Page 21 of Yours

Ellis gives Tiffany a lopsided grin that makes his blue eyes sparkle. “Are you going to the Halloween party?” he asks.

“Of course,” she says.

He turns to me and frowns, as if he can’t quite remember who I am. I’m used to it.

“Oh, this is Darcy,” Tiffany says.

His frown deepens. “From English Lit, right? Yeah, I know you,” he says, his eyes lingering. “You look different though.”

I shrug. “Same old me,” I manage.

“Let me guess,” he says, raising his confident chin. “Different hair cut?”

I shake my head.

He squints, scanning me up and down. “You’re not wearing glasses.”

I wore my glassesoncethis quarter, when I was running late. “That’s it,” I say to change the subject because I’m afraid he’ll keep guessing and get closer to the truth than I’m comfortable with.

He turns back to Tiffany. “What are you dressing up as?”

“Darcy and I are going as cheerleaders. Willow too.”

Ellis nods approvingly. “Nice.”

“What about you?” Tiffany asks.

“A Viking,” he says. “Some of the other guys are getting crazy. Mitchell is going to be a dead mail carrier, and Trent is going as Mr. Rogers crossed with a vampire.”

“Cool, well, see you there,” Tiffany says.

“Yeah,” he says, his eyes lingering on me.

After he’s gone, Tiffany leans close. “Did you see the way he looked at you?”

I frown. “Like I was some foreigner? Yeah.”

“No,” Tiffany says. “He was checking you out.”

“Hardly, he just never really looked at me before, that’s all.”

“Well, he’s looking now. I think you may just land yourself a Viking if you play your cards right.”

“Stop,” I groan. Ellis McKeever is a varsity soccer player, and his family is richer than God. I think he’s an international studies major, probably so he can take over running the world when his father hands him the keys.

“This is going to be so fun!” Tiffany squeals.

Brian

Darcy’s been gone an entire week, and though I’ve tried to keep her out of my mind, it’s impossible. I miss her laugh, and just having her near. When I drive in my truck it’s like I can feel her absence. More than once I’ve imagined resting my hand on her thigh in between shifting gears. At night I lie there remembering the way her body felt next to mine. Not having her with me just feels wrong. I can’t explain it.

I don’t want to be a distraction or confuse her by calling or texting. She’s a good girl, and I want her to do well in school. I know how important that is to her. But what am I going to do? She won’t be home for another six weeks. The fact that she was a virgin and has all those fucked up thoughts inside her keeps rattling around in my brain. I’d like to get to the bottom of it, find out where she picked that stuff up, then show her a different way, a way that opens the door to that part of herself that she’s hiding from. Thinking about an image of her bent over her desk with her panties bunched around her thighs is an almost constant fantasy, that and hearing her cry my name.

Sometimes the craving to be with her is so strong I want to get in my truck and drive all the way to Vermont. I’ve even looked up the distance—eleven hours. I could do it in a day, easily. But what would I do once I got there? She’s surrounded by her rich friends and her fancy professors, probably all dressed in tweed and talking their big words. I’d be as welcome as a fart in church.

And what would be my purpose in showing up? To take her to bed then leave the next day so I can return to work? I shake my head in disgust. What I’d like to do is show up with a moving van and haul her back to Willow Creek. She can write poetry all day long from my apartment. But that’s selfish of me. I would never ask her to give up her dreams.

There’s also Milton to think about. He wouldn’t go for her leaving that fancy school either. She’s his pride and joy, and he’s sacrificed so much to get her the best education possible. I owe Milton so much; I would never do anything to disappoint him. This last thought tears me apart—he surely wants more for Darcy than to end up with a monkey wrench like me.

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