Page 37 of Winter Break Up

“We’ve just been warming up. I only came here to kick your ass, anyway.” I try to hide the disappointment at him joining us with humor.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my best friend. Coming back to Queenwood for the winter was partially so we could spend more time together before real life takes over. But now that Emily and I are back on, albeit secretly, the only thing I want to do until January tenth rolls around is be naked and alone with her.

Telling Charlie that will probably go over about as well as a heart attack.

“Just passed Nanette Wilds and Jeremy Rigco kissing outside the diner, how fucking weird is that? What’s with random people we knew in high school, who never talked to each other, hooking up during college breaks?”

I nearly choke on the water from the bottle I just picked up to drink. Charlie is so close to hitting a mark he doesn’t want to know about, I almost think he’s psychic.

Em, however, seems to keep her cool effortlessly. “People get lonely. We all grew up, some of us just get hotter with time. Unfortunately, you don’t know what that’s like, brother. But when they see these people who they didn’t notice in high school, and they’re home with nothing better to do, I mean, why not?”

Is that what she thinks about me? From the talks we’ve had, I don’t think so. But I’m not going to say it wouldn’t burn if she does.

“Um, because there are a thousand chicks at school who I could hook up with who don’t know my mom or that time I peed my pants in kindergarten?” Charlie winces.

“Forget the time you peed your pants, remember when you took a header into the pole of the tennis net during gym class? Your nose was fucked.” The memory has me laughing as I tease my best friend.

Charlie rubs his nose. “That shit hurt for months after.”

“Or the time he woke up late and accidentally came to school with those pants that had a ripped seam in the butt,” Em piles on.

“You two just going to shit talk me or are we going to play?” he grumbles.

“You were the one being judgmental,” Emily singsongs.

We form a little triangle and begin passing the ball back and forth, then begin to run a little as we pass up and down the field. Emily keeps up with us and kicks Charlie’s ass with the physical shape he’s in. The three of us start up a little mini-game of pickup, goofing off, and scoring goals ridiculously, before Charlie begs off for a break and a drink of water.

I stretch in the middle of the field as he does so, relishing the feeling of moving my body by playing the sport I love. I can’t fucking wait for the season to start.

“Come on, are we done or playing more?” I’m whining, but now that I’ve been moving, I don’t want to stop.

“Dad thinks he found the tree for the competition.” Charlie’s head is stuck in his phone, and I kick a ball at it.

He narrowly avoids it when he looks up, and it grazes his shoulder. “Dude! You coulda killed me with that foot on you.”

I roll my eyes. “Then pay attention. Are we here to play, or are we here to talk about some dumb ‘tree-off’?”

“It’s not dumb.” An expression of hurt passes over Em’s face.

I start toward her and then stutter, realizing it’ll violate the term I set forth about not telling Charlie about us. But it takes everything in me not to take her in my arms to apologize.

“That’s our family farm; my parents are very proud of it. It might be dumb to you, but it means more foot traffic for Mom and Dad next year, and that’s everything to them,” she scolds me.

“You’re right, I’m sorry I said that.” I reach out and squeeze her shoulder.

Taking my hand away is torture when all I want to do is pull her into me and kiss the daylights out of her to make up for my stupidity. Pigeonholing us into keeping this quiet was a necessary stipulation, even if it feels like a mistake constantly. Because of it, I can’t touch her as much as I want, and time is already running out.

“Buy me a slushy?” She bats her eyelashes at me.

“Ah, a callback to old times?” Reaching out, I link my pinky with hers.

Sure, it’s risky even touching her when I set the rule, but I am dangerously close to just saying fuck it. Plus, buying her a slushy at this place is a pastime that makes every piece of nostalgia rush up at me.

While Charlie is still engulfed in his cell, she and I walk around the halls until we get to the snack stand. I go to grab a straw for her, and Em follows me. We used to hang out here all the time in high school. She’d sit in the bleachers studying or reading, and every so often, I’d scale the small set of metal benches and plop a sloppy kiss on her lips, and she’d giggle hilariously. Those memories sit like warm chocolate chip cookies in my chest, gooey and so sweet. Buying her a slushy to end the night is our ritual.

Emily and I had been in love. It wasn’t some teenage thing or a crush we thought was more. I really loved her, and she really loved me.

“Mistletoe.” I point up above us after putting in an order for two strawberry-banana smoothies.

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