Read Running Back To Him Online
Authors: Evelyn Rosado
I stand on the stretch of green felt between a path of stones in front of a fake waterfall bracing myself to make the match-winning shot.
It started out just teeing off just fun and games, but as time passed and the score between us see-sawed, the tension mounted and every shot became tense. Neither of us takes a loss lightly.
I take a few practice swings next to the tiny white ball.
“You know, I haven’t been taking it easy on you at all. You’re better than I thought,” he says from behind me.
“You must have forgot all the pizza parties we had up here in elementary school. I always beat your pants off in putt-putt,” I say teasing. My mind flashes to an image of him with his pants actually off. I bite my lip. I’m such a dirty bird.
“This is the shot to win it all,” I say, my club hovering behind the ball. I can’t help but think about how much fun we’re having. One moment we’d become absolute strangers and the next, the chemistry we had as friend years ago instantly reappeared. It’s given me a total perma-grin.
“I can admit it,” I say. “I’m so nervous. How do you guys do it? Play a game with a thousand eyeballs on you. Under those huge stadium lights. It’s so intimidating. And not to mention the other team foaming at the mouth to tear your helmet off with your head attached to it.”
“It’s the only time I feel alive,” he says. His eyes shimmer and it reminds me of the lake up north my Dad used to take to in the summer. So pure; a sparkling endless blue. “It’s when I feel like I can be me. I don’t have to put on a front or flash a fake smile. It’s just me and the game and everything else outside the field doesn’t exist. Nothing—all the gossipy girls, all the scheming college recruiters, a bad grade on a test. All of it disappears. It’s the only time I feel in the moment. Everything else is a blur—meaningless. I hate to say that, but that’s what life feels like sometimes. Like you—”
“—Like everything is moving without you and you just react to it,” I say. The tone in my voice is vacant. Out of the corner of my I see him nod his head. “Like you’re watching a movie of yourself and you can’t control what’s happening. That’s been my life up to this point. Like I’m staring into the window of a party from the street. Everyone’s having all this fun and I’m out there by myself.”
“You’re not missing anything on the inside. It’s not what it’s cracked up to be.”
“To me it is. The ones on the inside matter. They belong to something. They’re not invisible…like me.” I blink away the tears at the tip of my eyelids. “You don’t know what it’s like, Kellen. To not exist. To be looked at as nothing. A pebble in a deep blue sea, not even making a ripple.” My lip quivers and I catch myself before I start to go down a path that I shouldn’t.
“But they…don’t matter. You see how they treat people. They treated me and you like garbage. Look what they did to you. You changed yourself…for them and they still treated you like shit.”
A switch inside of me flips on. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, my voice sharper than a razor’s edge. “How could you even know what you’re talking about? You haven’t been around me in years. You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
“You’re not exactly the Magnolia that I used to know,” he says not backing down. “When I look at you I’m not sure if I ever knew you at all. You’re wearing heels now. Heels. It’s like you forgot who you were…all because of some jerk.”
The tension in my chest rises to my throat. “What was I supposed to do?” The anger makes my voice carry. “Just continue to be some dorky girl? I wanted to be a part of something. And I did it.” I arrow my finger to my chest, my nail poking my skin. “I did that. I
belong
now.”
“Belong to who? To what? The people we go to school with? Those people won’t remember your or my name once we graduate. That’s supposed to mean something to you?”
“It means everything.” My voice strains. “It’s all I’ve got. I know it sounds shallow, but it’s something.”
“You’ve really changed.”
“But I finally belonged…to something. I didn’t feel abandoned anymore.”
He frowns. “What do you mean abandoned?”
“Nothing,” I say wiping away the tear that ran down my cheek. “Can we just finish the game and go?” I sniffle away, choking back the tears. I squeeze the golf club until my fists hurt. The only sound between us is the buzzing of the light pole hovering above.
The tension between us is palpable as the humidity in the air. We stand there, chests heaving hot breaths and eluding each other’s faces.
After a few moments of agonizing silence, I stand back over the golf ball and take a few light swings in preparation. Kellen sucks his teeth.
“Now what?” I say turning around in annoyance.
“Your grip is messed up. You’re totally holding the club the wrong way.”
I plant a hand on my hip. “Well I’ve made it this far holding it the wrong way. I’m winning.”
“For future reference. You know after our little fake hookup is over and you decide to go back to Lucas.”
“I have about as much chance as getting back with Señor Sleazeball as you do with Mackenzie.” Thinking about it makes me grimace. “I’d rather you strap me down in a chair like on A Clockwork Orange and make me watch three straight hours of Coldplay videos.”
“I have no idea what you just said.”
“Don’t worry about it. And back up.”
“No, listen. Let me show you. There’s no way you’re going to make that shot from here if you don’t hold the right way.”
I hold out the club for him to take the lead. “All yours, master teacher.”
He grabs the club and hands it back to me. “You hold. I’ll guide. Get in your normal putting stance.”
“Yes sir.” I wonder if I said that with too much snark. So what, he should be used to it from me by now. I assume the position and he slides behind me; his body lurching inches from me. His body pours heat onto to me and I feel my throat tightening up.
“Okay,” he says skimming his arms on top of mine. “Bend your knees.” His chest meshes against my back and the side of his face is next to me. His scent is intoxicating—like I shot-gunned two beers and then did a minute-long keg stand. His scent of orange and sandalwood waltzes into my nostrils.
He says something about positioning my feet, but I’m still lost in the trance of how delicious he smells. “And then next, you visualize the ball—” My sights were fixated on the ball in front of my feet, but I look up and latch onto his eyes. Those blues drink me in. It must have startled him because as I looked up at him, it made him stop mid-sentence. In the midst of the thick September night’s air, we became lost in each other, lines blurred between what’s real and pretend. I don’t know what’s on his mind, but the way he looks at me is suffocating.
He has to feel
something
for me. I can’t discern between the two. Maybe he’s looking at me because he can sense that I have an, oh so slight crush on him. But his look was strange. It was like an acknowledgement…of something. That he finds me cute? That he finds me weird as shit? That he’s stepped over the line? Who knows? Who cares?
He clears his throat and the breath that falls from his lips melt my face. My knees wobble but I keep my posture. “Where was I?” he says, a shiver in his voice.
Our eyes are still clamped together. “I’m not sure.” I can’t control that my voice sounds breathy and flirty because my brain is mush, pure mush.
He smirks and slides his hands on top of mine. I don’t know if he’s just playing games and loving the googly eyes that I’ve been making at him all night and he’s just soaking in the attention or what. Whatever it is, I’m trapped in the whirlwind that is Kellen. His hands blanket mine and his chest is slightly touching my back. The skin of our forearms kiss. A bead of sweat trickles down my back. The touch is icy and for the first time, strangely I feel protected by him. Whether he knows it or not, I haven’t felt this connected to him in so long.
I’m seconds from crumbling like a stale cookie right before his feet. I wouldn’t even be embarrassed if I did. He guides the golf club back and the iron strikes the ball, spinning over the green felt, past the tiny boulders in its path, up the hilly curve and bullseye into the cup!
“It went in!” I scream in delight. Before I can jump in the air and do my victory slash happy dance, Kellen grabs me by the waist, spinning me around.
“I told you! I told you you’d be able to do it.” The feeling of victory is overwhelmed by the feeling of how it feels so safe and sound I feel in his arms. My arms clench around his broad, rippling shoulders and somehow, becoming swirled up in the moment, I wrap my legs around his waist. I cling to him, chest to chest and as we twirl around, it feels like slow motion and all moments from our childhood—the ones that float through my mind as still lay on my pillow staring up at the ceiling at night—appear before my mind’s eyes. And I pray this moment lasts forever, that he feels the same way as I do; that even when we stopped speaking, stopped being the closet of friends I crushed on him hard. Even when I was with Lucas, I kissed him, hoping, wishing, that it were Kellen’s lips on mine. And just as quickly as he holds me in his arms, he lets me down. But I don’t let him go and he doesn’t let me go. Our eyes are pad-locked onto one another. Our faces are close, tiny moist breaths mixing between us.
He parts his lips and moistens them with his tongue. And my eyes trace every motion of it, my heartbeat now hurried.
“All this time and we still haven’t practiced our kiss,” I say breathless.
“I guess now is as good of a time as any,” he adds. I’m weightless in his arms and I bite the corner of my bottom lip.
We lean in slowly and time ceases to exist. This is the elusive moment that I’ve ached over for years.
My close my eyes, fading to black. I feel him lean in and an urgent need fills my bones.
“Excuse me guys,” says a voice from the landing above us startles me, stealing my breath away…what little breath I
did
have left in my lungs.
We uncoil our limbs from each other, a molten-hot moment, now awkward. Kellen looks at me with a wavering smile. “I guess it’s time to go.” He pulls his keys out of his back pocket and walks toward the inside, leaving me behind in a puddle of...something. I have actually no words to describe how I feel right now.
The only reason we hung out tonight was to polish our pretend relationship and make it believable. At this point I don’t know what to believe. I may be here because of a lot of different reasons: to make Lucas jealous, to get Ashley’s blood boiling to the point of an aneurysm or the reason that pounds my skull; that I think I’m falling in love with Kellen Murdock and I don’t want to lose him this time.
I sprint down the stairs with an umbrella and a jacket under my arm. The forecast says to expect a spritzing of rain. No way I’m getting my hair frizzy and wrecking my makeup for a football game, no matter how much I want Kellen and the team to win.
I dart for the door, but not without my Mom catching me.
“So you’re not going to tell me why you’re not going out with Lucas anymore?” my Mom says from the couch. She says this nonchalantly tucked into the corner of the couch, the top half of her body shielded behind the newspaper she’s reading.
How did you know that?” I ask stuttering. Wow, that one really caught me off guard.
“The ‘Gram,” she says.
My face scrunches in horror. “But you don’t have an Instagram.”
She slowly slides the newspaper, which covers up her torso, down on her lap, like an intimidating mob boss. I expected her to have a half smoked cigarette in her mouth. “I have a profile on there just to keep tabs on you. Just to make sure you’re not doing anything crazy. I know how wild teenagers are. I used to be one.”
“And?” I ask anticipating her disdainful judgment.
“You’re an angel. Thank God.”
“This is true.”
“It’s funny though. You used to post cool little Anime pics and stuff about Gandalf, now it’s just Retweets of shirtless Justin Bieber pics”. She shakes her head. “I don’t know what you girls see in that bird-chested boy.”
I choose not to entertain this light interrogation. “Well good to know I’m being spied on. Thanks Mom.”
She folds her newspaper and lays it on the coffee table. “Now you’re just going to dodge the question I asked you?” She folds her hands and rests them on her knee and waits for me to ramble and come up with another distraction from her query. But I don’t.
“Lucas and I aren’t together anymore Mom.” I fiddle with the strap on the umbrella and circumvent her watchful eyes.
“Well…obviously. But I’m asking why.”
As uncomfortable as this conversation is, I don’t want to prolong it by lying. She asks too many questions and I’m not willing to go toe to toe with her right now.
“He’s a football player, Mom. You can come to your own conclusions.”
She sighs like only a mother could after hearing her daughter got her heart thrown in a blender. “I’d ask if you wanted to talk about it, but I already know the answer.”
“Some other time. And I’m okay. Breakups happen. They’re apart of any teenage girl’s life along with braces and getting her period right before third period Spanish.
“That’s very mature of you say.” She grins slightly and nods. “Your father would be proud.”
Those words stick me in the gut. It feels like a pin just burst on the balloon called my Friday night.
My stand rigid, preventing any emotions from welling up. “Right,” I say, my voice hiding the hurt in my throat. “I’ll see you later tonight.”
“Go Vikings!” she yelps. I pump my fist in the air as my left hand turns the doorknob.
“Do it for the ‘Gram and take a selfie with Kellen after the game tonight.”
My Mom’s attempt to incorporate slang into her bland maternal lingo falls short, but doesn’t fall short of embarrassing me. I’m just glad Justine or Kellen isn’t here or I wasn’t somewhere out in public. “Mom, don’t ever say ‘do it for the ‘Gram’…again. It’s disrespectful. Pure disrespect.” I snicker. “And contrary to popular belief, Kellen and I are
not
dating.”
She puts her palms out in defense. “I said not a word.”
It tastes sour having to utter those words. To the deepest crevice of my bone marrow I wanted those words to be the opposite. ‘Yes Mom, Kellen and I are dating. We’re in love. And it feels soooo amazing.’ I wanted to say it to her. I wanted to Snapchat it. I wanted to run on the field and snatch the microphone from Jacqui Carter signing the national anthem before the game tonight yell that Kellen is mine and how it makes me so happy. I wanted to. But until pigs start flying airplanes, that’s so not happening.
***
After last night I hadn’t heard much from Kellen. Okay, I didn’t hear anything from him at all besides a couple of texts about how much fun he had losing at putt-putt. But there was absolutely nothing spoken about the almost-kiss we had. As much as I wanted to bring it up to him and whether I thought it was pretend or genuine, another side of me prayed he wouldn’t mention it. If he did, so many other questions would have to be answered and that would only make our ordeal much more difficult. So going forward, ignoring the fat, purple elephant with sharp, giant tusks in the corner of the room is the plan.
I sent him a good luck text about thirty minutes ago, but I didn’t expect him to respond. He’s probably busy ramming his head into his locker as a warm up. Yet I still keep checking my phone to see if he texted back. So far after the sixty-seventh time I’ve checked, he hasn’t. I hate that he hasn’t. And I hate that it bothers me so much.
I didn’t see him at all during school either. But that’s expected. Game day for the football team gives them sort of a free pass to skip class and prepare for the game; whatever it is ogres prepare for combat. Sacrificing a virgin or some other forbidden, sacred ritual. Attending class was definitely not a part of that ritual.
Justine and I had a ritual of our own: the hallowed practice of skinny jean shopping at the mall. Since I was no longer hanging out with Ashley and her goons, not joining those daily 7AM Frappuccino breakfasts saved me a few inches on my jean size. It was time for a new slimmer, sexier pair. And besides, I did see Kellen checking out my ass as when I bent over to pick up my golf balls. I never knew the power that skinny jeans held over boys until I hung out with Ashley. Take it for what it’s worth, my life has changed for the better in that regard.
“Those totally make your butt pop?” Justine says nodding to the pair of jeans resting in my Macy’s bag. I nod, smiling in approval. “Nikki Minaj ain’t got nothing on you.”
I snicker.
“I could never be Nikki,” I say. “I don’t like pink as much as she does and I could never rap that fast. Trust me, I tried.”
I dig a spoonful out of her cup of strawberry and mango frozen yogurt as we sit at the food court at the mall. You need scrumptious nourishment after the strenuous activity of finding that perfect pair of cute, suffocating jeans that cut off the circulation from your legs to your feet.
“You know, the idea of watching a conveyer belt of drunken teenagers isn’t my idea of a Friday night.”
“Seriously?” I ask with another mouthful of yogurty goodness. “Hitting the strip after the game tonight, the weather is warm—it’ll be so fun. It’s always fun anyways, but if they win it’ll be near riot-inducing fun.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
Every Friday night when the weather is warm most teenagers in the city congregate on the section of Clio Road between Stewart and Pasadena Street. Everyone parks their cars, blasts their music and flirts with uncontrolled hormone teenage flesh whose bloodstream has been filled with cheap beer since halftime of the game. It’s usually broken up by the police around one in the morning, sometimes earlier if a fight breaks out. It’s not the teenage classic party at such and such’s house by the lake because their parents are at Grandma Pat and Grandpa Larry’s for the weekend. There’s not much to do in Flint and when it’s warm you have to do what you can to enjoy it.
“You had fun when we went on the Fourth of July,” I say.
“Well that’s because I was with Ben. Anything with him was fun,” she replies.
“Watching paint dry with him gave you amusement. I thought the two of you would have tried to make the long distance thing work.”
“When he chose to go to attend UCLA instead of Michigan State that sort of put a wedge between us.” She shrugs. “I don’t have that many frequent flier miles to keep visiting him every weekend. And you and I are not doing some cross country Thelma and Louise road trip adventure to visit him either. I hate your choices in music too much to grin and bear it.”
“We wouldn’t make it past Kalamazoo.” We laugh. “I love you to death, but you and me inside a car for more than thirty minutes and somebody’s eyes are bound to be gouged out.”
“We barely made it to the mall without a scratch.” Justine is nearly in tears. She blots her eyes with a napkin. “So what’s the plan for tonight?”
“Rolling down the street smoking indo, sipping on gin and juice,” I say rapping the lyrics in my best Snoop Dogg impression. My head bobs up down to the rhythm dancing in my head. Justine doesn’t have a clue about the phat lyrics I just uttered.
“What the hell was that?” she says, her voice stony.
“Snoop Dogg’s ‘Gin & Juice.” I say it like she should be ashamed of herself to not know.
She rolls her eyes. Rap isn’t Justine’s thing. She’s more of a metal, headbanger type.
“But about the strip…I’m not sure.”
“It’s time for you two to ramp up the hotness. On the power couple scale, you two are lukewarm. Beyoncé and Jay-Z are turning their noses up at you. People are talking but no one has even seen you make out yet, let alone finger-bang in the janitor’s closet.” She smacks the table, making it rattle. “You’re really disappointing me Mags.”
I shrug. “Nerves I guess. I don’t know. Navigating a fake relationship is new to me. It’s not like I could Google ‘how to create a faux romance.”
“Uhhh. Have you
tried
? It might help at this point. You’re wasting precious time.”
“I didn’t know there was a deadline.”
“You have to strike while the iron is hot. If they lose tonight, Kellen’s name is as good as dogshit and you two won’t be the trending couple.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Do you want to be a Snapchat or a Myspace?”
My stomach dips. “Wow. Now I see what you mean.” Myspace used to be the bees knees but now you but wouldn’t be caught dead listening to it. Kind of like listening to Coldplay. “Since you mention it like that, looks like I do need to step it up a notch or two.”
Curiosity sheens her face and an eyebrow slowly perks up. “I think I know you’re your problem is,” she says nodding like she’s finally figured out the case like on an episode of Law and Order.
My heart skips a beat. She can’t know about my crush on Kellen. She can’t. I’ll never hear the end of it if I did, especially if this all blows up in my face. I’m just not ready to reveal it yet. I’m not even sure I want to acknowledge it to myself.
“You do?” The lump in my throat is now the size of a boulder.
“I sure do. You’re shy.”
“Huh?” I wasn’t expecting that. Whew! Now the color in my face can normalize again instead of the pale blue I had moments ago. “You think?” I ask, playing it off.
“Of course. You just broke it off with Kellen and this is just traumatizing you.” She nods self-assured she knows what he’s talking about. I watch a lot of Dr. Phil. I think it’s called post-partum depression.”
My face perks up. “Oh yeah, that’s
exactly
it.”
“But I don’t get it. Look at Kellen. The boy looks like he stepped right off a Calvin Klein billboard. You should be all over him right now. You should be in his mouth more than his mouthpiece.”
“That doesn’t sound hot at all.”
“Metaphors weren’t ever my strong suit. But you need to act fast. And tonight is perfect.”
“That’s why I need you with me. With you there you can tell me to stop pussyfooting around and handle business.”
“You need to make out in front of Ashley and Lucas. I know they’ll be there.”
“I need to make a spectacle. Something big. Something unforgettable. Something that’s going to melt the makeup off her face.”