Anything Less Than Everything (15 page)

T
he morning was pretty much a blur of
getting ready, dragging Jill out of bed, last minute packing and stressing
about the traffic. Fortunately, security was a breeze and I made it to my gate
with plenty of time to grab a caramel latte.

Once on the
plane I sent Aaron a text:
omw
. I don’t think he was awake yet, because
I didn’t get a reply before I had to power down my phone for takeoff.

The lack of
Nashville to Milwaukee flights meant a layover in Atlanta, one of my least
favorite airports. Storms surrounded the area, and even though the pilot tried
to fly around them, it was a rough flight. The new route also delayed our
landing by about twenty minutes. Fortunately my connecting flight was only a
few gates away, but even then I barely made it on time.

The plane was
full, and so I took the first seat I could find next to a girl about my age
whose springy red curls screamed perkiness. I was tired and nervous and was
really hoping to catch a short nap. Something told me, though, that that wasn’t
going to happen with this particular seat mate.

I’d barely
had a chance to stow my purse and bag under the seat in front of me before she
started talking.

“Can you
believe these storms?” she asked by way of introduction. “I hope it’s not
raining in Milwaukee. Is that where you are going?”

“It is,” I
said politely, but without the extra that might encourage more conversation.
She needed no encouragement.

“Me, too!”
I’ve never been there before. Have you?” I shook my head. “I’m going for some
work training.” I smiled in acknowledgement and took out my magazine, hoping
that would send the message that I didn’t want to talk. “Why are you traveling
there?” Realizing that it was hopeless, I placed my magazine in my lap.

“I’m
attending a conference,” I said, “but first I’m going to spend a few days with
my best friend who is from there.”

“Ooh! A
girl’s weekend! So lots of shopping and stuff, right?” My first instinct was
just to agree, but somehow I knew this nameless girl would continue the
conversation in ways I wouldn’t be able to respond to if I didn’t explain now.

“Well, not
exactly,” I said. “My best friend is a guy, so not so much on the shopping, I
wouldn’t think.” Her eyes got even wider, which did not seem possible. “He
plays college football, and so I’m guessing we’ll do something more athletic
than walk the mall.”

“That sounds
so romantic,” she said.

“Whoa, I
said,
best
friend, not boyfriend. Nothing romantic there.”

“Oh, right,”
she said a little dejectedly. I opened my magazine again, and this time she let
me read in peace. Unfortunately, though, I couldn’t concentrate on the words.
All I could think about was that in about two hours I would get to see Aaron.
Crazy.

Because I was
so late getting on the plane, I was seated in the way back, and had to wait
forever to deplane. I fidgeted nervously, craning my neck to check the progress
of the line. The first instant I could squeeze out of the aisle, I was gone,
with nothing but a “have a nice trip” to perky girl.

My heart
pounded as I walked through the terminal. I tried to slow my breathing, hoping
that would in turn slow my heart beat. I ducked into the first restroom I saw.
Even though I knew I wasn’t supposed to care, I couldn’t help but want to look
nice. Or at least decent. I combed through my hair and added some powder and
lipstick. Not bad. I looked like me, and the reflection still surprised me
sometimes after working so hard for so long to be someone else.

I took a few
more deep breaths. I could do this. I could see Aaron, whom I loved, and be
okay with being his friend. It wouldn’t be weird; I would make sure of it.

I left the
bathroom and followed the signs to baggage claim, where Aaron said he’d meet
me. The airport was huge and crowded, with confusing signage, all of which made
the walk seem that much longer, which gave me time to get both nervous and
excited again.

When I
finally found the right place, I scanned the crowd from the down escalator.
There he was, standing near the windows in the rear of the space. Our eyes
locked just as I made it to the bottom, and we both broke into smiles. It was
all I could do to not sprint towards him; fortunately, Aaron’s tall frame
allowed him to cover the space three times as quickly as I.

As soon as we
were within arm’s distance of one another, we threw our arms around each other
in what can only be described as the best hug ever. So easy, so natural. So
right.

“I cannot
believe you’re here,” Aaron whispered into my hair. I pulled away and looked up
at him. And though I was ecstatic to see him, I was able to put the butterflies
in their place easily and just be happy to be with my best friend.
I can do
this
, I thought.

Aaron
retrieved my suitcase from the baggage carousel and carried it as we walked to
his truck. It seemed a fitting vehicle for him: large, but sleek and simple in
its design, plenty of room for his football stuff in the back. He opened my
door for me (
#56
) and quickly walked around to his side and got in.

As he drove
through the winding lanes out of the airport, the realization that I was
actually sitting right next to Aaron hit me. I was with my best friend.
Finally. Who was much hotter than my memory gave him credit for. Ugh. I needed
him to talk about ordinary, boring things so I wouldn’t have time to think
about it. But he didn’t, instead letting being in the same area code be enough.

I kept my
eyes trained on the passing landscape in order to keep from staring at Aaron.
The blur of trees helped calm me down. Until I felt Aaron’s eyes on me. I
turned to look at him. “What?” I asked, my cheeks burning.

“I just can’t
believe you are here.” He was smiling that half smile I didn’t even realize I
had missed so much. I smiled in return, though shyly. And then I realized
something: this felt okay, normal. I was fine with being Aaron’s best friend.
It was perfect, actually. I sighed in relief and turned back to Aaron.

“So what do
you have planned for us today?” I asked.

“Well,
assuming you’re probably running on latte right about now,” he glanced over at
me with a knowing look, “I thought we’d start with lunch. Mom should have it
ready about the time we get there.”

“And you’re
sure
your parents are okay with me crashing at their place for a few days?”

“Brooke. It’s
fine. Mom is always complaining that the guest room doesn’t get enough use.”

Traffic was
light, and we pulled into a classic subdivision what seemed like only minutes
later. “Almost there,” he said as he deftly navigated the cul-de-sac studded
streets and turned into the driveway of a large house on a corner. “Here we
are.” Aaron turned off the ignition and looked over at me. “Ready?” he asked,
reaching over and squeezing my hand.

“Whenever you
are,” I answered.

H
e brought my suitcase up the walk
with me following behind him. The front door was unlocked, and he held it open
for me to walk through. The visible rooms looked straight out of Dwell.
Seriously. The accessories were perfectly coordinated, but didn’t look forced.
And it somehow looked both magazine-worthy and comfortable at the same time. I
resisted the urge to pull out my journal and take notes.

But it was
more than just the fact that it was a nice house. It felt like I belonged here,
and not because the decor agreed with me. In the past I had gone to friends’
homes and felt weird in my surroundings. Like the furnishings mimicked the vibe
in the rooms. Spencer’s house-both his parents’ and his college space-was like
that. I had never been all that comfortable there, always feeling out of place.
I tended to sit primly on the edge of the furniture. I assumed the difference
was because I was so much more comfortable with Aaron than I had ever been with
Spencer.
With my boyfriend
. And like with Spencer, the friendships where
I felt weird being in their home eventually faded. It wasn’t consciously a
result of the house, of course, but there was certainly something to it.

“Aaron,
honey, is that you?”

“Hey, Mom,”
he called back. His mom walked around the corner, looking like an accessory for
the living room. She was dressed casually in capris, a fitted top and ballet
flats with hair and makeup done. And, yet, it wasn’t overdone. Her face broke
into a smile in greeting.

“Brooke! It
is so good to finally meet you!” She walked toward me with open arms,
enveloping me in a hug. “I’m Liz.”

“I forgot to
warn you,” Aaron said, as he leaned back on his heels, hands in his jeans
pockets. “Mom’s a hugger.”

“Yes, I am,”
she said, giving me a quick squeeze. “How was your flight?”

“Good,” I
said. I couldn’t help but smile at her warmth and friendliness. “Thank you so
much for letting me stay with y’all. I hope I’m not imposing.”

“Pshaw,” she
waved my comment away. “We love having Aaron’s friends visit. Especially when
it gets him home for a few days,” she added with a wink at him. Aaron rolled
his eyes.

“Lunch
ready?” he asked. “I’m sure Brooke is starving.”

“Brooke!” I
said with mock alarm. “You’re the one with the bottomless pit for a stomach.”
Liz laughed, nodding.

“Everything
is ready. Aaron, why don’t you show Brooke the guest room and help her get
settled. I’ll go hunt down Sara.”

Aaron led the
way up the grand front staircase. He stopped at the second door and gestured
for me to go in. The room was lovely, like the rest of the house. A bed dressed
in neutrals with a French twist graced one wall; a dresser sat across from it;
a comfy looking chair snugged into a corner. Aaron placed my suitcase in the
chair.

“The bathroom
is through here,” he said, opening a door next to the dresser. I followed him
into the space. “Extra towels are in the closet there--” he pointed to a door,
“and there’s a small drugstore under the sink if you need shampoo or toothpaste
or anything.”

“And what’s
through that door?” I asked, indicating a door directly across from the one
leading to the guestroom.

“Uh, that’s
my room,” Aaron said, just a bit uncomfortably.

“Oooh! This I
have to see,” I teased. I walked into his room without waiting for an
invitation and took a look around. It was neat--much neater than I expected of
a boy’s room. The bed was actually made, the comforter a basic navy, the
furniture simple. Certificates, plaques, and sports and car posters covered the
walls; trophies filled the flat surfaces. “Wow,” I said. I knew you were
accomplished, but this is impressive.”

Aaron
blushed. “I keep trying to put them in storage, but Mom finds them and gets
them back out. It’s a little too ‘Ode to High School’ for me.”

“Well, how
else would anyone know about all the cool stuff you’ve done? It’s not like
you’d ever tell anyone.” I shot him a look. A few weeks before I had stumbled
across an article listing some of Aaron’s high school records and awards. He’d
never mentioned to me that he held the record for most passing yards in a game
in the
state
. Or that he once had two touchdowns and two interceptions
in a game when injuries forced him to play both sides of the ball. I’d given
him a hard time then about not sharing this type of information with his best
friend.

“Lunch is
ready!” we heard his mom call from downstairs.

“Saved by the
dinner bell,” Aaron said with as much cheese as he could muster.

I rolled my
eyes at him and followed him downstairs.

The spread on
the kitchen table about stopped me in my tracks. Barbecue sandwiches piled high
on a platter. Some type of slaw with colorful veggies. Fruit. Baked beans. It
was a feast.

“Mrs.
Davidson, this looks incredible,” I said.

“Please, call
me Liz, honey,” she replied. “But thank you.”

“Mom likes to
overdo,” Aaron added. “Not that I’m complaining.”

A
teenage-girl version of Aaron, though with blonde hair, ambled into the room as
we were sitting down to the table. Sara, obviously.

“Hey, sis,”
Aaron greeted her. “This is Brooke.” She ventured a weak, disinterested smile.

“I assumed,”
she said. I wasn’t sure how to take that, exactly.

“Nice to meet
you,” I said with my best smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I bet not as
much as we’ve heard about you,” she mumbled so low that only I heard. I
blushed, though if it was because Aaron had been talking about me or because of
her annoyance at that, I wasn’t sure. Aaron shot her a look and then started
eating; I followed his lead.

I caught
Aaron looking at me more than once during lunch. He still seemed in a bit of
shock that I was there, in the flesh.
I
should have been the one in
shock that I was sitting in future pro football player Aaron Davidson’s house.
We’d smile shyly when our eyes met, but instantly go back to our food.

There was a
weird tension, but probably only I was aware of it. All of Jill’s talk and the
girl on the plane must have gotten to me. I couldn’t blame Aaron for looking at
me; after all, it had been two months since I had seen him-literally seen
him-and I was trying to soak up as much of him as I could, too.

I decided to
distract myself, to be productive. Liz began clearing the table, so I jumped up
to help her.

“So,” Liz
said as I helped her carry dishes over to the sink, “what plans do you two have
for this afternoon?”

I raised an
eyebrow as I looked over at Aaron, interested to know the answer to that
question myself.

“Well, since
it’s not too hot out, I thought maybe we could take a little hike, show you
some of our beautiful Wisconsin landscape,” he said. Since I had spent most of
the day sitting in a chilly plane, moving around in the warm sunshine sounded
like a great idea to me.

A few minutes
and a quick change later, we were out the door and on our way. The park he took
me to was about a ten-minute drive from his house. He pointed out landmarks as
we passed-the elementary school he attended, his football buddy’s house. He
pulled into a parking lot surrounded by verdant trees and we got out of the
truck. I couldn’t see anything around us except the trees. Then I looked up.

“We’re hiking
that
?” I spat at him.

“It’s not
that bad. Promise.”

“So says the
guy who spends a good portion of every day working out,” I reminded him.

“Oh,
whatever. You can handle it. It looks steeper than it is. Really.” I looked at
him, unconvinced. He smiled my half smile and said, “C’mon.” Of course I would
follow him. I’d probably follow him anywhere. No, scratch the probably: I would
definitely follow him anywhere. And I would have done it before #57 on the
list.

We headed up
the mountain (okay, hill) at a leisurely pace. The path was paved for the first
few hundred yards, so it was an easy walk. When the trail turned from asphalt
to dirt, however, I started wondering if my running shoes were going to cut it.
But the shade was nice, and we were still able to keep up a conversation. Aaron
walked ahead, but never let me lag by more than a few paces.

It was upon
looking back from where we came that I realized just how high up we were. It
was without question the highest I had ever hiked (I’m more of a gym girl).
Aaron was stopped just ahead, waiting for me. I couldn’t read the look on his
face. His eyes were on me, but obviously not really looking at me, like he was
deep in thought or trying to decide something.

When I caught
up, he seemed to let out a breath he was holding and smiled. “Let’s take the
‘road less traveled by,’” he said, indicating an unmarked trail. I raised an
eyebrow at him.

“Why?” I
asked. “Is it going to make all the difference?” Aaron laughed and shrugged,
and then headed up.

The path was
definitely less traveled. Maybe never traveled. There were rocks half-buried in
the dirt, brambles draped across the trail, never mind the steep dirt. As we
came to a particularly difficult spot, Aaron reached back to me and gave me his
hand to help me up. And he didn’t let go.

Oh. My.
Goodness.

We held hands
for the rest of the hike up, which was probably only about five more minutes.
His hand was exactly how I imagined it: strong, but soft; sure, but gentle in
its grasp. My heart quickened, and I immediately tried to shut it down.
Stop,
Brooke.
I told myself.
He’s your best friend. There is nothing wrong
with or weird about him holding your hand. Lots of friends do.

When we
reached the top, I let out a small gasp and dropped his hand. As I walked
around the clearing, ringed with trees in every shade of green and wild rose
bushes, I understood why he wanted to hike the harder trail.

Toward the
far end the trees cleared out, leaving a view of the valley below. Breath.
Taking. Faint wisps of clouds floated through the sky, a shade of blue almost
as bright and clear as Aaron’s eyes.
Stop, Brooke
.

Aaron came up
behind me, handing me a bottle of water from the backpack he’d brought with
him. “How did you find this place?” I asked.

He stared out
at the expanse below for several moments before answering. “We moved here right
before my freshman year of high school. My coaches in middle school didn’t
think the high school where we lived at the time would do much for developing
my game. We only moved like thirty minutes away, but when you’re fourteen, that
might as well be across country. I missed my friends and my old school, and
especially my old house and neighborhood.

“I’d come
here to run, you know, for football. Mom would drop me off here and take Sara
to the playground. One day I noticed this little unmarked trail and just
decided to see where it led me. In an environment where I felt so out of place,
where I didn’t know anyone or anything, it was nice to have this little secret.
I started coming here a lot, but never when anyone else was with me.” I felt
him shift behind me; there could only be a few millimeters between us.

“It’s
beautiful,” I said.

“It’s a great
place to think, and I’d come here to think about important things. I spent a
ton of time up here during the whole recruiting process. At some point, and I’m
not really sure when, I decided that someone would have to be really special
before I shared this place with them.” My back was to him, but I’m certain he
could see my blush through my hair. I instinctively looked at the ground.

I knew what
he meant, though. Part of the reason I never fully opened up to people is
because of the part of me I’d be unable to take back if and when the
relationship ended. It’s why no one read my writing. Not even him. It’s why
Spencer and I never did much more than kiss.

Aaron paused.
The air was charged with...something. I wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, but
it felt like, maybe, that Aaron felt the same as I. My heart rate sped up at
the thought of it, my mind flashed to that almost kiss on the swing two months
earlier.

And then
Aaron leaned back away from me, letting out a breath, and that was it. Moment.
Over.

My mind went
back to that near kiss. Shockingly, I rarely thought about it. He’d never
brought it up, and so I hadn’t either. We’d been so close to changing our
relationship in that moment, much like I felt we were about to just now. What
would have happened if we had? Things were different now, of course. That night
we were barely more than acquaintances. Something told me we wouldn’t be as
close as we were had Jill not appeared. That if a strong romance hadn’t
developed, we wouldn’t even be in contact.

But what
about now? Was it different?
We
were different, that was certain. And I
was different. I was a completely different girl than the one he had almost
kissed at the beginning of the summer. Which created a good case for why he
might not want to kiss me now. Not that my transformation was bad, just that
what we had now was different. My head pounded in confusion.