Chasing the Boy

Chapter Nineteen

The sun came up too soon – I would have liked nothing more than to sleep in, until mid afternoon, at least. But, alas, there would be none of that. I had to be at work at nine, so I dragged myself out of bed at 7:30. I trudged downstairs, put on some coffee – an absolute must at this ungodly hour – and squinted out the window at the brilliant world. I was surprised to see Ryan and Joey shoveling the driveway.

I watched them for a moment, undetected. If I were to be honest with myself, I would admit I was really watching Joey. I liked being able to watch him without him knowing it. When others were around, I didn't like to look at him too long, or too hard, for fear they may guess at my ambiguous feelings. The anonymity of watching him unobserved allowed me to study him, and to maybe try to figure out what it was I was feeling.

Upon further scrutiny, I discovered that along with his surprisingly broad shoulders, Joey was quite a powerful individual. He had his coat off and his shirt was rolled up to well past his elbows, so I got a good glimpse at his arms, which were muscular and quite large. Again, I was surprised. I didn't know they made sixteen year old boys like this. I was used to my brother's physique, which was leaner and still boyish, and had figured most kids his age were thus developed.

I glanced at Joey's legs, which were widely planted, and saw the way his jeans pulled over the muscles in his thighs. This was not a mere boy's body. I found myself mesmerized and forced myself away from the door. Sitting down, heavily, I stared into my steaming cup of coffee, disgusted with myself.

"You're going to jail," I murmured under my breath. "The kid's sixteen, which makes even thinking about this completely illegal. You're sick – a cradle robber. The girls will never let you live it down, so don't even think about going there."

Preferring heartbreak to potential humiliation, I tried to conjure up Gregg's image but my stubborn brain refused to cooperate. I was saved from further soul searching by my sister, who came crashing down the stairs and thundered into the kitchen.

"Hey," I said, eyeing her warily. She hadn't said anything to me about Joey the previous evening, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't give me an earful today.

"Hey," she said and began pulling out the makings for her breakfast – cereal, milk, bowl, and spoon. She looked sleepy.

She remained silent and I watched her, wondering if I'd misread the look on her face after the snowball fight. Maybe she hadn't seen the way Joey and I had looked at each other.

My brother came into the kitchen at that moment, trailing Joey behind him. They were rosy-cheeked from the cold, but warm and out of breath from the exertion. Kicking off their sneakers, they stomped into the room and crowded around the refrigerator. Apparently, shoveling works up quite an appetite. Ryan started making pancakes. I was surprised when Ava did not stay to watch, help or supervise.

"Jaime," my brother began, glancing up from the egg he was cracking. "Can you give Joey a ride home on your way to work?"

It was a simple request, but the thought of being alone with my brother's friend sent pins and needles along my spine and made me uneasy.

"What about Mom?" I asked, feeling frantic. I was supposed to be laying low. This wasn't laying low.

Ryan shook his head. "She can't," he told me. "She has to be somewhere in an hour and doesn't have the time. She told me that you would."

Great, I thought. How could I say no? "All right," I relented. "Be ready by eight-thirty," I said. I didn't look at him as I made my way past. Why begin the torture now? I'd be stuck in a car with him soon enough and there'd be no escaping the uncomfortable truth.

I tried not to notice how I lingered over my hair and makeup, or how I paid special attention to what I wore. I told myself I wasn't trying to look good or impress anyone - that I was only dressing for my job. It was a crock of shit, of course, and I knew it – I'd been to work in sweats and flip-flops before.

When I got downstairs, he was waiting for me at the table.

"You ready?" I asked, sounding put-off.

He nodded. "Yup," he said.

After hollering his goodbyes, he followed me out to the vegetation mobile. I didn't know if he had been apprised of the unsavory aroma his nose was about to encounter and I hoped that the car-deodorizers were working. I slid into the front seat and was happy to smell only a light vanilla scent. Of course, I reminded myself, my nose had never been able to pick up the eau de cabbage. He got in and if he smelled anything he didn't say so.

We drove in silence for a bit - it was one of those uncomfortable, charged silences, like each of us was going out of our way to avoid interaction of any kind. The drive to his house felt like a blind date gone bad. Halfway there, I couldn't take it anymore. I never did well with awkward silences; I always felt like I had to fill the void.

"So," I said. "How did everything go with Marissa?" I told myself I was just asking to pass time and because he had come to me for advice – not because I really wanted to know or anything.

I could feel him studying me, but kept my eyes on the road. "You mean how did the break-up go?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Okay, I guess," he said, shrugging his shoulders. I noticed he wasn't wearing his seatbelt. "As far as breakups go it was pretty good, I guess She wasn't happy with me, but she didn't break down or beg me to stay or anything, which is good because I couldn't have dealt with that."

"You're not wearing your seatbelt," I said.

He looked at me like I was crazy. "Yeah, I know that," he replied.

"Put it on please," I asked.

"No way," he said, shaking his head. "I never wear my seatbelt, not for my mother, not for my father, not ever. And, I'm not going to start now." He was still staring at me. I glanced over and saw the challenge in his eyes.

"Well, I'm asking you," I said. "You know I could get a ticket if I got pulled over and you weren't wearing your belt." I was hoping to appeal to his good conscience. .

"So, don't get pulled over," he replied. I almost laughed – almost. We were silent a bit longer.

"So," I said after a few moments. "You broke up with Marissa and she didn't go ballistic on you – that's good. Did you ask the girl out yet?"

I could feel his gaze on me again, and felt the need to squirm. "You said you were going to go for it, is all. I was just wondering..." My voice died off.

"Not yet," he told me. "I'm working on it."

I didn't know what that meant, and I didn't know what I wanted that to mean, but we spent the remainder of the ride in silence. When I dropped him off, he paused, his hand on the handle. I thought he was going to say something. He didn't. Then, I surprised myself.

"Nicky is having a party next weekend," I told him. What was I doing? "I've always promised Ryan I'd bring him to one of our parties. Maybe you guys could both come. That way, I wouldn't have to babysit him."

"Cool," he said, nodding. " Are your friends hot?' He pushed his way out of the car.

"Ha ha," I called after him. "Very funny. Besides, I thought you already had yourself an older girl."

He didn't say anything. He just looked at me, right at me, and I noticed how dark brown his eyes were, like dark chocolate..
"Thanks for the ride," he said, leaning in my door.

I waved him away, acting like I needed to get to work, and he closed the door and headed up his front walkway. I watched him for another second and then got out of there. I needed to put as much distance between the two of us as humanly possible. As I drove down the snowy road, I wondered what the hell I was thinking by inviting him to Nicky's party. I was giving the term laying low a whole new meaning.