Grace and Grant were not meant to be, but there were eleven reasons why he was unforgettable.
This is a short story of how she fell for him, and how he let it all fall apart.
[ Short Story #39 ]
His smile was not dazzling, not that breathtaking, but still managed to make a tickling sensation in her stomach. She was sure he could melt her into a little puddle on the ground if he wanted to.
It was just that the way he smiled crookedly, half-smiled and half-smirked, the corner of his lips quirking upward with that glint in his eyes... it made her crazy.
And every time he did it, she was torn between wanting to stay and running away to save her heart from beating too rapidly.
Mid-January, 2011
I pursed my lips, annoyed, waiting alone at the door. The cool breeze of winter brushed past me, biting at my skin angrily. I tightened the jacket around my body, shivering slightly. Finally, he walked away from the crowd, away from all of them, toward me.
"Hey," he said breathily. He stood next to me for a while before walking past me and sat on the long wooden bench next to the door, zipping up his jacket.
"Hi," I said back, pushing myself off the doorframe I'd been leaning on and moved to sat next to him. "You tired?"
He shrugged. "Sorta," and then sighed, wiping at his forehead though he wasn't sweating. It's still winter for God's sake. "Sorry we didn't win the game. Sorry I disappointed you. I mean—you hate soccer but you came all the way here for me. To support my school team. And you're all alone and you shouldn't have—"
"Hey, it's okay, Grant. Not your fault they were all such giants." I glanced back inside the gymnasium, where everyone—every single one of the Westside High soccer team and their supporters—was cheering. I laid my palm on the back of his hand comfortingly, my annoyance melting away instantly as his eyes gazed into mine.
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah. We didn't expect them to be that..." he paused to get the right word, and then shrugged, "strong."
"You're strong, too," I teased. "Only they're stronger."
I stood up and held out my hand to him. He stared at it for a moment before returning his gaze to my eyes and grinned as he took my hand. He stood up beside me and slipped his fingers in-between mine and we walked side-by-side. But as much as he tried to hide it, I could feel him limp in his steps.
"What's wrong?" I asked, stopping our track.
He shook his head. "Nothing, Al. Let's just keep walking."
But I ignored him. "Did you get hurt? Where is it?" I asked worriedly, but he just laughed.
"Relax. It's nothing. I guess one of those dudes accidentally kicked my leg but it's okay. I've had worse bruises."
But hearing that did not make me feel any better. He'd had worse bruises. More painful ones. It made my heart swell up in concern. "That's not an excuse," I said, dragging him back to the bench. "You're still hurt. Let me see it."
He shook his head. I gave him a flat look. Eventually, he sighed tiredly and pointed at his right foot, before bending down and slowly pulled down the sock that covered the skin.
Slowly, I ran my finger at his bruising skin. Very lightly, but I was still worried that I might hurt it. And at the same time I tried my best to hide the fact that I felt an electrical buzz when I touched him. "Does it hurt?"
"A bit," he admitted.
"Right now? With my finger on it?" I said, pulling my fingers away from his skin.
I couldn't help but notice a disappointed look on his face. "No, no. It's okay. Doesn't hurt much, really. I'm alright."
Finally, I nodded. We walked back to the front gate, away from the stadium, and my mind couldn't shut. I kept thinking about him, about how much pain he'd suffered, how many injuries he'd gotten, and that made me feel sick with worry.
I stared up at him, because he was a head taller than me, and he looked down at me.
"What, Ali?" he asked, his only nickname for me rolling off his tongue like a melody.
I smiled. "Come here."
Grant leaned down slowly. I stood on my toes and placed my mouth near his ear, and then I whispered softly. "I love you."
And then I stood back on my feet, turning my head away to hide my blushing cheek and my schoolgirl grin. I couldn't see him but I swore I could feel him blush as well. And the corner of my eyes caught his smirk as he leaned down to me and said between his nervous—or amused? I couldn't tell—laughter.
"I love you too."
When I glanced at him and saw his lopsided smile, my breath caught in my throat.
And I remembered the reason why I had fallen in love.
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