Song Chaser (Chasers) (16 page)

“You do know that a cock is a male chicken, not a male turkey, right?” Seth points out.

I frown, “I know, but I don’t know what male turkeys are called.”

Mee Ma hollers from behind Seth, “Gobblers!”

“Hmm… I think this makes my turkey even more perverted,” I say as I start to make a new sign.

Suddenly, there’s one, single, incredibly loud knock at my door. My heart immediately jumps into my throat, which is kind of ridiculous but I swear I feel like I’m in a scene out of a horror flick.

“Is that someone at your door?” Seth asks.

“I think so.” I wait for another sound, and again the single knock comes, this time even louder. I inch toward the door and peek through the peep hole and then my heart goes from my throat straight to my toes and I stumble back.

“Who is it?” Seth whispers like he’s a secret spy.

“Tanner,” I squeak, not really sure how to control my voice at this point.

Mee Ma rips the phone from Seth’s hand and looks straight into my eyes, “Your boo thing is there?”

Her ridiculous attempt at using “boo thing” to describe Tanner snaps me out of my daze, “Really, Mee Ma?”

She smiles, “Just trying to lighten the situation, dear. Open your damn door and talk to the boy. See you tomorrow.” She makes a kissing face and then the call goes out and I’m alone again, Tanner just on the other side of my door.

I take a deep breath, straightening my long sleeve shirt with my shaky hands.
You can do this, Kellee.
As much as I try to convince myself, I’m not sure if it’s really true. I’m not sure I’m ready to see him, or even more – to know why he’s here to see me.

Slowly, I open the door. As soon as I see him, really see him, an overwhelming urge to throw my arms around him surges through me. His
face is swollen, red – like he’s been rubbing it raw. It’s not raining nor anywhere near hot, yet his white t-shirt is stuck to the trembling muscles of his chest and abdomen, moving and ebbing with each shaky breath. The top part of his scrub uniform is bunched in his clenched fist and as he looks up at me, his honey eyes are hooded.

Something isn’t right.

For what feels like an excruciatingly long eternity, we just stand there. His eyes take me in, all of me, even though they never roam from the grip they have on my own eyes. Finally, I find my voice.

“Hi.”

It’s like that one word, that one syllable sound that emerged from my mouth broke him. His lip shakes and his face wrinkles like he’s about to cry, but instead a breathy, painful groan escapes his lips instead. It’s like his body refuses to let him shed anything remotely close to a sob.

He whispers something and turns away from me, pushing his forehead to the wall opposite my apartment door and resting his fist in the air like he wants to punch something but is refraining.

“Tanner?”

“Mariah’s dead,” he says loudly, his voice foreign as he turns back to me.
His face is steady, his jaw hard as the words leave his lips.

I don’t know what to do, what to say. My heart breaks and my hand
flies up to cover my shaking lips. Immediately, tears spring to my eyes, my will to fight the emotion clearly not as strong as Tanner’s.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Oh Tanner, I am so sorry.”

He nods, his eyes falling to my feet. “I didn’t know where to go.”

We both just stand there again, and I feel like I should invite him in but for some reason I can’t. No matter how much my body craves his, no matter how my heart aches for him right now, my brain is fighting to remind me that the source of my recent pain is standing two feet from me and shouldn’t be allowed any closer.

“Come home with me,” his honey eyes shoot up to mine.

“Tanner,” his name leaves my lips steadier than I thought it would.

“Please,” he chokes, his façade breaking just a bit. “I’m picking up my car from my aunt’s and driving to Georgia for the holiday. I want you to come with me. Please.”

I chew the inside of my cheek, knowing I should just say “no” and shut the door. But I don’t want to say no. I don’t want to let him do this alone, no matter what has transpired between us. He may not be mine, and I may not be his, but he could have gone anywhere – done anything – when he found out about Mariah. Yet here he is, standing at my door
more broken than I’ve ever seen him, knowing that the last time we spoke I shut a cab door in his face and drove away from him. If he can bite his pride and admit that he needs me, even if it isn’t in the way I wish he did, can’t I not be a shitty human being and just be there for him?

I guess the better question is – can I be there for him witho
ut asking him for more than he can give me?

“Let me pack a bag.”

*     *     *

When Tanner told me we had to take a cab out of the city to his aunt’s house to pick up his car, I didn’t know that A – he even
had
a car, because who lives in New York City and needs one? And B – he not only had
a
car, but a bad ass, holy shit, this-thing-is-sexy car. We’ve been driving for two hours now and I’m still not tired of seeing the stares as we drive by other commuters on the highway. Maybe it’s because I’m sitting shot gun, the windows down and my hair blowing around like crazy. I kind of feel like I’m in a movie.

We haven’t said much of anything since we left my apartment, but I can feel Tanner relaxing more every second. It’s weird because I kind of feel the same thing happening to me. It’s like when he first showed up at my door, we were both wound tight – tense and fragile. Now, as we drive with the music blasting and the cool air blowing all around us, I feel it cleansing us both. Each whip of wind takes a little of the edge off.

“At the risk of sounding like an ignorant little girl, what kind of car is this?” I finally ask, breaking the silence as I pull my coat tighter around me. Tanner said the drive to his parent’s house would take around 12 hours and I am definitely not going to sit here in this heavy quietness for that long.

“
1957 Chevy Bel Air,” Tanner says, turning the music down a little. “It was my grandpa’s, and then my dad’s. Now it’s mine.” He doesn’t smile as he speaks, but his words are warmer than when he showed up at my door earlier. I think the farther we get away from the city, the better he feels. Yet, I can’t deny the electricity in the air between us. Our bodies were so used to touching, to feeling the other in close proximity. Now, it kind of feels like forbidden territory – like we’re on a first date and our parents are watching us.

“It’s pretty bad ass.”

Tanner forces a soft smile, “Glad it has your approval. Are you cold?”

I realize I’m shivering a bit, but I like the feel of the cold wind and I don’t want him to roll the windows up. “I’m good.”

He gives me a sideways glance that tells me he doesn’t believe me, but doesn’t press it. I check my phone and see another text from Mee Ma, but it’s still just as weird as the first time I got a text from her.

- We will be fine, so stop worrying like I know you are. Have a little fun for once. –

- This weekend isn’t about fun, I just don’t want him to be alone. And who’s going to cook the turkey? –

I cook every year for Thanksgiving. When Mom left, Mee Ma started really showing me around the kitchen. Thanksgiving became a learning day for me, and after a few years when she thought I was ready, she made me do it on my own. I kind of love it, actually – the pressure of making everything just right and the warm feeling I get when I see everyone around the table enjoying the food I prepared.

- I can handle the gobbler, you just worry about your cock. –

- Mee Ma! –

- ;) –

I shake my head and shove my phone in my coat pocket, looking out the window once more. A few minutes go by before Tanner speaks again.

“Thank you,” he says, not taking his eyes off the road. “For coming with me.”

I’m not sure what to say, so I just kind of nod and look out the window again. I’m conflicted, knowing there’s still so much shit between us that we need to talk about but also knowing that now isn’t the time to talk about it. My body wants to relax, to fall back into the comfort that Tanner gave me just two weeks ago, but my head remains focused on rebuilding the walls I let him take down.

This time, installing a barbed wire component at the top, too.

I’m pretty sure my head is scowling at me right now.

Probably my heart, too.

Tanner sighs heavily, running his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Kellee. For that night at The Box. For everything, really. You don’t owe me anything and if I were you I would have slammed your apartment door in my face.” He pauses a moment, repositioning his hand on the steering wheel before continuing, “I know saying sorry doesn’t make up for anything, but I just want you to know I won’t make the same mistake I did before. I won’t drag you into my shit anymore. I respect you too much and, honestly, it fucking killed me that I hurt you. I know what a miserable piece of shit I am and I knew better than to make promises to you that I knew I couldn’t keep.”

It’s not the apology I want, it’s not him telling me that Paisley can fuck off and that he wants to be with me, but it’s honest. I can’t deny that, and I guess that’s all I can really ask for, even if it does sort of piss me off. But, if I’m telling the truth, it’s just as much my fault as it is his.

“That’s the thing, Tanner,” I turn to face him. “You didn’t promise me anything. You told me what it was and what it wasn’t, but I wanted more. I knew what we were when this all started but then,” I stumble, trying to find the words. “Shit, I don’t know, it just changed. We both got in deeper than we meant to.”

He nods. Silence again.

“Is it selfish that I still want you?”

His words slam into me, my chest heavy with their weight.

“Yes,” I breathe, staring straight ahead at the cars laid out in front of us. The air in my lungs feels thick, heated. “You can’t say shit like that to me anymore, Tanner.”

His jaw tenses and he gives a curt nod, “Then I won’t.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, “Okay. So we’re clear on what this is, and what it isn’t? For real, this time?”

“Friends,” he says, though it kind of sounds like a question.

“Friends,” I repeat. “
Just
friends.”

He seems to be processing it, then he smiles and leans back a little, relaxing in his seat. “Sweet. So does that mean I can fart in front of you now?”

My jaw drops and I turn to smack him on the arm, “Ew! I said
friends
, not fraternity brothers.”

We both laugh and I feel the tension melt away a little more as Tanner turns the music up louder. Everything isn’t fixed, everything isn’t okay, but at least a line has been drawn. It’s clear now what we are, and at least that’s a step.

I just hope I can stay on my side of the line.

Windows

Tanner

We pull off at a gas station just a few hours out of my hometown to fill up and grab something to eat. As I fill the tank, my eyes wander the length of Kellee’s legs as she walks toward the store. I know I can’t touch her anymore, that I’ll never be able to do the things I want to do to her, but I can’t help but stare. No bullshit, she is the sexiest girl I’ve ever known. Judging by the looks she’s getting from others in the parking lot, looks that she doesn’t even acknowledge, it’s clear I’m not the only one who thinks so. And that’s the sexiest part about her – it’s effortless, she doesn’t even have to try and yet she stuns the shit out of everyone around her.

I watch the numbers change on the pump and tuck my hands into my pockets deeper, the cold seeping through. M
y mind races with Mariah – with how she was too sweet and too damn innocent to die this young, with how I wish someone like me could have taken her place, with her mom and how I wish I wouldn’t have ran like a pussy so I could be there to help her. It’s the day before Thanksgiving and she lost her only daughter. Suddenly, my running seems a hell of a lot more childish.

I also can’t deny that I’m strung out on the
talk Kellee and I had earlier. I knew she wouldn’t just forgive me and we couldn’t go back to how things were, but I’d be lying if there wasn’t a huge part of me that wished for it and had hope that maybe I’d be a lucky son of a bitch and it would happen. Truthfully, I guess I should still consider myself lucky. After what I’ve put her through, Kellee shouldn’t ever want to see my face again, let alone be riding halfway across the country with me and being a better friend to me than I think anyone else ever has been. Honestly, I’m not even sure Paisley would drop everything during a holiday weekend to do something like this with me, and she’s the best friend I have.

Kellee jogs back out to the car with two bags swinging from her arms, little clouds of air escaping her lips, “It’s freaking cold!”