Page 52 of Easy Out

No one does. Except for Hart.

12

HART

I haven’t been to the rec center since I was a little kid. I played a few seasons of basketball. My mom thought it would be a good way to balance out the amount of gorditas I was eating. The rec center is one of the places we went for away games. It’s kind of a shit hole, but I won’t mention it to Lauren. I’m sure she already knows.

The building is practically falling apart. The linoleum floor is chipped in places. The windows have cracks. I could probably find a bullet hole or two if I looked hard enough.

Walking through the door, I’m immediately hit with this stale, musty aroma mixed with artificial lemon and pine. The building is old, but at least someone mopped the floors.

I’m not sure what to expect tonight. Lauren has been quiet since the moment we left her dorm. I can tell she is nervous. I don’t know if she’s worried about me or the kids. She has told me at least a hundred times to ignore everything they say.

“Are you going to teach them some of those moves you were doing while you made dinner?” I tease Lauren. Her cheeks flush while she stares at the floor.

When I got to her room, I knocked a few times on her door, but no one answered. A redhead across the hall asked if Sydney and Lauren were expecting me. I said yes. She told me to use the key under the mat. I scowled at her. She didn’t know me, at least not personally. Almost everyone knows of me on campus. Unfortunately.

Either way, she shouldn’t be telling a stranger about the hidden key under their mat. I will be talking to Lauren and Sydney about this. It’s not safe for many reasons. Especially with the crazy redhead across the hall.

I put the key in the lock, twisted the handle, and pushed the door open. The music was loud. It's no wonder they didn’t hear me knocking.

In the kitchen, Sydney and Lauren were chopping vegetables while simultaneously dancing to the music. Joy radiated off them. It was evident how close they are.

“No.” I used to think Lauren kept her answers short just to mess with me. After spending so much time together, I’m starting to learn her social cues. If she doesn’t talk, it’s because she’s embarrassed or nervous.

I’m not going to push for more. At least not yet. I still haven’t fully processed everything we talked about yesterday.

I wasn’t sure what I expected Lauren to admit as her biggest fear. Maybe heights or drowning.

Being left behind? I wasn’t prepared for that.

Lauren stops outside a door on the second floor of the facility. There is a hard thump of music coming from inside the room.

"What’s wrong, cariño?" I want to reach out and hold her hand or run my fingers down her arm to comfort her. Maybe massage her shoulder gently to reassure her everything will be fine. I want Lauren to understand I’m here for her.

I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.

Lauren looks at me. Then down the hall. Her eyes glance at the door and then back to me. Lauren rakes her teeth over her bottom lip debating her next move.

“They’re good kids, Hart, but I fully expect them to say things about you. Ignore them. They don’t mean anything by it. They are just trying to tease me and get under my skin.”

"Is that why you’re nervous, brujita?" She shrugs. “They tease you because they love you. I’m not going to go running because a couple of teenagers don’t like me.” I see it, then. The relief in her eyes when I confirmed I wouldn’t run.

Lauren takes a deep breath, places her hand on the doorknob, and pushes the door open. Two guys and a girl are dancing, facing a wall of mirrors, while another girl with curly brown hair films them.

Lauren urges me forward with a nod. I follow her to a table in the back corner of the room. We’re both careful to stay out of view of the camera. Lauren takes the bag I carried for her and places it on the table.

She unpacks paper plates, forks, napkins, and the leftover tray of the lasagna she made tonight. Damn, this girl is something else.

I’ve never met someone with a heart as big as hers.

A kid half my size and no older than ten steps up to me. He gives me a once-over. “Are you Lauren’s boyfriend?” The kid asks in Spanish.

“No,” I say, hating the answer.

“But you want to be.” The kid reads me like a book. I scowl at him. He laughs. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell her.”

Lauren walks over and ruffles the kid’s hair. “Manny, this is my friend Hart. Hart, this is Manny. He is Carlos’s little brother and hangs out with us sometimes.”

---