Labeled Love (8 page)

THE NEXT COUPLE
of weeks go by painfully slow. I can’t wait to go back to the community center to see if my future husband is there. I’m just kidding.

Not really.

I’m being totally serious.

He probably doesn’t even remember me. Why would a tough boy like Jace remember a sassy little girl like me? He’s totally older than me and probably already has a girlfriend. I’m still a tween.

I SEARCH HIGH
and low at my house to find some money to catch a bus. I hope Shay comes to the center, or I could have bought a Slurpee with that money. I have no idea if I’ll see her today. It’s been two weeks. Two weeks of disappointment. Two weeks of wondering if I will ever see her again.

Two long weeks.

I thought about skipping the center today. I didn’t want to get my hopes up only to be once again disappointed. I’ve started to feel like a lovesick puppy over a girl I just met. Maybe she’s a one-and-done encounter. We had fun. I’ve never played football with a girl before. I’ve never wanted to sit and talk to a girl before. Not like I did with her. I still can’t wrap my head around it. Maybe it’s just hormones. I mean, I’m thirteen. Aren’t I supposed to be at that stage? That’s probably it. My hormones surfaced right when I looked at her. It’s like when Cupid’s arrow hits you, and you never see it coming.

That must be it.

Right when my body’s raging hormones hit, Shay was in my path. I looked at her, and mentally I woke up to exploring girls. So, here I am: waiting for disappointment again. Just sitting here like a pathetic boy waiting on a girl that I have no idea will show.

AFTER A BORING
game of football, I decide to go home. Grabbing my backpack, I tell the guys I’m leaving and head to the door. Disappointment floods my mind. I wish I could shake the endless thoughts of Shay.

Since I don’t have sunglasses, my eyes are cast down from the sun. Right before I grab the door handle, the door pushes open, and I look up.

Everything stops.

The blue-eyed beauty that has invaded every second of my days since the moment I met her is staring at me. Then she speaks. “Hi, Jace.” I just stand in front of her, speechless. “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Shay.” She smiles shyly.

She’s here.

That’s all I can think about as she looks at me, waiting for me to reply.

She’s here.

I swallow all the anticipation, all the worry, and all the giddy feelings I’ve had for her the last two weeks and move out of the way so she can walk through the door. She smiles at me again.

Wow, she has a great smile. I try to regain my tough, confident exterior and act as though I’m unaffected by her presence, like I haven’t stayed up at night wondering if I’d ever see her again.

Glancing up at me, she repeats, “Hi.” She says it all bubbly and full of life. It’s like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“H-hey…” I stutter at a loss for words.

“You totally forgot me,” she says hesitantly.

Like I’d forget her name
.

Not.

“I remember your name,” I say.

“Oh, I wasn’t sure if you did.”

Of course, I know your name. I haven’t stopped saying it in my head for the last two weeks.
I can’t look pathetic
.
I shrug my shoulders, trying to act as though I haven’t been sitting here waiting for her to come through those doors. She points to my backpack. “Are you leaving?”

“Um… no… I-I was just g-going to get a drink,” I lie. Looking down, I notice she has a guitar with her, so I quickly change the subject. “You play the guitar?”

“Yeah, that’s why I couldn’t come the last couple of weeks. I’ve been busy. I thought I’d bring it to see if anyone wanted to mess around and play. Besides, I have my lesson after I leave here,” she says sweetly.

Her voice has played over and over in my head since I first heard her speak. With her softly spoken words, it’s as though each word flows with warmth and meaning. Like she cares about what she’s saying.

“Can you play, Jace?” she asks. I shake my head. I really love when she says my name.

Slightly embarrassed, I tell her, “No, I’ve never played one.” She tilts her head to the side, biting down softly on her bottom lip. I bet everything she does is done with care. Unless it’s football, that is.

“Oh, well, if you’d like, I can teach you,” she suggests. I nod my head, and we walk over to the tree that we stood under when we first met.

The guys call me over when we reach the tree. I look over at them. The last thing I want to do is go play with them and take time away from talking to Shay, but I know she loved playing football the last time. I want to give her the choice, even though I’d really like to have her teach me how to play the guitar.

Standing there, they wait for my answer. I turn to Shay, who is now sitting under the tree. “Do you want to play football again?”

“Well, I don’t care. I played at school today with my friend Cole, but if you want to we can.”

“No, n-no… I’m good. We c-can sit here,” I stutter, again. “Who’s Cole?” I ask and then immediately want to take it back.

She acts totally oblivious. “He’s my friend.” While sitting next to me under the tree, her leg touches mine. I look down between us, and she doesn’t move her leg from resting against mine. It makes me a little nervous, but not in a bad way. She smells so good. Taking her hair, she pulls it into a ponytail and sets it on one shoulder. Then with her long, dark eyelashes, she looks up at me. My stomach flip-flops a bit, and I swallow. “I started working on a song. I haven’t really worked on the words much. I’m still figuring those out, but I did write the music. Do you want to hear it?”

I’m a bit in awe. She’s only twelve, and she can already write music. That’s really cool. I’ve never met anyone like her before. “You write music?”

“I’m a songwriter.”

“Aren’t you young to be a songwriter already?” She takes her finger and puts it through her wavy hair. My eyes follow her. I’ve never really had a girl as a friend. I’ve always been more of a talk-if-I-have-to kind of kid. I really like this girl. She’s different. When she looks back up at me, she scrunches up her nose.

“Just because I’m only twelve doesn’t mean I can’t comprehend words. I know music.” She pauses. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” She shrugs. Then her face softens. “How old are you, Jace?”

“I’m thirteen,” I tell her. “How old did you think I was?” I ask when she raises her eyebrows.

“I don’t know… I just thought you were older than that. We’re like practically the same age. You’re a teen, though,” she says. Now I’m scrunching up my nose in confusion. “I won’t be a teen until I turn thirteen. I’m still a tween.”

“What’s a tween?” I ask. She pauses, holding her guitar against herself, readying to play.

“A tween is when you’re stuck between a little kid and a teenager,” she answers. I can’t help the smirk that makes its way to my face. This girl is so adorable. “Are you ready to hear me play?”

“Yeah, definitely. Let’s hear it.”

She looks down shyly and starts playing the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard. Her small fingers flow effortlessly over the chords like she was born to play. Like she was made to do it. I just sit and watch, taking every string she touches to heart. It’s as though she is pulling at my heartstrings with every strum. She may only be twelve, but she plays like a grown-up.

“What do you think? It doesn’t sound depressing, does it?”

“No,” I say eagerly. “It was beautiful. I can’t believe you wrote that.”

“Well, it comes really easy to me, especially when something inspires me.”

“What inspired you?”

She looks at me with soft eyes. “Honestly, I don’t want to say yet. It’s kind of a superstitious thing for me with my writing. I need to get deeper in the process before I can reveal the inspiration. Sometimes, I start something and don’t finish it. Other times, it’s the only thing on my mind, and it comes out great.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I’ll let you know if this song will be a keeper.”

“Awesome. I can’t wait to hear it. I mean, if you stay with it and write the whole song.”

“I probably will. I don’t give up on things very easily. So, let me show you how to play. I’ll start with something easy for you. We’ll get to the harder stuff as we go along.”

I hope that means she will be coming to the center more. I can’t help but be really happy about that—something to look forward to every week in my depressing world.

She hands me her guitar. It feels awkward, so she helps me hold it properly. “Here, rest it against your lap.” I put the guitar on my lap so it’s resting on my leg. She looks up to me. “Does that feel comfortable?” I nod my head yes. Her face lights up, causing my stomach to flip-flop. “I’m just going to teach you a basic song. It only has three chords.” She takes her hand, placing my fingers where they’re supposed to be on the neck of the guitar. I watch her small hand next to mine. She still has a little flower painted on her pinkie nail. When she places her fingers where she wants them, she says, “Now, lay your other arm over and lightly start strumming.” Every time she wants me to switch chords, she presses her small finger down on top of mine. “Okay, press down on G again.” Her finger presses down on mine, and I strum. “You’re going to be a natural. This time I’m not going to help you. Try it on your own.” And I do, over and over again. A couple of hours later, I’ve mastered the song. I think I’ve impressed her with my skills. Hell, I impressed myself for never playing before. Shay puts her guitar away, as a pretty woman walks up to us.

“Time to go, sassy girl.” I look up and see a lady that looks a lot like Shay. There are differences, but I can definitely tell it’s her mom. Standing up, Shay smiles and gathers her guitar.

“Mom, this is Jace. I was teaching him how to play. You know, like a little mini lesson.”

“Well, Adam would be impressed, Shay.” She extends her hand to me. Standing up quickly, I reach out and shake it. I don’t think I’ve ever really shaken someone’s hand before. “Nice to meet you, Jace. I’m Melody Stark, Shay’s mom.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Stark,” I say. She nods her head with the same pretty smile like Shay’s.

“We have to get going. Adam will be waiting for you.” Mrs. Stark looks back at me with soft eyes. “Shay will be back next Wednesday. I’m sure she would love to teach you another lesson.”

“Awesome. See you next Wednesday.” Shay gives me a little hug and walks away with her mom. She looks back and smiles, and my stomach does that flip-flop thing again.

Wednesday is my new favorite day.