Page 15 of The Keeper
“Amy shot me a text last night asking if I could babysit. If I had known it was her anniversary I would have figured something out instead of just telling her I was busy.”
“Correction. You told her you had an ‘unbreakable commitment.’” I glance at his face as I circle him and I see that same flash of embarrassment. He’s silent for a moment, his brows pulled together, and I worry that I’ve somehow made him think I’m mocking him for real instead of for fun.
“Yeah, well…” he starts, but trails off without finishing his thought.
The silence between us becomes uncomfortable for the first time. Everything up until now has been easy. Our conversation, our teasing, my shy glances and his bold stares. Even our silence has been easy and free from that awkward need to fill the space. After a minute or two I finally just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“I’ve only ever had one boyfriend,” I say, unsure exactly where I’m going with this. Mack looks up at me briefly, then back at the street in front of him. “We dated in high school. He was always uncomfortable with the fact that I hung out with the guys, that I could play ball. He was always on me about how I dressed and how I sat and how I joked around with the guys. He made it seem like I was defective because I played gritty sports with a bunch of meat heads instead of wanting to spend time at the mall.”
“Sounds like he was more concerned about how you playing sports made him feel, rather than supporting it because you enjoy it,” Mack cuts in.
I stop riding in circles around Mack and pull up next to him, not making eye contact, just rolling slowly next to him as he walks.
“He was a tool. He wound up cheating on me with a cheerleader. So cliché, right? For the rest of high school, I actually questioned myself as an athlete, wondering if I would have to quit the mud baths and sweaty, dirty behavior if I wanted to ever date again, as if there’s something wrong with women who play sports. But when you’re barely 16 and surrounded by girls who spend hours on hair and makeup and clothes, andalsosurrounded by a bunch of guys who had so much to say about the female body and what these girls would wear and how they looked… I just really struggled to see myself in anything but a negative light. You know?”
We turn the corner and I can see my apartment complex at the end of the block.
“I’ve only had the one boyfriend, and I think that negative attitude kept guys away for the rest of high school. But I’ve been on some dates here and there in college now that I finally have more confidence in who I am and what I do. Nothing serious, just random guys. And even though I’m comfortable with myself now, I’ve always played the casual card, my approach to dating has almost been to smack guys over the head with who I am. My therapist told me it was a way of weeding through the people who weren’t worth my time to make sure that the shitty guys who care about superficial things don’t have a chance to hurt me. I always wear the same clothes I wore that day. No effort. Just, ‘here is me’.” I pause, trying to sort through my thoughts quickly. There’s a point, here, and I need to make it.
“Today, I was ready an hour early. I showered. I shaved. I put on mascara. I picked out a new outfit. And I realized as I was getting ready that sometimes, a guy can be worth the extra effort. Simply because they make your face flush, and you get butterflies when they look at you, and they take you on bike rides and win you jelly bracelets.”
We stop in front of the gate to my complex, and I connect with his eyes for the first time since I started talking. He’s looking at me with such intensity, I feel like I might burst into flames.
“I guess the point of that overly long and far-too-detailed story is that I just want you to know that today was an unbreakable commitment for me too.”
My heart is pounding. So fast, so hard. I’ve never revealed that much about myself so quickly, so early. But I know it’s worth it. Mack seems worth it.
Please be worth it.
Just as his mouth opens like he’s going to say something, Anna lets out a wail and starts squirming frantically. Mack drags his eyes away from me and sets Anna down, where she promptly flings herself to the ground in tears.
“I think she’s tired,” he says, glancing at his watch. “I should probably get her home so she can lay down.”
“Okay, yeah,” I say, looking away from him and rolling my bike towards his truck.
Mack unlocks the door, then buckles a squirmy Anna into a car seat that is already set up in the back. After cracking the window, he shuts the door and picks up my bike, lifting it into the bed. When he’s done strapping down both of the bikes, he hops down next to me.
“I had a really great time today.” He reaches forward to take my hand, but instead of linking our fingers, he just holds my hand and rubs lazy circles against the inside of my wrist, under the bracelets. My stomach is jumping all over the place. He’s looking at his hand on mine when I hear him say, “I really want to kiss you,” then his eyes lift and stop at my lips, and my stomach launches itself into my throat, “but I have Anna in the car, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stick around.” I can do nothing but nod as he continues to rub circles. “But I’m gonna hug you goodbye, because just holding your hand today has been the most amazing torture I’ve ever felt, and I’m not ready to let go of that yet.”
If I thought my heart was beating fast earlier, I had no clue. I can feel it racing a million miles an hour as he leans forward and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me snug into his solid chest. My arms instinctively loop around his neck, our cheeks pressed together. We just stand there for a minute. An hour, maybe. I have no idea. But I know that no kiss in my life has felt as good as being wrapped in his arms. Damn, he smells good.
His head drops as he pushes his face into my neck, and I hear him inhale.
“You feel it too, right?” he whispers, his hands on my lower back playing with the edge of my shirt. His thumb sneaks under the fabric and strokes lightly against my skin. “Please tell me I’m not crazy and that you feel this connection too.”
My eyes squeeze shut as I try to temper the flood of emotions rushing through me. “Don’t worry,” I reply. “I think we’re both crazy.”
He presses his face into the crook of my neck one more time before releasing me and taking a step back. He looks at me for a moment, his eyes soft.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” he says. And then he’s hopping into his truck and driving down the street.
The minute he turns the corner, I lay flat on the ground on the side of the road, letting the cold cement cool my flushed body.
Maybe Charlie was right about firsts, because if this is how I react to a hug from Mack, I can’t imagine what my response would be if I were to have sex with him. And in that moment, I know that whatever happens between us is going to absolutely wreck me.
Chapter Three
When I wander into the apartment, I find Charlie still splayed on the couch, reading and snuggled under a blanket. Without a word, I crawl onto the couch with her, sneaking my body between her arms and wrapping myself around her, my head intentionally blocking her from seeing her book.
