CHAPTER 32
Lauren
There was an awkwardness to pacing back and forth in my childhood bedroom while imagining a very different ending to my evening. Graham wanted me as much as I wanted him.
Mine. His sultry claim still warmed me.
I wanted to be his—so badly I was willing to do almost anything. I didn’t like what that said about me. After our trip to Florida, he’d texted me a few times to ask if I was okay. Picked me up from the airport. Fed me. Looked at me the way I’d always dreamed he would. No pressure. No promises. Could I accept that? No, I had to throw myself at his feet and reveal that I’d been studying old video footage of him and offer to help him one more time. I would have been less ambivalent about accepting his invitation to spend time with his team if I hadn’t pretty much cornered him into asking me to. I may as well have just got a tattoo on my forehead that announced I was still helplessly, hopelessly in love with him. Obsess much?
Knowing that he wanted a repeat of Aspen should have made me feel better. I remembered the awe I’d felt the first time I’d realized I could turn him on. There was no longer a need to surreptitiously brush my foot over his dick for confirmation. Graham had declared his attraction to me.
He was also pairing actions with his expressed feelings. Not only was he taking me out on what felt like actual dates, but he was also inviting me into his professional world. I knew how protective he was of that part of his life.
I met the eyes of Max, the teddy bear Graham had given me when I was a kid. Max and I had been through a lot together, and I was embarrassed to admit to myself that Max was still one of my dearest possessions, even as an adult. Graham had given me the bear because he knew that I was having a hard time adjusting to my special school, and told me that Max would watch over me whenever Graham couldn’t—I wouldn’t be alone. I’d hidden that bear in my backpack for a whole year while I’d attended the school for the gifted. Graham had been someone who had always known better than anyone that I needed reassurance despite the brave face I mustered when I needed to.
Graham was a good man, a good friend and so much a part of me that I didn’t know the right next step to take. Life with Graham would have its challenges. His condition could be managed with treatment, but it couldn’t be cured. One day it might rear its head again and throw our life into chaos.
Was he worth the risk?
Absolutely, unequivocally, yes.
That certainty didn’t lessen my confusion, though.
If Graham breaks my heart again, it’s on me this time. No one made me sleep with him. No one would blame me for telling him we need to take a break from each other. He’s all passion and no promises—beyond friendship—and sex.
A knock on my door announced my father. “You okay?”
I almost said I was, but I shrugged since I had just a moment ago been pouring my thoughts out to an inanimate object because I’d been pouring my feelings out to Max since I was child. Maybe I needed the insight of an actual person this time.
My father came in and took a seat on the chair at my old desk. “Graham?”
I nodded and sat on the foot of my bed. “I want to say no—but yes.”
“You two have been spending time together. I thought things were going better.”
“I know I’m intense, Dad—”
My father chuckled while nodding, then stopped when he realized how serious I was. “It’s part of your beauty, Lauren. It’s why the world will benefit from you being in it.”
“I don’t know about all that, but I do try to be the best person I can be. I don’t always know what that should look like, though.”
“We’re still talking about Graham, right?”
“Yes and no. It’s really about me. Things that don’t bother other people drive me insane. But then I can forgive some people again and again. Does that make me a loving person or a doormat?”
My father leaned forward and a flash of anger lit his eyes. “It depends on what you’re forgiving.”
“Graham doesn’t know how he feels about me. One minute we’re friends. The next he thinks he wants more. Then he pulls back again because he doesn’t want to hurt me. It’s confusing and I keep telling myself I should be angrier than I am.”
Relief flooded my father’s expression. “Ah, young love.”
I blinked quickly. “Love? I wish it were that, Dad. I’m afraid, for him at least, it’s just a good case of friends who find each other attractive.” I hugged myself. “It’s different for me, though.”
My father nodded slowly. “I know, sweetie. I saw that one coming for a long time.”
“You did?” My eyes flew to his then I looked away—suddenly embarrassed that my feelings were that obvious.
He moved over to sit next to me and gave my back a pat. “Loving someone isn’t anything to be ashamed of. And even though this feels like it’ll kill you, it won’t. You’re young. You’ve got plenty of heartbreak ahead of you.”
I half smiled, half sobbed. “Thanks for the pep talk, Dad.”
He stood and walked to my door. “You’re a beautiful young woman, Lauren, and guys are pigs—don’t forget it. You’re old enough for this talk. Sex is different for men. They don’t need to care to want it.”
My chest tightened painfully and tears filled my eyes. “Graham cares.”
“Do you have any questions about birth control or condoms?” my father asked, looking as uncomfortable as I felt with the question.
“Dad, I’ve already had sex. This is about—”
“Stop,” my father barked, surprising me. “If you want to date him, don’t tell me anything that will make me punch him when I see him next.”
“Sorry,” I said. That wasn’t what I wanted to come from our conversation at all. The idea that time might not be linear, which allowed for the possibility that man might one day be able to manipulate it, brought me comfort because if given the option I would go back and not have this conversation. “He’s a good man, Dad. He just might not be mine. Which may not end up being such a bad thing. I don’t exactly look like a pro-football player’s wife. Not the ones I see on TV.”
“What God didn’t give you in beauty he made up for in brains and heart,” my father said confidently. “Any man who chooses silicone implants over character is a fool.”
“So I’m ugly but nice?” I asked.
My father looked pained. “Not ugly, just—you don’t do yourself up like some women. That’s all I’m trying to say. Your beauty is a natural one. I’m just saying that if you dress like a man all the time that might be why Graham keeps thinking of you as his friend. God, I wish your mother were still here. I’m not good at this stuff.”
“You did fine, Dad. Thanks.” I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. The talk had actually made me feel a little better. I understood what my father was trying to say and hadn’t thought about how much not having a mother had affected me.
He walked out into the hallway then turned. “You were only about as tall as my knee when I knew you’d run circles around me and Jack intellectually. You see the world differently than we do, Lauren, but that’s not a bad thing. I can’t tell you what’s in Graham’s heart, but I know what’s in yours. Be you, Lauren, no matter what happens with him. Don’t try to become someone you think he’d want. Celebrate the gifts you have and someday you’ll find someone who will love you for them.”
I smiled. “I will.”
He cleared his throat. “And always, always use a condom. Birth control pills don’t prevent STDs.”
I cringed inwardly. “I know, Dad. Thanks. Good night.”
He closed my door and I turned on my desktop computer. My father’s words echoed through me. I needed to be me no matter what Graham wanted. Realizing that didn’t help me when it came to figuring out how he felt about me, but it did help me decide how I wanted to present myself to his teammates the next day.
For the next few hours, I researched the hell out of whatever I could find online about the Wildcats and what kind of technology they were already using to support their training. Then I sent an email to Anders, a computer programmer friend of mine who loved a good challenge. I wanted a program that was 3-D and could isolate certain movements in a video then allow me to write directly on the video as well as demonstrate gyroscopic procession and how sometimes less spin would produce greater yardage. I knew he could get his hands on any program out there and with a little tweaking could make it do what I imagined. I threw in the caveat of having it done that night and waited.
A short while later he emailed me back in an encoded message that he’d acquired a copy of the program they used but preferred a different program that could already do most of what I wanted. He asked me what it was for. When I told him, he said it would take a few hours longer, but he’d do up something I wouldn’t get arrested for using.
I laughed, thanked him, and wrote, “Smart friends don’t get smart friends thrown in jail.”
I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t respond. Anders didn’t have a sense of humor and, knowing him, he was already working on my request. He was painfully introverted, but we had become sort of friends after he’d read my undergrad dissertation. He’d read everyone’s in his graduating class for entertainment. He was an odd duck, but then, so was I. On paper he would have been a perfect match for me, but there had never been so much as a spark of interest between us.
Before going to sleep I dug through my closet and pulled out every dress I owned. Some were too tight. Some looked too formal for a football field. I found a floral sleeveless dress that fit me perfectly. It was casual, but feminine. I remembered being with Kelley when I’d purchased it. She’d said the color brought out my eyes.
I spun in front of the mirror in my room. The skirt didn’t fly up so it would be safe to wear even in wind. My eyes shone with excitement as I wondered if Graham would like it. I told myself it didn’t matter if he did because I felt pretty in it. Friend or lover—this is me. I reached for the glasses I’d taken off for a moment and put them on again. Actually, this is me.
I spun again. I’d always felt more comfortable in slacks than dresses, but I wanted to wear one now. I would soon be working with men who smelled like the moth balls they used to protect their clothing. If I had to spend the time optimizing the natural skills of modern day gladiators I was damn well going to look good while doing it.
Graham texted me with directions to where he and his teammates would be practicing early the next morning. I asked him if there was a large TV or screen available so I could share something with everyone at once.
He texted back:
What do you want to share?
I answered:
It’s a surprise.
Graham: Don’t do anything special. They’ll be happy with any insight. I’m hoping you have an idea for me, but really I just want to see you again.
He couldn’t have said anything more perfect or motivational. He wanted me. Well, I’d bring him exactly that. The Wildcats were about to have their socks knocked off. And so are you, Graham.
Lauren: Good night, Graham.
Graham: Night, Peanut.
I fell asleep smiling.