Chapter Twenty-Seven
–Fletcher–
I work hard at forcing all the built-up tension between Haley and me into flipping her around her basement—and not in the way I’ve imagined inside my head.
I feel like a phony. Well, sort of. I mean, in theory, I believe all the jargon I’ve spit at her about dancing and being powerful. But I don’t really think I’m part of that movement yet. The thing is, I need Haley to believe all this. She’s the one letting go, opening all these doors for herself. The last thing I’d ever want to do is take credit for that.
“Hey, Fletch?”
I shake out of my haze. “Yeah?”
“Let me show you what I’m working on.” She plops down on the couch, typing in a search on YouTube on her phone. She’s calm and at ease now. So unlike the riled-up state I put her in moments ago. I close my eyes briefly, hating the screwup. Correction: the state she put herself in. Although she did say they were my imaginary hands touching her…
“Fletch? Sit,” Haley orders.
God, I think she has more self-control than I do. I honestly didn’t think that was possible.
I take a deep breath and fall onto the couch beside her. She plays a video for cheerleaders wanting to prepare for UCF’s tryouts. I watch the stunts closely, studying each one. “Wow…that doesn’t look easy.”
She sighs. “I know. It’s, like, impossible to prepare when we don’t do any of this stuff here. I mean, we don’t have guys on the squad.”
Her face is turned toward me now. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone so badly in my entire life. But unlike some of our other recent encounters, I don’t get that kiss-me vibe from Haley right now. She’s put a wall up on that activity. I settle for gliding my fingers over her cheeks inside my head. I take my time feeling every inch of skin on her face and neck, and then I lean in, taking the smallest taste of her lips, savoring it—
“Oh shit!” Haley jumps up after reading something on her phone. “I forgot about Andi!”
As if on cue, the doorbell chimes. “Andi?”
“Mike Steller’s little girl. I’m babysitting her tonight.” Haley is already heading for the stairs.
I follow behind her. “I should probably go, anyway. I have a lesson soon.”
She groans and then glares at me. “You had to remind me, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t realize you were trying to forget.” My stomach twists with more confusion. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” she snaps. “I hate when you do that. It’s not you.”
“Why not? I apologize for all kinds of things.”
“Okay, clarification needed.” She rests a hand on the front door, preparing to open it. “It’s not like you to apologize for how you choose to spend your free time. You’re only doing that for my benefit, because I have some weaknesses in this area.”
Okay then. Guess someone is working on her self-awareness. “I think what you mean to say is that we know each other well enough that I don’t have to be polite for your benefit.”
She flings the door open, plasters a grin on her face, and greets Mike Steller. The Otters’ former starting goalie who became a bit of a town outcast when he walked right out of the ice rink during the first home game of last season. To be a father, apparently, though it wasn’t public information at that time. Mike saunters in, a baby car seat dangling from one hand, a diaper bag from the other.
Then Haley turns to me. “Yes, what you just said. Exactly. But I’m still pissed that you brought it up again, and I’m totally ready for you to go so we can not talk about it anymore.” She flashes me her cheerleader grin. “How’s that for honesty?”
My cheeks warm; even my ears heat up. “Civics project,” I tell Mike. “Hard to agree on ideas sometimes.”
“Mike,” Haley says, “do you know—”
“Fletcher Scott,” Mike says, giving me a nod. He looks like he wants to shake my hand, but his hands are full. “How’s it going? How’s summer practice?”
He sounds so genuine, I’m too shocked to say much. “Um…good. It’s pretty good.”
I can’t exactly leave Haley all pissed, so I stand by the door while Mike gives her some instructions on sleeping and feeding before taking off. She lifts the baby out of the seat and holds her at arm’s length. “Look at you, getting so big. How much do you weigh now? Fourteen, maybe fifteen pounds?” She ignores me and keeps up the baby voice. “We’re going to have so much fun tonight, Andi. We’ll go for a walk to the park, you’ll watch me eat left over pot roast, maybe I’ll paint your toenails again.”
Haley shifts the baby to one arm and opens the front door. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Unless you want to stick around and change a diaper?”
I glance at the formula can in the bag. It’s the regular kind. Made from cow’s milk. The second I go near that baby, she’ll probably barf that up all over me. I shake my head. “Can’t. Babies and me…we’re not compatible.”
Haley nods like I’ve said something wise. “Well, then Andi here is reason number one not to have sex on a whim, right?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Is she saying that as a warning for my lesson today, or is she giving me reasons for her earlier reluctance? Whichever it is, something has gone wrong. Really fast. “Haley…?” I say slowly, grappling for words. “Are we okay?”
She closes her eyes and pats the baby on the back. “Look, Fletch, your speech about taking what I want and running with it was lovely. But I’m not like you. And right now, I feel extremely powerless, and I don’t know what the hell to do about it.”
I’m momentarily stunned to silence. Clearly, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore, either. “Maybe we should—”
“Just go, please.” She looks at me in a way that says she means it. “Mike has way too much pride to ask for free help unless he’s completely desperate, so I don’t get much time to hang out with Andi, and I’d like to enjoy it.”
And there it is. That weight Haley mentioned the other night. It’s sitting on my chest, heavy as a truck. I take a second to assess my breathing, make sure I’m not having an asthma attack. Then I finally manage to whisper the word “okay” before walking out the door and jogging to my car.
I’m definitely in need of an outside opinion.
…
“Clearly, he shouldn’t do this lesson,” Angel says to Ricky after I’ve spilled my most recent drama to both of them.
Ricky waves a hand, shutting up Angel. “I have no reason to believe anything but dancing happens in those lessons.” She covers her ears for a second, showing how much she’d like to be left in the dark. Angel rolls her eyes. Ricky turns her attention back to me. “You know how much I love your dad and Gramps, right?”
I nod and reach for my shoes below the backroom couch. I’ve got fifteen minutes before my private shows up.
“And I adore everything they’ve tried to teach you. And look at you. Your grams made you strong and confident and observant. You listen to people,” Ricky says. “Women at the club all adore you.”
“But…?” I prompt, knowing her compliment sandwich habit.
“But.” She nods. “This girl has spilled how she feels about you, and then you’ve gone and told her that she’s wrong. That what she’s feeling isn’t real.”
“Women do want to feel powerful,” Angel says, “but we also want to be heard and have our feelings taken seriously.”
I sink back into the couch, the weight on my chest growing heavier. “So, you do think Haley’s into me? Like for real?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?” Ricky asks me. “You have women after you every weekend.”
I shift uncomfortably on the couch. “Yeah, but they just want the guy dancing with them, not the other versions of me. The confidence, the leadership, being in the moment…that’s what they’re into.”
“But not Haley,” Angel says. “She’s different.”
“Pretty sure she’s into that version of me, too,” I retort, though I know it’s not completely true. She might be attracted to that me, but she doesn’t seem to trust him as much as the guy who confided in her outside the club and on the roof of the barn last Saturday night. “God, this is so confusing. What am I supposed to do? Give her space so she doesn’t get the wrong idea? Apologize even though she said not to?”
They both exchange looks, and then Ricky says, “I think you should suggest that she hook up with someone else, have a little fling of her own, dissolve some of that tension.”
My stomach drops. My heart picks up speed, my hands clenching the couch cushion below me.
Angel and Ricky are both silent, watching me. Then a grin spreads across Angel’s face. She points a finger at me. “I knew it! You hate that idea, don’t you?”
Yes. Very much. “I d-don’t…” I stutter. “I don’t know.”
Ricky’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, I bet you do know a little about how she felt, thinking about you in my practice room…” There’s a narrow-eyed warning to go with that statement. Clearly Ricky wants me to focus on teaching dance during the private lesson. I had planned on doing that anyway.
“The point is,” Angel says, bringing us all back on topic. “You’re trying to simplify something that isn’t simple.”
“Here’s a completely insane idea.” Ricky flips her long, slightly graying hair over one shoulder and rests her chin in her hand. “You could ask her out.”
I look between the two of them. “Um, no. There’s no way I’m gonna be the guy who went on a date with Haley Stevenson.”
“Better than the guy who screwed around with Haley Stevenson and didn’t even ask her out,” Angel says.
I shake my head. “It’s not like that…I mean, we’re not going to—”
“Tell anyone?” Angel suggests. “Yeah right. In that tiny town of yours, this is gonna spread like wildfire.”
Exactly what I’ve been afraid of all along.
Ricky stands up and smooths some of my disheveled hair. “Time to join the grown-ups, Baby.”
I make a big show of messing up my hair again, but I don’t have any words of protest. Even I admitted to myself the other night that I didn’t feel like a grown-up. Maybe I’m not acting like one, either.
“I know what we should do,” Angel says, perking up. “I’ll do the lesson with you. Will that help?”
I toss her a grateful look. I’m not gonna ask Haley-fucking-Stevenson, Princess of Juniper Falls, on a date, but that doesn’t mean my brain isn’t working on overdrive right now. I’m not in a good state to handle an overenthusiastic student. If that’s even what I’m going to get.
The girl who shows up for instruction in Argentine Tango is one I recognize from Saturday Latin Nights. She’s pretty, not at all shy, and clearly disappointed by Angel’s presence. But once we really get into the lesson, she’s working hard, sweating, and even listening to pointers from my partner. I force Angel to take half the cash for the lesson, and then I make a joke about her needing to buy two sizes of diapers soon.
She holds a finger to her lips and says, “Don’t jinx it. I’ve got a few more weeks before I can celebrate.”
Okay, well that explains the lack of information.
I sit in my car staring at my phone for nearly an hour until I finally figure out the right words to say to Haley.
ME: it’s possible that I might be a little bit confused too
HALEY: Okay…?
ME: Just didn’t want you to think I have it all figured out.
HALEY: Ok
ME: Is that a good ok or a bad ok?
HALEY: The fact that you asked automatically makes it a good ok
HALEY: Here does that help?
ME: Yes, very much. Still pissed at me?
HALEY: Kind of. But I will get over it. Eventually
My fingers are itching to keep going, to make this conversation last, and that in itself scares me enough to stuff my phone out of reach and start the car.
At home, I use Grandpa’s advice and take my frustrations out on the wood. He and Dad are both suckers for angst, so of course, I end up killing my back chopping while explaining this whole drama to both of them.
“Maybe Ricky is right,” Dad says from his seat on the tractor. “She feels how she feels. You can’t really change that. Just like Cole feels how he feels.”
Oh shit. Cole. I drop the ax and plop down in the grass. “Maybe I should go back to homeschooling?”
“Call your mother,” Dad says sarcastically. “She’s great with encouraging you to hide out and not have a real life.”
“You know what people are like around here,” I remind Dad and Gramps. Both have been on the victim side of town gossip. Gramps for his alleged hoax of a marriage to an illegal and Dad for getting a high-school girl pregnant. I’ve talked a lot with Gramps about what happened to Grandma, but Dad and I have never talked in detail about what he went through. It would be easy to place judgment on him, but the truth is that I wasn’t there. I don’t know what that relationship was really like. But I do know my dad, and he would never ever talk a woman into something that she didn’t want. At one point, my parents were very much in love. I know that for sure. My mom has told me as much.
“I think you should buy her a present,” Gramps says, ignoring my mention of town gossip. I’m already shaking my head. That’s way too superficial for Haley. But he raises a hand to shut me up. “You can get her something to show that you don’t disregard all of her interests.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Dad says. “Maybe this is so confusing for both of you because you consider her a friend now.”
Could that be the real issue? Haley is my friend? Weird, but maybe not so weird.
I point a finger at Gramps. “Genius award for you tonight. I’m gonna get her a present. That’s perfect.”
Of course, this revelation leads to me sitting in my bedroom, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of the perfect gift for Haley. Being the meticulous student that I am, this task includes me creating a list of everything I know about Haley. I jot it down in reverse order, from the most recent acquisitions to the more distant bits of information, so it takes a while before I’m writing down the items that had been on her “Hump Day To-do List.”
The second I recall the task of looking up info on UCF tryouts, I know exactly what to buy Haley.