Effortless With You (12 page)

“I bet. I feel bad for you. Spending the whole summer with Justin. Staying away from him?”

“We barely speak,” I say truthfully.

“That’s my girl.” Zach pulls out his phone. “Sorry. I owe someone a text.”

I watch as he texts while driving. I hate that this makes me so nervous. His eyes never leave his phone yet we are driving sixty-seven miles per hour. Marissa always texts while driving and I'm still not comfortable with it. I clutch the door handle and pray we won’t hit anything or anyone. He explains he was arranging another captain’s practice for this weekend.

I hide my sigh of relief in a steady breath when Zach pulls us safely into Romano’s parking lot. He meets me in front of the Jeep and wraps his warm hand around mine, leading me into the restaurant. We are immediately seated at a small table up front near the window. I mask a bit of disappointment when we aren’t given that table in the back corner. Goosebumps prickle my arms as I scan my menu. Something hums above me; of course I'm sitting right under the air-conditioning vent.

I eye the women around me. Only a few wear cardigans while most endure the temperature to show off their outfits. Fashion obviously outweighs comfort in the dating world. I smile at Zach, determined not to let the temperature ruin my date or my outfit.

Zach reaches his hand across the table and intertwines his fingers in mine. I willingly allow him to dominate the dinner conversation. He talks about lacrosse and shares his hopes of getting an athletic scholarship. I reassure him and he squeezes my hand in response. Zach seems gentler without his team around. He keeps eyeing me and from time to time, tells me how beautiful I look.

Zach’s attention and the dim lighting lull me into a romantic haze. Every time he repositions his hand in mine, a chill wanders up my spine.

After dinner, he suggests a walk in the park. The sun is almost set and brilliant colors fill the sky. Soon the lamp posts will light as the sky darkens. He puts his arm around me as we walk the paths toward the river. He slides his hand into my back pocket.

My face warms. It feels awkward having his hand there and I know we are now one of those silly couples with their hands on one another’s butt. But, somehow, it makes me feel good knowing that I am Hand on the Butt worthy.

I can’t wait to tell Marissa.

Zach walks me over to a bench behind a hedge, completely private.

“We can watch the sunset best from here,” he whispers in my ear as we sit down. His skin is so warm next to mine.

It’s like I’m living out a scene in a movie.

Zach pulls me close to him and we cuddle silently as the sun slips away. The extraneous noises of the park die down as well. Our secluded bench might as well be a deserted island.

My heart pumps in my head. The feeling of Zach’s hand rubbing up and down my arm is electrifying. I shudder in anticipation.

Zach pulls me close to him and presses his lips softly to mine. It's unlike any of his kisses before. Maybe this is the real Zach? I can’t get enough of the tenderness of his kiss. I respond with the same pressure, letting him know this is the type of kissing I like. I pull my fingers through his hair as he pulls my waist closer.

He continues to kiss me, the passion increasing. His hands wander up and down my back. I am lost in him. Somehow, he moves me from the bench onto the grass below. He presses his body into mine and his hand wanders up and down my thigh.

His kiss intensifies, pushing his tongue into my mouth with a bit too much force. It becomes too much and I need a moment to breathe. His weight is crushing. I push away from him as his hand wanders up my top. He keeps kissing me, a bit softer now, supporting more of his weight as he leaves his hand resting on my waist.

I return his kisses but my mind is racing a million miles per second. How far does Zach want to go? How far am I willing to go? I think of Justin’s
lacrosse stick
comment in the car. Zach’s body presses back into mine and the crushing weight returns. I try to take a breath but can barely fill my lungs. I'm not imagining things. It really is hard to breathe.

Suddenly, his hand is up my shirt, resting on my bra. The moment his fingertips reach inside the cup, my instincts take over. Adrenaline surges before me and suddenly I’m pushing him off of me. Too much and too soon.

Zach looks confused for a moment. He leans in to kiss me again, this time grabbing my neck and pulling my head to his while he shoves his tongue down my throat.

I pull away, gasping. “Stop.” This time he relents. He sits beside me, pulling his hands through his hair.

I move a foot away, trying to grasp what just happened.

“It was just too quick,” I whisper. I want to be ready for this, but I’m not.

Zach purses his lips together.

I wait, not knowing what to say.

“Okay.” Zach takes a deep breath. “That’s fine.” He stands up and walks away.

I force myself to follow.

“I’m really sorry, Zach. I’m just not ready for that.” I rest my hand on his arm. “Not yet, but someday.” I try to reassure him even though I know it isn’t true.

He nods and pulls out his phone, answering a text before looking my way.

“I should probably get you home.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. I check my phone. Nine forty-six. Every step away from the bench makes me feel more like a lame, little girl. I wish I could have just shut my eyes and done a little bit more. At least I wouldn’t feel like such a prude.

I study him out of the corner of my eye while he responds to another text, gnawing on his lip. He doesn’t seem angry, more disappointed. I can manage disappointment. I just need time.

I break the silence on our ride home. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

“Yeah? That’s great.” He speaks in more of his boisterous tone, although I can tell it is a bit forced.

I fill the awkwardness with comments about how well he manages his team. The texting never seems to end. He smiles and launches into some team politics. I agree with whatever he says and compliment him whenever possible.

But really, I just want to cry. I hate myself.

When we reach my driveway, he doesn’t move from his seat. I eye my house, not blaming him for not wanting to walk me to the door. I lean in toward him and give him a quick kiss because I know my parents are watching.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“No problem.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Yup, cool.”

I climb out of the car and pop inside to let Mom and Dad know I'm home. The last thing I need is my parents freaking out and punishing me for missing curfew when I was just hanging out outside.

I go straight to the basketball court off the side of our garage. I curl up with my back against the garage, right under the hoop. I look up through the circle of netting and study the moon.

And then I surrender to my tears.

I hate that I have to cry about Zach. Why can’t I be more like Marissa? I don’t have to go all the way but I could have at least done
something
more. What’s wrong with me? I’m sixteen. I should be able to handle this.

My old purple street ball snuggles behind our front shrub. I crawl over and grab it, the rubber tread like massage therapy to my palm. The only thing that feels right, but I can’t do it anymore. I hug it like an old teddy bear. Pathetic.

Maybe I can take just one shot. With wet cheeks, I stand up. Deep breaths. I just need to dribble out to the spray-painted three-point line, square up and shoot. But my chest squeezes the air out of me. My legs want to dart inside to my room. Sweat condenses on my palms and the ball slips through, bouncing away and back behind the shrub.

 My heart stutters. Almost did it. But not even close. A sob erupts from my chest. I clamp my hand over my mouth. The windows are open. I can’t let them know I’m out here, crying.

I thought I left this long ago.

BZZZZ
. My back pocket vibrates. My phone, unknown number. Zach must be calling from home.

I steady my breath, grasping composure.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Lucy.” The voice on the other end is higher than Zach’s and not as forceful. “It’s Alex.”

“Oh, hi Alex.” I sit up, a lame invisible attempt to sound collected. I rub my eyes. “What’s up?”

“Just calling to let you know Luke, Emmanuel, and I will be picking you up in the morning. Justin won’t be able to make it.”

“Oh, that’s fine. Same time?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Alex pauses and I take a deep breath. “Hey, are you okay, Lucy?”

“Of course I am,” I say to Alex in the peppiest voice I can manage.

“Oh, okay. You just didn’t sound like you, ya know?”

“It’s the phone … it always does that to my voice. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” he draws out his pause. He doesn’t believe me. “Well, alright. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sounds good. Seven a.m.!” I say in my best cheerleader imitation.

I push END CALL on my way back to the front porch.

Justin won’t be driving me tomorrow. He can’t ask me how the date went. I grasp this small relief and then my brain runs wild as I walk inside. Would Justin have even asked after our argument this morning? He gave me the silent treatment all day and now he isn’t even going to pick me up.

Is he that upset with me?

What have I done? It seems like no matter what I do in life I always do it wrong. I thumb my phone, hoping it will vibrate with at least a text from Zach. After a few minutes, I put it back in my purse. I don’t know what I would say to him anyway.

I pace in my bedroom. My skin itches like I’ve done something wrong. I think of Zach’s body pushing me against the ground. My skin crawls. I fill the bath and climb in, hoping to soak away whatever is making me feel so wrong.

Even my body knows I'm failing at everything.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Alex pats me on the back when I climb in Emmanuel’s minivan the next morning. Like a brother, he knows exactly what to do. He doesn’t ask me much as we make the long drive. In fact, most of the way he argues with Luke over the best boy bands of all time. I have to hand it to Alex. He’s one confident kid. He even has me smiling by the time we pull into the association.

The crew operates differently without Justin around. Troy walks around a bit more confidently, which is weird considering he is always our project manager. He seems very pleased with himself as he barks out orders. Oddly, the more orders Troy gives the less the guys seem to listen. They act like elementary school kids with a substitute teacher. Whenever Troy turns his back, Alex and Luke throw water on one another and Emmanuel mocks Troy with surprising accuracy. I welcome every distraction as I find myself searching the grounds for Justin, even though I know he’s not around.

Troy sits beside me during our breakfast break. He lounges backward, with his left arm supporting him behind me. “It’s like managing two-year-olds, I swear.” He wipes his brow. “You can never take your eyes off of them.” He motions toward Luke, who is trying to balance the handle of a paint roller on his palm.

I laugh politely as I notice Troy inch closer. I shift my weight to my knees, purposely leaning a bit away and giving myself space.

“Yup. This is my second summer as project manager,” Troy continues. He looks around the complex and whistles. “A year ago, I managed only single-family homes. But, seriously, look at me now.”

I bite my lip. Wait. Is Troy hitting on me? I cock my eyebrow. Like this? He leans in closer, mistaking my look of disbelief as a look of interest. He keeps looking at me intently, waiting for me to respond to his business accomplishment. “Yup—impressive,” is about all I can manage.

I look away from his uncomfortable stare and catch Alex’s eye with a pleading glance. He takes one look at Troy and rolls his eyes. Alex crosses the lawn and plops down in front of us, extending his legs out and in between us. Troy glares at him but Alex plays oblivious.

I owe him, big time.

“So, what’s up Troy? When do you think we’ll start tackling block three?” Alex asks.

“Next week.”

“Why?”

“Because three comes after two ... ”

“Right. That makes sense.” Alex nods my way, “Isn’t she doing great? I’m a great teacher, huh?”

Troy sits up straight and turns to me. Instantly his flirtatious demeanor disappears and his eyebrows furrow. I cross my arms in front of me before he gives his assessment. “Yes. She’s competent in the basics and has potential. But her edging technique should actually be nurtured along a bit more.”

Alex rolls his eyes from behind Troy. “Yeah, okay. I’ll work with her along the edges.”      I mentally review my edging technique. My edge lines are actually cleaner than Alex’s and Emmanuel’s. Alex mouths, “You’re fine,” to me.

“No. Again, all business here, but your edge lines are not the best example.” This time I roll my eyes in Alex’s direction and smile. Troy turns back toward me as I smile, again misinterpreting my message. Troy returns my smile and winks. “In fact, I think I’ll take over her coaching from here Alex.”