Love Blind (18 page)

Like most things on my fear list, this would have been nothing for so many people. Even for the little kids who swam on the peewee team, but for me? I'd finally remembered what it was like to jump in and do something new.

And like that, my mojo was back. My fear list would be conquered.

“We still gotta pick up the other spawn.” Tess laughed. “Hopefully I have dry clothes in the car.”

◊ ◊ ◊

I'd changed in Tess's car. Her sleep shirt with
I WOKE UP LIKE THIS
printed on the front and a pair of leggings she sometimes
used under her skirts. My bra was still wet, and so were my shoes, but I wasn't about to go without either.

The soccer fields were a sea of green with colored, moving spots. I'd fail as a nanny on day one and probably go home with the wrong kid.

“I can't believe you're still a nanny.” I laughed and poked her side.

“Whatever.” Tess stepped up on a bench in her standard black and scanned the soccer field for spawn two.

Spawn one had his tablet poised in front of him and slowly sat as Tess tried to find his brother.

I stood next to her and pretended I could make sense of the small blobs on the enormous field. I could see well enough to know there were a lot of goal nets, which probably equaled a lot of people and places to look.

“Nannying pays for the gas, and I can eat all the snacks and soda I want after school. And Queen B doesn't care how I dress because she thinks it's a cultural thing, and that her kids should be exposed to all cultures.” A snort followed that statement. Leave it to Tess to find something good in someone else's ignorance or overzealous parenting.

“Want help looking for the kid?” I teased.

“Funny.” She sighed. “There are, like, six different fields out here. I don't know which one he's at today.”

A guy near us was kicking and bouncing a soccer ball—off his head, on his knee, the other knee, foot. . . . I couldn't see
the ball well, but it made these awesome blurs around his body without touching the ground.

He stopped and caught the ball. “You like?” Big eyes. Strong legs. Not bad. Pale skin. Accent, but I sucked with accents, so I couldn't even guess where he was from. Eastern Europe? Russia?

“It's cool. Are you showing off?” I asked.

“Yes. I'm Pavel.”

“No way.
The
Pavel?” I jumped off the bench to get closer, to try and see him better. The moms were about to win the fight on when my next eye appointment would be. He nodded.

“
Kyle's
Pavel?” I squinted and leaned toward him a bit farther, but he smelled like a guy who'd been running in two-day-old soccer gear, so I backed off.

“I know Kyle,” he said. He nodded, determined and sure, as if all was good with the world. Kyle was right. He seemed a lot less fucked up than Kyle did. Huh.

“I'm Hailey.” I stuck out my hand.

“The gorgeous lady with glasses.”

“Hey, Kyle said I was gorgeous? That was cool of him.” All of my Hailey confidence had been found again after the leap into the pool. I got a stern lecture from the pool manager, but I didn't care anymore. That item was crossed off my list.

“Yes, and you are now friends again after his sad, negative-thinking summer?”

I nodded. “We're friends.”

“But he has not found your G-spot? It's not a myth, you know. It's part of the clitoris.”

Pavel was even better than Kyle said. “Dude. You can't say stuff like that to girls. Not right away, at least. And Kyle and I are nothing like that.”

He frowned. “He has not listened to my advice.”

I grinned. “Guess not. He's coming to hang with the moms tonight. And this is an awesome coincidence because I was going to tell Kyle that we had to meet. It's even better that we met without him. I'm sure it'll come up later at a really bad time.”

I started planning the timing on my
I met Pavel and he asked about my G-spot
for full dramatic effect.

“Good.” Pavel nodded, the soccer ball tucked under an arm. “Tell him to
think positive
.” He even gave me a thumbs-up and a determined face to go with it.

I laughed because what the hell else do you do when someone busts out a slogan like that? “Keep up with
Cosmo
, Pavel. Maybe we'll run into you later on purpose.”

“We'll see you, Hailey.” He turned and jogged back out to the kids he was helping.

“Who the hell was that?” Tess frowned.

“Friend of Kyle's.” I squinted to see if Pavel was hanging with anyone his own age, or if he was chasing the little kids around. He was far enough away that I couldn't tell.

“I still don't get your fascination with Kyle.” She shook her head, but there wasn't enough irritation in her voice for me to take her seriously.

“He gets the list, he's more fucked up than me, and he's decided to come back for more. All good traits.”

Tess pointed off in the distance. “I found the twerp.”

“All right. I don't like kids, so I'm gonna head home now that we're closer to my house, and had our walk and girl bonding time, whatever that means. Have fun with your adopted children.” I turned and started back toward the road.

“Not funny, Hailey,” she called. “I get paid.”

“Uh-huh. See you later.” I waved without looking back.

“Later.”

Huh. Big afternoon. And I met Pavel. Cool. I might save telling Kyle until a nice lull in dinnertime conversation.

◊ ◊ ◊

Kyle showed up early for dinner.

With my moms. In the shoes.

“I think I told you . . . vegan,” I said as soon as we sat. “Two moms—one's into pottery. One's a yoga teacher. The house is filled with drying herbs and homemade pots. It's almost disappointing the vegan thing is so expected. But no one rocks a stereotype like my moms.”

Kyle smiled but didn't say anything.

The moms sat down on their side of the table. Like not only questioning us, but two-on-two interrogation.

I leaned toward Kyle and pretended to whisper. “The inquisition is next, and I'm hoping it'll be directed more at you than me. Partially because I like to watch you squirm, partially because I think it would be cool to learn more about you, but mostly because I'm tired of fielding their questions.” I took my first bite of taco.

“Hailey.” Lila's voice was full of the soft irritation she did so well. “Can you cut the poor guy some slack? I'm sure it's already awkward to come to dinner.”

“I don't care that you're gay,” Kyle blurted out.

“Way to open the convo, Kyle.” I elbowed him, laughing.

“No . . . um, I mean, if that's why you thought I might be uncomfortable, or . . .”

Kyle already being uncomfortable needed a push off the edge. “I ran into Pavel today.”

Kyle choked on his taco. I hit his back a few times.

“Cough it up. Pavel had a message for you.”

Kyle's face turned red. Again. So predictable, but it still hadn't gotten old. “Um . . .”

“I didn't stalk him. I ran into him on the soccer field. He said to tell you to
think positive
, and that you think I'm gorgeous. It's sweet.” I bit my tongue on the G-spot thing. No need to stir up the moms.

“Um . . .”

“Hailey.” Rox gave me the mom wide eyes that said I should probably start behaving myself.

It felt so good to be myself again that I couldn't help it.

And then, when the questions started—in a way that the moms thought was normal conversation, but was too poorly disguised—Kyle handled the inquisition better than I ever expected him to. He told them about being half on the college campus for senior year, and about his mom working as a nurse, and that she was single, and I wondered if they heard any of the shaking behind his voice when he talked about her, like I did.

I guessed right then that his mom would end up on the list in some way. Or she needed to. But I was going to maybe be more like Sensitive Hailey this year. My single year. So I might not bring it up . . . tonight.

Hopefully Kyle and I would keep talking so I'd know how to talk about his mom. Probably at some point I'd ask, and it'd serve him right for letting silence hang between us for too long. I'd been right a long time ago: Kyle was already coming out of his shell. When he finished up that list, he'd be amazing. I wanted to help.

Once he and Rox started talking music, it was over. I gave up and ate four tacos. I loved music, but I didn't keep track of who drummed for who during what years. How exhausting. And boring.

Well. Unless you're suddenly Talkative Kyle and Rox, who chattered away like the Barbie twins from school.

◊ ◊ ◊

After dinner Lila stepped into Rox's arms, and they stood in the kitchen together in a nauseating display of affection. I'd pretty much given up trying to deter them by the time I was in fourth grade. The moment their lips touched, Kyle's eyes went to his lap.

“So does that turn you on, or is it weird? Because I think
no teenager should have to watch their parents make out
.” No way they wouldn't get my hint.

“There are other rooms in this house.” Rox laughed as she wrapped her arms more tightly around Lila's waist.

“I should go.” Kyle stood.

“Nope. List.” I took his hand and dragged him outside.

◊ ◊ ◊

We lounged on the small bench on the porch, our feet on the pathetic excuse for a coffee table, with one another's lists in our hands. Kyle had folded his like mine, and I ran my fingers over the edges a few times, wondering how long it would take his to wear soft. I couldn't read it. He must have known but gave it to me anyway. My heart skipped when he did.

“Not to be mean, but this is a ridiculous fear, Hailey.” He pointed to my list.

“Is not.”

“Nobody is going to change out all your clothes.” He shook his head, but the corner of his mouth was pulled up in a smile. One night and some direct questioning from the moms and I felt like I was finally really seeing him.

“They
might
change out all my clothes. Even I can see the disapproval on the moms' faces when I leave for school some mornings. And what if they made everything pink?”

“You're wearing pink right now.” He tugged on the sleeve of my shirt. Kyle was totally sort of flirting with me. Definitely breaking out of his shell. He might be ready for Calc Girl soon—though she'd better realize what a good catch he was.

“Yes, but this is the
right
kind of pink. There's the right kind of pink and the wrong kind of pink. I need you to promise me that when I go blind—”

“If.” His eyes met mine.

“Fine.
If
I go blind, you'll check my clothes once in a while, okay? Make sure no one has changed out my wardrobe. Because, yeah, fears don't always make sense, right? But this one has kept me up late more than once.”

“Fine. I promise.” Kyle thought I was ridiculous, and it was good to at least have his opinion, even if he thought I was crazy.

“Why did that have to be so hard?” I jutted out my chin and gave him a shove. “All I'm asking you to do is look in my closet every once in a while when I can't see.”

He laughed a little. Awesome.

“So I thought of a way to help you with a different thing on your list. Or maybe something we could do together,” he said. His eyes were fixed on the paper in front of him.

I leaned against his shoulder. “You have my curiosity piqued.”

“I think I'm not going to tell you what it is yet, because it might not happen for a while.”

“Huh. Kyle. I like it. But it is a
fear
list, you know. So as much as I want to jump in and cross something off, let's not do the bungee-jumping thing. I need some warning for that one. And you can spare me the lecture on it being generic. I don't care.”

“Bungee jumping seems pretty normal as a fear. Kind of logical, actually. It's self-preservation, you know? It'd sort of suck if, in tackling this list, you got rid of your mechanism for self-preservation.”

“Of course, it's on there because I think that jumping off a bridge while cabled to a rubber band is a fear that really digs deep, you know, into primal-fear territory, and I want to experience that.”

“Well, that's not really normal, then. That's more insane.”

“No. More kick-ass,” I countered.

He flipped the paper over.

“What's this list? This isn't fear stuff.”

“It's . . .” My chest tightened so much that I had to pull in a deep breath. “There are a few things I want to see before I can't see anymore.”

“Paintings?” It was almost like he choked on the word.

“Impressionists—I mean, that's sorta how I see the world anyway. I want to see the real thing. The canvas they had their hands on. Before I can't. I've seen the ones at the Art Institute, but I want more.”

His brow pulled down as he handed my list back to me. The mood had changed a bit—not bad, just a different kind of relaxation, one tinged with a little sadness.

I slumped even lower.

Kyle and I were hanging out. On the porch. No evil eye from my moms. No pressure to prepare for a new gig. He got me. And the shittiness of my summer was finally starting to dissipate.

“Kyle. I'm weirdly happy. You had dinner with the moms. Choked down not one, but two vegan tacos, and here you are talking with me like we didn't ignore each other for the past few months.”

“You're happy?” he asked. And there was a lot more depth in his voice than I think he intended for there to be.

“I'm happy.”

“Good.” He even leaned into me a little.

And I mostly meant it. I still felt like a bit of a screwup, and it sucked that my girl band didn't exist anymore, but I was doing music, practicing every day. Still hung with Tess, was hanging with Kyle again. I knew something was missing, but maybe I'd always feel that way.