Page 16 of Run to Me
“Then don’t look at it as me paying you back.” He switches his lightning-bug pajama pants for a pair of navy basketball shorts before throwing on a sleeveless gray ribbed shirt. We get older every year but so much stays the same, and I’m worried that when it does change, it’ll take what we have with it. “Just see it as me wanting to take care of you like you do me,” he adds.
After packing our stuff and rolling up our sleeping bags, we crawl out of the tent one by one, the morning light forcing me to shield my eyes. Chirping and laughter surrounds us as we load the car, stickers latching themselves to the edges of my flip-flops. Two people are at the picnic table chowing down on pop tarts and fruit, while everyone else appears to still be sleeping.
“You two heading out?” one of the guys, I think his name is Andy, asks.
“Yup. Something came up at home and we need to get back early,” Nate responds, barely glancing his way, shoving the folded tent on top of his duffel.
“That sucks. We’ll definitely miss you,” Layla says, staring in the direction of Nate only. Of course she only means him. She and I have barely exchanged more than two words. Didn’t matter how many times she came over to our house to study or joined us on our trips downtown to the movies, it was like she was alone with Nate each time, and I felt the exact same as her no matter who else was with us. He’s all I care about. The only one I want to be near.
Nate says bye one last time before joining me in the car. We talk about how we should spend the rest of the summer, and he mentions that we could continue camping in our back yard, in the old tree house we used to sneak away to when neither of us could sleep to read comic books and play card games.
“Do you think that thing could even hold us both anymore?” I glance his way and he keeps his eyes on the road.
“I know it’s been holding you well.” He smiles, giving me a side look.
“What do you mean?” I play dumb, leaning my elbow on the car window.
“Don’t think I don’t see you go out there sometimes. Why do you?”
Sighing, I look toward the moving trees. “Because sometimes I feel trapped inside the house, within all those walls, and too close . . . too close to below ground. So I go somewhere higher, outside, to remind myself I’m free.”
He shoots me a smile, slowing the car as we reach our favorite taqueria. “Then tonight, you can take me high up with you.”
“Okay, but don’t blame me if we crash through the floor.”
He laughs, pulling up into the drive-through. “Good thing Dad has really neglected the grass out there. Should make for some nice cushioning.”
We order way more tacos than we can eat in one sitting, taking the rest home for our parents. The guilt from overeating doesn’t sink in until Nate has to leave me alone to shower. I don’t think about rules as much when he’s around, sometimes not at all, and those rare days are when I feel like all the weight has fallen off me. When I’m with him, it’s okay to laugh too loudly, run too fast, talk too much, and have fun. It’s okay to be whatever I want and say no. Then he leaves, and I’m struck in the chest with a heavy blow of my own fists, needing to punish myself in order to move on. I don’t know any other way.
“Aren’t you going to shower? I can smell the lake on you from here,” Nate teases me from the doorway, dressed in cargo shorts and a teal tank.
“I don’t know. Kind of want to keep the scent on me. It adds to the camping experience.” I wink, standing up from my desk chair, and he tosses a towel at me.
“Go wash the stink off you and I’ll go set everything up.”
“You’re serious about the tree house.”
“I am.” His lips stretch into a smile and he spins around, heading down the hall.
Not wanting to keep him waiting too long, I enter the bathroom and reach for a nail file in one of the drawers. I press the blade into my stomach, creating a small cut and drawing blood. I keep going until the guilt goes away. Once the tightness in my chest loosens enough and I no longer see in the mirror what my dad saw, I undress and hop in the shower, scrubbing my body as soon as my feet touch the tub.
Looking away from the blood flowing away down the drain, I wash my hair and my skin, and once they’re both free of suds, I shut off the water and dry off. Walking into my room in nothingbut a towel, I approach my closet and grab a random pair of jeans and a band T-shirt. Nate’s outside, climbing down the ladder with a satisfied grin on his face when I walk out the back door.
“Anything I can do to help?”
He looks back at me smugly. “Nope. Got it all taken care of myself. Wanna come see?”
“Sure,” I say, falling victim to his infectious smile. I follow him up the ladder, the wood only shaking a little when I climb into the tree house after him. Blankets are laid out with pillows on top, and Nate’s laptop is in a corner next to a box of snacks and an ice chest. Flashlights and a radio rest on the other side of the blankets.
“You’ve thought of everything.”
“Yup. And if I forgot anything, it’s only a short walk to the house.”
“I guess that’s one perk to camping in your own back yard.”
“That and the privacy,” he adds. “Ever wonder what it’s like to make out in a tree house?” He nibbles on his bottom lip, sliding closer to me.
My breath catches in my throat as his face inches closer.
