Running Back To Him (8 page)

But it was a far cry from reality, so I tucked that fantasy away with being an astronaut or the first female president, or a Hollywood actress playing Wonder Woman in a feature film. All dreams that would never come. Becoming Wonder Woman would never become a reality anyways—I can’t act my way out of a paper bag and though I have hips that would give the average zit-face teen boy reading a comic a raging boner, my boobs are average—at least for Hollywood standards. But with the advancements of CGI, they’ll probably beef up my bust size in the postproduction stages.

I’m getting away from the matter at hand here—me touching Kellen in a way that makes me feel electric. It’s not real Mags. And he definitely does not feel the same way. I quickly pull my hand away and he shoots me confused look.

“All this drama and I have the biggest game of my life tomorrow and now I have to worry about if my quarterback…the most important player on the field…hates me or not.” He breathes heavy; a look of distress hardens his otherwise smooth face. “It’s not good to have your quarterback hate you. He was right, I broke the rules.”

“But this isn’t…real.” Those words taste bitter swirling in my mouth. As bad as I want this to be real, I have to stick to the script. “He’ll get over it. He’s not in the position to say what’s right or wrong.”

He rubs his chin. “Maybe you’re right. It’s just the other guys on the team I’m worried about. They look up to me. I’m a team captain. And so is Lucas. It just looks bad.”

My hand travels up his forearm, rubbing it up and down. He looks down at my hand and pauses. I pull away.
I swallow hard. “Sorry,” I say clearing my throat. “Listen, you leave your heart out there on the field tomorrow and win big…this…thing, will be a blip on the radar.”

The final bell before homeroom rings. “Lunch later?” I ask with a smile.

“Of course.” He smiles also, but still a nervous one. Not as nervous as before, but still nonetheless.”

“Later.”

“Later.” Silence. We stand there wondering about what move to make. A kiss? A hug? A stern handshake and then a pat on the back like a grandfather would do a grandson after he got all A’s on his report card?

We simultaneously clear our throats.

He leans in hurriedly for a hug or kiss or something or maybe I had a gnat buzzing in my ear, but his lips brush my cheek and my lips brush the corner of his mouth. If something more awkward could happen, I wouldn’t know.

“Jesus,” I say, “I hope no one saw that.”

“We sooo need to work on our PDA,” he says looking around. “I think we’re in the clear.” I survey the hallway—the coast is clear.

“Yeah that was terrible.”

“That’s a walking through the door at grandma’s kiss. You almost cut my mouth with that dry ass kiss.”

“I did not!” I say slapping his well-muscled bicep.

“I’ll be done with practice around 6:30. How about I come over and we’ll…practice.”

A pit forms in my throat. I part my lips to speak but it’s impossible to form letters into words, words into a subject and a predicate and even a sentence that is of meaning and coherent.

“Kissing is like a dance,” he says slowly, enunciating every word. And I hang off of each tip of his words like the answers to all life’s questions are moments away. “A
slow
dance. What’s a kiss going to do if it doesn’t look real? And that’s where practicing comes in. No football team takes the field without preparing. This is no different.” All I can do is nod. “I know it might be a little weird kissing right after a break up. But just pretend I’m a mannequin. Just pretend you’re kissing a stuffed animal or something.”

He winks and heads through the double doors by the cafeteria leaving me standing there, frozen solid. I couldn’t peel my mind away from the feeling of his breath skimming my skin.

How do you have a dream come true and the most frightening moment happen at the same exact time? In a few hours I guess I’ll find out.

Chapter 11

The butterflies were rioting in my stomach all day long. I couldn’t eat lunch at all. Lunch for me usually consists of an iced coffee—not much, but I couldn’t even stomach that today.

All I had to distract me at lunch was Justine rambling about the big, salty pickle I found myself in. Thank God Kellen said he had to skip lunch and meet with his coach because it would be an overload of weirdness if he came to sit with us at lunch. And I couldn’t have the boy who I would be making out with later on that night sitting right next to me. I’m a nervous wreck as it is from the pressure; him sitting next to me would be debilitating. I’d probably be foaming at the mouth in front of him.

“Why are you afraid?” Justine says painting her nails pitch black. She traces the brush over each nail meticulously. Not the ideal lunch menu of cotton balls and fingernail polish, but a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

“I don’t know,” I say. “Just might be weird to kiss a guy so soon after the breakup with Lucas.”

“But it’s just fake. Just pretend you’re kissing a stuffed bear.”

“Kellen said the same thing.” My voice is deadpan.

She’s stops and tilts her head up, pondering. “On second thought, you’re right. I’d be deathly afraid.” We stare at each other blankly.

“He’s
too
hot,” we say in unison before giggling uncontrollably.

“I wanted to say it, but I was ashamed. If this was Ryan Silver, the trumpet player in the band who had a crush on you last year, I’d understand. But this is Kellen Murdock, only like the hottest guy in school.”

“The stakes are much higher.” She fake-wipes her brow.

“Game seven in the World Series type of pressure.”

“Kentucky Derby, and down the stretch they come, pressure.”

“Dr. Dre’s first album after he left Death Row Records pressure.”

Her eyes narrow and she frowns. I brush her off. “You wouldn’t get it. Trust me.”

“It’s like how are you supposed to fake kiss a boy with luscious lips like those and expect to not melt like a stick of butter? I sooo would kill to have your problems right now.”

I stick out my hand across the table. “Look at my hand…it’s shivering.”

“And ice cold,” she says grabbing it.

“I’m a mess right now. It’s only like one o’clock and like seven hours until D-Day and I’m going to convulse right now.”

“You have reason to.” Her body shivers in delight. “With a set of soup coolers like he has…whew! You’re in for a treat. I’d lie all night and say, ‘Look I think I don’t have this tongue thing down yet. Can you show me again?’”

I shake my head. “This is serious. Look, I know he’s hot. Even he knows that. But what about moi?” I shackle my arms around my chest. “He probably thinks I look like the mystery meat they serve in the lunch line.”

She blows on her fingernails. “You’re in your head waaaay too much.”

“I’m not pulling this out of thin air. We have history together. I’m just Mags from across the street. He doesn’t look at me like Mackenzie or Amber Greenwald.”

She leans over the desk. “But you’re not the same nine year old Magnolia who could hop a fence better than most boys. You’re practically a grown woman now.” Her mouth curls into a smile. “A beautiful grown woman.”

I couldn’t help but smile after her making me feel warm and fuzzy. Justine always knew how to say the right things at the right times.

“Thanks. But does
he
see that?”

“If he doesn’t then he needs cataract surgery. Besides, isn’t he the one who suggested you two practice?”

“That means nothing. He’s just doing what he’s supposed to do. He’s just as much invested in this as I am.”

“Those are facts,” she says nodding.

“I’m pushing this too far than it needs to be. You’re right. Just a simple, fake kiss with my bff.” She tilts her head with an unhappy look.

“
I’m
your best friend.”

“Sorry. You’re right.”

“He’s your
former
best friend. Until a few days ago, the two of you haven’t spoken in years. It’s like kissing a stranger.”

I smack the table. “Exactly. Kissing a stranger isn’t scary to you?” She gives me a droll stare.

“I’m not scared of kissing any boy. You’ve obviously lost track of my body count. I’ve got bodies all over this school.”

“Do I need to spell it out? S…L…U—”

“Okay, I get it.”

“I forgot how you had your way with the chess club last semester.”

“They’re such an untapped resource,” she says with a gleam in her eye. “Once you get past the scrawniness and the braces, there’s some hotness under there. I sooo have the dorky boy game on lock at Northern. Last year it was drum section in the band, then the chess club, and now I got my sights set on the debate team.”

“There’s no hope for you.”

***

“With Kellen coming over, it’ll have been more times he’s…I can’t even recall the last time,” Mom says after putting plates in the cabinet.

Washing dishes with my Mom isn’t what I had in mind to get prepared for Kellen to come over. I thought I’d be trying on different perfumes in the bathroom instead of smelling like Palmolive. But I needed something to take my mind of kissing Kellen.

Wrinkly, soap sodden fingers aren’t the most ideal look for a date either.

I clench my jaws. This isn’t a date, Magnolia. This is simply practice. No emotion involved. No feelings attached. Strictly work. Like two colleagues going over notes for a presentation the next morning. Except the work buddy is hotter than a firecracker on an Arizona sidewalk.  I need to get it through my thick head that this is business and I’m only doing this to get back in the spotlight and afterwards this little thing, whatever it is, will be over.

He’ll kick me to the curb and we’ll go back to ignoring each other like the last four or so years. And I’ll continue to daydream about him.

“Yeah, I’m doing a report for speech class on recruiting high school athletes for college and I’m shadowing him,” I say. I shrug to myself. It was the best lie I could think of on the fly. I’ve never been a good liar. But fooling the entire school by creating a fake relationship has to score points with the deceitful crowd. And with just a few days into it, it seems to be working.

She passes me a rack of silverware and I towel them off individually. I hold a butter knife up to my eyes. I need to go heavier on the eyeliner tonight. The smoky eye look might just be the trick to have him stick his tongue all the way down my throat. I shiver.

“That sounds interesting. It’s good to see him. And it’s nice to see how far football has taken him. He used to be so skinny.”

“He sure has grown up hasn’t he?”

“His father and his Grandma would be proud.” I nod, looking down, a wave of somberness creeps up on me.

“Mom…I uh…I need to go straighten up my room.” I laugh nervously breaking up chilly silence. “I don’t want it to look like an earthquake with an eight point five on the Richter scale just hit it.”

“And leave your mother to finish up these dishes?” She breathes deeply in disgust. I wince, folding my fingers through each other.

“Pleeeeease? I’ll do them every time next week.”

“You got yourself a deal.” I wrap my arms around her in delight.

“I haven’t told yourself you’re the best mom in the world have I?”

I run up to my room. “I don’t think you have, so right now is a good time to start,” my Mom yelps from the kitchen.

My room isn’t a mess whatsoever, but my hair is, and that’s the first thing I attack. Though I know this is fiasco with Kellen is fake, I still want to look cute for him. Even if he didn’t see me as pretty in any way, shape, form, or fashion.

Chapter 12

“You want some salt to go with that popcorn?” I ask, as a hungry Kellen scoops handfuls of buttery goodness into his mouth like his tongue is a conveyor belt.

“I’m sorry,” he growls, “I get a little hungry after practice.

“I can see that.” My eyes are gaping at him devouring the entire bowl in a matter of a few minutes. “I’m lucky I even got to sniff some.”

“Your Mom always could make a great bowl of popcorn.” He licks the tips of each of his fingers one by one. I have to look away. Why does everything this boy seem to do
have
to look sexy? He could make something as mundane like putting on a pair of socks look mouthwatering.

He makes a surprising noise in his throat.

“What?” I ask.

He goes by the television and picks up a video game case. “You play Gears Of War?” His voice is filled with a childish delight; the total opposite of his syrupy Midwestern drawl.

“You say that like you’re shocked.”

“I just didn’t think girls play these type of games…or play video games period.” I guess he forgot the ten plus years that we spent together. Too many blows to the head on the gridiron?

We must be living in a parallel universe because I was always the more athletically inclined out of us two. My have the times changed.

“I couldn’t pay to get Mackenzie to play this with me.” His voice is solemn.

Here’s my chance. I could be a way more fun girlfriend than that blonde bimbo could ever be to Kellen.

I shoot off the edge of my bed and lunge to the TV stand and press power on the console. The disc is already in the console. It’s my go to game where I want to release some pent up aggression which lately has been on the border of silverback gorilla and raging bull. There’s nothing like reptilian humanoids from the Planet Sera with hi-tech military grade weaponry to calm me down. I just imagine the monster with the seventeen eyes as Lucas and the alien with slimy tentacles is Ashley.

“Let’s give it a go,” I say grabbing a controller. I toss one to him and though it startles him, he catches it with ease. “Let’s see if you’re as good in the gaming world as you are on the field.”

He plops down on the bed next to me. Closer than I expected him to. His heat radiates to me. There was a slight breeze sweeping through my window before, but now it’s become sweltering in my room. Somebody bring me a fan or an ice packet to place on the back of my neck.

“Too bad my family couldn’t afford to buy an Xbox when we were younger or I would’ve given your ass a whoopin on this every day of the week.”

Finally! He remembers that I existed in his world before this week. Well what do you know!

“That would have been your only way to beat me.” I chuckle hard. “I used to spit farther than you, throw rocks farther than you…”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” He plants his left hand on my knee. My body trembles. And he hasn’t removed it yet. My heart skips three more beats and then he finally takes it away. On the game, my solider gets shot in the face. Normally I’m not that accepting of defeat and would slam my controller against the wall if I was playing by myself, but a casualty of war in this case is fine by me; Kellen’s hand on my bare knee is worth a pixelated death or two…or twelve.

“Yeah I was a little…scrawny and uncoordinated in my day.”

The clouds of nostalgia float through my mind, causing me to pause the game and burst into a fit of cackling.

“Why’d you pause the game? I was getting ready to give you the business.”

“I’m sorry, I just remembered the time when you, me, Derek, and Freddie were riding our bikes and you got so excited by the ice cream truck zipping down the street…I guess you got so caught up by the thought of pushup pops and frozen Snickers bars that you forgot to swerve at the last minute and ran smack first into that parked van.” If I laugh any harder, popcorn kernels are going to fly out of my nose. Kellen doesn’t look amused with me bringing up his time as a human crash test dummy.

“That is so not funny,” he says, every muscle in his face is clenched like a vice grip and there’s a crease forming between his eyebrows.

“You’re so cute when you’re mad,” I say. I lied. He was hotter than molten lava in Hawaii volcano.

“Shut up,” he says, still angry but his face softening. My cackling hurts my tummy. “There was a lot of pain involved in that. A lot of psychological trauma. I haven’t rode a bike since then.”

My eyes widen. “You told me the spokes popped and your Grandma couldn’t afford to buy another.”

“I lied. I have a fear of bikes.”

“Cyclophobia.” My laughing fit returns. And after my solo-laughing he lets up and chuckles, but not as hard as me.

“I was up in my room with a broken leg the entire summer because of that. I couldn’t go outside because of that damn cast. It was the most miserable summer ever.” He catches himself. “Well now that I think about it—it wasn’t so bad.”

“Yeah, thanks to me.” The laughing ceases followed a sledgehammer of silence.

“You kept me from going insane back in that room. You were there every day, entertaining me, singing songs, dancing, anything to keep my mind off the misery of being stuck in bed all summer. That’s a kid’s worst nightmare.” He laughs under his breath. “You used to stand in front of my closet with a black tuxedo, a top hat and a magic wand and perform magic tricks. They were awful, but at least you tried.” He juts the tip of his index finger into his mouth and looks up, trying to recall something. He taps my thigh repeatedly.

“What was that phrase you used to say before you started your magic show?” he asks. I remember it clear as day and before I could even say it myself, the words come to him.

“Lettttt’s maaaaaake maaaaagic!” he says drawing out the words like I used to in a spectacular manner. “I always thought that was so cool.” His head dips and his face envelops with a soft glow. “You were a dream come true.” I breathe in a shallow sigh. I feel uncomfortable and fuzzy at the same time. “A real friend.” His voice cracks.

With half-misty eyes and through a timid voice I want to ask him why he stopped being my friend. But this isn’t the time nor the place.

As he looks out the window, I wipe my eyes, regaining my composure.

He pulls out his phone and looks at it. “Mackenzie blowing up your phone?” I ask. “How many texts has she sent? My hunch is telling it’s more than seven.”

He laughs in his throat. “Please. It was seven before noon hit.” He slides his phone in his back pocket. “It’s actually 8:30.”

“Yeah and…”

“Don’t laugh, but I usually go up to Pirates Park at this time.”

“Pirates Park? Used to be date night with Mackenzie huh?” I look away at him and reminisce about how Lucas you to take me downtown Detroit every Friday night in the summer. He’d take us to the bakery to get all types of goodies and pastries and then we would to walk down on the Riverfront, snacking on donuts, crepes and croissants and watch the sunset. We’d leave when the mosquitoes would decide to make my legs their permanent home. I guess they liked seventeen-year-old fresh blood.

“No, it’s a ritual I have. I go play putt-putt golf every Thursday night to clear my head for the game the next day. I’ve been doing it for a couple of years now.”

“Sounds weird.”

“It’s a sports thing. You wouldn’t understand.” I sneer at him.

“You want to come?
My chest heaves and I suddenly realize the reason why he’s here in the first place. To practice the kiss. And since we started talking like the old friends we used to be, it didn’t even cross my mind. The entire day I’d been a nervous wreck, all for nothing. But I need to focus on the plan. It needs to be followed. Sitting here reminiscing and getting feels on top of feels is not the plan is about. And plus, all it is doing is making my feelings for him rise to the surface. And that’s the last thing I need right now.

“Just come with me for a little bit…keep me company.” The muscles in my face that want to form into a wince are defeated by the smile which curves my mouth. “Sure,” I say bubbly, “I’d love to.”