Page 51 of The Keeper
He just nods and takes a sip of the soda before placing it on the bench between us, allowing a comfortable silence to pass for a few moments.
“You scare me,” I say, loud enough that he can hear me but soft enough that we don’t have any eavesdroppers.
His head jerks slightly as he takes in my words. “I scare you?” I can hear in his tone that my words have hurt him, and I know instantly that I need to clarify. “Is this because of what happened with your dad? Or because of the kiss in your house? I swear I wasn’t trying to push you too far, I just…”
“No!” I say emphatically. “No, no, no. That’s not what I mean.”
“Well, can you tell me? Because I want to make you smile and laugh and feel happy. The last thing I want to do is scare you.”
His sweetness impresses upon me how important it is that I get this right. He needs it. I need it.
“You scare me because I barely know you, and I feel like I’m falling for you harder than I ever thought would be possible.”
When his eyes fly to mine, I swear I feel a current of electricity shoot between us.
“I really like you too, Mack. And trust me when I say that having feelings for someone isnotsomething that happens to me. Ever. But when I’m with you, I alternate between feeling like I can breathe deeper, and wondering if I will ever be able to catch my breath again. I want to know everything there is to know about you, but I’m scared that when you see my broken, you’ll turn away. I’m afraid that the wrong person is going to be able to see how I look at you, or know how I feel when you’re around. And I’m scared that this feeling is all on me, like this connection I feel with you is somehow in my imagination.Thatis what I mean when I say you scare me. I am not a person easily scared by much, but I amterrifiedof you, and me. Of us.”
We haven’t looked away from each other through everything I just said, and watching his face while I spoke made me feel naked. Vulnerable. But I feel like something has passed between us. Something rare, and true. His eyes are bright, his lips quirked up in the tiniest smile.
When he reaches between us and takes my hand in his, I relish in the warmth that sinks into my skin. Mack lifts my hand to his mouth and rests a soft kiss on my knuckles before releasing me and turning his head back to the field.
We pass the popcorn and M&Ms back and forth between us, not saying a word as the players on the field trudge back and forth. When the clock finally runs down, the team runs off the field for halftime, replaced quickly by the school band and color guard. When Mack stands, I assume he’s going to the bathroom or concessions again, but he takes my hand and pulls me to stand.
“Come on,” he says. “This is why I asked you to be here tonight.”
He leads me down the bleachers and towards concessions, but stops at the swag table that looks like blue and green monsters have thrown up all over it. Foam fingers, streamers, t-shirts, sweaters, beanies. My high school definitely didn’t have this kind of gear.
“Mack!” A cheerful voice from my left draws my eyes from the table itself to the woman sitting behind it. “Hey, sweetie!” Mack releases my hand and walks around the table, bending over to give her a hug. “I didn’t realize you were coming tonight. Dean will be so excited to see you after the game.”
She’s in her forties, with bright blue eyes and short, choppy, chocolate hair. She’s absolutely beautiful, and I wonder how she and Mack know each other. Apart from similar hair coloring, there doesn’t seem to be a family resemblance.
“You know I love watching Dean play,” Mack says, his smile easy and his eyes warm. “Sorry I couldn’t make it last week. I was talked into watching a game over at my buddy’s place.”
“Ah, well friendship is important. And Dean knows you can’t make it toeverygame.” She reaches out her hand and places it on his arm in a reassuring gesture.
“Well, I do my best.” He shrugs slightly, his grin still light and easy. “I wanted you to meet someone,” he says, his eyes lifting to mine. “This is Rachel Jameson. Rachel, this is my friend Cherise.”
She beams at me. “Hi Rachel sweetheart. So nice to meet you.” She leans forward over the table and holds out her hand. I step forward to take it.
“Nice to meet you, too.” I smile back at her because, well, because I can’t not. She has those lines next to her eyes that always make me happy.
When I was really young, before she left us, I used to sit and watch my mom put on her makeup. She used to pull at her face and make comments about her wrinkles. “Be careful how much you smile,” she would say. “There’s no ridding your face of these lines once they’re there.”
That always struck me as strange, and as I grew up, even with my shitty life, I’ve always believed that the little crows feet people get next to their eyes from smiling so much are a good thing. It means they’ve lived a life where they laugh a lot, they smile a lot. Hopefully they’veloveda lot. And I’ll take that over a smooth face in my forties and fifties any day.
Cherise has those lines next to her eyes. So I continue to beam back at her. Her smile is infectious, and she looks like one of the happiest people in the world.
“How did you two meet?” Cherise asks, looking up at Mack and snapping me back to present.
“We met at my buddy’s for the game last week,” he responds.
“Introducing you to a beautiful girl? Sounds like a great friend,” she says, her voice bright and happy.
I cringe internally, thankful that neither Cherise nor Mack are aware of the things Jeremy said to me at my apartment a few days ago.
“Well, we didn’t want to take up too much of your time. I just wanted to swing by with Rachel. But we’ll make sure to say hi to Dean before we take off after the game.” Mack looks around as if he’s lost something. “Where are Theo and Max?”
Cherise laughs.
