Page 55 of Running Risk
Pulling himself up onto his forearms, he says, “The girl.”
He’s been semi-stalking a girl who goes to our school, but he can’t figure out her name or what classes she’s in. She’s always going to the cafeteria or gym. He also doesn’t have the guts to approach her. “Heading to get food or to work out?”
“She was in these perfect, mouthwatering leggings and a sports bra that made my head spin.”
“I guess gym.” I turn back to do the next math problem, and he throws a pillow at my head, making my pencil fall to the ground. “Hey.” I glare.
“This is serious.”
I shrug. “You always do this. You obsess over a girl for a few weeks until your next eye-candy comes along.”
“Wow. Says the girl who zones out of every single conversation whenever she sees a buzz cut.”
I gape at him. “That’s not fair.” Having a fight with Ray makes me realize that maybe I quit therapy too soon because this is triggering me, and I don’t have someone to help me work it out. I didn’t think I was making any new progress in my sessions, so I quit making appointments. I’m obviously stillupset, but I hate talking about the past and feeling like I’m making no progress.
“So let me get this straight. It’s only okay for you to obsess over someone because it’s the same guy? None of mine can be taken seriously since I don’t stick with one?”
Tears well in the corners of my eyes as I shake my head. “You don’t understand.” I don’t know how anyone not in my position would understand, but it still hurts. How can he when he didn’t know the relationship I had with Clayton? You can’t go from always being with someone for almost half your life to no communication at all and be okay. You can’t expect someone to bounce back from that kind of loss, especially when it could have been avoided.
He scoffs, getting to his feet. “Yeah, I’ve heard you say that before,” he says over his shoulder before leaving.
38
CLAYTON: THEN
Clayton:19 years old
My feet pound on the pavement through the park, and the trees tower around me on both sides of the trail while the sun streams down through the branches. The California weather is perfect for running, as the breeze easily reaches my scalp with my buzz cut. Sweat pours down my bare chest while “Homeboy” by Eric Church plays through my earbuds. I have a free day, and all I want to do is run these trails. I fly past couples holding hands, people walking their dogs, and others sitting as they read, leaning against trees. It’s spring break for the schools around here, so this place is more crowded than I prefer.
My unit has been training hard with barely any breaks, so it’s nice to be able to get out by myself and clear my head. This scenery is a nice change of pace from running around the base. The guys have been on me lately, and sometimes it gets to be too much. They’re also wondering when my mom is sending another care package. She knows that not all the guys have a great family life, so she packs enough for everyone. They all want to talk to her when I get to call her. She said she’sunofficially adopting all of them. After hearing what the other guys’ childhoods are like, I’m more thankful for her.
I scan the area around me, and my feet falter, coming to a dead stop. Theresheis sitting against a tree, immersed in her reading. My eyes immediately look all around her to see if she’s with anyone, and if she’s safe. No one’s paying her any attention, and people are probably giving me weird looks as I stand in the middle of the trail, motionless.
Her eyes bounce across the pages of the book she reads. She has a little wrinkle between her eyebrows, the same one she always had when she got to a part she didn’t like. It’s most likely a part where the love interests in the book are fighting. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail, and she’s in jean shorts and a gray USC T-shirt. Her toes wiggle in the grass. She looks as beautiful as I remember, and my entire body aches to hold her. Hell, just to sit next to her.
I’ve been replaying the memory of when I saw her at the tavern over and over again in my head. I haven’t forgotten what the guy she was with looks like, and I don’t see him anywhere. I instinctively take a couple of steps closer but pause once I’m about fifteen feet away. The man’s face I’ve been playing in my head comes running up with a surfboard tucked under his arms. He slows his pace as he gets closer, leans the board against a tree, then creeps closer to her. When he’s right behind her, he shoves his hands in his hair and shakes his head, getting her wet. She squeals, covering herself while also swatting at his legs next to her. Once he stops, she looks up at him and laughs.
Her laugh hits me like a ton of bricks. I know her laugh well, and I only wish she were giving it to me. The way it always comforted me when I was anxious, or the way it would make me happier when I was lost in my own little world. I haven’t been that happy since. I honestly can’t even remember the last time Iwas truly happy. I’m about to quietly turn around when her voice makes my ears strain.
“So are we going to talk about your date?” Rylee asks the guy.
I duck behind a tree in case she turns around. I wouldn’t want her to find me spying on her and this guy she’s with. But if she’s asking him about a date he had, then maybe she isn’t with him like I initially thought.
“Pass,” the guy replies, sitting down on the grass beside her.
I peer further around the tree. Rylee leans her head against the back of the tree while the guy plays with a blade of grass in his fingers. My knuckles turn white as they clench into fists. They are having a relaxed moment together, hanging out, exactly what Rylee and I used to do on a daily basis. I took it for granted because I can’t remember the last time we had a moment like that. All I want is one more moment with her.
“So how many have you seen today?” the guy asks Rylee. Even though it’s vague, it’s clear that she knows exactly what he’s talking about, while I stand here on the outside, having no idea.
Rylee sighs. “Two.” She fidgets with the book in her hand and swipes away a tear rolling down her cheek.
What the hell? Why is she crying? Why would this guy make her cry? Rylee is tough, so this is something I’ve rarely seen. I feel sick to my stomach. I never liked seeing her upset, and now, I can’t comfort her.
“One really looked like him.” Her laugh is forced as she sniffles. “Some sick joke. I’m here crying about someone who never cared enough about my feelings to tell me he was leaving.”
My body freezes. She can’t be . . . she can’t be talking about me. It’s almost been a year. How does she even know to look for me out here? I mean, I guess it wouldn’t be hard to find out sinceher parents still talk to my mom, but I didn’t think she’d want to know anything about me.
“Want to get ice cream?” the guy asks her.
