Bad Intentions (19 page)

“How so?” I probe, sounding more excited than I’d like to let on.

“It’s strange to say out loud, but he watches you. He can’t keep his eyes away from you. It’s protective, not weird. Trust me—if I thought he was a creep, I would kick him in the nuts. It’s more cute than anything.” His voice is tender. His words feel like the truth.

I’m suddenly bashful. He watches me? I knew it. At least, I thought I did. I’ve felt his intense stare more than once. It makes me feel naked—or rather—I wish I was naked when he stared at me. Gah. I feel like a total moron.

“I know what you mean. I’ve caught him staring. He’s also caught me. Then, there are these moments when we’re alone and he…he makes my skin feel like it’s on fire. He makes…”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I just told you I liked to screw men. I mean, we’re on another level of closeness here. I don’t judge, discriminate or hate.” His eyes tell me he’s being sincere and not making a funny. His candor urges me to continue.

“He makes me want to do things that I’ve never done. Lose myself in him, with him. If you know what I mean.” I try to hide my blush by tearing my gaze away from his.

“You’re a virgin?”

I swallow the lump in my throat and barely whisper a response. “Yes.”

“I thought…didn’t you say you had a long-time boyfriend before or something?”

“I did. That doesn’t mean I ever let him hit a home run, though.”

“Come here,” Tank grabs my thigh and pulls me toward him. The blanket ruffles between us. “Close your eyes.”

“Dude,” I squeak, as he gently pushes my chest. My hands fail me, and I fall onto my back. Staring up at him, the concentration in his stare takes me off guard. “You are so not kissing me after what you did with Paul.”

“I’m not the bitch. He does what pleases me. Now shut your pretty little mouth and close your eyes.”

I press my lips together in annoyance and close my eyes.

Nothing happens.

Seconds pass.

A small gust of wind blows around us. I hear the leaves rustling high above our heads, dancing on their limbs, beckoning the wind to caress them. The musical sound of kids laughing in the distance calms me. And then, out of nowhere, I feel a soft pair of lips feather over mine. They hover for a brief second, silently asking for permission.

“I’m going to kiss you, Adaley.” I hear his words mere seconds before the softness of his kiss presses against my lips, but there’s no entanglement of our limps or hands groping one another’s exposed flesh. Only our mouths move together in a synchronized dance. Like partners who’ve danced together for hours on end, the kiss feels natural. Platonic, even.

He pulls back slightly. My arms automatically fly up to try to keep him in place. A soft chuckle erupts from his parted lips. “Easy girl. We don’t want to embark on the road we’re headed down.” He almost sounds resistant as if, with my consent, he could easily press the accelerator and never look back.

“Why did you do that?” I ask, as I sit up. I pinch my lip with my thumb and my forefinger, nervously.

“I did it because I thought you needed practice. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Either you lied about which base you’ve landed on, or you were born a natural.”

“I didn’t lie,” I say defensively. “I’ve been stuck in the batter’s box for far too long. I’ve had a lot of practice with kissing, but not much else.”

A clever grin appears on his face. “As much as I’d love to help you in that department, I know for a fact that a certain someone wouldn’t appreciate that much.”

“That certain someone doesn’t appreciate anything. That’s why he’s a moron, and besides, it’s a little too late to backtrack now. You already kissed me.”

Tank raises a strawberry to his swollen lips and takes a bite. “Like I said. I was trying to help. I brought you out here so I could help you sort out all of this Ryle stuff, but it seems that you’re dead set on him being the problem. He’s stringing you along. He won’t make a move. Why don’t you pull up your big girl panties and do something about it? If you want to seal the deal, next time he grabs your face like that, lean forward and fucking kiss him. Kiss the shit out of him and rock his world. I guarantee he’ll let his guard down then.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want him to think I’m easy.” The expression on Tank’s face is priceless. He’s deadpan.

“I mean…I’m not
really
the girl who dances on tables.” Shame floods my face.

“Tell me something I don’t already know. Or better yet, tell him. Show him that isn’t you, or show him who you really are. I know you wanted the full college experience and all that jazz,” he wags his head. “But you’ve had it. You’ve been drunk, danced your ass off, and paid the toll too many times already. Show him the other side of Adaley that you try to suppress so badly.”

“How did you see right through me?”

“Because I hid who I was inside and masked the truth until my soul felt crippled. When I finally succumbed to the fact that I was attracted to both women
and
men, I was set free. I could finally breathe, and not hiding was the most empowering feeling I’ve ever experienced. I can spot people who are a little damaged, because I’ve been there.”

I’m impressed by his truth, and I sit with my mouth sealed, fighting the urge to let a spill of syllable diarrhea leak from my lips. After the accident, my parents begged me to see a therapist. They felt like I needed to talk to someone, even if it meant letting out all my pent-up anger with a licensed professional. I refused too many times to count. Eventually they forced me, and in the end, they were right. Talking to someone would never heal my scars, but it helped mend my heart a little bit.

“I was on my way to the Olympics. Gymnastics was, literally, my life. I breathed it.” My voice catches. “But after years of stress on my body, it failed me.” The gentle touch of his hand on my leg gives me strength to tell the story that fate wrote for me—one that I’ve been too scared to finish. “I remember the sound that the crowd made more than anything. It still haunts me. The doctors say that I have spondylosis. It’s damage to my facet joint from repeated stress. My body gave out and forced me to give up on the only dream I’ve ever known.” I chew on the inside of my cheek, waiting for him to say something. Most people would jump at the opportunity to give their two cents.

“Life is full of people living their dreams. It’s full of people who will never reach them, and then it’s full of people like Ryle and us who were dealt a shitty hand. Maybe the point of clustering us in the marred category is so that we stick together and help inspire one another to make new dreams.”

“When did you become so wise?”

“You’re just getting to know the real me Adaley, and I think I’ve just been introduced to the real you.”

We finish our heart-to-heart and our food. By the time we’re ready to go, the sun is starting to set over the horizon. Painting the sky with streaks of purple and orange, the day bids us farewell.

“Thanks for the chat,” I say, as genuinely as possible. As we make our way back to his car, an array of light posts guide our way. It’s funny, because I can clearly see Tank shifting his gaze back and forth and from side to side. “Scared of a little alligator, big man?”

“Don’t move. Adaley. I’m serious. Don’t move an inch.”

My body goes rigid.

“There’s one right behind you. Please don’t run. It said in the visitors lounge back at the exhibit, that they’d see you as prey and attack.”

A horrific yelp of fear turns into a chilling scream that I’m sure sounds like an ax murderer just gutted me. I swear I feel my heart combust and my organs spill out.

“Gottcha,” Tank says coolly.

My body twists as the word leaves his mouth, and I’m surprised to find a toad resting behind us. A toad. Like, a small, baby frog that eats flies. “You’re an ass.”

“I never claimed to be anything more.”

Laughter surrounds us as we reach his car and hop in. We ride home, belting out the lyrics to Meghan Trainor’s
Dear Future Husband
. I do find it a smidge bizarre that my closet male friend knows more words to the tune than I do.

“What’s her name?” Mrs. Benson asked her son from across the island in their kitchen. Her busy hands piled sliced turkey on a wheat bun as she made conversation.

“What are you talking about?” Ryle rubbed the back of his neck, trying to sound as vague as possible.

“The girl?”

His heart responded to her words and began to pound steadily in his chest. Just the mere mention of Adaley made him grow excited. He hadn’t seen or talked to her since a few days ago when they’d worked out and he had to run off to make his shift at the center. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder and in Ryle’s case, the old saying was spot on. He knew that he couldn’t continue pushing her away one second and then pull her back the next. While he was scared shitless of getting too close, he was more scared of pushing her so far away that he lost her forever.

Still, he was all too familiar with putting on a front. And that’s exactly what he continued to do.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He allowed a simple lie to pour out of his mouth and puddle around his feet. The realization of how she’d known, caused his blood pressure to rise. Even though it was the truth, it wasn’t one that he’d openly admitted. Hell, he’d just gotten comfortable with the obvious fact that he liked her.

It had to have been Naomi who’d ratted on him to their adoptive mother. She’s the only one he knew who ran her jaws like it’s a sport. “Is Naomi trying to start shit again? I swear that’s all that girl knows how to do.”

“I taught you better than that, Ryle,” his mother scolded, before sliding a picture-perfect sandwich in his direction. “Now eat up. I saw you wrote on the center calendar that you were taking Richie putt-putting.”

“That little rascal’s a handful,” he said, taking a bite and wiping the excess mayo off his lip with the pad of his thumb. “But he has a hell of a swing. Who knows, he might be the next Tiger Woods.”

“Minus the cheating scandal.” The brunette winked in his direction before exiting the spacious kitchen through the dining area.

As Ryle sat on a barstool, he thought about what she’d asked. It was a simple question, but it had felt like more. It was as if she’d been asking a hundred questions all rolled into one. What’s her name? That one was a no brainer. The questions he continued to ponder over were: Who is Adaley Knight? Where does she come from? What makes her happy or sad? Never in his twenty years had he ever felt so drawn to someone. And never had that scared him as badly as it did now.

“Meredith!” he called out while sliding off the stool and catching the wooden leg with his hand before it fell over. “Meredith,” he yelled once more.

She came rushing into the kitchen with a frantic look on her face. “What’s wrong?” Her question was breathy.

“Her name’s Adaley.”

A grin hovers over Meredith’s lips, but instead of focusing on the fact that there was indeed a girl, she got right to the point. “Do you like her, or is she just another notch on your bed post?”

His nose scrunched. Where on earth did she get that from? Again, probably Naomi.

“I don’t really know her well enough to declare any real feelings. It’s just so confusing. She has this whole college girl attitude thing going on, and I know I don’t like that, but I like her when we’re alone. I can see little glimpses of the real her then, and I do like those moments. There aren’t enough of them.”

If there is anyone in the world that Ryle felt comfortable to talk with, it was Meredith. She had never judged or belittled him. Maybe it came part and parcel with her doctorate degree, but it had always felt like she’d understood.

Taking a seat at one of the eight chairs surrounding the rectangular table, she said, “I remember a time when I didn’t really know you. When you were placed with us, you weren’t yourself either. You were a little, brooding, brat.” She smirks. “You thought we felt sorry for you and were only obligated to help you because the state paid us to. The fact was, we wanted to help you more than we wanted anything in the world. Remember how long it took you to warm up to us? It was a good six to eight months. But after that, you started to come out of your shell, and you trusted us. It was little things at first, but you came around, and as much as I still think you hold things in, I think I like the kid you are today much more than the one who felt like he had to take on the world by himself.”