Page 21

CHAPTER 21

SUPERBLOODMOON (FEAT. D4VD) BY HOLLY HUMBERSTONE

Parker Thompson:

I drive us home and the drive now back toward my apartment is so much more… Free. Brianne is singing along to the music that she’s choosing and my heart is… I shake the thought, not wanting to bring it to fruition in my own mind just yet. The minute I think about it, the more real it becomes because I don’t know where she stands right now. I don’t know if she's ready to give this—this obvious thing between us—a real chance. Or if it’s not as obvious as I think it is and I’m just a fucking idiot. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was being the biggest idiot right now, blinded by my own feelings.

“I love it when it rains,” she tells me, pulling me from my thoughts.

Her eyes are trained on the light drizzle of rain outside the car that I hadn’t noticed until right now. I’m not surprised she loves the rain. She seems like the kind of person who appreciates everything. I feel like when she lost her parents… someone so important to her, she learned at a young age to never take things for granted. The small things, at least. She’s perceptive. She’s honest and she’s so ungodly pretty that it’s hard to believe.

“How do you feel about it?” she asks me as the weather makes its angry appearance in our conversation, pelting my car.

“Um… I mean, I grew up in California. It rained a little so… it’s fine,” I shrug.

“Have you never played in the rain, Parker?” she asks me and I shake my head.

“Why would I play in the rain?” I ask her.

“Rain is the biggest gift because it washes away bad things and it grows new things and… It’s just perfect, especially when the water is warm,” she explains, watching it fall on the windows.

“I just never really thought about playing in the rain. Actually, it stuck with me for a long while. One of my foster families told me I’d get sick if I played in the rain… I never paid much attention to it after that,” I admit, hearing just how bleak the thought is. The bleakness is definitely outshined by her colorful thoughts.

I pull into my apartment and park my truck across the lot. I don’t even put the car in park before she jumps out of the truck and into the rain. Part of me could feel it coming—her going into the rain like it’s where she belongs. I smirk to myself, carefully putting my truck into park and turning the engine off. I get out of the car, trying to understand the feeling she’s talking about. The rain isn’t warm, it’s cold, prickling my skin as well as the chilled air outside. She dances through the parking lot, spinning and splashing and… and she’s like a kid. That’s what this is, child-like enjoyment. I wish it was daytime so I could see the pure joy on Brianne Archer’s face.

“Choose the rain, Parker!” she shouts and I can’t help but break into a smile.

This is my choice. All of this, every bit of her and this date—the rain, my truck, every last ounce.

Bri is jumping around me, dancing to music she’s created in her own head and I smirk at her, enjoying the rain, sure, but enjoying her more. I reach for her hand, catching her off guard. She falls into me.

I move her in circles. I watch as she pushes to her tiptoes, letting me spin and twirl her around. Her once-perfect hair is now in wet ribbons, water spiraling off the ends as she dances in the rain without a single care in the world. She takes my hand too and spins me around. It feels awkward at first but I laugh as she crumbles to my chest, her fingers on me, holding the soaking t-shirt between her now cold fingers. We’re laughing in the rain—a thing I’ve lived in my whole life, but never played in. I’ve never enjoyed it.

I imagine the little kid in my head, that little version of me. I see him now and he’s no longer just there. He’s smiling as he watches me do this. He’s definitely a little confused as to why and shocked that I’m this… That I’m this happy. I don’t remember smiling much as a kid… but that little kid is smiling now.

My heart. Once again, I think about what I wanted to think earlier. I allow myself to now. Now that I’m watching her become a part of the rain and the weather. I watch her take the Earth and the atmosphere and somehow make it her own, something I didn’t know was possible. I feel my heart for the millionth time today, but for the first time in my existence, it beats with excitement. Not for a game. Not for an award or an achievement. Not for something that I worked for. I didn’t work for Brianne to be here. She chose to and it fell into my freaking lap. My heart is beating because it’s excited… for life. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

“We’re going to get sick…” I pull her to me, only allowing myself simple soft touches, knowing good and well that if I don’t restrain myself, I’ll be putting both of us through torture.

“I guess you might be right,” she says through a small chatter of her teeth and I nod my head toward my building.

“Come on, Sunshine. There’s no explaining it if both of us wake up tomorrow with the same symptoms. Let’s go,” I smirk and she runs back to my car, rain splattering all around her.

She leans in carefully, grabbing her flowers and purse, and when she rounds the bed of my truck, I sweep her up and she squeals as I carry her, honeymoon style toward my apartment building. She laughs so wildly it’s like it is begging to be free from her chest and her lungs and I smile to myself. Once we’re in the building that I wish was warmer, I set her down and she curtsies in front of me.

“My prince charming, thank you,” she jokes and I bow, replicating her regal stance which only makes her laugh again.

I guide her forward by her hip and then we walk side by side up the stairs. I fight the urge to smile at my feet but she doesn’t. She’s smiling from ear to ear, like she just learned how to do it which only makes it harder for me to keep mine from breaking free. We pass each landing until we reach the top of the fourth floor and round the stairs, walking down the hall. She steps in front of me and turns around, walking backward so she can look at me.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks, mischief in her sea-colored eyes.

“Always,” I watch her, flowers cradled in her arms.

“I wanted you to kiss me. All night, I kept wondering, ‘Will this be it? Will he kiss me now?’ and it never came… But especially out there. I really, really wanted to be kissed by Parker Thompson,” she tells me and I feel my heart bottom out and sink to the pit of my stomach. Then, my stomach sinks straight to my ass. I stare at her, keeping the strongest poker face I’ve ever had in my entire life so I don’t smile like that inner child is in my mind right now. Don’t break… She stops when her back brushes my front door and I don’t stop, coming close to her, close enough for our chests to touch.

“I’m doing this the right way, Brianne. The right way means the slow way,” I hold her face in my hands, her skin cold from the rain and her heavy wet clothes weighing her down.

My thumbs graze her cheekbones, brushing over her freckles. Her makeup is slightly messed up, some of it pooling under her eyes. I don’t look at her lips, knowing that if I do, I’d question if I should be doing this the slow way. She doesn’t stop herself though. She looks at my lips without shame which makes me smirk.

“Turtle’s pace… as you said,” I remind her and she presses her lips into a smile.

I don’t look at them, but I do see it in her eyes.

“You know rules are meant to be broken.” She tilts her head, leaning into my touch.

“Not a chance, Sunshine.”

I straighten her head and kiss her forehead, the only kiss I’ll be giving tonight. She groans and I smirk once my back is turned to her. She wants to kiss me… Fucking score. I open the door to all three of my roommates sitting in our living room playing a very loud game of Sorry. I look at all three of them and give them a warning glare to not embarrass the shit out of me but Xander smirks so wide I already know I’m so fucked. Brianne stands beside me, a smile still on her lips. She waves one single time and then clasps her hands together in front of her and rocks back and forth only once on her feet, obvious nerves taking over her. I rub the back of my neck, looking at my roommates and then at her.

“Guys, this is Brianne. Brianne, this is Andrew, Nico, and you’ve met Alexander,” I mumble.

“Dude, really with the formalities? You can call me Drew, just like he does,” Andrew tells her.

“And you know damn well he calls me Xander. Doesn’t he? When he talks about me?” Xander pushes and Bri just smirks.

“Hi. Nice to meet you and nice to see you again… And he doesn’t talk about you, actually,” she talks to all of them but directs the last part to Xander, a smirk on her lips as she says it. She winks and he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“What were you two doing? Going fucking swimming? Isn’t it like 50 degrees outside?” Nico asks.

“We actually just finished with your community pool, you guys should try it out next time…” she spouts off.

“Really?” Drew asks.

“No, not really, dumbass,” I mumble and laugh.

“What did you do with our roommate?” Nico asks and I watch as Brianne furrows her brows.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“I’ve never seen him laugh in the four years we’ve—”

“Shut the fuck up, Nico,” I groan and put my hand on Brianne’s back, guiding her from the living room.

“There he is… Jeez, you had me worried for a second,” Nico holds his chest like he’s gasping for air.

“Have fun, use protection!” Xander calls out.

“Xander!” I yell and Brianne laughs.

“What? I’m just being a good friend,” he shrugs innocently and I grind my teeth, trying to keep my cool.

I’m in a good mood. Well, I was, and I don’t want that to stop because my roommates don’t know how to be normal functioning humans. Brianne steps into my room and I remember that we’re both sopping wet. She shivers and I hesitate.

“Do you want to… I mean do you need a warm shower or a change of clothes or… What do you need?” I ask, feeling like I’m coming up empty in this department.

What do women need?

“A change of clothes would be fine… and face wash if you have any so I can take my makeup off,” she tells me.

“Of course I have face wash. What kind of guys have you been around to ask if I have face wash?” I laugh to myself as I turn around and go to my drawers.

I pass her a long-sleeve t-shirt. It was one of our training shirts from last season, the number 13 on the sleeves is the only thing that signifies that the shirt is mine. I hand her a pair of my sweatpants and socks too so she can hopefully warm up a little bit. I lead her out of my bedroom and into the bathroom across the hall, telling her where my shit is so she can use it. I leave and go into my bedroom so I can change too. I wear a hoodie and sweatpants, shivering as I towel dry my hair the best I can. After a few minutes, she walks back into my room with wet hair but a clean face, her freckles far more prominent now. She smiles and that dimple… I reach forward, my finger grazing the divet in her cheek.

“I didn’t know what to do with my…” She holds out her wet clothes. I take them and pile them on top of mine.

“I’ll dry them so you can wear them home or… Or whatever. If that’s okay,” I tell her and she nods.

I take them from my room and walk down the hall to the nook in our apartment with a washer and dryer. I open it up and notice not only a bra, but underwear too and I clench my jaw. I wonder if she did it on purpose. Considering what she said in the hall and our track record, I wouldn’t be surprised. But the thought of her not wearing anything under that stupid fucking shirt and those sweatpants makes me wonder how far my restraint will go tonight. She said slow. So I’m going slow. I sigh as I put the clothes in the dryer and start it. When I walk back down the hall and into my bedroom, she’s sitting on my bed with her legs criss crossed and my decorative pillow in her lap.

“Can you please give me a backstory here?” she asks, turning the words ‘Yes you can!’ to me.

I sigh and climb onto my bed, lying on my side and propping myself up so I can look at her.

“I moved to college with nothing to my name but my clothes… God, it sounds pathetic when I say it out loud,” I shake my head and she lays on her stomach, lying all the way down, resting her head on her crossed arms.

“Tell me,” she smiles.

“I looked up online what would make a dorm room more home-like. It said throw pillows. So I went to Walmart and got that for cheap. It’s a soft throw pillow so don’t hate on it,” I argue.

“It is very comfy, but you couldn’t have picked a more exciting quote?” she laughs.

“What do you suggest? My choices were, ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ or ‘Blessed,’ so I chose ‘Yes you can!’ It seemed the most positive for me in my situation,” I laugh back at her, stealing the pillow. “You know what? You don’t deserve to hold my pillow.” I cuddle my body to it and she smiles at me.

“I’m glad I said yes to going out with you,” she admits and my cheeks warm up.

Have I ever blushed in my life? Am I seriously fucking blushing right now…

“I am too,” I admit.

“You know, when you’re around me, you’re different,” she tells me and I shrug.

“I could say the same for you, Sunshine,” I mumble.

“Did you always play wide receiver or did you switch positions?” She asks and then rolls on her back. “It always interests me, honestly. It’s pretty mixed with the cheer team whether we actually like football or not but I love it. I mean, I had to if I wanted to spend any time with my dad and Bell when I was younger, but… it’s just interesting to me,” she rambles on and I listen to every word, watching her as she talks, her eyes trained on my ceiling.

“I was a quarterback my first few years playing but as important as the quarterback may be, I hated the thought of not being the one to run that ball in the end zone. Lucky for me, too, because I was a terrible quarterback,” I tell her.

She smiles, and I watch as her freckles stretch and move across her perfect face. My eyes lingering, wishing I could count them all.

“And who made the choice, did you go to your coach or did they come to you?” she asks.

“They came to me. I had played quarterback until I was in eighth grade. We had games where scouts and people would come. A high school coach watched me play and said I wasn’t where I needed to be and that I belonged in that end zone. He wasn’t in my school district. I moved to that district to play for him because he said I had too much potential to waste. His name was Coach Wiesner. I honestly think about him a lot. He was right. When I made my first touchdown, even on such a small level, the feeling it gave me was the feeling of finally being successful at something and… I don’t know. It made me realize that I needed to do this. That football was my out of all the things that I hated in my life. I knew it on some level but in that new position, being the one who can actually win the game for us, that was what made me really really put everything into the sport,” I explain to her.

“Hearing you talk about football is different than with everyone I’m close to and everyone I’ve been around. Bellamy is dedicated to football, of course. It’s his first love but I feel like a small part of him only stuck with it to feel close to my parents and me. He loves the sport more than anything but I think he grew to love it. Lawson… Well, I can tell after meeting Sienna, after seeing that there’s other shit in life than playing games, I don’t know if he’ll stick with it or move on or what… But with you, it’s like you’re… Well, you’re like a shark,” she explains and I furrow my brows, watching her lose herself in thought.

“Explain,” I smirk.

“Sharks are intense, but also super misunderstood and—”

“How do you know so much about sharks?” I ask, only interrupting this once.

“I love shark week,” she shrugs. “Anyway, sharks are really misunderstood. They’re actually really docile creatures but they’re still intense. They can’t stop moving. Physically, their body won't let them. It’s life or death. Keep moving or die. I think that’s you. From today, from learning about you and listening to you, I feel like you’ve had to keep moving or you’d… Metaphorically, of course, you’d die. You’d drown. With football, you’re the same. Keep moving, keep getting better. Without it, you’d cease. You’d stop. You wouldn’t be you because it was all you had,” she explains.

For the first time in my life, I realize that there is intimacy in understanding. There is an affinity when you feel seen the way I am right now. I’m fully clothed, lying in bed with her and I feel more naked than I ever have. She knows. Without knowing me fully, without knowing every in and out, every part of me, she still understands a piece of me that I didn’t even truly understand myself until recently.

“Football was the parents I didn’t have, the siblings I never got, the friends that I didn’t allow myself to make,” I tell her.

A lot of my life was just that. Not allowing good things because… Well, a part of me felt like I didn’t deserve them. I had a habit of telling myself if I got comfortable or felt happy or good that everything would take a turn—that feeling those things would cause me to lose it all. I spent most of my life not letting myself be proud of the things I had accomplished. I’m reminded of Bellamy and Lawson and what they had said when they asked me to be captain. They said I deserve to be cocky sometimes. I realize now why I’ve never let myself be…

“I get it,” she nods.

“You grew up with friends. Didn’t you?” I ask and she shakes her head.

“There are the friends that are forced and the friends that are found. The friendships I had on cheer teams and dance teams were forced friendships. They needed to be nice to me and I, them. You know? I didn’t find them. I didn’t choose them. They were chosen for me. It was different with Dakota, though. Yes, we’re on the same team, but I really met him the night before our first official practice. He got me right away. It was easy, sliding into the way we are right now. It was instant. There was connection and commitment in our friendship right away,” I tell him.

“Connection and commitment?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s like… Well, your whole life you’re going to connect with people. No matter what. Even if it’s on a level you don’t understand, connection is different than commitment. I can connect with a random guy at a bar and never commit to seeing him ever again. The ones who matter are the people who are worth the commitment. Connections come a billion times a life. Commitments are special and unique. When Dakota and I met at that bar officially, it was an instant connection and pretty soon after, a commitment. He protected me, he cared, and he made me feel safe. There was not a single part of me that wasn’t ready to choose that friendship and that has never happened in my life,” she admits.

I realize the only person I’ve felt that way about is… Well, it’s her. I’ve never felt the need to commit myself to someone or had a connection with them like the way I feel with her. Our bodies and our minds seem to be on a track with each other in a way that I didn’t know existed. And I met her three months ago, by chance at an annual bonfire I didn’t even want to go to.

“What about a third C… What about chance?” I ask her.

“What about it?” she asks.

“Don’t you think the chance of two people that are… Well, two people that are meant to meet that actually cross paths. Isn’t that important too? Just as important as connection or commitment?” I ask.

“I guess chance is important. I met Dakota that night by chance. He caught my eye by chance…” she mumbles.

“I ran into you on the beach by chance,” I tell her.

“You did that on purpose,” she jokes and I smirk, taking a strand of her hair, twirling the end around my finger.

“I’m serious. I was mortified at first and I tried so hard to make sure I didn’t crush you even though I had no idea who you were… Then you… Then I saw you,” I admit and I watch her cheeks.

“Then you saw me…” She turns her head to look at me, her back still pressed into my mattress.

“Yeah, and I wondered who you were, why I’d never seen you before, and why the only sound I could hear was my heart beating. You looked just as shocked as me, and then the spell was broken because you looked mortified that we were lying on the beach,” I laugh.

“My brother was watching,” she admits.

“Then, there was that. I found out who you were and decided that fate hadn’t intervened there. It was a stupid accident until the bar, of course. Then, it felt like there was no mistaking that something had to give but I don’t do the feelings thing. If you couldn’t tell… I think everything between us has been by chance,” I admit.

“I agree… What about the connection? What do you think about that?” she asks me.

“We definitely have a connection. A lot of connections,” I admit.

“As for the last one, I think it would be bold for you to ask me to commit tonight… Maybe our second date,” she jokes.

“Are you telling me that you’ll go out with me again?” I ask and she smiles.

“I guess I am,” she says softly and I could actually jump up and down with excitement right now but I just smile instead.

We keep talking so much that when I look at the clock, it’s 4:30 in the morning. I tell her to go to bed and she does just that, not curling into me but staying close enough that I can still feel her warmth. I don’t know if this is going to ruin me or wreck me… but I’ve got another date and I’m going to take it and run with it…