Where We Left Off Page 3

  Tommy was a man of few words. None, actually. I didn’t know whether he was born the way he was or if some event in life had led to it, but he didn’t speak, hardly interacted, and needed assistance to eat his food and get around the house, a job that Mallory seemed happy to help with. I hadn’t been around many people like Tommy, and it was strange because he didn’t make me uncomfortable at all, but instead I became uncomfortable with myself. Like I was suddenly aware of how easily I lifted my own utensils to my mouth and how effortlessly I could speak or engage in conversation. Somehow the things that I never thought about, I was thinking about. And I felt guilty over it.

  But as I watched Mallory—how she readied and held out the fork for Tommy, bringing it up to his mouth all while maintaining eye contact and conversation with me—it made me realize there shouldn’t be anything uncomfortable about it at all. I wanted to say it was human nature to feel sorry for those who were different from you in any way, but I wasn’t sure that was the case. For Mallory, it was human nature to jab Tommy when he’d turned his nose up at his last bite of peas. Or when he’d burped aloud after a huge swallow of root beer like any man would and she’d scowled at him in reprimand.

  For Mallory, it was human nature to treat Tommy as she would any other human.

  That humbled me completely.

  And it made me think she was the most awesome girl in the entire world.

  After we’d eaten, we cleaned up the dishes, Mallory washing and me drying. Every time she would hand me a plate, I’d purposefully brush my fingers to hers. I wanted her to feel it, to know what I was doing—how I was trying to touch her—but she was so wrapped up in whatever it was that she was talking about, I doubted she noticed. Which was fine because I really wasn’t paying attention to what she way saying, either. Instead, I found myself fixated on the way she said things. There was so much life in her voice. That was the only way to explain it. Every word she spoke was filled to the top with passion. Her whole body wore it. Her eyes would do this thing where they would round like silver dollars. Pure innocence. And she’d bounce up and down on her toes, not rising all the way, just a little bounce, like she was preparing to jump, revving up. And her smile. God, her smile. It was breathtaking. She had teeth that were probably a little too big for her face, but they looked just right on her.

  “Heath.” She paused, mid wash. Her hand found the faucet handle and pulled it down so the water shut off and the room quieted as the water dripped and trickled down the drain of the porcelain sink. “Why haven’t we had any classes together?”

  “I moved here last year. My dad got a position at the hospital. I lived in California before that.”

  “California!” I didn’t think it was possible, but her eyes widened even more. “No way! So you’re a surfer, huh?”

  “Hardly.” I took the plate from her hand and drew the towel over it, not sure it was doing anything anymore. It was sodden and damp, but I didn’t want to ask for another one. I just wanted to keep her talking. Keep her in this moment.

  “California seems to be as coastal as it gets.”

  “Not all of California is the beach. We used to live in NorCal. On a ranch. With horses.”

  “Horses?” she said breathily. “That’s incredible!”

  I never really thought it was incredible, mostly just a lot of work since my parents were always gone at work, but Mallory’s reaction grew an instant appreciation for my time at the ranch. It almost felt like I should rush home to thank my parents for the childhood they’d given me, the one I’d taken for granted. I couldn’t understand how a few words from Mallory could make me suddenly appreciative of my upbringing, but she did that. She was magic.

  “Do you like horses?” It was such a lame thing to ask, but I knew I couldn’t say anything nearly as interesting as what Mallory could. It wasn’t like she was spouting off some intellectual ramblings or philosophical questions, but she was awe-inspiring still.

  “I don’t have much experience with them, but I’m sure I’d love them.”

  She was bursting. People burst with joy or gladness, but Mallory burst with life. Everything about her was magnified.

  “I’ll take you riding someday.”

  Her hand caught mine as she handed off the last plate. It was deliberate and welcome and I gave it a squeeze as she said, “I would love that.”

  I was sure she would. I had a feeling Mallory Alcott loved everything.

  By the time we’d finished tidying up the kitchen, it was well past dark. I’d said that I was fine to walk home, but Mallory and her grandmother wouldn’t allow it. The “crazies” came out at sundown, Nana had said. I wasn’t sure who these crazies were, exactly, but she seemed to think the safest way to avoid them was in a car. That you needed the protection of metal and steel, and her 1976 powder blue Buick Regal evidently offered just that.

  That vehicle was a tank. There were only two doors and they made me feel bad about myself as I struggled to open them. They were so damn heavy. I’d crawled into the backseat of the musty car, surprised when Mallory followed immediately behind. I was more surprised when she took the middle seat. It was intentional and so bold to sit right next to me, our thighs pressed solidly together.

  I wondered if all girls were like this here. It hadn’t been that way back at home in California. Game playing seemed to go with the territory. The chase. The retreat and then more chasing. There was no chase here, no game. Everything Mallory did meant something. Like she was telling me she liked me too, with not so many words.

  And it didn’t feel desperate or too soon. Hell, I’d known tons of guys at my last school who hooked up with girls without even knowing their names.

  I knew Mallory’s name.

  I let that simple fact give me permission to start falling for her.

  In reality, to continue falling.

  Heath

  “You’re home awfully late again.” Hattie didn’t look up from her phone. It illuminated her face, and when whoever she was texting replied, I could see the reflection of that, too. Her fingers flew across the little keyboard that was flipped out on the device.

  It was eleven, but it was Friday, and that was my curfew. Hattie, my older sister, was nineteen. Her curfew wasn’t until midnight, but apparently she didn’t have any place better to be than on our couch texting her friends rather than hanging out with them.

  “Yup,” was my reply.

  “You ever gonna introduce this mystery girl to us? You’ve been hanging out for weeks now.” Again, no eye contact. It made me think of all the times I’d had my face glued to my phone. How I’d walk down the street with my fingers on the keypad. I never looked up. There must’ve been so much I missed. That night when I met Mallory should’ve been like that, but my battery had died halfway into my shift. Stupid thing never held a charge. I wondered if I would’ve walked right by her if it hadn’t. If I ever would’ve noticed her.

  “Come on, Heathcliff. Do we get to meet her?” Hattie asked again.

  “Maybe.”

  I sauntered to the kitchen and yanked on the refrigerator door. Mom worked nights as a pediatric nurse in the ICU at Stanton Hospital and dad was an ER surgeon there. He’d been on call tonight, and based on the fact that he was nowhere to be seen, I guessed he’d gotten that call to come in. Even with their loaded schedules, though, they always made sure we were taken care of. The Tupperware filled with leftover lasagna made me smile. The Post-It note that read, “For you, Cliffy,” made me laugh. Both things made me feel loved.

  Our family didn’t spend a lot of time together, but I didn’t think the quantity of time was necessarily what it took to know how someone felt. The moments we had together meant something. I was good at loving intensely. Mom and Dad had shown me how to do that. Hattie? Not so much, but I knew these were the years where we weren’t supposed to get along. Someday we’d be older with families and our own kids would play and grow up together the same way we’d grown up with our cousins back in California. Even still,
I did love her, and I figured she loved me. The fact that she was asking to meet Mallory was a small and subtle sign of that, whether she’d ever admit to it or not.

  “Mom made cookies.” Hattie flicked her head toward the stove, fingers still tapping out a reply. “Peanut butter.”

  “Awesome.”

  I forked the lasagna and ate the entire bowl of leftovers in about four bites. Mom’s cookies weren’t warm any longer, but they were the underdone kind where the middles remained all gooey and the outsides were just the right amount of crumble. I slipped two into a Ziploc bag and took them with me to my room. My backpack was on my unmade bed and I opened it to throw the cookies in, right next to my calculus and chemistry books. I planned to give them to Mallory tomorrow at school. I didn’t know if she liked peanut butter, but my guess was that she probably loved it.

  In fact, I wondered if there was anything she didn’t love.

  I had to find out, so I grabbed my phone and punched her number into it. Plus, I really just wanted to hear her adorable voice.

  “Heath!” She answered on the second ring. “How the heck are you?”

  We’d been together twenty minutes earlier. I loved that she still asked the question, as though something had changed between then and now. Something had changed, entirely altering my mood: I wasn’t with her anymore.

  “I’m hanging in there. You?”

  “I was better when you were here.” Honesty. Everything she said was always truthful, regardless of whether it made her vulnerable or not. People were usually vulnerable with those they felt safe around. I took it as a compliment that she could open up so easily to me. “I had a lot of fun with you tonight. As always.”

  “Me too.” Though she couldn’t see me, I still felt self-conscious as I tugged my hoodie over my head and undid my belt, one hand still on the phone. My jeans dropped to the floor and I stepped out of them. I kicked them to the side and walked over to my bed, ready to get in.

  “What are you up to?”

  I laughed. What would her reaction be if I told her I was just lounging around in my boxers? I knew I’d get a genuine response, but I didn’t want to embarrass her. She was too pure and so good and over the weeks we’d been dating, that had only become clearer.

  “Just getting ready for bed.” It was a safe reply. My heart suddenly jolted, wondering if she was doing the same. “You?”

  “I’m already in bed.” Her voice was soft and quiet. This was where the phone wasn’t enough. I wanted to be there with her. The thought of holding her, the covers wrapped around us, made me sweat.

  We hadn’t really done anything in the three short weeks we’d known each other. Maybe that was because we spent all our time at her house with her grandmother and Tommy, who I’d found out was actually her dad. Hanging out with relatives was often a buzzkill, but in our case, I actually enjoyed their company.

  I just enjoyed Mallory’s company more.

  We’d brushed hands and fingers and sat so closely next to one another that we could feel the rhythm of our breathing in the way our bodies pulled up and down against our touching shoulders. But I hadn’t made that move to grab her hand and keep it in mine. I’d wanted to. I’d wanted to do that and more. But something about Mallory made me want to protect her, too. Made me want to take my time with her.

  She had all the qualities of a girl you’d fall in love with, and I knew if I didn’t go slowly, all our firsts would rush together. I wouldn’t be able to help myself.

  So I put it all off.

  “What are you wearing?” The words fell out, mostly as a joke, but I didn’t know if she’d interpret it as one.

  “Heath!”

  “Hey, it’s an innocent enough question.” I wanted her to pick up on the flirt in my voice. We could have a lot of fun with this.

  “I’m wearing pink polka dot footsie pajamas.”

  “You are not.”

  “Sure I am. The kind with the flap and the buttons on the back. You?”

  “I’m in my superman undies.”

  Mallory was in full hysterics. The way her laughter echoed through the phone would’ve made anyone else hold the device out from their ear to avoid the blare, but I didn’t. I pressed it between my cheek and my shoulder as I slid down under my comforter.

  “I bet that’s something.” She giggled, which was followed by a pause. I knew we were both picturing the descriptions we’d given one another. It made me wish she’d given me a little more to work with, but I had a good imagination. Even under all the layers—the thick wool sweaters and jackets and scarves—I could tell Mallory had an incredible body. There were girls that flaunted what they had, even in the dead of winter. She didn’t do that. That made her hot as hell.

  “Oh, it’s something, all right.”

  Silence again, but it wasn’t awkward. Hesitant, maybe. The ceiling fan above me ticked softly with each rotation. The circulating air curled a corner of my Sum 41 poster and it made a papery rustling. Even over those background noises, I could hear her shallow breathing. Could sense the rise and fall of her chest.

  “Mallory.” I hadn’t meant to say her name, to have it escape on a breath.

  “Heath.”

  I swallowed audibly. “When I kiss you, what’s it going to be like?”

  Maybe it was the sound of the heater kicking on, but I swore I heard a little gasp through the phone. “When?”

  “Yes.” Some of my confidence returned. I smiled to myself. “When I kiss you. Because it’s a when.”

  “I don’t know what it will be like.” Her voice was small. “I’ve never been kissed before.”

  Of course she hadn’t. I wanted to laugh, not at all to make fun of her, but just from the fact that all the pieces of Mallory fit together so completely. Everything made sense, which was unexpected, even though it shouldn’t be.

  “I’ll tell you how it will go, then.”

  “Okay.”

  She liked this, I could sense it. If she hadn’t, she’d let me know, because Mallory wasn’t one to shy away from her feelings. She’d say for me to knock it off or that I was making her uncomfortable. I appreciated that about her, that she didn’t let anyone get away with doing something she didn’t want them to. So I assumed that meant she wanted to kiss me, too. I went with it.

  “First, I’m going to make sure I’ve put on a lot of ChapStick ahead of time because this awful weather is terrible on the lips. No one wants to kiss that.”

  “I might want to kiss that.”

  I stuttered, not expecting her to interject. “Maybe, but only because you don’t know any better. Sandpaper lips are no fun. Trust me.”

  “All right.” She laughed. “I do.”

  And she did trust me, so I kept going. “I’m going to look you right in those light green eyes of yours. You’ll recognize how it feels because it’s the same look I give you every time I’m with you. That look where I’m wondering how on earth a girl like you literally fell into my life, and why you’ve let me stay around. My stomach is going to feel like it’s both on fire and not even there at all, and yours will too.” My breath quickened and I made sure that my words didn’t try to match the pace. I deliberately slowed everything down. “I’ll move a little closer …”

  “Uh, huh.”

  “Not all the way, just enough where I can still look at you. You’ll be able to feel my breath on your mouth. It will be warm and minty because I’ll have brushed my teeth before coming over.”

  “I don’t think I would care if you didn’t.”

  “Still,” I teased. “I will. Only the best for you.”

  “Aquafresh, then.”

  “Okay.” I chuckled at her suggestion. “Okay. I can arrange that. Anyway, I’ll move in and lift my palm to the back of your neck. My hand will probably be shaking, but you won’t mind. My other hand will cradle your jaw and I’ll pull you a little closer. Then I’ll close my eyes.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this, and how turned on I was getting in just describing a kiss
. I knew there were plenty of websites I could visit or things I could look up to get the job done a little quicker, but this was doing enough for me. As much as I should do with Mallory, I figured. “You’ll take that as your cue to close your eyes, too.”

  “I am.”

  God, that girl made me smile. The thought of her—even if she was wearing those ridiculous pajamas she talked about—taking in every word I said, doing it along with me, was too much. She was too much.

  “All right,” I said. “Then my lips will meet yours. Soft at first. Just the bottom one. I’ll lean in so our chests touch. You’ll be able to feel my heart, how it thuds and pounds. Yours will do the same. You’ll bring your hands around my waist and encircle your arms around me, too. I’ll run my fingers through your hair and guide you with my hand on the back of your neck. It will be slow and you’ll suddenly be able to feel it in every inch of your body. The way your toes tingle. How your legs are weightless. That flutter deep in your stomach. The pulse in your wrist. The sweat on your brow.”

  I needed to thank Mrs. Ritcher, my sophomore English teacher, for that section on poetry and prose. Clearly I had learned a thing or two from that unit. By the sounds of Mallory on the other line, I figured she was also grateful for the A+ I’d pulled out of that class.

  “I feel it.”

  So did I. I felt every bit of what I was saying as though it was happening right here, right now. I wondered if they had those 1-900 number jobs for guys, too, or if phone sex was just a thing girls got paid to do. Either way, it wasn’t like I’d experience this reaction with anyone else. It was just Mallory. Only her.

  “It wouldn’t last too long because I’d leave you wanting more. Just long enough to where those butterflies started to go away, but not before they all left completely. I’d take a step back and I wouldn’t open my eyes until we were no longer touching. Then I’d flash you my dimples,” I said. “And you’d most likely faint due to my mad skills.”