The Stillburrow Crush (16 page)

"Get over here before you freeze to death."

147

The Stillburrow Crush

by Linda Kage

"What a polite invitation," I said, trying not to fall into him as he threw off my balance.

But he ignored my sarcasm. "Geez," he said, rubbing my coat between his fingers. "This thing's paper thin."

"That's because I can't afford something decent," I said sarcastically, a little put off that he'd made fun of my favorite jacket.

"Well, being the rich guy I am, I can," Luke shot back and pulled open his coat to wrap it around us both. He propped my back against his chest and cradled me in a warm embrace. Then pulling the edge of the tablecloth over our laps, he cuddled in close. I held in a dreamy sigh and looked up at the stars while resting my head back against him. The breeze froze my toes and the ground was hard under me but I was toasty everywhere else.

Luke tried to give me another drink of the wine, but some spilled out and leaked down my chin. He wiped the juice away with his thumb. His warm breath was at my ear and his lips were close to my jaw when he murmured, "Thank you for tonight."

I felt his hand in my hair then, working the clasp from my ponytail. "Be careful," I said, closing my eyes. "If you get too close, you might slip and fall for me."

I'm not sure why I said it. I was trying to joke, but it wasn't so funny. Luke pulled my hair the rest of the way free.

Fingers skimmed over my cheek and then against my scalp. It felt like I was sitting with my back to a campfire, he was so warm.

"Maybe I already have," he said.

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The Stillburrow Crush

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My mouth fell open. I jerked away and twisted my body around to face him. "No, you haven't." I made it sound more like a demand than a denial.

Luke sat up and the red-and-white-checkered patterns slid off his knee. He demanded right back, "Why can't I?"

I dug a finger into my chest. "Because I'm the one with the crush on you. You can't get one on me!"

Luke paused. "I thought you said you didn't have one for me anymore." He said it carefully, as if he wanted me to understand each syllable.

"Well, I lied."

"Well, good." His voice rose to match mine. "We like each other. So let's go steady."

"No," I said, my body instantly tightening.

Luke wanted to be my boyfriend. I couldn't believe it. He actually wanted to be with me. I frowned. Had I just told him no?

In the gleam of his Mustang headlights, I watched his teeth clench. "Hey, you started this," he accused. "I was ready to leave you alone, but you called me. You asked me out here."

I glanced away. "I just wanted a Fourth of July poem," I said. I wanted to remind him I wasn't good enough for him, so he should quit teasing me like this.

"You're still lying, aren't you?" he said.

When I spun to glare at him, he shook his head sadly. "I don't know what you're scared of, Carrie. Maybe it's the same thing I am. This isn't easy for me, either. I've never—" He broke off suddenly to run his hands through his hair.

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The Stillburrow Crush

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I didn't pressure him to go on because he was right. I was scared. I was petrified of letting him get too close. I wound my arms around myself and rocked a little, realizing I was a fool.

Luke said, "You'll change your mind." And then as if someone turned on a light from night to day, his demeanor changed. Suddenly very abrupt and distant, he stood up and wiped his pants. "It's getting cold."

My arms only tightened their hold. "It was always cold."

"I should get you home. What time is it?"

"I don't know. Does it matter?"

"No. You're right. It doesn't matter. Let's get in the car."

He reached down to help me to my feet. I hadn't realized how much I'd drunk until I stood and it all rushed to my head. I swayed a little and Luke caught me to him. "Time to get the drunkard home," he said, and pitched the rest of the bottle toward the ditch.

"You're littering," I told him. And when he started to lead me to the car, I said, "And I'm not drunk. I'm just dizzy.

Stood up too fast."

He insisted I was definitely buzzed. But I didn't care. I was in love. I was in love with Luke Carter. I wasn't wasted enough to blab that out to him but I was pleasantly buzzed to the point where everything felt intense. As did the pain. I couldn't believe myself. Here he was, spilling his heart out at my feet, and I said no. Not only did I say no, I refused to take it back and tell him I really didn't mean no.

Luke patiently helped me into the passenger's seat but when he tried to put my seatbelt on, I swatted his fingers 150

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away and told him I could do that myself. He raised his hands in surrender and backed off to let me finish belting myself in.

The ride home took forever. I think he drove slowly on purpose. It wasn't because he was buzzed too. He'd only taken that one sip. So maybe it was because he wanted to stretch his time with me.

I was purposely quiet. If I spoke, I thought I might say something I would regret—something like, "Yes, I'll go out with you." I had this image in my head of doing exactly that, of flinging my arms around him and saying, "Yes, darling, I'm yours." And that's when he'd push me away and start laughing. "Gotcha!" he'd say. And it would be spread around as a big joke that Luke Carter had made a complete fool of Carrie Paxton.

That had to be the case because there was no way Luke could like me just because I was me. It went against all the rules of social order in Stillburrow.

I must've dozed off thinking through the whole scenario because when Luke pulled up to the curb by my house, I was already half asleep. I yawned.

"Do you want me to walk you up?" he asked.

I opened my eyes and looked toward my home. My front walkway loomed before me. The house had never seemed so far from the curb as it did then. "No. I'll be fine."

"What're you going to tell your parents if they smell the wine on you?"

"I'll tell them you spilled it on me," I said, cracking a smile.

"Oh, that's great. Let your mom and dad think I'm some kind of alcoholic. They'd never let me see you again."

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The Stillburrow Crush

by Linda Kage

I stared at the dark windows of my house. I repeated the words
never let me see you again
over and over through my head. But they just didn't sound real.

"I don't think I have to worry about it," I said. "Looks like they're already asleep, anyway."

Luke shook his head, though. "They just want you to think that. My mom always catches me sneaking in too late by hiding out in the dark."

I glanced over at him and cocked an eyebrow. "Do you sneak in late a lot, Mr. Carter?"

He cleared his throat and refused to incriminate himself.

"Let me walk you up," he said.

I flung open my door. "I can walk perfectly fine, thank you." I slurred the words a little as I set one foot outside, intending to show him just how capable I was. But he caught my arm.

"Wait." I glanced back to see him lean toward me. "Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

"Bye," I answered.

His lips curved. His hand moved down until it captured my fingers. He tugged me closer to him.

"Good night, Carrie Paxton," he said, barely moving. "Have sweet dreams about me."

"Actually, I'm thinking about dreaming of roller coasters. It feels like I'm on one."

Luke laughed and kissed me. It wasn't like our first kiss.

This one was rougher. He yanked me to him and mashed his mouth to mine. And he didn't wait long before he let his tongue plunder. His fingers tightened their grip.

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The Stillburrow Crush

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As dizzy as I already was, he threw me completely off balance. I reached up and cupped his cheek to steady myself.

The stubble under my fingers shocked and delighted me. This was a man. I was kissing a man. I felt so grown up and mature.

This kiss was hotter and longer than the first one, and Luke pulled away before I did. When he did, he had a smug smile on his face. He rested his forehead against mine.

I closed my eyes and his fingers found my hair. "Come eat at my house tomorrow," he said. His voice was quiet and coaxing and I almost said yes. And then I realized...

"But tomorrow's Thanksgiving." I opened my eyes and pulled back to look at him.

"I know."

"I always have a big get-together with my family at Aunt Kay's house."

"Then stop by and see me afterward. It's just across the street."

I shook my head. The truth was I was scared to death of meeting his parents. I knew who Mr. and Mrs. Carter were.

But I'd never talked to them face to face. I remembered when I was little and I'd sit outside the bank president's office next to Mom while I watched my father go inside and shake Mr.

Carter's hand. But that was about as close as I'd ever gotten to the man. I think Luke knew about my fear of his parents but he didn't bring it up. And I was glad he didn't force the issue.

Instead, he sighed. "Fine." He let each lock of my hair slip one by one from his fingers. "I'll let you go for now, then." He 153

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sounded wistful, like he already missed me. I thought it was possible only because I already missed him. "Goodnight, Carrie."

"Goodnight," I slurred back, right before I slipped out of the car and stumbled my way up the front walk. Luke didn't drive off until he saw me open the door. I moved inside, smelling of wine and burnt sulfur from the fireworks. The house was dark and silent. My over-trusting parents were asleep in their beds and I was a changed person. I'd just given a part of my soul away to Luke Carter, whether he knew or wanted it, or not.

When Thanksgiving Day came, I missed him. I was tempted to show up at his house, but I still had that fear of meeting his parents and that they'd instantly realize I wasn't good enough to date their son.

So I went with my mom and dad to the house across the street. Jordan was there, and she talked and talked to me about all the different boyfriends she had back at her school in Paulbrook. I was startled to learn she was doing things I'd just now experienced with Luke. I wanted to say, "But you're only twelve." I'm sure though, if I'd told my story to someone older, they'd have said, "But you're only sixteen." And that was the last thing I wanted to hear. So I kept quiet and only listened to Jordan's tales.

Marty actually showed up but he was late. We'd already cut into the turkey and Aunt Kay had said the prayer. I knew instantly something was wrong with him when he stumbled in. The first thing I did was sniff his shirt to see if he'd been 154

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drinking but he passed that test. All I could smell on him was the grocery store.

He glared at me when I leaned in and I quietly said,

"What's wrong with you?"

"I've got to spend the afternoon with you," he said. But he didn't have that mischievous grin he usually did when he said such things.

His clothes were rumpled like he'd slept in them. Yeah, I know, I know. He wasn't living at home anymore so there was no reason his clothes should be starched and ironed. He looked terrible, though. Maybe if he'd had his shirt tucked in and his hair combed, I might not have noticed. But the flicker in his eyes was...well, I couldn't explain it. I'd never seen Marty look this way before. He seemed drained and exhausted yet edgy and on alert. It was like he'd just beaten off an attacker but was braced for another assault.

"Are you on drugs?" I hissed in his ear.

He put his hand on my forehead and pushed me away. I took that as a no.

I'm not sure if anyone else noticed. They were so tickled to have him in their company again, they overlooked any problems. Mom stayed by his side throughout the meal and told him everything that'd been happening in the house since he'd been gone. Dad didn't say much. But his, "It's good to see you, son," revealed his pleasure.

The entire lunch felt phony. Everyone except Marty and me plastered on fake smiles and passed pasta around, making jokes about how the turkey would turn out this year.

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Mom asked if she could refill Marty's glass with iced tea.

When he lowered his head and said he was fine, she poured anyway and kept talking to him like he was interested. When she got into gossiping about Luke spending two evenings at our house, Marty's head shot up and he nailed me with an intense look. I wasn't sure what the warning in his gaze meant, but I met it and stared back at him, lifting an eyebrow and daring him to say something about
my
love life. Finally, he glanced away. Mom had already started in about our neighbors across the street getting their driveway paved.

When we went home, Marty came with us. For some reason, he'd walked to Aunt Kay's for Thanksgiving dinner. I don't know, maybe he just needed a good walk to clear his head. All I knew was he came home with us.

Jordan, Uncle Stan, and Aunt Kay waved us off and Marty sat in the back seat next to me for the short ride. It surprised me at first that he'd said OK to Mom's invitation to supper. He rested his head against the window and stared out as Mom chattered away in the front seat. I was sure something bad was going on with him then.

Marty waited half an hour after we made it home before he dropped the bomb. Since I already knew something was up, I'd been hanging around the living room to get in on the action when things went down. Marty was sitting in the middle of the sofa, not leaning back but with his back straight like some kind of guest. Mom had situated herself next to him. Dad was relaxing in his recliner with the footrest kicked up, and I lay sprawled on the loveseat, letting my feet dangle over the armrest.

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The Stillburrow Crush

by Linda Kage

"Mom, Dad," Marty said, taking in a deep breath, "I need to tell you something."