Major Crush (17 page)

“What!” I exclaimed. “Why?”

“Barry expressed his admiration for you, knowing Drew likes you too. A s you found out in the lunchroom on Friday, you can only push Drew so far, and then …” He snapped his fingers.

A llison and I gaped at each other, and then at Luther.

Luther gazed down into A llison’s eyes and smiled.

“A nd then what?” A llison insisted.

“Oh!” Luther said, like he’d completely forgotten what we were talking about. “A nd then Drew fell asleep in the back of the car. Like I said, he has to bring in the harvest. He stays exhausted.”

“A re you trying to make us feel bad because we don’t have to sit on a tractor twenty-four seven?” A llison asked.

“I don’t see a whole lot of physical labor going on in your neighborhood.”

“That’s where’ you’re wrong,” A llison said triumphantly. “Virginia’s dad makes her cut the grass.” She turned to me. “Virginia, you should go see Drew and reassure him that you don’t have the hots for Barry Ekrivay.” She made a go away motion with her hand, like she was trying to get rid of me. Like she wanted to be alone with Luther. Like we were boy-crazy teenage girls.

Finally!

I followed Luther’s directions to Drew’s farm. A dirt road, which Luther had referred to as a “driveway,” wound through rolling green fields.

Dark green trees framed the fields far away, at the edges of the earth. A tiny white house and an enormous red barn crowned the biggest hill.

A nd then I saw the red tractor off in the fields, trailing a wake of dust.

Disappearing in a valley, then cresting the next hill.

Coming for me.

I parked my car under an ancient oak tree. Then I tiptoed gingerly across the acorns as I rounded the car to sit on the hood.

The noise of the motor grew louder and louder as the tractor loomed larger and larger. Drew drove under the canopy of the oak tree, and the motor was unbearably loud. Then he cut the engine. My ears rang in the silence.

The seat of the tractor was enclosed in a glass booth, but the windows were open. He slipped off his headphones and opened the door.

He was wearing worn, ripped jeans faded almost to white, and no shirt.

Yee-haw!

A nd he was filthy. Small pieces of straw stuck to his tanned chest and hung in his black hair.

“I was just thinking about you,” he said.

I grinned like an idiot. “What were you thinking?”

He pursed his lips. I loved that look he got when he was trying to keep from laughing. “That I wanted to spend the afternoon with you, but I’m stuck on a tractor.”

“Very responsible of you,” I said.

“A nd I feel stupid. I ran out of time last night. I forgot that you probably had a curfew.”

I walked toward him, wincing as the acorns ¡stuck to me feet. “I’ve never been this close to a tractor.”

“Really? I feel like I’ve lived on it for the past month. I might forget and drive it to school one day. Want to go for a ride?”

He held out his hand to me. With one arm, he pulled me over the enormous tire and into the cab. He let me sit in the seat, and he stood beside me.

Then he opened a compartment below the controls and brought out a second set of headphones. He placed them gently over my ears, put his own pair back over his ears, and reached down to start the ignition.

“Wait,” I said.

“What?” he asked, pulling his headphones off.

I pulled mine off. “You don’t really expect me to drive this tractor while you hang on, do you? Well be killed, and Clayton Porridge will be drum major for sure.”

He looked around the tractor cab. “I don’t want you to have to hang on. My dad would wring my neck.”

“You drive, and let me sit in your lap.”

He gave me a long look.

“Okay,” he said in a friendly way, as if this were the most normal request in the world. I stood. He slid under me to sit down, and he patted his thigh. A nd I sat down in Drew Morrow’s lap.

He slipped one arm around my waist. He reached with the other hand to start the tractor. A s he leaned forward, his bare chest pressed against my back, and his chin rested on my shoulder. We were way past phantom limbs here.

We drove fast across the rolling hills, until we couldn’t see the house and barn anymore, and there was nothing but the warm wind scented with hay, the green hills, and the deep blue sky.

“It’s really loud,” I said.

“What?” he shouted.

I shook my head. There was no way he could understand what I was saying over the noise of the motor, with headphones on.

A fter a while I murmured, “It’s so beautiful out here.”

“What?”

We went over a bump, and he tightened his arm around my waist to steady me.

I said, “I like your arm around my waist.”

“What?”

He slowed the tractor to a stop down in a valley, in front of a pond that reflected the bright sun and the white clouds. We pulled our headphones off.

I repeated, “It’s really loud, it’s beautiful out here, I like your arm around my waist.”

“Yes, yes, what?” He put his hand on my bare thigh.

I stopped breathing.

He slid his hand slowly down to my knee, and rubbed my knee gently with his fingertip. So weird how he could make me feel just by putting his hand on my skin.

He wasn’t breathing either.

I said, “On the count of three, breathe. Onetwothree.”

We both gasped.

I turned to look at him over my shoulder. My, but he was a beautiful boy. The sun made tiny rainbows at the edges of his dark hair and glinted white in his dark eyes.

He put his chin on my shoulder again and rubbed his cheek against mine. With his lips almost touching my lips, he whispered, “We should add this to the dip.”

We both burst into a long fit of laughter. He held me tight with one arm so I wouldn’t fall off his lap.

“Okay, okay,” he said finally, still laughing. “Turn around.” He put both hands on my waist and gently guided me until I was facing him, sitting on his leg.

“This is comfortable,” I said.

He grinned.

“We could be an act at the tractor pull. The Morrow Family and Their Risqué Tractor Show.”

He rubbed his thumb lightly across my lips. A nd then he kissed me.

Mmmmmmm, what a warm and lazy kiss. A perfect kiss for a Sunday afternoon in late September. On a farm.

Well, the kiss moved at a lazy pace. It was slow and thorough. But I did not feel the least bit lazy. Electricity zinged through me. I should have stopped him to make sure he hadn’t parked the tractor on a downed power line. But I didn’t.

A fter a long time he paused to spit out a fragment of hay. “I beg your pardon,” he said.

“Certainly,” I said, careful not to pant.

He kissed me. “Remember that night I had scarlet fever?”

“Mmmmmmm,” I said. “Vaguely.”

He kissed me. “Since then, all I’ve thought about is your hand in my hair.”

“Mmmmmmm.”

He kissed me. “Well, I was able to block it out during the SA T. But after that …” Kiss. “A t first I thought it was the fever. The fever went away, but the feeling didn’t.”

I put my hand in his hair.

Honk! I pressed farther against him in alarm, then looked around at the steering wheel that one of us had just kneed or elbowed. “Why do you have a horn on a tractor?”

“Cows.”

“A h.” I kissed him.

We made out on the tractor for a long time, until the sun moved and changed color. I couldn’t get enough of his mouth on my mouth, his kisses on my neck, his warm bare shoulders under my hands. What made it worse, or maybe better, was the feeling that it was too good to be true.

A high, muffled beeping played the first few bars of the opening song from our halftime show. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he winked at me. “Band geek.”

He clicked the phone on. “Hello … Give me fifteen minutes.” He eyed me. “Twenty.” He pressed the button to hang up. “My mom.”

“Where is she? Is she okay?”

“She’s here. She’s fine, but I have to go back to the house.”

I looked at the sun, then at my watch. “I should get going.”

He grabbed my hand. “Don’t leave! It’ll only take me a minute. She can’t reach the Cheetos. Your dad says we’re supposed to humor her.”

“No, I really should go. I have a big algebra test tomorrow that I need to study for. I wasn’t expecting this to happen.”

“Me neither. I feel sorry for Walter.”

I nodded sadly. Crushing on someone who didn’t like you back sucked royally. A nd up until a few hours before, I’d thought I knew exactly how Walter felt.

Drew squeezed my hand and let go. “I’m lucky you like me better. A nd I intend to keep it that way. Can you take a break from algebra? Can I call you tonight?”

“Yes. Can you take a break from fetching Cheetos?”

“She’ll be through with Cheetos by then. A fter dinner she changes over to Ritz crackers with cream cheese and green pepper jelly. By bedtime it’s ice cream.”

He rubbed his hands up and down both my thighs, lighting them on fire. I didn’t mind too much.

“We’re close now, right?” he asked.

“I’d say so.”

“A nd we can tell each other anything, right?”

“Right,” I said warily.

“Have you been hiding my band shoes?”

I didn’t see Drew at all after school that week. He spent the week on the tractor. He had to cut all the hay before a storm front came through on Friday. You can’t bale hay when it’s wet because it will rot. See, I’d learned something already! He was good for me.

He was really, really good for me. Each day, I saw him before school, at break, at lunch, and of course during band practice. A nd then, Friday in the lunchroom, we made a date.

He scooted his chair close to mine and bent to whisper in my ear. “Tonight after the game, will you come over to my house? A nd before you answer, let me just say that this is very important to me. I haven’t kissed you since Sunday.”

I considered my salad on the table. I was not going to miss another meal because of Drew Morrow. But the lunch period was half an hour long. I could flirt with Drew and still have time for salad. A nd Drew was so delicious.

“Why do you need me to come over?” I whispered back. “We already know what it’s like to make out on a tractor.”

“I also have a hay baler that needs testing,” he said. “A nd an all-terrain vehicle. A nd a riding lawn mower. A nd a barn full of hay.” He stroked his thumb up my thumb, then down into the hollow between my thumb and finger.

“Oh,” I said. “In that case, I’d be happy to help you out.” I shivered as his thumb made its way up to my fingertip and down the other side.

“No PDA allowed in school.”

“This isn’t PDA . I’m hardly touching you.” His thumb lingered and tickled between my fingers.

He really was hardly touching me. We weren’t even holding hands, so we couldn’t get in trouble. But I glanced nervously around the crowded lunchroom like we were doing something wicked.

“I’ll bet you do this to all the girls,” I said.

He shook his head and smiled. “I like your hands.” He took my hand in both of his and ran his rough thumbs across it like he was reading my palm. “I used to watch you play drums when you were in ninth grade. That was amazing. You were really good, even back then. Fun to watch. You know, I called you JonBenét to get your attention, because I liked you. Stupid, I know. But your dad’s job, and the money you’ve grown up with … It’s intimidating when you live in an old farmhouse.” He squeezed my hand. “I’m glad we’ve got that settled.”

I made it a point not to swoon over boys. Note to self: Make exception for Drew.

I started and snatched my hand away at a clatter across from us, but it was only A llison setting down her tray. “Did you hear?” she asked.

“Hear what?” Drew asked.

Luther plopped his tray down next to A llison’s. “I guess you heard.”

“Heard what?” I asked, beginning to dread the answer.

A llison slid her eyes from me to Drew and back to me. She pulled at her earring. “Why haven’t you heard this? Everyone in the school knows.”

“That Virginia won drum major,” Luther explained.

A llison gave Luther a shut up look, but Luther didn’t understand it.

Luther went on, “A nd that Mr. O’Toole made Drew drum major too because he didn’t think a girl could do it by herself. A llison, why do you keep kicking me? Ouch, you’re wearing heels.”

“It would have been better to tell them gently, when they were each alone,” A llison said. “But I guess this is how boys do things.”

“I don’t know who you’re calling a boy,” Luther said.

I stared at Luther and A llison. I was still in Drew’s barn, testing the freshly cut hay. I didn’t want to leave the barn. My brain yelled to my heart, Come out of the barn! Relationship over!

Drew had been more interested in flirting with me than in eating when we first sat down, but suddenly he was hungry. He had a cheeseburger, fries, broccoli, and collard greens to get through before band practice. A t the moment he was working hard on a salad with egg and bacon and something red on it. Beets.

“Who says I won drum major?” I asked without taking my eyes off Drew.

“The Evil Twins,” A llison and Luther said together.