A Chance for Sunny Skies (21 page)

My chest fluttered and ached. I took his hand, helped him off the couch, and led him into my bedroom.

"So what's this thing we must get out of bed for?" I hiked the blankets up and pulled myself closer to Brian, wrapping my arms around him and intertwining my legs with his until I could press my toes up against his warm calves.

He jumped. "Hey! Why are you so cold all the time?" He laughed and scooped his arms around me, planting a kiss on my cheek not my mouth since I'm pretty sure we both had a good case of morning breath. "It's a tournament and really you don't have to go. I'm sure it's the last place you want to spend your weekend."

I scrunched my nose up. "In the woods with a bunch of crazy people with bows and arrows and probably more than a few emotional issues from their childhoods?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "Hey, they're not all that --"

"I wouldn't miss it," I said, interrupting him. "Especially not if you're going to be there." I ran my hands down his sculpted shoulders and arms. His floppy button-up business shirts really did a good job of hiding the fact that he had a pretty great set of guns. (Or should I call them crossbows?)

His blue eyes squinted as his face lifted into a smile. I could tell that me coming to the archery thing meant as much to him as it would mean to me if he came to my mother's crazy dog birthday party in a few weeks.

We reluctantly rolled out of bed, showered, packed a few things for me, and hopped into the car to swing past Brian's apartment so he could get his stuff together and swap his car for his truck. By the time we were on the road heading for the woods, the sun shone down in speckled blotches through the dirty windows, Brian's fingers wound tight through mine resting in the middle of the bench seat, and a smile was just a for certain thing.

My eyes wandered, looking out the windows to the sigh-inducing hills-turning-mountains that sped past us, carved with such beautiful randomness it was as if someone had sculpted them with a hand out the window, riding up and down on air currents. Brian's hand felt warm and wonderful wrapped around mine as he drove with his left arm, his sunglasses perched on his nose.

I had to stop myself from shaking my head in disbelief. A few months ago I didn't even have one friend. I would never have thought I could talk to a guy, let alone be in a relationship, going on weekend trips together. The pinch in my stomach returned as my gut asked that "why me?" question yet again.

Sure, I had been pulling my weight in all of this. Running away from Brian that first time proved that none of this would've happened unless I had played my part, but there was still that itching tacked onto my happiness. Why would the universe pick me? Was I racking up some sort of insurmountable debt that I may never be able to pay back? Was the universe a kind-hearted benefactor just doing good for good's sake or was it more of a mafia-minded you-owe-me kind of giver? Even if it was the former, would this all slip away at some point once the universe realized I wasn't worthy?

I bit my lip and looked over at the boy next to me. My chest tightened and fluttered in that oh-so-cliché-but-that's-how-you-describe-it way. The fact is that without the universe's help, its counseling of sorts, I wouldn't have ever been able to sit in a car alone with a boy without seriously contemplating jumping out while it was moving. It seemed much more than any "everything happens for a reason" story I'd heard growing up. Besides, I never believed in those, because I could never see any silver lining in my father’s leaving. My near-death images had helped me make friends, start talking, touch another person without flinching, and even go on camera.

That was some real magical crap for sure.

If Disney films taught me anything growing up, it was that magic goes just as quickly as it comes. Which meant that I could ruin all of this just as fast as I was building it.

"Whatcha thinking about over there, frowny?" Brian squeezed my hand and looked in my direction, tipping his sunglasses up.

My hand shot out of his and curled into my body. "Oh! Um." Suddenly I couldn't think of anything to say. My throat tightened up and my mouth got hot and metallic tasting. I could feel him looking at me and then checking the road, over and over while he waited. All I had to say was, nothing. Literally. I was back to Silent Sunny, back to the first time I'd seen him, back to running away from hard stuff.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe. Breathe. Just do that first.

In the mess of my yelling, frustrated mind, I heard the blinker and gravel under the truck's tires. Then he reached over and put his hand over mine. I looked up, into his eyes. I got lost. That scared, anxious girl got lost and the new Sunny found her way back. I sighed and smiled at him.

"Nothing much," I finally said.

The corner of his mouth picked itself up and he squinted his eyes in that confused way he had. Then he shook his head and chuckled to himself.

I leaned forward and looked at the changing roadways. "So this really is out here?"

He nodded. "Gotta keep the crazed armed people away from the city folk." I slapped him playfully on the arm and frowned until he got serious. "The club owns some property out here and they thought it would be fitting for what we do."

"Do other clubs come out, too?" I ducked my head trying to see the tops of trees and hills from inside the closed window.

"Naw. Some of these people go to those competitions, but this is just my club. It's pretty low key. More of a  summer celebration."

It sure looked like it. We drove out of the woods and into a large just-mowed field full of tents and flags and most of all targets. Brian rolled down our windows, whooped out the window while raising his fist, and started steering the truck around like a madman, letting it slide back and forth on the grass. I laughed as his driving threw me about and a cheer could be heard from the tents we approached.

He slid to a stop and a gang of rosy cheeked older people looked up, waved, and a few even came over as we got out of the truck. I stayed on my side watching him become more animated than I'd seen him in the months since we met. My hands rested on the warm truck hood and my eyes rested on his, blue and scrunched in from all the smiling he was doing, and slapping people on the back as he brought them into large, loud, jovial hugs.

Then the faces I was watching turned to watch me. Brian held out his hand. "Everyone, this is Sunny."

They came at me in a wave of noise, bright eyes, and warmth, enveloping me in one-at-a-time hugs. I learned that they were Susie, Carl, Ernie, Darlene, and Larry and that they were pretty much Brian's version of Burt. He had said his family wasn't perfect either, maybe this was his parent replacement.

They wrapped their arms around me and pulled me toward what I could only assume to be the large group gathering tent.

"I knew a gal named Sunny in the fifties," said an older guy, I think he was Ernie. "Helluva girl!" he whooped and we all laughed.

Brian came up behind me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and leaning down to plant a kiss on my cheek.

"So's this one," he said. Then he set me up in a camp chair while he went to unpack our stuff. The other archers pulled their chairs close to mine and leaned in to talk, something that made my stomach feel sick and my skin hot and clammy. Small talk with people I didn't know used to be on my list of things-I-think-I-might-die-before-trying.

I clasped my hands together in my lap and pressed my lips together as they peppered me with questions about my job. The fear of my freak-out in the truck wriggled up my spine and made my mouth taste terrible, but as I started to answer (one-word answers at first) it went away, I loosened up. They reminded me a lot of Burt, with their kind eyes and "when I was young" stories. I saw right away why Brian liked coming to his archery meetings each weekend.

More people arrived, some who had been busy setting up their own stuff came over to say hi when we pulled up, and we ended up not being the only people under the age of fifty. Plus, I got to meet Brian's good shooting buddies, Rich and Stewart.

After a few refreshments and some gregarious story telling that jumped around the group, they started talk of bows and arrows and a great many other words that I didn't recognize. Brian got out his own equipment and tried to give me the whole "this is what they're talking about" presentation while pointing things out, but I still only understood about ten percent. At most. There was a lot of nodding and smiling. I think he could tell that I was lost, though, because he smiled a lot and pulled me into a big hug after he finally put the bow down.

This "shop talk" must've reminded them all why they were there, because one of the old men whistled and yelled out, "Let the tournament begin!"

The group emptied out of the tent as they went to get their gear. Brian held my hand, his fingers intertwined with mine as he gathered his own things and led me to the "sidelines" of the range. Only one other person was there in a completely supportive non-competing mode. Gemma was Stuart's wife.

She was plump and super pretty, with long perfect blond hair that I would have probably done some pretty illegal stuff to have. She was dressed in a super cute skirt-tank combo and seemed so sure of herself that I almost forgot that I was New Sunny again, almost fell back into the why-does-everyone-have-confidence-but-me blues. Then I looked down at my own cute cuffed jeans and tank outfit, complete with a headband Rainy gave me and I breathed that doubt right out of me.

It may sound stupid, but remembering that I looked cute gave me the confidence to chat it up with Gemma while everyone set up. We mostly talked about work and I found out that she worked as a dentist (which I guess I should've known since she had the biggest bright-white teeth I'd seen in a while). When they started shooting, Gemma continued wanting to talk. I, however, had never seen my guy shoot and wanted to focus on him.  After the first shot, I became a huge fan of this whole archery deal.

Brian stood straighter, becoming his true six-foot-something height, something I didn't realize I hadn't seen yet until I saw it. He had to remove his glasses, squinting with one eye to focus instead. His baseball cap was behind him on the ground, too, leaving this sexy messed hair that begged to have my fingers in it. His arms bulged in his heather blue t-shirt and his chest puffed out as he took a deep breath. My mouth gaped open by the time he let his first arrow fly. I wouldn't be able to tell you if it hit the target, flew into the woods, or hit a person for that matter, because I couldn't take my eyes off him.

I found his glasses super sexy and even liked it when he cleaned them nervously, but this uber-confident mountain man made me hot and bothered in the best way possible. Knowing this version of Brian was under all that made me want him even more and I didn't think I could wait until tonight to repeat what we'd done last night. Then he looked over at me, which without his glasses he probably just saw a blur with some fuzzy red on top, and raised his eyebrows, pointing his bow toward me in a "that one was for you, babe" movie-type swoony man move. I think I let out a whimper as I smiled and waved back.

Gemma started talking to me again. I almost waved a hand to quiet her while I watched him nock another arrow (see, I was listening to some of it), but stopped myself and tried to get the gist of what she was saying without taking my eyes off Brian.

"Uh huh," I mumbled, hoping it fit as a response to whatever she'd just said about cleaning people's teeth.

Gemma giggled.

I pulled my gaze away from my boyfriend and looked at her, cringing. That must've been the wrong response. She didn't look mad though, hence the laughing.

"I forgot," was all she said.

I leaned forward in a "what?" kinda way.

"The first couple of times I saw Stuart shoot I think I had a drool spot the size of California down the front of my shirt." Her eyes flicked over to where he shot from a few people past Brian.

Stuart was cute, a little pre-maturely bald, but cute. He wasn't tall, but had the same solid-not-fat quality Brian did. I smiled at her and nodded, closing my mouth for the first time since I started watching.

From that point on, Gemma was a lot quieter. Once I got over the sexiness-overload shock, I was the one who started the conversation about work up again. Practice moved into their official tournament and at that point Gemma and I both stopped talking, focusing on cheering on our guys and clutching the arms of our camp chairs each time they pulled the arrows back back back to their cheeks.

Brian walked over as they called for a lunch break. Gemma left to go to Stuart, giving us our space. I wanted to stand, but I didn't really trust my knees, so I stayed put. He leaned over and planted a kiss on my forehead, his stubbly chin rubbing on the bridge of my nose. He was all hot, just a tad sweaty from the work, and smelled like the outdoors. I wanted to jump him right there. I lifted my chin and the next kiss landed on my mouth instead.

"Having fun?"

I blew out some air and fanned myself with my hand. "You could say that."

He leaned back and frowned. "What?"

"You're so freaking hot!" I shoved him on the shoulder and he almost toppled backward.

He laughed, pushed his hair back with his fingers, and put his heather gray baseball hat back on. "Back at ya." He gave me a cute wink before cleaning his glasses and putting them back on.

I squinted up at him and gave him a sly smile. He held his hands out, I took them, and he pulled me up out of the chair right into his arms, hugging them tight around me and resting his chin on my head. He let out a big sigh, almost like the sounds he made this morning stretching in bed.