“Did you want to stop?”
A wave of guilt suddenly washed over me. I didn’t know which was worse, leaving Claire alone to fight her own battles or the sinking feeling that I had witnessedsomething she wouldn’t want to talk about later.
“No. Ryan’s with her. I’ll…I’ll call her later.” My voice unavoidably sounded detached with concern. I would call Claire as soon as I got home, not to gloat about my impromptu date, but as a friend.
Garreth put his hand over mine and gave it a gentle squeeze then pushed a CD into the stereo. Soon the car was filled with the soothing chords of Rush’s “The Pass,” an outdated classic I secretly held close to my heart. I stared at Garreth in wonder and my soul slowly began to fill with something I had never felt before.
We drove down Church Street and pulled into a little shopping center already bustling with the early-afternoon business of high school students free for the weekend. Although I was elated to be with him, this was the last place I wanted to be. All those eyes watching us, wondering, forming rumors, unnerved me.
As much as I, too, wanted those whispers to be true, I couldn’t help but wish they would mind their own business.
We parked in front of Starbucks and Garreth turned to me, his beautiful smile blinding me; and, just like that, the “eyes” seemed a million miles away.
“Do you like coffee?”
“Love it. It’s my one weakness.”
Until now.
I lowered my eyes, convinced if he stared into them long enough they would surely give me away.
The door to the coffee shop opened and the sharpness of the Arabica beans hit me as I inhaled the penetrating caffeine rush. We stepped inside to take our place in line. It was the only decent place in town to give in to an all-consuming caffeine addiction and was becoming increasingly more crowded by the second; several kids I recognized turned to look at us.
Brynn, unfortunately, was holding court at the back table, conferring with her wicked groupies. As if catching our scent over the bold Colombian cloud, they turned in unison, their dark eyes unreadable. I looked away in hopes of forcing them out of my head as I scanned the menu board on the wall, but I was already distracted and overwhelmed. Making sense of the newly listed coffees for the season was mind-boggling, so when I overheard Garreth ordering a latte I figured that was good enough for me too.
“I’ll have the same. Just a tall.” I reached for my wallet to pay my share but he was quicker and handed a twenty to the frazzled girl behind the counter, who happened to spare enough time to drink in the tall, blond wonder standing beside me.
We stepped aside to wait for our drinks at the crowded counter and I realized I was self-consciously aware of nearly everything around me; aware of how close we were standing to each other; aware of the dark scowls Brynn and the other girls were shooting across the room at us; and, very aware of the problem they seemed to have with me getting coffee with Garreth Adams.
“I believe your friends are trying to get your attention.”
Garreth motioned with a nod of his head.
I followed his gaze but quickly looked away when I realized whom he meant. “Um, they’re not my friends.”
Sensing my unease, Garreth rescanned the room, resting his gaze on the back table. He defensively stepped between me and Brynn’s glare, and to my delight, I felt his hand protectively settle on the small of my back. At last our little white cups materialized on the tiny countertop and we were free to leave. It was entirely too crowded and too hostile in there.
I was hardly aware of the Jeep moving swiftly over the blacktop beneath us. Between sips, I stole glances at him, wondering if he felt the strange comfort I felt when we were together. I wanted to see inside, into his heart, to see if it raced in my presence like mine did when I was in his. Was I the only one affected?
Of course I was. That was logical.
If I looked like Brynn Hanson, perhaps he would show signs of being as physically altered as I was, but then why was I there and she wasn’t, never mind the fact that she needed a major attitude adjustment.
Before I could gather my mental and physical bearings we came to a stop in front of a small playground.
“So how do you like Carver?” I asked as we walked toward a pair of swings.
“It’s better now that I’ve met you.” He cast me a crooked little smile, watching for my reaction.
I felt the predictable redness spread across my face as I chewed the inside of my cheek and I looked down at the grass.
“I’m sure you’ve made other friends.”
“No,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Not a single person besides me? That’s impossible.”
“Maybe I don’t want to make other friends. Maybe I’m happy with the one I already have.”
“Is that what I am? Your friend?”
My heart was pounding as his eyes sought mine and held them. Were the questions stewing inside me being answered? Then why was I so confused? Why was he so darned interested in me? And why was it easier to ask that instead of “Why wouldn’t he be interested in me?” I wished right then and there that I hadn’t been born so insecure.
Garreth pushed off the ground with his long legs, propelling his swing into the air. He held his arms taut as he leaned back, closing his eyes.
“Do you remember doing this when you were little?” he asked, his eyes still closed.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Did you ever pretend you were flying?”
“Okay, you win. I used to do it all the time.”
“Admit it. You still do,” he said with a smirk as his swing passed me once again.
I giggled. “Fine.”
Was it really so bad if he knew that every so often, when no one was around, I would still swing, that I still leaned back, feeling the air kiss my face like I was flying through the clouds high above the park. I couldn’t help myself. It was so much fun.
“Come on,” Garreth urged me.
He looked so content with the breeze mussing his hair, splaying his blond curls in all different directions. He looked like an extremely handsome little kid without a care in the world.
My feet pushed hard off the mulch and before long my swing was catching up with his. We looked over at each other and laughed. Then he grabbed the chains of my swing and we were going crooked together, bumping our knees into each other, trying to avoid the steel posts holding us up, which made us laugh harder.
“So tell me, how did your parents come to name you Teagan?” Garreth asked when we were done laughing.
“I don’t really know. I think my father was Irish or part Irish, anyway.”
“He’s not around?” he asked quietly.
“No. He sort of disappeared when I was little so I never got the chance to know him.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yes. Everyone tried to convince my mom that he had left us, but she was insistent that it was foul play. I guess lies are easier to swallow than the truth.”