mandy or Drea at one time. But TJ said he wanted to know me, that he wanted my words, so for better or worse, I was giving them to him. For once in my life, I was putting myself out there and fuck the consequences.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” he said, his blue-violet eyes filled with concern.

“I don’t think I am anymore. Or at least I’m trying not to be. But I’m never going to be one of those people who talks and talks. I just don’t think I have it in me.”

“That’s okay, sunshine. I can talk enough for the both of us.” And then he smiled, his face lighting like the sun. And this time, I didn’t look away.