Damaged: A Violated Trust (Secrets) (9 page)

“I guess. My dad is really into it. He started me playing when I was really little. And he still has the crazy idea that I can get a football scholarship.”

“Can you?”

He shakes his head. “I doubt it. You have to be really good.”

“But you are really good.” I look into his eyes. “I was amazed at how good you are, Harris.”

He chuckles. “Thanks. But we’re in a relatively small league. I just don’t think it measures up to some of the bigger ones.”

“Would you even want to play college football?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“It seems like it can get dangerous.”

“It’s pretty dangerous now. You hadn’t moved here yet, but early in the season a quarterback from our rival, Preston High, suffered a really nasty neck injury. He could’ve been a quadriplegic, but I heard he’s getting his hands back. Although he still hasn’t recovered the use of his legs, maybe never will.”

“That’s terrible.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Do you like other sports?”

“I like baseball. And I used to play soccer, but Dad thought it was a wuss sport.”

I laugh. “I used to play soccer too. And I was on swim team for a while. I actually really liked that.”

“I noticed a pool at your condo.”

“Yeah, I’ve been swimming some laps.”

His brows lift. “I’d like to see that.”

“Me swimming laps?”

“You in a swimsuit.”

I smirk at him. “Well, you’d probably be disappointed since I wear my old team suit to swim laps.”

“Hey, I happen to think those team suits are pretty sexy.”

My cheeks grow warmer, but I just shake my head.

“Is your pool open at night?”

“Sure.”

“Maybe we should take a dip after the movie.”

I shrug. “I guess we could. But did you bring a suit?”

“No, but my neighborhood’s not far from your condo. I could run and get it, and then we could have a moonlight swim.”

I’m not sure how comfortable I am with this, but there’s no way I’m going to tell him no. “Why not?” I say as I look for a fry not drowning in vinegar.

“Maybe we can do some racing. I’m not such a bad swimmer either.”

“You’re on. But keep in mind I can be pretty competitive. You won’t hate me if I beat you, will you?”

He laughs. “You are my kind of girl.”

After fish and chips, we make it to the movie in time to get popcorn and drinks, which is a relief since I still have the taste of vinegar in my mouth. With the movie trailers playing, Harris navigates us to a row near the front. “I like to really experience it up close and personal,” he quietly tells me as we slip into our seats.

Before long our movie starts and, no surprises, it is loud and violent and full of swearing. My mother would’ve walked out on it in the first thirty seconds. Well, she never would’ve come in the first place since “movies are the Devil’s work.” But she would flip out if she knew I was here, and seeing Harris’s hand fondling my bare knee would probably give the poor woman a heart attack. But I don’t want to think about that.

Sometimes, when a scene is too brutal or bloody, I just close my eyes. Hopefully Harris won’t notice. As much as I want to like the things he likes, I suspect I will never truly enjoy movies like this. They make me feel sick inside and I wonder how it’s possible that people (guys mostly) love them. My favorite movie (and I’ll probably never tell Harris this) is
The Sound of Music.
I know it’s hokey and old-fashioned, but I still love it. There’s an old VHS tape of it at my mom’s, and I used to sneak it out and watch it when she wasn’t around.

It wasn’t that Mom disliked that movie, but I just wanted to enjoy it without her negative commentary or cynical remarks. My favorite scene, of late, is Liesl and Rolfe dancing in the gazebo after it started to rain. It is so romantic. Too bad Rolfe turned out to be such a jerk. Sometimes I like to imagine that he changed and accepted the captain’s offer and escaped across the mountains with the Von Trapps and eventually married Liesl. But I suppose that makes me a hopeless romantic.

Finally the boom-boom-shoot-’em-up movie comes to a loud and destructive end, and I’m so relieved I clap enthusiastically with the others. All the way to the condo, Harris talks about the movie and the special effects and speculates on what the sequel will be like.

“I’ll drop you off,” he tells me as he pulls into the parking lot, “then run home and get my suit.”

“Okay.” I had actually hoped I’d get to ride with him to his house so I could see where he lives.

“About fifteen minutes, okay? Want to meet at the pool?”

“Sounds good.” I wave good-bye, then head up to change into my suit. I wish I had a better-looking suit to wear. My old team suit is not only fairly worn but pretty snug, too. Still, Harris said he likes team suits and it’s not like I have much choice in the matter.

I get into my suit and grab a couple of towels just in case he forgets. Then with my key in hand, I traipse on down to the pool. Because the night air is a little chilly and the water feels warm in comparison, I slip into the pool and start swimming laps. I love how the silky feel of the water relaxes me and I’m glad I shaved my legs this morning. I’m just finishing my fourth lap when I see Harris, fully dressed, standing outside the pool gate. I run and let him in.

“Where’s your suit?”

He starts undoing his jeans. “I’m wearing it.”

Soon we’re both in the water and I challenge him to our first race. He’s fast but I win. “Go again,” he tells me eagerly. So we do and this time he beats me by a stroke.

“Ha!” he says victoriously, reaching over and pulling me to him. “To the victor go the spoils.”

I frown. “I’m the spoils?”

His face is close to mine. “No, but you could spoil me if you wanted.” And now we are kissing and our kisses are wet and slippery and exciting. He pulls me even closer and my heart is racing as I feel his skin against mine. His breath and his kisses — they’re intoxicating. I enjoy it for a while, but then it’s getting carried away — and who knows who might be watching.

“We’re tied now,” I breathlessly tell him. “Want to go best two out of three?”

“Again?” He looks disappointed, but I’m already against the wall ready to race.

“Come on, or are you chicken?”

He laughs and comes over beside me. “You asked for it.”

“On your mark, get set, go!” I yell and we both streak across the pool and back, side by side the whole time.

“I won!” he proclaims.

“It was a tie,” I shoot back.

“My hand hit the side first.”

I make a face. “I want to see the digital playback.”

He laughs and pulls me to him again. “I clearly won and now you owe me a prize.”

“What kind of prize?” But already he’s kissing me again. We kiss and kiss, both above and beneath the water, and he holds me so close, with our legs entangled, that I almost feel like we’re one entity, some kind of weird octopus with four arms and four legs.

“Is your dad home yet?” he whispers in my ear.

This sends a start through me. He wasn’t home when I changed into my suit, but what if he is now? I push Harris away and look up at our unit, trying to see if there’s anyone looking down this way from the darkened terrace. But the lights around the pool and the chlorine in my eyes make it hard to see.

“I don’t know. He wasn’t home earlier.”

“Want to go up and check?” Harris asks hopefully. “I’m starting to get cold and it would be nice to dry off some before I go home.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I’ll go check.” I climb out of the pool and grab a towel, wrapping it around me like a sarong. “There’s a towel for you,” I call out as I leave.

I feel nervous as I go up the stairs. What if Dad is home? What if he’s been watching us? What will he say? More important, what will I say? To my huge relief, Dad isn’t home yet. So I go out to the terrace, turn on the light, and quietly call down to the pool. “The coast is clear.”

Harris climbs out and gets his towel. “Thanks,” he tells me as I let him in. “I was starting to feel like an ice cube down there.”

“You use the bathroom. I’ll change in my bedroom.”

We go our separate ways and I hurry into some warm-ups and attempt to towel dry and brush out my hair. I’m just putting on some lip gloss when I hear Harris. “You coming out of there or should I come in and get —”

“Here I am,” I say as I emerge from my room.

He grins suggestively and pulls me toward him. “I wouldn’t have minded coming in there to get you.”

I make a forced laugh. “Yes, I’m sure you wouldn’t have.” It’s becoming pretty obvious that this guy is way more experienced than I am. For that matter, I’m positive that most of the U.S. teen population is way more experienced than I am. Not that I plan to reveal this to anyone.

Harris makes small talk as he guides me into the living room, where the lights are dimmed. We sit on the sofa and he slips his arm around me. “This has been a great night, Haley. I had no idea you were this much fun.”

I feel a ripple of delight over this praise. “I’ve had fun too, Harris, even if you did cheat at swimming.”

“I didn’t cheat.” He tickles me around my waist. “I won fair and square, admit it.”

“No,” I shriek with laughter, “you cheated!”

Now we’re having a wrestling match, which goes from the couch to the floor. We’re both laughing and teasing and then suddenly he is straddling me, pinning both my arms to the floor over my head. If he wasn’t grinning, I might be scared. I had no idea he was so strong. “Admit it, Haley, I won.”

Between giggles, I admit that he may have won. Then he leans down, landing a passionate kiss on me, then another. I feel like I’m being swept away by this, like being pulled out with the tide, like I want to just drown in his affection. But then I hear something at the front door.

“My dad!” I hiss at him. “He’s home!”

In the same instant Harris jumps off me, straightens his clothes and hair, flips on the lights, reaches for the remote, and flops down onto the sofa. I try to follow his lead but am slower and just barely on my feet when my dad steps into the house.

“Hey, Dad,” I say in way too sweet a voice, “you’re home.” I walk past him and into the kitchen, where I dig in the fridge for a couple of sodas, like this was what I was doing. “Harris is here,” I call over my shoulder. “I’d like you to meet him.” I feel rather pleased with how well I’m handling this, very grown-up, I think.

Dad goes into the living room and I introduce them, and to my relief Harris steps right in, telling Dad about the movie we saw tonight and how we took a swim afterward, going into detail of how he beat me in our swim race. “Although Haley is really fast for a girl.”

“She used to be on swim team.” Dad hangs up his jacket. Then I ask Dad about Monterey and he briefly describes their day.

“Sounds like a good time.” Harris is standing now. “Speaking of time, I should get going. I have an eleven o’clock curfew.”

I walk him outside, where we exchange one last good-night kiss. “That ended too soon,” he says wistfully.

“I know,” I whisper back.

He smiles. “Until next time.”

I watch as he goes down the stairs, almost feeling that my heart is going with him. I stand there for a few minutes, trying to take this all in. Talk about a whirlwind romance; that is exactly what this feels like. I love him, love him, love him — and I really don’t want to lose him. Still, as I go back inside, I feel nervous about how quickly things are moving. I know I’m in way over my head right now, but I’m just hoping I can figure it all out as I go along.

...[CHAPTER 9].................

O
n Sunday morning, Dad insists that he and I do something together. Somehow he’s gotten the idea that I’m put out with him for spending the whole day with Estelle yesterday. He couldn’t be more wrong. Still, I try to play along as we eat our cold cereal.

“So what do you want to do?” he asks for about the thirteenth time.

“Like I said, I don’t really know. What do you usually do on Sundays?”

“I usually do something with Estelle.”

“Then maybe you should —”

“We’ve already been through that. I told Estelle that today was for you.”

“Was she mad?”

He shrugs, then refills his coffee mug.

“She wasn’t happy, was she?”

“Estelle likes to have fun on the weekends. She works hard all week and figures the weekend should make up for it.”

“Can’t blame her for that.”

“But back to us and today.” Dad sets his mug firmly on the countertop. “Tell me what you’d like to do.”

If I told Dad what I really wanted to do, he’d be hurt. What I really want to do is spend the day with Harris.

“You seemed to enjoy shopping last weekend. I suppose we could do something like that again.”

I frown. “You really think your credit card can afford it?”

He laughs. “I think so.”