Page 6 of One More Round

I'd say that I've known Gia Newman my whole life, but that wouldn't be true anymore. We grew up in the same small town and became close friends in middle school. We lived on the same street, so we walked home from the bus stop together. And our friendship just grew. I really don't know how it happened.

By high school, we were attached at the hip. My buddies thought we were screwing. I denied it at first, said that she was just my best friend. And she was but it didn't take me long to realize that it was more than that. At least on my end. By our sophomore year, everyone just assumed we were an item. Neither of us corrected the assumption. So, maybe we were.

When she left at the end of our sophomore year, I thought my life was over. I might have been a bit dramatic. I didn't know what hit me. Just like that, she was gone. She wouldn't take my calls. I didn't have her new address. It felt like a piece of me just disappeared.

I might not know this grown-up version of Gia, but one thing about her remains the same: I know when something is weighing on her mind. Even though Morgan and Dex are carrying on next to me, I can't take my focus off of Gia, who's cleaning in the kitchen.

She stands at the sink doing dishes, but she is just staring out the window above the sink. There is this far-off look in her eyes. I shouldn’t let it bother me and, yet, it does.

Growing up, life was hard for her at home. Her twin, Todd, was a massive pain in the ass. He was so mean to Gia. He had some mental problems, but for the longest time he was undiagnosed and running wild around town. It wreaked havoc on Gia's life.

I remember finding her one evening up in the tree house in my backyard. She had been crying over something Todd had done, I don't even remember what it was now.

We were 14, and I was in that awkward boy-turning-into-a-teen stage. I was skinny as shit, but all I wanted to do was comfort her. I slung my arm around her and she laid her head on my shoulder.

"You are the only one that makes me feel better," she sniffled.

I squeezed her a bit closer.

"You're the only one who knows how mean he can be to me. Can I just stay in this tree house with you forever?" She spoke through dried-up tears and a stuffy nose.

"I'll always be here for you, Gia. And I'll keep you for as long as you want to stay," I murmured into her hair.

I was lame back then. But she was mine and I was hers. I never told anyone about how bad things were with her brother. Her parents knew, to an extent, about how mean he was to her. They tried so hard to get him the help he needed, but it was a very stressful time for all of them.

This memory makes me wonder about them now though. What is her relationship with Todd like now that they are adults? I assume he doesn't live in Chicago since her parents don't. They go where Todd goes. That's what took her away from me when we were sixteen.

Dex and Morgan get up and leave the room. I think she is staying with Dex tonight, but I haven't been paying any attention to the conversation. Against my better judgment, I stand and head for the kitchen under the guise of getting a drink. I open the fridge, surreptitiously trying to get her attention.

I close the door with a bit more force than necessary. Nothing. So, I walk up to the sink next to her and look out the window, too.

God, she smells good.

So damn good.

And she’s absolutely stunning. Her golden hair comes past her shoulders and falls in waves that make me think she’s been at the beach all day, though I know she hasn’t. Her slightly rounded nose and perfect pink lips are precisely how I remember them. But her dark-blue eyes always have a way of rooting out people’s bullshit, which is what I’m certain will happen if she ever looks up at me.

I've done my best to keep a physical distance from her. I don't want to be too close, for fear that I will reach out and touch her, like old times. She was always so close to me when we were kids.

I brush her arm as I lift the pop to my mouth and take a drink. This startles her, but it only takes a second to regain her composure.

"What ya looking at?" I ask, not taking my eyes off the apartment building across the street.

"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking, I guess," she sighs as she moves the bowl in her hands back under the running water.

"You guess? How do you not know?" I ask, using my same words from earlier, but in a gentler tone.

She looks at me this time, which is what I wanted. "Stop asking me questions if you always hate my answers." She says it with a ghost of a smile.

Acting on its own, my shoulder bumps hers.

We've danced around each other for months. I haven't touched her since that first night we met again as adults. I shook her hand because I was caught off guard. But today, we've touched twice. Where are the walls I've built?

She looks up at me with a hint of something in her eyes that I can't quite figure out. Interest? Need? Maybe longing.

"I'm just kidding, G." I smile at her. Something I haven't done toward her in a very long time. Yeah, that look in her eyes is definitely longing.

She gives me a sad smile before turning to put the bowl on the drying rack. It isn't lost on me that she's hand-washing the dishes instead of letting the dishwasher take care of them.

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