Page 4

Kate

“He’s clam jamming you!” Melissa states as she hands me the next book from her very full cart to scan back into the return system. Two girls sitting near our workstation look up from their studies at us before bursting into a fit of giggles.

I took a part-time position at our campus library to fill some time, and let’s face it, I LOVE books. The feel, the smell, getting lost in them. I got that from my father. He always read to me when I was little. So many nights I fell asleep to the soft drone of his voice. In a way, this is one thing that helps me still feel him close by.

Fuck cancer.

I scan my book a little too aggressively, and Melissa looks up at me with a twinge of worry. I’m stewing inside about everything right now.

“Pretty much! I don’t get him! Most of the time he’s great. We’ve been best friends for six years for crying out loud.”

“Is he jealous?” Questions twinkle in Mel’s eye. She is even more of a romantic at heart than I am and will try to find a way to spin it in romance’s favor.

“It’s not like that between Landon and I. I mean sometimes things get weird, but wouldn’t you expect that since we’re opposite sexes? He’s cute, yeah, but I’m partial because of who he is to me. Right?” I say that last part mostly to myself.

“Things get weird? Like how? I need details because I live for weird.” Her springy blonde curls bounce as she happy-claps in hopes of juicy deets. I just love her. Her mood is infectious.

“I dunno. Little things over time. Things like weird glances sometimes. Eye contact a little longer than usual. Disappearing from the room suddenly. It’s almost like he has something to say and is holding it back. Maybe he’s regretting becoming roommates? He also hasn’t brought a single girl home yet. Does he want to and doesn’t know how to bring it up? I know he’s not a virgin, before you even think of asking. He’s had a couple of steady girlfriends. And now?... There’s this whole cockblocking, big brother act.”

“Hmm...you sure it’s a big brother act? Cause from my perspective, girl...I don’t know. Has there ever been a time you thought there could be something more?”

My face is a betraying bitch because hers lights up at the prospect.

“Oh. My. Gosh. Spill. Like yesterday.” Melissa stops everything she’s doing, looks to see if those girls are still there, and rests her face between her palms, elbows perching on the counter. Thankfully, the girls packed up shortly after the clam jamming statement.

“Well, he’s always been a flirty person...” I trail the sentence off, but she’s not having it.

“Nope, there’s something bigger that happened. Try again.”

My face flames red, and she squeals excitedly.

“After high school graduation, he picked me up for a field party. Mom was with Dad at the hospital, so no one was home. He got there early. I hollered for him to make himself at home while I finished getting ready. I just figured he’d hit the couch and TV surf. Nope.” I popped the ‘p’ for dramatic effect. “When I came into my room, ready to grab my clothes, I almost had my towel open, but just in the nick of time, I noticed him stretched out on my bed looking through my Cosmo issue. He actually dropped it.” I giggle.

“And??” She leans forward, captivated.

“He cleared his throat and sat up quick, ran his fingers through his hair, and grabbed my pillow for his lap.” I blush and she starts laughing hysterically.

“Then?” she urges me on.

“I had him hand me my clothes lying on the bed, which he did hesitantly. After that, I ran off to the bathroom to get dressed. The rest of the night was full of extra glances and little touches. He pulled me into his lap by the bonfire when we were all chatting to keep me warm. We sat there like that all night. His fingers would fidget like he wasn’t sure where to put them. Occasionally they would brush up against my hip or accidentally graze across my fingers, like he almost grabbed my hand but then stopped himself. A few times, I caught him glancing at my lips longer than he typically would. I don’t think I would’ve stopped him if he’d tried to kiss me that night.”

“Umm...Kate...He’s into you,” she deadpans.

“But he’s never tried anything, said anything. He just gives me the little looks and weird shit occasionally. Otherwise, he’s just always super-friendly.”

“With every girl? Certain girls? Or just you?” She quirks her eyebrow up at me.

She has a point. Certain girls...and me...

“I think something changed along the way for him, and you’re both too afraid to test the waters and ruin your friendship,” Mel calls it like she sees it.

“Shit...maybe.”

She picks up the next book and thunks it in my hand. “I don’t think there’s a ‘maybe’ about it. I think it’s time you test my theory.” She grins.

Art class is my favorite class next to my creative literature class. This week, our professor has us working on a landscape sketch. Mine happens to be of a river cutting through a mountain view. Looks like something from Virgin River . Lots of trees. My inner Bob Ross echoes, “happy little trees”.

Thoughts of Melissa’s words and the night of the graduation party will not stop turning in my mind as I get lost filling the right mountainside with trees—just mindless strokes since it doesn’t have my full attention.

I can still feel the butterflies his fingers elicited. The way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he’d glance at my lips, the way he’d pull me back against his chest.

She’s right.

I can’t hide behind his flirty persona anymore. You’re in denial . Cliche thought, but nonetheless, right on the mark. Has it always been this way and I’ve just been oblivious? Could everybody see it but me? Obviously, Mom and Dad could see something.

I think back further into our high school years. I was a perpetual dater. I didn’t fly though guys or anything, but I had a serious relationship on and off throughout the four years. I dated sporadically after high school as well. Landon was beside me, always there to pick up the pieces after every breakup. Even had my back with a couple of real jerks. He always said I picked some “winners”.

Sigh... Has nothing ever worked for me because of me? Or rather, was I always just choosing the wrong guy when the right one was hiding in plain sight? How the hell am I supposed to test Melissa’s theory?

“Okay, class, that’s it for today. Make sure your sketches are finished by the end of the week.” Our professor tips down his glasses and pointedly eyes one of the jocks up front who in turn lifts his shoulders and throws back a, “What’s that supposed to mean?”. The majority of the class breaks into laughter as we all shuffle our shit to bags and head out the door.