Page 54 of Between the Lines

Thatis the image that scares me.

And yet…

She stands. Worry suddenly painting her in shades of cottoncandy, in the now nervous bite of her bottom lip as she straightens the shirt that I dismantled and moves to grab her bag.

“I should… That… I?—”

“Wait.”

The insistent need to keep her in my sight, my arms, pounds on my temple like a jackhammer.

I stand. My words have shocked her into place, and I need to keep her here before she runs out with some excuse about how this was a mistake.

The only mistake would be letting her go.

I make it to her in two strides, cupping her cheek with one hand and her back with the other. Her tiny fists press against my chest, and I’m ready to back away if that’s what she wants. But they flatten. Squeeze the front of my perfectly pressed shirt. I decide in that moment that if anyone gets to put a wrinkle in my life, it will be Claire Benson and Claire Benson alone.

I want to kiss her. But kissing seems too intimate for this moment—despite what we just did. Instead, I press my forehead to hers and tilt her chin up, hoping that the swimming in my eyes can speak for me.

“I don’t want to let you go quite yet.” I breathe easier when she lets me keep holding her like this, feeling a knot inside my chest loosen that hasn’t been roused for decades. “I hated how we left things on Halloween. I don’t like that our meetings keep ending like this. I don’t want our time together to feel cheapened.”

I wonder, by the immediate shine in her eyes, if she’s going to break down. Her skin flushes to my favorite shade of pink, and a quick breath of disbelief precedes the upturn of her lips.

She’s grateful.

She swallows, then smooths her hands over my chest. The touch is like a balm to my soul. When she leans in and kisses my chest, my knees weaken.

“Thank you for making that more clear. Idohave to go, but can we maybe revisit this another day?”

I nod at her sweet smile, the sunshine to my otherwise cloudy disposition. An unfamiliar inferno spreads in my chest. Despite the way she’d just gotten on her knees for me, another need overcomes me.

Make her feel wanted like this as often as I can.

I can’t sit and ponder on that. Right now, I can only press my lips to her temple and wonder how far into the deep end I’ll be able to sink before the ocean of Claire Benson swallows me whole.

twenty-three

nathan

It’s Friday night,and I am in a middle school gym.

And there isn’t any place I’d rather be.

One, because I don’t drink or party, most of my friends are old men who play chess at the library, and I don’t want to be at home with my thoughts as company.

But reason number two is sitting right beside me with her eyes glued to the game like a hawk. Like she’s trying to impress me with howlittleshe has to correct the clock this time.

Like she’s got something to prove to me. Like she wants to do well for me.

So, yeah, I could be here sitting next to Claire Benson with her knee occasionally rubbing against mine, or I could be at home thinking about her with my fist around myself for the fourth time this week.

I could be at home letting my thoughts swallow me, while she sits here, on the edge of her seat, with her tongue pokingjustpast her lips as she concentrates. I could sit at the library, across from men double my age while they remind me not to get too old, not to let my life slip away, instead of storing up all of the jokes I’m going to try on herlater—so that I don’t break her concentration now—that will get her to laugh like she did last week.

Right here will suit me just fine.

The Renegades squeak out a win, but without school tomorrow, neither of us has a reason to stay late tonight. As we head to the parking lot, Claire and I are both fidgeting with the thoughts of going back to our own baggage. The baggage we’ve been slowly revealing to each other in stolen, sneaky moments. Once in a bar. Once in my office. Once in the front seat of her car while sharing a large fry.

Tension grips me like a fist around my esophagus, and I rub my palm discreetly over my chest as we walk together. The fact that she’s beside me is the only thing to loosen the clenching fingertips from around my organs. The slapping of our shoes against the pavement echoes loudly, and for once, I don’t want to stew in silence.

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