Reaching Rose (Hunter Hill University Book 3) (20 page)

"You really are beautiful, you know?"

I shake my head.

"You are," he insists.

Again, I shake my head, but he stops me by spreading his fingers and cupping my face in his hand. Without thinking about it, I lean into it, taking a deep breath to appreciate the security of this moment. Even if it is only fleeting. My breathing picks up when his eyes pierce mine, and in the next second, he's leaning in closer. My eyes flutter when his lips touch mine. They're soft. Warm. And taste like bacon.

For several minutes, our lips are locked and our tongues are engaged. And my head and my heart are at conflict with one another.

This is nice. It feels right. But if we continue, where will it lead? Maybe not tonight. Maybe not next week. But if we take our friendship further, it's going to lead to sex. In clothes, we can pretend I look normal. Undressed, even in the dark, he's sure to see my mutilations.

But when he breaks our kiss, his hands on either side of my jaw, he gazes into my eyes again and all my worries fade into the background. His thumb grazes my scar again when he says, "I'm sorry you were hurt so badly."

I was not expecting that. I take a swallow, then hold my breath while he touches my scar with his lips. They first kiss the top of my scar where it begins at my temple. His lips then follow the scar down my cheek, pressing soft, short pecks as he travels lower until he reaches the part of my scar just below my neck. His lips feel so good on my mangled skin that I am once again conflicted. So badly I want to lean back and give him access to the rest of it.

But I can't.

I'm afraid he'll take one look at the whole thing and decide he can't handle the ugliness. The scar only gets worse as it travels down my body. My lower torso and what's left of my leg look like someone took a machete to it. Then there's the part where my leg went missing. If I didn't have scar tissue, I wouldn't have any skin covering the wound at all.
I
still can't look at myself in a full-length mirror. How could I expect the guy I like to look at me and not get grossed out?

When he kisses the last spot above my collarbone, he looks up at me and takes my cheek in his hand again. "I wish I could take your pain away."

My eyes sting from holding back tears that I'm not sure are trying to escape because of sadness or happiness. Ben's acknowledgement of my accident scares me. I don't want to talk about it. Or remember it.

But at the same time, it feels good that he's concerned. Then again, that's going to be bad for me. It means I have to talk about it. My mouth may be speaking words again, but it's not like I'm okay with talking about what happened. It just makes me depressed all over again. I try to forget. Which is ironic, because it's
all
I think about. My ugly leg. My
Skellington
face. My thwarted dreams.

But Ben's thumb running along my cheek distracts me again. "If you let me in, I might be able to do that."

"You trying to play counselor?" I joke, my quickening breaths making my words sound shaky.

"I'm trying to be your friend."

I smile.

"More than that if you'll let me."

"Thank you." How do I respond to that?
Okay, I'll let you
? But I keep the smile on my face to let him know I'm contemplating that idea.

He kisses me again on the lips and then says, "Okay. H
orrible Bosses
.”

I let out the most lame titter, because really, I'd much rather him be kissing me. But I don't let on. I can't.

We play the movie, but I hardly pay any attention. My mind and my heart are racing with each other to see which can move faster. The whole time, though, Ben's hand is back on my thigh and I'm leaning on him. It's nice. And it's over way too quickly. When he tells me he has to go, that his laundry's not going to jump into the machine by itself, I'm disappointed. But it's not like I didn't know he had laundry to do.

"Mind if I call you every day?" he asks at his car when I walk him out.

"No," I say, freakishly too coyly.

"Good. And then we can make plans for next weekend?"

"Sure. I'd like that."

***

As he promised, he stays true to his word and calls me every day. He texts too. But he says he wants to call so he can hear my voice each day. I want to hear his as well, but I don't tell him so.

The following Friday night, we finally go to the drive-in movies. It turns out they don't close the theater until after Christmas. People just stay in their cars to watch instead of sitting on lawn chairs outside of them.

It's a double feature.
Dumb and Dumber To
and
Horrible Bosses 2
. Silly movies. My suggestion. I stay away from anything serious that may make me cry. At Ben's suggestion, we take my father's old truck. I tell him that means we'd have to park in the back, but he says he prefers that to sitting in the front and having a gearshift between us for four hours. When he puts it that way, I can't help but agree. He insists on driving.

For four hours, that pass by way too quickly, I sit right up against Ben, my hand on his thigh, his arm wrapped snug behind my shoulder, my head leaning on his. I laugh when I hear Ben laugh, but I'm barely paying attention to what's on the screen. Instead, I'm taking slow, deep breaths, concentrating on Ben's fresh, clean scent and the fact that I'm so comfortable in his arms. So much so that I stopped being conscious of being on his right side a few minutes after he had his arm around me. In between movies, we barely talked. We kissed instead. Again, Ben brushes kisses along the length of my scar that isn't hidden beneath my clothes. And again, I feel less and less self-conscious about it.

At the end of the second movie, rather than tear out of the parking space like every other car in a hurry to sit in line to exit the lot, we make out. This time, he doesn't kiss my scar at all. He keeps his lips on mine and his tongue in my mouth. He tastes like buttered popcorn, but I'm sure I taste the same.

We can feel the empty lot around us before we hear the rapping on the window. "Sir, you need to leave," the attendant says when Ben cranks down the window, "We're locking up."

"Sorry about that, we didn't realize."

"Obviously," he answers, but doesn't seem pissed.

***             

"I had a nice time tonight," I say at my front door.

"Me too. And thank you for introducing me to drive-in movies."

I laugh. "Glad to oblige."

We kiss goodnight, long and French, and I hate to say goodbye. But Ben has practice in the morning, and kissing outside on the porch is safe.

When he finally lets me out of his arms, it's not just the brisk December night that makes me cold. It's the lack of his arms around me. He waits until I've shut the door before he gets back in the car, and from the window, it's actually painful to let him drive away. I did not want to feel this way with Ben. Soon he's going to be back in school and his life is going to get busy. He won't have time for me anymore. It'll be about baseball and homework. And I wonder, if like his high school girlfriend, I won't be able to handle it. As it is, I'm still so insecure, and I have so much free time that my mind will always be wondering where he is.

Now that I've gotten to know Ben a little better, I'm pretty sure I can trust him, but it doesn't change much. He'll still have a life that can't possibly include me.

Now that I've gone from excited to be out with Ben, to sad that he left, to uptight about where our relationship is going, I toss and turn all night. Finally, at 4:33 in the morning, I slip on my dancing leg and head back down to the basement, making sure to be really quiet. The last thing I want to do is wake anyone up.

My classical CD is already cued in the player. I don't bother trying out another one. There's no point. But I stand at the barre and do my warm-up and stretching bit, and then I practice balancing on my left leg. Progress is slow. I can stand without a problem now, but standing is not what I'm aiming to do. It's not even close to what I'm aiming to do.

BEN

As much as I've been looking forward to this trip, I'm going to miss Rose like crazy. I've come to enjoy our weekends together. I count on them. Every day, I'm anxious for the next day to come because it's one day closer to Friday. Talking on the phone with her each night and texting her throughout the day is nice, but it's no replacement for holding her in my arms and kissing her. There's nothing like it in the world. She's soft. She's sweet. And I'm not just talking about her personality. Her skin is softer than the lambskin leather jacket my Nona sent me from Italy, and she tastes as sweet as maple sugar - an actual staple in her family's kitchen.

Being away from Rose for the next three weeks is going to be harder than missing this last baseball season. And before Rose, there was
nothing
I'd ever miss more than I'd missed baseball. I'm almost tempted to have the doctor tell my coach I'm still not ready to return to the game.

But that would go against everything I've worked for. This morning is the last time I'll see Rose before I head home to Cherry Hill this afternoon. I finally made the appointment for the CAT Scan and the only time available is tomorrow morning at 8am. So after Sunday breakfast with the Duncans, I'll be taking off for home and preparing for Florida training.

***

"I'm going to miss you, Rose," I tell her after breakfast while we take a walk around the farm. Because of the cold, Rose is wearing mittens, so I don't have the benefit of touching her skin while I hold her hand. And I love touching her skin.

When we go into the barn to visit Cloud, I unzip my jacket and then unzip hers. My hands naturally go to her waist where I pull her against me and then wrap the two of us inside my coat. It's as close as we're going to get out here, and I'll take what I can get. "I really am going to miss you," I repeat.

"I'm gonna miss you too."

I rest my chin on her head and sigh. "I'm tempted to tell Coach my doctor won't let me go."

"What?" She pulls her head back to look at me. "Why?"

"Because the next three weeks are going to suck."
I can't believe I'm telling her this
.

"Ben. You were looking forward to this trip. Why's it gonna suck?" she asks, clueless.

"'Cause you won't be there."

She sighs and blushes at the same time. "Ben." That's all she says, but she looks sad too.

So I kiss her.

And I kiss her.

And I kiss her.

I could kiss her forever.

But then the alert I set on my phone goes off and she breaks the kiss.

"Ignore that," I say into her mouth, kissing her again. She lets my tongue swipe hers a couple of times before she breaks it off again. "Don't you have to get that?"

"It's my alarm. Don't worry about it." I kiss her again.

She breaks it again. "Alarm for what?"

With a moan, I say, "To let me know it's time to go."

She starts to pull away, but I hold her tighter. "No." I tuck her head beneath my chin and close my eyes. "I wish I could take you with me."

"Yeah. I'm sure your coach would love that," she says into my neck. "You'll be back soon. And then..." she sighs. "You're gonna be busier than ever with school and practice and games. You'll forget I even exist." She laughs, but it doesn't sound like she's joking.

Taking her face in my hands, I look directly into her green eyes. "I could
never
forget you exist.
Ever
."

She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

"I'm serious, Rose. During these past two months, you've come to mean so much to me. Even before that. The first time I saw you, sitting in that wheelchair, as silent as—" I pause to find the perfect analogy "—the midnight sky in the dead of winter...I knew I needed to meet you. Know you."

Her smile is still so sad.

"Nothing was going to stop me from getting close to you, Rose..." I'm suddenly at a loss for words, so I kiss her. Again. I don't want to stop. And this time, she doesn't pull away. I do. Because my face is wet. And when I look at her, there are tears all over her face. "Rose. What's the matter?" She's crying so hard that I'm thinking,
Is she really gonna miss me that much?

"Nothing, nothing it's just so cold out here. My eyes always tear so bad," she says it all in one breath.

"Oh." I wipe the tears with my thumbs, but her cheeks are so wet, I pull my sweater sleeve out from my jacket cuff and wipe her face with it. "Then let's get you inside."

She nods.

Back inside her house, I give her one last hug and one really long kiss goodbye. I can still taste the salt from her tears on my tongue. When we're finished, I don't say the words, I just let the kiss say goodbye for me.

The drive home is ridiculously solemn. I don't even turn on the radio.

***

After my CAT Scan on Monday, the first thing I do is call Rose. I want to Facetime her, but she won't have anything to do with that. I had asked her why once, but she said she doesn't like the camera and would rather stay away from it. She could have fooled me about the camera, considering her house is filled with photographs her mother took of her. Rose on the farm. Rose on her horse. Rose on the stage in her dance costumes.

But then again, they're all photos from
before
. And that makes me sad all over again.

As much as she's loosened up around me since my birthday, she's still struggling with the effects of her accident. She doesn't talk about it either. EVER. Even when I come right out and ask her about it. Eventually, I stop asking. I'm afraid I'll ask one too many times and she'll just stop talking again. I don't want that to happen. I always wondered how she could willingly stop talking in the first place. And why?

So I'm not going to ask any more questions. If she wants to talk about it when she's ready, she knows I'll listen.

***

I have to see Rose one last time before I leave for Florida. I can't help myself. So on Christmas Eve morning, I call her and ask if it's okay to come up.

"Of course it's okay," she says over the phone. "I'd love to see you. But you don't mind driving all that way? Isn't it, like, almost three hours away?"

"Not quite, but it doesn't matter. I'd really like to see you."

"Okay," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

"Good. I'm leaving in about five minutes. See you about twelve thirty?"

"Yup. See you then."