Wow, what do we have here? New girls were rare enough. New and beautiful were unheard of. It was like finding a diamond on the football field.
Our eyes locked, and for a brief moment, I forgot about football, saving enough to buy my dad’s truck, grades, fixing Nick’s car, and the party next week. All of it disappeared. My gut lurched sideways, and I froze in place.
Her hair was dark, a dark reddish brown with a hint of highlights. Her white blouse stretched and jeans curved at all the right places, just enough to send a spark of animalistic reaction to my insides. Her face looked like someone had designed the perfect girl, heart shaped, flawless, and wholesome. Both beautiful and pretty. The kind of face that could trap a man if he wasn’t careful.
Most of all, though, were her deep brown eyes. They pulled at me. I swear I couldn’t have looked away if I tried. I stepped forward waiting for Marla to introduce us, my gaze never leaving her face.
Marla introduced us with a roll of her eyes. Amber stepped back as all four of us guys stepped forward at the same time. I was fastest. Nick tried to shoulder me out of the way, but I was ready for him and trod on his foot as I held my hand out to shake hers.
She blushed a little and looked almost overwhelmed. Where was she from, what was her story? Suddenly, it had become the most important thing in the world to know everything about her.
“Welcome to Everton, Amber,” I said, as a warm tingle ran up my arm from where we touched.
“Yeah, Welcome. It’s about time we got some new talent around here,” Nick said, as he elbowed me out of the way so he could properly greet her. Leave it to Nick, always full of class. He might be my best friend, but that didn’t mean we weren’t going to have a serious discussion later.
Both Luke and Tank said hi, neither of them seemed as interested as Nick or I. Which only went to prove that both of them were dead from the knees up.
“Hi, um … hi,” Amber said with a shy smile.
“Come on, it’s stroganoff,” Tank said, as he started herding us to my house.
“Are you having dinner with us?” I asked, as I fell in step next to her.
She nodded her head shyly, and my heart melted. Careful big boy, remember rule number one, no girlfriends this year. You promised yourself that you were going to play the field. Date, fool around, have fun. Nothing serious I reminded myself. Football, school work – without which there would be no football- and then girls, plural. In that order.
Something told me I was going to be rethinking things.
The savory aroma of Mom’s beef stroganoff enveloped us as we walked into the house. Tank’s stomach rumbled, and Nick laughed. The table was set, ready to go. I waited so that I could maneuver myself next to Amber but Marla was three steps ahead of me. She pulled out a chair next to Dad on the end and sat on the other side of her.
Once Amber had gotten settled, Marla shot me a look of pure glee. The girl loved making my life miserable. That’s okay, this way I got to look across the table at an angel.
.o0o.
So this is what they mean by eating family style. Each person took a portion of salad or stroganoff then passed it along to the next person. I waited quietly until everyone had gotten their food but I noticed none of the four Lakeland boys, as I had named them, waited. Each of them dug into their meal as if it was the last food they would ever eat.
Mrs. Turner didn’t seem to mind. Mr. Turner wasn’t far behind them.
“So, Amber, what do your parents do?” Mr. Turner asked me between bites. He seemed like a nice man, tall and slim with thinning brown hair.
Marla had told me that he owned a construction company. In fact, they’d built most of the houses in Lakeland Estates. Her mother worked part time at the library. I had a feeling I would be seeing a lot of Mrs. Turner in the future.
“My mother’s a professor at Columbia,” I answered. “She’s on sabbatical right now. My father’s an author. Thrillers mostly.”
“Not Dereck Johnson?” Mrs. Turner gasped from the far end of the table. “I love his books.”
This was where it usually started. Where people would ask a thousand questions. What was it like living with a famous author –okay- or: was it hard living up to the expectations of such an esteemed mother. –Sometimes-.
I took a quick bite of stroganoff to excuse myself from having to talk.
Wow, this was good. I hadn’t expected the warm mesh of flavors and texture. My mouth cried for more.
“This is very good, Mrs. Turner. Thank you for inviting me,” I said and even meant it.
“Yes, perfect as always Mrs. T,” Tank said around a mouthful of food. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marla shake her head.
“Thank you,” both Luke and Nick said as well. Mrs. Turner blushed and smiled to herself.
The table surprised me by not focusing on my parents. Mr. Turner asked Nick about his car. Marla and her mom got into a sharp discussion about what she was wearing the first day of school. Mrs. Turner was a little more conservative than her daughter.
All this was going on while the Scandinavian god from Asgard itself sat across from me. Peering at me from under those gorgeous eyebrows as if examining a potential meal. I was so far out of my comfort zone I couldn’t even see it from here.
Lowering my eyes, I focused on my meal and listened to them, especially the four older boys. Marla had two little brothers. Michael who was about eight and little John, who at two, was still in a high chair at his mother’s elbow. He was making faces at Luke who was making them right back. The little boy would giggle each time
“Leave him alone Luke,” Mrs. Turner said with a smile. “Or, he’ll never finish.
All this was going on while I tried desperately to think of something to say. Some question that could spark conversation without it revolving around my parents or why we had moved here.
“Marla said that you do this every Thursday,” I said. I expected Mr. Turner to answer, but it was Jason who jumped in.
“Yeah, Mom cooks a big dinner every Thursday for all four of us. Tank’s mom used to do the same thing on Monday’s, but that stopped a couple of years ago.”
Tank dipped his head, the tips of his ears turning pink. He took another bite, choosing not to join the conversation.
“She says it’s her only way to make sure I sit down for a family meal at least once a week,” Jason continued, “she knew if she invited the guys, then I had to come home to eat.”
“So, Amber,” Marla said, obviously trying to change the subject, “What do you like to do? Do you have any hobbies?”
“Yes, Amber, what excites you?” Jason said. His eyes were smirking while his lips stayed neutral. Only someone sitting across from him would catch his meaning. Or, someone who’s arm still tingled from his touch.
What did I like? Oh God, I’d forgotten everything about my own life.
“I uh … like to draw, and read a lot,” I said, pleased with myself for remembering how to talk.
“Wow, I bet you loved living in New York. All those galleries and bookshops,” Mrs. Turner said.
We talked a bit about my favorite authors. If I hadn’t been told already, I would have known immediately that Marla’s mom was a librarian. They all seemed to know every author and always had a recommendation of who I should try next. The entire time we talked, I could feel Jason watching me.
Why? I wondered. Why is he watching me like that? He can’t be that interested in what books I’ve read.
The meal continued with people talking over each other, joking, and teasing. I felt like an outsider, but didn’t care. I was witnessing a different way of life, a simpler, happier way of life that gave me an insight to why people had big families.
As we finished eating, Jason said, “Who’s up for a game of hoops?”
“Not until you’ve finished the dishes,” Mrs. Turner said to a room full of groans.
“You know the rules, no dishes this week, no dinner next week. I’m thinking lasagna.”
“Come on guys, let’s get them done,” Tank said, as he pushed his chair back.
I offered to help, but Marla shook her head, “No way, it’s their turn.” I will never understand the brother – sister dynamic.