It's Got A Ring To It (11 page)

“You
about done?
” We still faced each other,
but I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. Gently, he lifted my chin,
raising my eyes to his. “
Laila
. I’m not engaged.”

“What? I saw your fiancé
e
in the dressing room and
M
om saw her at the post
office.”

And with that, his top blew. “You women are crazy, you know that
.
”
H
e walked off, throwing his hands up,
fingering through his hair, in exasperation. “Somehow, you manage to fabricate
your own little stories and truth. Don’t know something? Just make it up. Give
yourself a reason to be upset.”
He kept p
acing back and forth
.
“I’m a phone-stalker, then
I’m engaged. You complain that we don’t know how to ask for directions, but
what about you guys? Is it really that hard to ask the question, if you really
want to know? Huh? Is it?”

The questions weren’t rhetorical anymore, he’s waited for me to
answer, “Uh, no?”

Marching back up to me, with both hands he cupped my face as if we’d
known each other for years instead of an hour. “No,
Laila
.
It’s not.” Trying to regain his composure, he exhaled, and began again with a
level tone
.
“I’m not
engaged. The woman you and your mother saw, assumed to be my fiancé
e
, that’s Elle, my
sister
.” His sexy silvery eyes,
glazed over. “I’m giving her away at her wedding, since we lost our parents.
She’s the only family I’ve got.”

“Myles, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“That’s right, you couldn’t have known. I’m just asking you not to
jump to conclusions.” The softness returned to his face and warmed me.

“Ok
ay
,” I
sincerely agreed.

“Now…”
T
he
sexy grin intact
.
“
T
ell me about this dream you
had about me.”

ELEVEN

Hours
flew by like seconds. Cars passed in a blur, like the smeared directions of our
conversation. I was completely open. With Myles, I felt the comfort of home and
hope. Like dreaming in the midst of good sleep, and five more minutes just
wouldn’t cut it. We kept walking, hanging on to the last few sands in the
hourglass. Time wasn’t much of a factor for me, but I knew Mom would be
expecting us back soon. We were supposed to be focused on Lena’s wedding.

It scared me to be so familiar with someone who was a stranger, in
every way. I should’ve been on guard, alert, thinking about what his intentions
might be. Still, I remained carefree and oblivious to my surroundings because
being near him was the closest thing I’d felt to being alive.

Bypassing his question about my dream, we talked about The Sweet
Tooth and the reopening.
J
oy
flooded my heart as I spoke about the business and the journey that nearly
depleted me. Mostly, we talked about business and family. Lena and her pictures
popped into the conversation, off and on. My plans to set up the candy station
for her reception seemed to actually pique
his
interest
,
as he played twenty questions around it. We
tiptoed around every subject that came to mind, but I only wanted to hear about
him.

Myles spoke about the time he served with the Marines. Candidly, he
told me of all the tours of duty that he’d completed. Life for him had been as
mundane as punching the clock. Then, 9
/
11 launched him into full active duty. I was
listening, but I kept zoning out, thinking of how selfish I’d been, moping over
my measly little broken heart while he had broken bodies surrounding him daily.
He risked his life in the middle of a war fighting for the freedom that I
should’ve been enjoying. I hung on every word with urgency. A melancholy
undertone laced his voice as he reminisced about the years that had passed. My
eyes followed his off into the distance. They told me that he wanted to be more
than a name on a memorial monument. If not for himself, for the guys that
fought alongside him. Amazingly, he exuded optimism. The sincerest smile lit up
his face as he twisted the cross-body strap around to get his camera. Myles
slipped and told me the Nikon
was
the same camera
his dad
had
carried everywhere he went. Though, I was dying to know, I didn’t dare
broach the subject of his parents. He scrolled through the camera roll. He and
his friends were toasting beers, sharing laughs,
building
bonds. Only a few people in his squad had survived, and anyone could see that
their bond had transcended camaraderie into family.

To listen to him speak,
w
as
to watch his gestures and expressions. He
was
animated and vivacious.
Hands flail
ed
about,
mimicking and shaping his words into visuals. Creating pictures with his tone
,
I was in tune with his
process, the vision that he use
d
for his photos. It
was
as if he s
aw
the world
in stills
,
and glimpses
of moments
,
compartmentalizing his memories to be accessed on a whim or in a flashback.
From a distance, it
was
the smile I saw, but as I began to analyze him closely, engraved between the
creases w
ere
worry and
hardship woven into those laugh lines. And, I wanted to know the history behind
e
ach
one.

Myles noticed me eying him and the focus of my line of vision. “Oh
this?” he touched a tenured scar on his right jawbone with his index finger. “I
was eight. Christmas day. I got a brand new skateboard and I couldn’t wait to
get outside and show off my moves. Of course, Mom made me eat breakfast,
shower, and put on warm clothes first.” Envisioning the scene, I nodded along.
I knew those days well.

“Finally, I’d made it out there. The street was clear of cars, but
all the kids were out there in their new clothes with bikes, scooters, skates,
and
B
ig
W
heels. So, when I showed up
with my Santa Cruz skateboard, in all its silver and black glory and a skull
smack dab in the middle of the deck, they thought I was pretty hardcore. Heck,
I thought I was hardcore
.
”
W
e snickered together.
Every kid remembers the day when
his or her
new toy won the cool factor of the
neighborhood. “To make a long story short, let’s just say I didn’t end up
looking that way when I went home crying.”

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not getting off that easy. What happened?”

“Come on, you don’t need all the details. I’m a man. Let me keep a
little of my dignity,” he joked, giving me puppy dog eyes and
a
pouted lip as he
continued.

“Ok
ay
. It was
just like those old westerns. All the kids scurried to the sidewalks. There
might’ve even been whistling winds blowing tumbleweeds down the road. No one
dared make a peep, for fear of dealing with me. With the crowd waiting, first I
did a regular
ollie
—
”

Confusion must have colored my face
,
because he defined it for me. “That’s when
you jump with the skateboard still attached to your feet. Then, I went into
something a little more complicated, the
heelflip
,
when you flip the skateboard over and land with it back in its original
position. The intensity was building and I might as well have been on cloud
nine because there were little groupies cheering me on and
—
”

I rolled my eyes, calling his bluff.

“No, seriously
.
”
H
e chuckled. “Then it
happened. I felt so good, I decided to attempt, key word attempt,
‘the
grind.’ The plan was to slide along the edge of the
curb and ride off into the sunset
, while
their jaws l
ay
on the ground behind me. What actually
happened was
me
getting the board to the curb and
falling forward into one of the bikes on the sideline, leaving a gigantic gash
requiring stitches. Man, their jaws were on the ground al
l
right, rolling with laughter. Yeah, but my
ego was hurt the worst.”

When I finally caught my breath, I had to add a little gasoline to
the fire. “That’s quite the story. I think you missed your calling telling tales
around campfires at Crystal Lake.”

In an effort to quickly change the subject and divert attention from
himself
, he rushed me along. “Your turn.”

“Really? Are we doing this?”

“Yep!”

“Al
l
right,
but I’m not a raconteur like you. See this scar here on my elbow?”
I t
wist
ed
my arm into a more advantageous angle for
him to see. “You may not believe me, but it came from powder
-
puff football
.
” I paused to detect any
sarcastic disbelief on his part, but he was listening attentively, so I
continued. “I played one year, before I was accused of exuding unsportsmanlike
conduct because I rammed Monica Ponce. It
was
on purpose though,” clarifying.

“Jeez. I better watch out.”

“It was right after she asked my boyfriend to
j
unior
p
rom, promising him that she would put out. I
was so mad I called her a whore in the middle of the field, and when she tried
to retaliate, that was when I tackled her and her jagged vampire teeth ended up
scraping my elbow.”

“Uh, Rambo, I don’t have anything close to that.
Just
a cut here from being stupid enough to be the peacemaker in a bar fight
.
”
H
e patted at
the lower left side of his
back.

“Aren’t you the saint,”
I
teas
ed
him
.
T
hen I got another playful idea for my turn
of compare-the-battle-wounds. “Look closely here at my neck
.
” I instructed him toward the nape of my
neck. “Do you see it?”

“No,” Myles said.

“
It’s
ok
ay
, touch right here. It’s probably easier to
feel it
.
”
I
point
ed
at the nook just above my collarbone.”

As he reached to stroke my wound, I could barely contain myself,
feeling shameful given his genuine interest. Just as his finger landed, I let
out a robust bark, scaring the
bejeezus
out of him.
We both erupted with laughter at his startled jolt.

“That’s not funny
.
”
H
e grinned, holding his
hand over his chest, feigning a heart attack.

H
is phone
rang,
then
I was
the
one jumping with jitters.

“Just a second.” Myles answered the call
.
“Hey there. I was wondering what happened
to you,” he said flirtatiously. Smiling back at me, I noticed a quickening in
his pace, creating a bit of distance between us. “Listen, I’m a little busy at
the moment…that sounds great…see you there around six. Bye.”

Without warning, an awkward silence fell over us. Myles fumbled over
his words,
as if he
hop
ed
we could pick up where we
left off. “Uh, that was a friend of mine I hadn’t seen since high school. Heard
I was back and she…my friend wants to get together. Can’t beat
Fine Line
tickets,” he muttered,
looking away. Jealousy crept under my skin.

“Sounds cool. Heard they’re really good in concert.”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” I began, not so subtly. I needed to be anywhere else.

“What? You’re ready to head back? What happened to our conversation
?
We were really getting to
know each other.”

“Ah, I’m just tired, that’s all. Long day.” I lied.

Recognition read all over his face. He knew the truth, but I saw in
his eyes that he wouldn’t acknowledge it. Not that he owed me anything.
The fact that he felt an urge at all to shield me from a
conversation that he had with an alleged friend told me that he felt the same
fleeting flicker between us, too.

Walking back to my mother’s, drenched in thick silence, he slyly
slipped his hand in mine, and though I was conflicted and inclined to swipe it
away, a tiny nudge in my heart left me holding on.

At the door, his longing eyes reached out,
as if
begging not to let the night end, but I
couldn’t look him in the eyes. With one hand extending for the doorknob and the
other holding on to the night, I paused. It wasn’t Myles’ fault. I was the na
ï
ve one. Only, having my
heart shattered into a million pieces gave me the luxury of being sage rather
than just a bitter skeptic. All the sparks and tingles of the
F
ourth of July would never
equal happily ever after. Far more often, it was just the opposite. And so, the
nice walk would have to be just another fleeting fancy.
A
hint of hope?
Yes.
Another shimmer in a room of
darkness.
But, love? Not, likely.

Myles cautiously laid his hand over mine, still gripped on the knob.
My searching eyes settled on the crimson door, wishing I
were
safe on the other side. With his other
hand, he gently lifted my chin to angle my face toward his. I couldn’t
bear
to let him look into to
my eyes. Mom always said I’d never make a good liar with my telling eyes. So,
when he pleaded for me to look at him, I did so hesitantly, praying my eyes
could keep a secret.

“There you are,” he said, soft
ly
. Just what I was afraid of, he saw through
me. “Please don’t go in yet. Let me explain.”

“Really
,
Myles,
you don’t need to say anything. You don’t owe me any explanation. I’m fine.
Just tired.”

“I know that I don’t know you yet, but I don’t believe you,
Laila
.”

The sound of my name coming from his mouth was like hearing
it
for the first time. I
wanted him to say it again. I needed him to say it again. “Say it again.” I
whispered
.

“I don’t believe you
,
Laila
.”

“No, just my name,
”
I asked
, breathlessly
.”

“
Laila
?”

“Yes. But without a question.”

“
Laila
.” It whispered from his mouth and
linge
red
on the tip of his tongue. My eyes closed to savor the sweetness. This was
crazy. Insane. I’d been good long enough. I just wanted to live in the moment.
Forget about the regrets that would inevitably come with morning. Reveling in
the pleasure of my delusion, every sense in my body awakened when his lips
covered mine.

A kiss with a complete stranger, though nothing about it felt
strange. Unexpected. Extraordinary. Surprising. Yes, all of the above. I could
say it was like
h
igh
school all over again, but nothing in high school ever felt that good. Sure,
there were clammy hands, sweaty palms, and a good
night kiss at the end of the night. But
there were no moment
s
of teetering on the edge. Mom and Dad might
flicker the porch lights in warning for getting too fresh with
a
boy. But,
he was all man. And, I’d never felt more like a woman.