Текст книги "From the Wreckage"

Автор книги: Melissa Collins

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Folding her hands on her lap, she looks all prim and proper. “I’d like for you to know more.” Dangling that out there, I hope that she’ll take the bait.

Waiting for what seems like forever, I can hardly breathe. When she finally says, “As friends,” my lungs begin functioning again. It’s only after taking that first breath I realize what she said.

“Friends?” I ask, wanting to be perfectly clear.

“Yes,” she agrees, smiling triumphantly. “We’re both obviously excellent judges of character,” she clarifies and suddenly her previous train of thought comes into focus. “So friends it is,” she boasts, extending her hand to me. Straightening her shoulders, a broad smile graces her beautiful face. The definition of confidence, she holds her head high waiting for me to shake on her proposed deal.

Quickly weighing my options, I decide that agreeing only to be her friend is a much better option than being nothing. Besides, friends turn into more every day. Wrapping my hand around hers, I feel her tremble again. In that instant, I know I’ll win eventually. “Absolutely. Friends.” Giving her my best wolfish smile, I revel in the fact that her hand is still trembling even after I’ve released it.

“Perfect,” she announces. As she stands from the steps, her legs wobble and I move to her side to help steady her. Pulling her arm into mine, I walk us down the street.

As we round the corner, I slide my phone out of my pocket. Quickly dialing her number, I watch as she jumps when her phone vibrates in her pocket. She pulls it out and looks at the number. Ready to dismiss the call, she sees me holding my phone to my ear. Waving the phone back and forth, I smile at her. “Now you have my number,” I explain.

She shoots me an exasperated look, seemingly frustrated that I’m not accepting her just friends policy. “What?” I defend. “Friends can call each other.”

After sliding my phone back into my pocket, I hail a cab. Reaching around her to open the door, I inhale her sweet scent. Silently, I wonder how long her friendship requirement is set for. A week? A year?

When she whispers a quiet “thank you” into my ear, I pray it’s closer to the week mark. Because holy shit, there’s no way I could survive a year not being able to touch her, to kiss her.

Hell, holding back those desires right now is proving to be monumentally difficult.

Grace waves at me from the cab as it pulls away, but I can still feel her breath on my skin. I can still smell her perfume in the air.

After I’m settled on the subway, heading back to my apartment, my thoughts go back to Grace and her “friends only” agreement. That’s when I have to laugh at myself.

Every day, I willingly run into burning buildings. I can run up dozens of flights of stairs wearing close to a hundred pounds of equipment, but here I am worried about whether or not I can be strong enough only to be her friend.

Somehow, I doubt I’ll be able to hold up my end of the deal.

“I’m an ass.” With an overly dramatic sigh, I continue folding my laundry. Jade listens on, somewhat amused at my randomness. “Oh, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. You know, like ‘no, you’re not, Grace. Why would you think that? You’re perfect, Grace. Don’t say such mean things about yourself.’” Prattling on and on, Jade smiles and nods as she continues to flip through the latest issue of People. When another minute of silence passes between us, interrupted only by the crinkling of the pages as she turns them, I drop the shirt I am folding onto the pile and huff dramatically. “Hello?”

For good measure, she gives herself another few seconds before actually closing the magazine and responding to me. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were talking to me.” Looking over her shoulder at the wall behind her, she knows full well I was talking to her.

My retaliation for her being a wiseass is wadding up a T-shirt and sailing it at her head. “Jerk,” I mutter, sticking my tongue out at her. Of course, she does the same to me and we giggle like teenagers.

The entire exchange is mature. Very mature.

After the giggle fit stops, Jade drops her magazine onto the chair and joins me in folding my laundry. Standing next to me in front of my bed, she pulls a wrinkled pair of khakis from the basket. “So what makes you think you’re an ass?” she asks, holding the pants in front of her as if they’re infected with some kind of disease. “Except maybe these pants. Seriously, Gracie. These are horrendous.”

Grabbing them from her hand, I defend my fashion choice. “They are not. And they’re comfortable.” As I fold them, I add, “And practical, too.”

If possible, Jade rolls her eyes at me so hard she nearly sprains them. “Sure, sure. We’ll go with practical.” She laughs and helps me fold a few more items before getting back to the original line of conversation. “So, you said you were an ass. How so?”

“I told David we should just be friends,” I admit. Sighing, I roll a pair of socks into a ball and drop it alongside the others.

“The hot firefighter David?” She clutches her chest. “The one who saved you when you were a little girl? Damn fine David?” Her rambling makes me realize what a fool I am.

“Yes. Him.” Shooting her a wry look, I know she’s rambled off the laundry list of David’s gorgeousness in order to emphasize my own stupidity.

“Oh, honey. Why’d you do that?”

Shrugging, I say, “It seemed like a good idea at the time. But now I’m not so sure.” Avoiding eye contact with her, I put some shirts away in my dresser. “Yet, thinking about being more than friends makes me feel unsure, too.”

“So then, it’s easy.” Jade’s casual comment about a situation with which I’m struggling catches me off guard. Without even having to ask her how it’s easy, she explains, “Which not sure are you okay with never knowing about?”

“I never thought about it that way,” I admit, flopping down onto the bed.

“Well, start thinking about it. Are you okay with only ever being friends and never knowing him any other way? Or are you okay with taking a risk and finding out if there’s really more there, even though it might mean losing him as a friend?”

“What if I don’t have to lose him at all?” I muse, my voice a wistful whisper.

“There’s always that,” Jade says, standing to walk toward the door. “But it’s up to you to find out.”

With that little nugget of wisdom, she walks out of the room, letting me know she’ll be out for the night with Bryce. It’s not lost on me that announcing her plans is also her way to let me know the apartment is open for the evening.

As I clean up the rest of my room, my mind wanders. Naturally, it lands right on David. Sure, we could be just friends, but I’d be lying to myself if I said that’s all I wanted. There’s no hiding the reaction I have to him. And the flash of jealousy I felt at watching him leave the bar with Kelsey wasn’t a feeling with which I’m familiar.

And thinking of him being with her, or anyone else for that matter, is all I need to garner the courage to call him. Besides, he wouldn’t have given me his number if he didn’t intend for me to use it.

With shaking fingers, I pull up his number on my cellphone. Of course, it’s already been saved. It rings four times before the voicemail picks up. His deep voice greets me, prompting me to leave a message.

“Hey. It’s me, Gracie. I was just . . . uhh–” I stutter into the line, overcome by a sudden nervousness. “I . . . uh . . . just wanted to say hi.” After taking a deep breath, and pulling on my big-girls panties, I finally put together an intelligible thought. “I wanted to see if you were doing anything tonight. Give me a call back if you’re free.”

And with that, I hang up and silently curse myself and my nervous jitters. Figuring the best way to keep myself distracted is to finish cleaning my room, I get to the task at hand. I’d like to say I’m an organized person, but then I’d be lying. Add in the fact that the last semester of school, coupled with student teaching provided me with very little free time. And whatever time I did manage, I sure as hell wasn’t going to spend it on cleaning my room.

After the last of my laundry is put away, I start organizing the piles of books stacked in the corner. “Looks like I’ll need another bookshelf,” I say to myself, trying to squeeze yet another paperback onto the already filled shelves.

The buzzing of my phone startles me and forces me to drop the book in my hand. As I slide it out of my back pocket, I try my best to calm my racing thoughts. But when I see David’s name flash across the screen, my heart leaps into my throat.

“Hello?” I answer, my voice wavering with my all-over-the-place nerves.

“Hey,” he responds, almost breathless. “Sorry it took me so long to call back. I only just got your message.”

It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since I called him, so the fact that he’s apologizing for the delay is somewhat sweet to me. “That’s okay. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No. Of course not. I’m at my parents’ house working on their new kitchen.” There’s rattling and banging going on in the background, echoing his words. “I’m trying to help out on the demolition, save them some money. You know?”

“That’s really nice of you.” Imagining his handsome, yet rugged face, warm over with a smile at my compliment makes me smile as well. Thinking of him all sweaty and worked up isn’t so bad either.

His simple explanation that he has to help, they’re his parents after all, makes him all the more attractive.

“So,” he drags out the word, calling me back to the conversation. “What’s up?”

“Huh?”

“You called me, Gracie.” His voice, holy hell. My name falls from his lips, raspy and sexy as sin.

“Oh, yeah. Uh, I wanted to see what you were doing tonight. I thought we could get together.” Silently, I curse myself for rambling like a teenager.

“Just as friends,” he mocks, a hint of sarcasm in his words.

Mainly to save face, I laugh and ignore his comment. “So are you doing anything?”

When he says, “I am, actually,” a punch of disappointment lands in my gut.

“Oh, okay. Well, sorry I bothered you today. You probably have a lot of work to get back to. I guess we’ll talk later,” I prattle on, trying my best to conceal my dissatisfaction at not being able to see him tonight. “Please tell your parents–”

“Grace,” he says, cutting through what would be the continuation of my rambling. “Breathe,” he coaches me. A soft chuckle accompanies his word, and I follow his advice. “I would love to see you tonight,” he says, making breathing almost impossible again. “I have a charity baseball game, though. Would you want to watch the game and we could grab something to eat afterward?”

Stunned into silence, I sit there, searching for the words to accept the invitation I hadn’t seen coming. Like a bumbling fool, all I come up with is a single word, lame-ass question. “Charity?”

A shy sounding laugh comes through the line. Imagining him running his hand through his dark-brown hair makes my fingers itch to do the same. “Every year the FDNY and NYPD come together for a charity game. We donate all the money we make on ticket sales and concessions to a scholarship fund for the New York City Public Schools.”

Hold on a second while I get my ovaries to function again. Hot, firefighter David, who takes care of his parents, also donates his time to raising money for underprivileged schools. Oh, and did I mention he was hot? Like ridiculously so?

“It’s in Brooklyn, at MCU stadium, where The Cyclones usually play. I know it’s far, but if you can make it, I’ll put two tickets at will-call for you.” There’s a touch of hope in his voice and I imagine it sparkling there in his eyes as well.

“That’s really amazing. I’d love to go.” Getting to see him in any way, shape, or form would have been ideal, but knowing in a few hours I’ll get to see him in a pair of tight baseball pants, covered in dirt and sweat, hell, it’s like a romance novel come to life.

After he gives me all the information I need, we hang up. The ball of excitement that always seems to be present when I’m around David returns. As I look at my ‘practical’ khakis on the bed, I realize I’m going to need more than a little help in getting ready for a ballgame. “Jade!” I call out as I walk toward her room. “I need help.”

With a sly smile spreading across her face, she says, “So you went with more than friends, huh?”

“That obvious, huh?” I joke, laughing as I open her closet. It’s not like I can actually wear anything of hers, anyway. “He’s playing in a charity baseball game.” Poking my head out from behind the door, I count off in my famous list fashion, “One, he’s a firefighter. Two, he plays baseball. Three, he’s giving his time to charity. And four, he’s helping his parents rebuild their kitchen. Do you know what those things all have in common?”

Jade’s face scrunches up as she genuinely tries to make the connection. Shrugging, she admits, “I got nothing.”

Stepping out of her closet completely, I hold up my hands and flip them back and forth. “Hands, woman. The man is good with his hands.”

Of course hysterical laughter ensues, but below the giggle fits, I can’t help but fixate on just how good he is with his hands. I have a feeling the answer to that is extremely talented.

After an hour or so of trying on pretty much every article of clothing I own, in every combination imaginable, I decide on a pair of cropped jeans and a pretty floral top with ruffled sleeves. Jade helps me accessorize with pearl and gold bangles and teal dangly earrings. Cream ballet flats are the perfect finish, not only because they match, but because my feet won’t kill me by the end of the night. When every last piece is in place, Jade steps back and announces, “You look marvelous,” in a ridiculous Billy Crystal-like voice.

“Thanks,” I accept her compliment, taking in the completed look in the full-length mirror. With my hair in long, beachy waves and my makeup done in natural peach and pink tones, I must admit, I feel pretty. And flirty.

And sexy.

“I’ll be ready in two seconds,” Jade explains, walking out of my room.

“Wait,” I call after her. “I thought you were going out with Bryce.”

Waving away my question with a flip of her hand, she says, “I can cancel. Besides, I owe you.”

It takes Jade absolutely no time to get ready and she looks stunning, as usual. Wearing a flowy maxi skirt in bright summer colors, Jade looks statuesque. Any time I try on a skirt like that, it looks like it’s going to swallow me whole.

Erring on the side of caution, we leave our lower Manhattan apartment two hours before the game even begins. Sure, it’s only six miles, and what should be a short subway ride over to Brooklyn, but I don’t want to be late.

By the time we actually make it to the stadium, we have to fight through the crowds of tailgaters. A wave of nervous anxiety washes over me as I realize this game is a pretty big deal. The parking lot is full and there is an endless flow of school buses circling past the entrance, dropping loads of students and their teachers off at the gates.

As Jade and I are waiting in line at the will-call box, I watch a group of boys walk off their bus and stare at the stadium in absolute awe. Mouths agape and eyes wide, they gaze up at the flags and banners whipping in the wind. The boys focus on the larger-than-life sized posters of players from The Cyclones as if they’re paying homage to an actual God.

Jade’s elbow, nudging me in the side, pulls me away from watching the boys. “You’re up,” she says, tipping her head to the booth attendant, who’s not so patiently waiting for me to step forward.

“How can I help you?” She looks less than enthused to be doing her job. Her unruly wire-like red hair, the grease stains on her shirt, and lipstick on her teeth suggests she is less than enthused with personal hygiene as well.

“Hi,” I respond as cheerfully as I can. “I’m here to pick up two tickets.”

“Name?” she blurts, not even bothering to make eye contact.

“Grace McCann.” She immediately starts clicking away on her computer and asks for my I.D. When I slide it to her under the glass divider separating us, she eyes me from behind the glass. With her lip curling in disgust, she slides me my license and the two tickets as she mutters, “Have a nice day.” Laughing, she reminds me of Roz, from Monsters Inc.

Turning toward Jade, I hand her one ticket. “What crawled up her ass?” Jade laughs at my somewhat out-of-character comment.

“Not sure, but I bet whatever it was, it’s still more pleasant than she is.” She elbows me in the side and laughs before looking down at the ticket. Pointing up to the signs indicating where the sections are, Jade looks up to the one that reads section twelve. “That’s us.”

As we navigate through the sea of kids racing through the stadium, the scents and sounds of baseball overwhelm me. To my right, there’s a cotton candy stand, spinning gigantic, airy tufts of neon blue into sweet treats. Next to that is a man selling hot dogs from a standalone cart. Dozens of vendors walk the aisles yelling about soda, beer, and Cracker Jacks. One of them is even selling those gigantic foam pointer fingers. Somehow I think they lucked-out in workload for the day. Hauling a box filled with foam seems like an enormously easier task than lugging a cooler full of beer bottles.

Standing at the end of our row, I’m in utter disbelief at how close we are to the field. Distracted by everything going on around us, I didn’t even realize where we were going. “This can’t be right,” I say in shock, turning toward Jade. Pulling her ticket out of her hand, I read the section and row numbers just to make sure they are the same as my ticket. My confusion catches the attention of an usher standing in our section and he walks over to help us.

“Let me, miss.” Graciously, he takes the tickets from my hand and smiles cheerfully at me. The wrinkles on his face deepen even more with his smile. “You didn’t need my help at all.” Extending his hand to the side, he points at the seats we’d already found on our own. After wiping down the seats, even though they weren’t wet or dirty at all, he says, “Best seats in the house for two of the prettiest ladies here.”

“What a sweet man,” Jade gushes as she sits in her seat.

“Sure,” I answer, faraway and distracted.

“You okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Twisting my fingers in my lap is pretty much a dead giveaway to the fact that I’m anything but fine.

“Sure you are.” She laughs, sitting there with a smug smile plastered to her face.

Before I can even give her some wise-ass comment, the players race onto the field. “Oh, my sweet lord,” Jade squeals, watching the two dozen or so men in uniform jogging around and warming up. “I don’t think those pants could get any tighter. I love them!”

Her rambling on and on about the glorious asses prancing around in front of us becomes nothing but white noise as David finds me in the stands. Of course he knows exactly where to look. If I had been standing up, I’m certain my knees would have given out. His physique—tall, broad, strong—is accentuated by his navy blue and red uniform top. I’m sitting so close that when he reaches up to wave at me, I can actually see the muscles in his forearm move. His face lights up when his eyes land on mine, his crooked smile suggesting a touch of shyness mixed in with his happiness. He winks at me before turning his attention back to his warmups and I find it nearly impossible to peel my eyes away from him.

“Dat ass!’ Jade chimes in, pulling my attention away from said ass. “Damn, Gracie. You are one lucky duck.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seriously?” she quips with sarcasm rivaling that of any teenager worth their weight. “Look at him!” Hiding none of her enthusiasm, she points right at him. “He is gorgeous.” David throws a ball. “Perfect.” He catches one. “Dear God,” she gasps, watching him run across the field. “That’s it. I’ve run out of words. There aren’t any left. He’s rendered me speechless and you know that never happens.”

Trying but failing to hold back my laughter, I giggle along with Jade as warmups roll on into the start of the game. The FDNY team start out in the field and with David playing first base, “dat ass,” as Jade would call it, is pretty much the only thing I can see.

Not that I’m complaining at all.

Nope, not one bit.

Through six innings, the score is tied at zero and I have to say, even though I’m not much of a baseball fan, it’s a great game. Since the stands are filled with tons of kids, there’s no lull in the cheering. Of course, since both teams are local heroes, everyone has someone to cheer for.

“I’m gonna go grab something to eat. Want anything?” I ask Jade as the announcer calls out for the seventh inning stretch.

“I’ll come with you.” She jumps out of her seat and falls in step behind me. By the looks of it, everyone else has the same idea as us. The line is gigantic, cutting through the foot traffic and curling along the wall. “On second thought, I’m gonna go pee while you wait here.”

There’s a group of about five young boys in front of me. Old enough to be without their teacher, they seem to be basking in their breath of independence. With sloth-like speed, the line inches closer to the counter. Without anyone to talk to while I wait, I can’t help but overhear the boys in front of me. Listening to them ramble on about the game, debating stats, and comparing their favorite players, I find myself smiling. There’s something about kids that helps me see the world in a better way. Their youthful innocence makes me feel as if all hope is not lost.

After about ten minutes of waiting, the boys are finally up. Confused, I watch on as only four of the five boys order their food. “You ordering anything, Joey?” the kid ahead of him asks over his shoulder.

Shrugging, Joey answers, “Nah, I’m good.” Maybe he sounds convincing to his friends, but to me he sounds sad, left out somehow. He’s thinner than the rest of them, too and that alone tugs at my heart.

Thinking quickly, I fish my keys out of my bag and drop them to the floor right next to Joey’s feet. He bends to pick them up and I pretend to be distracted, looking off to the side.

He taps me on the shoulder, pulling me out of my faux-distraction. “Excuse me, ma’am. Are these yours?”

“Oh, my goodness. Thank you so much. I’m such a mess. I must have dropped them when I was taking my wallet out,” I prattle on excitedly.

“Oh, well here you go.” He drops them into my open hand as a proud smile brightens his face.

“Please let me give you a little something. As a reward,” I ramble on, dropping my keys back into my bag. His eyes widen when I slide a few bills out of my wallet.

“No, really it’s okay,” he deflects politely. “It’s no big deal really.” Keeping an eye on his friends, he seems as if he doesn’t want to bring attention to our exchange.

The last thing I wanted to do was embarrass him and it looks like I’m about thirty seconds away from doing just that. Playing it cool, I take a step closer to him and whisper, “Please. Take it. I would’ve been locked out of my apartment. Not everyone would have given them back.” Keeping the twenty carefully concealed, I extend my hand to him. Much like tipping a valet, I inconspicuously slide him the money as I shake his hand. After taking a step back, I say, “Thank you again.” Tipping my head toward his friends, I point out how they didn’t see a moment of our exchange. Joey smiles, a look of gratitude spreading across his face. Stepping up to the counter, he orders a hot dog and soda, carefully folding up the rest of the money before slipping it into his pocket.

Watching him walk away with his friends, happiness settles in my chest. I know it may sound cheesy to some, but it’s always made me feel like a better person when I’m able to do something nice for someone else. I’ve never acted charitably as a means to make others think highly of me. My good deeds have always been born from a simple truth: the world can be a terribly ugly place, so if I can do something to change it, alter it in even the slightest, then I will.

Jade slides up next to me as I’m finishing my order of a hot dog, pretzel, and bottle of water. Without even scanning the board, she says, “Make that two, please,” as she holds up two fingers to the cashier.

As I’m taking the box of food from the cashier, Jade pulls out her wallet and pays for our lunch, explaining, “That honey of yours got us the tickets so the least I can do is pay for lunch.”

And just like that, my faith in goodness is strengthened once again.

Walking back to our seats, the stadium erupts with loud and raucous cheering. We sit down just in time to watch a solo homerun cut through the sky, landing somewhere beyond the center field wall. A sea of blue and white uniforms crowd around home plate as the NYPD officer rounds third, jumping up and down and cheering him on the go-ahead run.

“They’ve got an inning left. Think they can do it?” Jade chimes in, mumbling around a gigantic piece of pretzel.

Scanning the crowd, all I see are groups of kids smiling and laughing, cheering and clapping. “They already have.”