Perfectly Messy (9 page)

Justin

That flash of auburn catches my eye the moment I step through the gym doors. Lucy’s breaking down the court, driving through two defensive players. Then
swish!
A flawless reverse lay up. Three minutes in and she’s already killing it. And that shot? She has no idea how hot she is when she pulls it off. The first time she used it on me, holy crap. I had to harness Batman strength to not grab her and immediately start making out. Of course, she probably would have slapped me.

I force myself to climb up at least three rows before taking a seat. There’s no way I’m going to be that boyfriend on the sidelines, acting like a coach. A quick glance through the stands and my heart drops. Her parents and brother aren’t here tonight. Bummer. I was looking forward to seeing them. A chance to check off bonding time from my list. Not that it’s actually on the list, but I know it’s crucial to get to know them for a solid foundation to our relationship.

Lucy’s eyes never drift from who she defends. Honestly, I bet I could walk around naked with a megaphone shouting I love her and she wouldn’t notice anything but the game. That look of pure intensity… in her own world… doing her thing. I wish I had that power on and off the court to help me escape. It’s almost shameful how easily the stands affect my skills. Now when Dad comes to my games, the media shows up. This leads to after-game questions and photo ops. It’s to the point where I just want to bolt post-game, but Dad always waves me over and I know I ha
ve to do the right thing.

Lucy plants herself on the baseline near me, looks over her shoulder, and winks.

My heart fist pumps. I love that she can so easily do that to me.

She receives a pass from Chelsey. The ball’s quickly pushed down, close to the court. She drives a few quick steps before passing it back out to Jaclyn, who pops up a three-pointer.
Swish.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I take it out for a quick glance. A photo of Ian holding a white electric guitar pops up. He’s been talking my ear off about buying a new guitar all month. I’m surprised he texted me. He usually calls, a true sign of being homeschooled.

Ian: You get to meet my new baby tonight! Still on for finishing our project after the game?

I reply then turn back to the court as the crowd roars. Jaclyn’s slapping Lucy’s butt as she books it back down the court for zone defense.

Seriously? I suck! I missed something amazing…Again!

I shut down my phone. Screw this. New rule: around Lucy, I’m completely unreachable.

I reach back, massaging my right shoulder, allowing myself to finally relax. There. My God. I’ve got to turn off that phone more often.

The game’s quick. Lucy and Jaclyn don’t even play the last quarter, giving up their positions to some JV players. Classy move. There’s no point in running circles when someone else could have court time. It’s more fun for everyone if there’s actually a game.

I spend the rest of the game flirting with Lucy from across the court. She tosses me her scrunched up nose flirt look, which looks a bit like an awkward bunny and she knows it. This time is gold. Time to just look at one another. She’s gorgeous and, as she sticks out her tongue at me, she becomes the cutest thing.

That sassy brunette makes me crazy in a way she’ll never understand.

And that scares me more than anything else.

***

“How is it that you still smell like apples even when you’re covered in sweat?”

“You think I smell like apples?” She pushes into me.

“Yes. Apples are my favorite fruit.”

“Okay, I’ll take that.” She takes out the elastic in her hair, letting it tumble over her shoulders, drawing my eyes down to her chest. I force myself not to stare, noticing instead how she sticks a sandwich pick at the French fries in front of her.

“You okay?” French fries aren’t usually safe in front of this girl.

She picks up three of the crunchiest fries and balances them upright in a teepee. Her crystal blue eyes then find mine and with a sigh, she says, “I miss you.”

My hand finds hers, tiny in my palm and always so cold. It’s selfish, but I like it that way. As if her hands can only be warm in my own. “I know that this sucks. It’s going to get better after the campaign. I swear. Only a few days left.”

She nods. “Yeah. I can handle that.” She slides her foot up my calf, causing shock waves to travel much higher. Frick. “And then I’ll see you more?”

“Yes, trust me. I’m not letting anything take me away from you.”

Her smile glows. My heart sinks. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her look so happy. It shouldn’t be like that.

“So, what are you up to after this?” She pops a fry in her mouth.

“Last meeting with Ian to finish our Psych project.”

“When do you need to leave?”

I glance at my phone. “Thirty minutes.”

A frown briefly shows before she covers it up, using a napkin to wipe her mouth. God, I’m so lucky. Most girls would be lecturing me for neglecting them. Here she is, trying to hold it together for me.

“A few more days?”

“That’s it. It’ll be post-election, post-midterms.”

“Okay.”

“Can I call you tonight when we’re done?”

“I’d love that.”

“It’s gonna be late. Like, we’re talking past midnight?”

“I’ll be up. I’d love more time to hear your voice.”

My phone flashes eight twenty-two. Lucy dips her French fry in our malt and winks at me as she eats it. With that wink, my heart becomes heavier, knowing I have to leave soon. It shouldn’t hurt like this when she’s still so close.

I step out of my side of the booth and slide in next to her. As I wrap her in my arms, I take a whiff. Apples and cinnamon. The perfect apple pie. She rests her head on my shoulder and the ache ceases as the warmth of being with her takes over.

There. Perfect.

***

“Solid. Let’s make sure to mention the Pavlovian dogs in the conclusion, and we’re set,” Ian says as he tosses his pen in the air.

“Right, that woman has conditioned herself to salivate at the mere mention of Pavlov. What’s with her?”

“She’s devoted her entire career to teaching entry level psychology. How would anyone survive that plight? She’s bound to have fallen in love with at least one of those researchers.”

“Ha, too true. Here you go. Have at it.” I hand over the laptop, letting him finish typing up the final paragraph. Ian’s been fun to work with. Thoughtful, funny, and, thankfully, wicked smart. I totally lucked out in the random pairing for this project. We couldn’t be more different. A business-minded jock paired with an intellectual musician. But we work well together, complimenting one another’s weaknesses.

Ian types the last word and we both let out a breath of relief. “Finally.” He shrinks Microsoft Word and dives into iTunes. “Now, onto the important stuff.”

I yawn and my fingers itch to bolt and call Lucy.

“Dude, it’s like I wrote this playlist.” He turns on one of my favorite instrumental tracks from
Lower Case Noises
. “Nice.” He rocks forward with the music, continuing to browse. “So, that girl you brought to the September fundraiser? The one with the bacon-wrapped scallops, remember?”

“Yeah? What about her?”

“Just haven’t seen her around since you introduced her. Are you guys still a thing?”

My tongue nearly gets bitten off as I try to hold in my real reaction. Instead, I sit up a bit straighter. “Yeah, she’s still my girlfriend.”

“All right.” Ian turns back to the laptop, studying the list again.

“All right?” I laugh. If my blood could change colors, it just became green.

He looks back at me and shrugs. “Just thought it was worth asking. She seems cool.” He waves me off. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not the hit-on-your-friend’s-girl type of guy. I was just curious.” He closes my laptop, holding out a hand to haul me off his couch.

Peace.

I clasp it, allowing him to pull me up. I’m too tired for this. “You sure?” I ask. “Man, I’ve got no time to be friends with someone who’s gonna stab me in the back.” My blunt words bite, but I don’t care. I’m exhausted and, frick, he’s talking about Lucy!

He squeezes my shoulder. “I’m not that type of guy.
Bros before hoes
, right?” He chuckles. “You can’t really blame me for asking, right?”

My gut relaxes; I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know he’s good. Fishing out the creeps is my specialty. “No, I can’t blame you. She’s amazing. That’s why I’m with her.”

“And stunning. You’re lucky, man.” He walks me to the front door. “Let me know if it doesn’t work out, all right?” he says with a wicked smile.

“Tool.”

“Whatever.” We fist pump. “See you next week? I’ll email the project in tonight.”

“Sweet.”

Once I’m on the road, my finger hovers over Call Lucy. My gut pulls at me and I hesitate longer, as that green, sludge-like feeling creeps back through me. Why didn’t it occur to me that other guys might like Lucy? I’ve been living in a stupid bubble. She’s not mine. I don’t own her. Just because I’m not seeing her every day doesn’t mean other guys aren’t scoping her out.

My heart drops when I think of her waiting for my call. I owe her way more than that. A reason to keep being with me.

I nearly push CALL, but the ache from too much separation rips into me. If I hear her voice, the pain will kill me.

No, I need more than that.

A quick U-turn and my heart throttles.

Yes. I need to see Lucy.

Right now.

Lucy

All right. The Fascinating Life of Whales is only adding to the weight on my eyelids. I click off the National Geographic Channel, glancing again at the clock for what’s probably the one thousandth time. Twenty-eight past midnight. I pull up Facebook on my laptop. Anything to distract me from that piece of plastic on the table called a phone.

Eighty-two notifications. Wow, it’s only been a week since I logged on. As I scroll through, the notifications are mostly about comments on photos or wall posts about my games. My wall is plastered with pics of Justin and I together that other people have tagged. There are the ones I remember having taken, but there are a lot of quick shots of us holding hands down the hallway or chatting in the parking lot. I scroll through the comments on each photo, gut tense, looking for the vulgar change that we saw before.

The comments are all friendly though. I let out a breath, relaxing. Justin would hate if I found more crude comments.

With a click, I enlarge a photo of Justin and me from the end of the summer. A selfie, white paint on each of our cheeks. That’d make an awesome profile pic.

But…the phone sits idle in front of me. I sigh, rubbing my eyes as they start to tingle. Crap. Only three more days. Right?

I glance back at the photo, allowing Justin’s green eyes to penetrate my soul. Then I’m a goner. The dark of the basement overcomes me, exposing everything I’ve worked so hard to calm.

I miss him so much. There’s no way he can miss me this way. It’s ripping me apart.

Is Justin so distant because of his schedule? Or, maybe he’d rather just be doing other things than hang out with me?

What if I’m wrong about us?

No, there’s that deep glow in me that feels so right with him. When we’re together, everything feels perfect. But since we are rarely together, I can’t help but wonder if this is meant to be at all.

This love thing is so overwhelming. The strength of it scares me and the risks, terrifying.

What if he doesn’t feel as deeply as me? That’s totally plausible and would explain how easy it is for him to be away from me. It’s not fair that when I’m out with Laura or playing basketball he’s always on my mind. I can’t escape him. Not that I want to. God, what I wouldn’t do to be in his arms. But, thinking of him all the time has become extra painful.

I never imagined that dating Justin Marshall would be so hard.

My eyes catch the clock. Twelve forty-two and still no call.

I take a deep breath, pulling myself together, rubbing the tears off my cheeks. It’s time to stop waiting. I can’t let myself think he forgot. Being forgotten again… after everything with Zach…

No. I won’t go there. Justin’s not like that.

In all of his business and exhaustion, he probably accidently fell asleep. Blaming him for that won’t help anything.

I shut the laptop and drag myself off the couch. Time to move on and sleep myself. I glance down at my phone, debating whether I have the strength to leave it down here so I won’t check it all night long.

My heart aches with the thought of cutting off the possibility of communication and I immediately reach for it. Partially hating myself. But there’s no way I want to miss his call in case he does.

The moment I touch the phone it vibrates.

Justin: You still awake?

I take a deep breath as I digest that his first text isn’t an apology for not calling. No. Another deep breath. I refuse to be a bitchy girlfriend. This is Justin. He has a reason.

Me: I am. Was about to head to bed.