Page 98 of Dreams of Falling
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s pretend we’re fifteen. I’ll get a hot dog and get ketchup all over my dress and not realize it’s there until I get home and look in a mirror, and you can roll up your pants so that they’re too short, because you’re growing so fast your mother can’t keep you in clothes that fit.”
He threw back his head and laughed, not missing a step, and we were teenagers again, two friends who loved to dance, who knew each other better than they knew themselves. Everything was the same—except for the way it felt where our hands were clasped together, skin to skin.
We stopped when we got hungry and had a couple of beers and hot dogs—mine without any condiments. I danced twice with Jonathan, who was almost as good a dancer as Bennett, and true to Mabry’s prediction, with several other men who cut in. Despite being gray-haired and moving slightly more stiffly than Bennett, they were wonderful dancers and fun partners, and I found myself laughing freely and enjoying myself thoroughly.
The sun had long set behind the clouds, the light beginning to fade from the sky, when a familiar voice came from behind us. “May I cut in?”
I smelled his cologne before I turned, the scent reminding me of Jackson Porter the football star I’d cheered from the stands, and whom I’d loved from afar for too many years to count. I pushed back Mabry’s words about him still being a pompous jerk and me having blinders on. It was easy when I looked at him, with his broad shoulders and cleft chin, his casual confidence as he faced Bennett, not expecting him to argue.
Instead of letting go of my hand when I moved to pull away, Bennett held tight. Ignoring Jackson, he turned to me. “Are you sure, Larkin?”
I stared back at him, wrestling with his meaning, and with what I really wanted now as an adult and not a teenaged girl.
“Dude, come on—we’re all friends here,” Jackson protested.
“Are we, though?” Bennett asked, still gripping my hand.
I pulled my hand away, keeping my eyes on Bennett. “I’m really hot. I think some fresh air and a cold beer are what I need.” I turned to Jackson and smiled. “Is that all right with you?”
His return grin hit all the familiar notes in my insides. “Absolutely.” He put his hand on the small of my back and began leading me away. “See you around, Bennett. And don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her.”
I didn’t turn to look, but I felt Bennett’s eyes on us until Jackson and I had left the tent.
I was so thirsty, I drank my first beer too fast. Jackson had a second plastic cup in my hand before I could ask for another. We hadn’t brought chairs from home, so we walked slowly down the street, people watching and breathing in the cool night air.
“Are you enjoying your visit back home?” he asked.
“Except for my mother being in the hospital, yes. It’s been good seeing old friends. And family.” I laughed. “Even the humidity’s okay.” I handed him my beer. “Here—hold this for a sec.” I pulled the hair tie off my wrist and made a ponytail, trying not to notice how his gaze moved to my chest when I put my arms up. I quickly lowered them and took my beer back.
“You look real sexy in that dress.”
I almost choked on my beer. “Excuse me?”
“Sorry—I meant it as a compliment. I guess it didn’t come out the right way. I meant that you look really gorgeous tonight. You should be real proud of yourself.”
I didn’t say anything, waiting for him to mention my job in New York, and how I’d started a new life from scratch.
“Losing all that weight... man. I can’t stand being hungry. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to starve yourself for so long.”
I took another sip of my beer, appreciating the dulling effect it had on what might otherwise have been interpreted as an insult. “I didn’t starve myself. I just started eating better and exercising. My therapist called it ‘being mindful.’”
“Well, however you did it, congratulations. You did good.” He raised his cup to mine, and we knocked them together gently, managing not to spill a single drop.
“Yes, well, thank you.”I always thought you were beautiful. Bennett’s words came back to me, and I suddenly wished he were there so I could tell him thanks for saying that. Thanks for believing it, and meaning it, because I had no doubt that he really had.
A cold, fat raindrop landed on my shoulder; more drops began dotting the street in front of us. I glanced back at the tent, trying to judge whether we could make it before the deluge.
As if reading my mind, Jackson said, “My car is right around the corner. Come on.” He grabbed my hand, and we began running just as a rumble of thunder vibrated in the sky and the clouds opened up, drenching the world beneath. Jackson closed the passenger door behind me before racing to the driver’s side and jumping in. We looked at each other in the dim light of a streetlamp and laughed at our dripping hair and soaked clothing. I turned to peer out through the windshield.
“I hope it doesn’t last long. I wasn’t done dancing.”
Jackson reached over and pushed a damp strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m sure we could come up with a few things to keep us busy while we wait for it to stop.” His hand slipped behind my head and cupped it gently as he brought my face to his.
He was an expert kisser, his lips surprisingly soft. Yet for all the years I’d spent fantasizing about this very moment, there was no spark between us. No bright flash of light behind my eyelids. No moment of surrender, and no part in the proceedings where I melted into him and the world disappeared. Instead, I was aware of the pressure of his lips against mine, and the taste of beer on his tongue, and the sound of rain pattering against the car’s roof. I opened my eyes, my memory shining a spotlight on the truth. This was the first time he’d kissed me, but it wasn’t the first time he’d touched me.
I stopped moving my lips, aware of the lingering scent in the car of a woman’s perfume that wasn’t mine. I remembered how late Jackson had shown up at the dance, and pulled abruptly back, surprising him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
