Page 65 of Hard Count
I’ll think about it.
NASH:
While you’re naked in my bed.
I grin when an idea hits me. I don’t know what it is about Nash that makes me feel bold and a little wild. He makes me want to test all the limits I've set for myself. Or maybe, I don’t have a need for any boundaries with him. I can just be free.I can be me.
Rushing up to my room, I strip off my shirt and unhook my bra. I take my hair down and arrange it over my breasts where I’m mostly covered up. I push my boobs together with one arm and hold my camera at a distance with the other.
ME:
Like this? Or…
I jump off the bed and race to my closet. I should have grabbed this before I sent over the first photo. Flipping through the hangers, I finally find what I want in the very back. Oh god, I can’t believe I’m going to show him this.
I slip Nash’s high school jersey over my head and take off my shorts. This time I take the photo with my eyes closed like I’m asleep.
ME:
This.
NASH:
Where’d you get that? Where are you?
ME:
My dad’s house. I’ve had it since high school. I told you you’re my number one.
I run my hand over the number one on his jersey. I wouldn’t say I had a crush on Nash in high school. I spent so much of my time studying him, I became a little infatuated. I definitely thought he was good looking but he had a girlfriend back then. There was no reason to get my hopes up and think he would ever want to be with me.
NASH:
Baby
Dots appear and disappear on the screen.
NASH:
Just bring that back to campus with you. Okay?
ME:
Sure. I can do that.
I flip through more of my old clothes from high school to see if there’s anything else that I want. I didn’t keep much here sinceI spent most of my time at my mom’s place. It's mostly old tees and a few dresses.
It looks like he’s started using my closet for storage. There are a bunch of boxes on the top shelf I don’t recognize. I reach for one of the shoe box size containers and slide it off the shelf. It’s not like he’s here to catch me snooping. It’s in my room anyway.
Exhaling a deep breath, I flip the lid. Huh, it’s envelopes. I laugh at myself. Here I was thinking it was going to be something scary. I lift the folded piece of paper on top and open it. Immediately I recognize the handwriting as my moms.
‘Nice try Gavin. XOXO Laura’
Why would she be giving my dad a bunch of letters? I yank out one of the envelopes. It’s addressed to me and dated six years ago. It’s sealed and with no return to sender stamped on the front. Quickly, I flip through the postmarks. There are at least fifty letters that span over two years.
Rushing back to my closet, I pull down another box. Same thing but from four years ago. One, two, three, four, five, six boxes. Are they all letters? I grab them all and spread them out over my bed. “There’s so many,” I say, not recognizing my own voice.
My hand shakes as I pull a random letter from the box. I slip my fingernail into the tiny opening at the corner and rip the envelope open. One page of lined notebook paper with simple handwriting is all that’s inside.
