Delicate (13 page)

Mrs. Drez makes another cycle around the class, passing out our grades for the bathymetric charts. She slides one down the smooth, black table toward Grant and
me
. We both reach for it simultaneously. I quickly withdraw my hand. Touching is off limits.

“Go ahead,” I say quietly. He picks up the piece of paper and examines it, then hands it to me. I’m surprised to see that he’s actually looking at me.

“Good job, partner,” he says with a faint smile. I glance down at the sheet of paper. We got an A, naturally.

“You should be congratulating yourself,
since
you’re the one who did all the work,” I say, remembering how I la
y
comfortably on his sofa while he painstakingly assembled the complex chart. My thoughts drift to him carrying me down the long staircase and I shiver at the memory of his strong arms wrapped protectively around me. He narrows his eyes at me. Did he notice the small chill?

“I had a good time working with you Sydney,”
h
e says carefully.

“You know, I enjoyed it, too,” I say. It’s honest. Albeit awkward.

We stare at each other silently for a moment, neither of us quite sure where the conversation should go from here. Mrs. Drez finally makes her way back to the front of the classroom to announce that we need to pick up our charts after school if we want them, otherwise, they’ll all be recycled. I really don’t have any great desire to hang on to this project, but maybe it’ll be helpful to Quinn next year, or even Maisy down the line. Grant offers to meet me after school to help me get the large map to my car.

When I arrive at the classroom after school, Grant’s already beaten me there and is leaning against the door frame, holding the large map easily under one arm.

“Lead the way,”
h
e says with a cheerful smile.

We walk to my car without talking much. But it isn’t the same complicated silence of intentionally avoiding each other that ha
s
haunted us the last couple of weeks. Somehow, things ha
ve
changed. Like both of us are just struggling to find the right words to break the ice. I
,
for one, am too nervous about saying the wrong thing to take a chance. Grant is the braver one, and speaks first.

“So, how’s gymnastics going? I saw your name in the paper. You’re going to a big competition?”
h
e asks.

“That’s right. Nationals are coming up,” I say.

“That’s really great Sydney,”
h
e says. He flashes a genuine smile for the first time in a long time and his eyes light up like they
did
the night of prom.

“How about you?” I ask, hoping to continue the small
-
talk while turning the conversation away from me. “What’s new in your world?”

“Same old stuff.
I’m
going out of town for a couple of days.”

“Oh? Where to?” I ask. “Sorry, not my business.”  I bite my lip.
Way to overstep, Syd.

“I’m headed to New York for a few days to see my brother and my dad.”

“Wow. That sounds nice.”

“You wanna come?” He asks with a smile. I can’t tell whether or not he’s joking, so I just smile and shrug. But something about his smile says,
“I dare you to say yes.”

Grant loads the map into the trunk of my car and slams it shut. He runs his hand absently across the silver paint.

“Well, have a safe trip,” I say.

“Thanks Sydney. See you in a few days.” He turns away from me.

I’m not sure what possesses me to do what I do next. And even as I do it, I subconsciously know that I’ll regret it. Grant has only made it a step or two away from me when I reach for his hand and pull him back toward me. His eyes smile with surprise.

“Thank you,” I say. He stares back at me. Surely he knows that’s not all I want to say. “I mean, thanks, for helping me get this to my car,” I add. I drop his hand, and shove mine into the pockets of my jeans. I can’t explain it. I just didn’t want him to walk away yet.

“Not a problem Sydney,” he says. He tilts his head slightly to one side curiously.

“It was nice to talk to you again. I’ve…..” I let my voice trail off, knowing that I’m only digging a bigger hole for myself.

“I’ve missed talking to you too, Sydney,” Grant finishes for me. I feel the heat on my cheeks and that’s my cue to leave. As if there weren’t a million before this.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” he says. He turns away from me again, and this time I keep my hands to myself and let him go.
What the hell was I thinking?

I push myself too hard at gym, hoping to prolong the workout as long as possible. I want to stay in the protective, brightly colored walls, where the outside world doesn’t matter. All that matters in gym is how high I flip and how firmly I stick a landing. These are easy things in comparison to what’s weighing on my heart and mind. I methodically analyze every movement in my floor routine, repeating each step over and over again in an attempt to perfect any possible flaw. Perfection. That’s what I’ve always strive
n
for. Finally, Sam forces me out, saying I’ll be too sore to come back in the morning if I don’t give it a rest for the night. I begrudgingly gather my things and drive to Trevor’s house. I spend the drive trying to convince myself that I did nothing that I should feel guilty about. I was simply thanking Grant for staying after to help me to my car. I shouldn’t be beating myself up over something so trivial.

Still, when I pull up to the modern two story home, I sit in my car for several minutes before getting up the nerve to walk up to the front door.  Trevor answers wearing a pair of loose gym shorts and no shirt. Crappity.  His parents are involved in a lot of social events in the community, and I don’t have to ask to know that the dark
house behind him means that they’re at some function. He holds my hand and leads me down to his bedroom, which is actually
the converted
basement
. It’s a far different feel
from
the sleek, Swedish style furnishings of Grant’s bedroom, but really, why am I even comparing the two? Trevor’s room is more what I think a typical teenage guy’s room
would
look like. There’s a pool table near one side and a large, dark brown leather sofa. The other side of the room houses a flat screen TV with an array of chords connecting countless video game consoles
,
and his floor is littered with clothes, books, and video game controllers.

“Sorry about the mess,” he says.

“It’s fine,” I say. I stare at the floor, not to inspect the clutter, but because I’m avoiding eye contact with him.

“You’re in a weird mood, what’s wrong?” he asks, taking my slight wrist into his large hand. When he kisses my knuckles, I feel relief course through me. Things are okay. I’m where I’m supposed to be.

“Nothing, just a long workout,” I sigh. I hope I sound convincing. It
was
a long workout, that
i
sn’t a lie.

He sits down on the enormous bed and pulls me onto his lap. His hand presses into the back of my neck as he draws me in for a kiss. The force behind the movement is unusual. Heated. And almost angry. His lips don’t move with the same tenderness they had earlier today. He’s kissing me like he has something to prove.

I finally pull away from his firm grasp, breathless and confused,
and glance
around the room awkwardly.
What the hell?
I spot my pearls on the edge of the nightstand and brush past Trevor to pick them up. I pause for a moment, letting
myself
admire them and feel a pang in my heart for my mom. 

“Well, I’m beat. I’d better get going,” I say, fumbling with the smooth pearls in my hands.

“Already?” He asks, stepping closer.

“Yeah, sorry, babe. I’m just worn out and I still have homework,” I say.

I close the space between us
and
stand on my tiptoes to kiss him lightly, hoping that he’ll let me go without a fight. I desperately want to shower and get to bed and have this day be over with.

But he doesn’t kiss me back.

“Where were you this afternoon?” he asks. His entire presence has changed like someone’s flipped a switch. Anger blazes across his normally calm face.
He grabs at my wrists, not in the normal caress
with
which he usually touches me with.

“I told you. I was at gym,” I say. I try to pull back,
attempting
to ease his crushing grip, but it only hurts worse.

“Really? Because I saw you with
him
after school,” he spits.

“What?”

It takes me a minute to process what he’s actually accusing me of.

“Oh!” I say. “Grant? He was just helping me get our project to my car. Because I’m saving it. For Maisy.”  I’m rambling, and his grip hasn’t relaxed on my now throbbing wrists. I turn them each way trying to pry myself free, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Trevor, you’re hurting me,” I finally squeak out.

He still doesn’t release me. It’s not like the too-tight-hand-hold
. I
t hurts. Plain and simple.

“I thought I made it clear that you were to stay away from him.” The words seethe through his teeth.

“Trevor!” My anger and fear are both flaring. “We were just talking. Now seriously, let go of me.”

I pull my hands back with all of my strength, sending the pearls flying in slow motion across the room before crashing to the ground, the necklace breaks instantly. I glare at him with hot tears quickly forming in my eyes. There’s nothing there. No apology. No look of remor
s
e.

I scramble to the floor to pick up the still intact bracelet and a small handful
of pearls
that haven’t rolled under the bed before turning back to him. He’s finally stepped toward me with his arms extended. As if hi
s
holding me would somehow make things better.

“
You!
Stay away from me,” I yell. I rub my sore wrists.

“Syd, I’m so damn sorry,” he say
s
. He’s still reaching for me. The sight of his outstretched arms makes me queasy. Nothing about tonight makes any sense. 

I grab my keys off of the bed and rush back up t
he stairs without saying a word
. Trevor follows behind me, easily keeping pace as I hurry out the front door. I let it slam behind me, but he’s back at my side as I fumble with my car keys at the driver’s side door.

“Please talk to me. I’m so sorry,” he says.