Chapter Nine
Molly
I hadn’t seen Brock since the night of the haunted train ride. It had been two days, twenty-two hours and thirty-six minutes…give or take. Not that I was counting. I do have to wonder what would have happened that night if Jake and Megan hadn’t pulled up when they did.
It was all so romantic that it had gone straight to my head. The fun we had at the pumpkin patch and tree farm, and then the moonlight and the rain, and then dancing in a parking lot of all things. I can’t believe he sang that song. He’s so talented. I love the way his voice sounds, even a-cappella. I also love Steven Tyler. He’s my absolute favorite. I know that I’m young and I hear it all the time, “Aero—who?” But come on, classic is classic and obviously Brock understands.
“Oh my God, Molly! I said this out loud to myself in an empty room. What the heck is wrong with me? I’m counting the hours since I saw this guy last. I’m humming, “Don’t want to miss a thing”, in my head, and I’m saying that he understands me. What happened to the girl who didn’t want a boyfriend?
We’re just hanging out. Yeah right, that’s why he was about to kiss me two days, twenty-two hours and thirty-six minutes ago, and I was going to let him. That would have moved this thing straight from “hanging out” stage to “soulmates”. Yes, I’m sure it would have been that good.
Snap out of it Molly! He’s hot, yes. He’s smart, yes. He’s talented, yes. He’s sweet, yes. Do you want a boyfriend who is going to take your heart when he finds out you’re sick, and run in the other direction as he stomps on it like the last one did? No!
He called me yesterday and told me what a great time he had the other night. I told him I had too, honestly. I can’t remember the last time I had that much fun. I told myself before he called that I just wasn’t going to put myself in that situation again, one where we’re close enough and alone enough to kiss. Then he said, “Hey, why don’t we watch a movie tomorrow night?”
And I said, “Sure that sounds great.” Way to cut him off Molly.
So now I’m getting ready for movie night, both in anticipation of the thrill of seeing his handsome face, and with anxiety that he’s going to want to finish that kiss. I’m going to stay strong this time, no matter how sweet his lips look. Megan is going to give me a ride over to his apartment, maybe her and Jake will hang out for a while and foil Brock’s kissing plans yet again.
“Molly, you ready?” It was Megan, sticking her head in the door.
“Yep,” I said. I grabbed my coat and on the way out I asked her, “Are you and Jake watching the movie with us tonight?”
“No. Jake wants to drive out to that car show he was telling us about.”
“Isn’t that like a three hour drive?” I asked her.
“Yeah, he says that we can stay at his friend Tim’s mom’s house if it gets too late.”
Great, they won’t just be absent long enough for the kiss…they’ll be gone all night. I’ll have to find a way to foil his plan on my own. It wasn’t my planning that I had doubts about. It was my resolve.
Megan texted Jake when we drove up at their apartment, and then she looked at me and said, “You two behave. We might be gone all night.” And then she grinned. I rolled my eyes at her and I didn’t dignify it with a response.
“Drive safe Meggs. Thanks for the ride,” I told her as I got out of the car. I passed Jake coming out as I was going in.
“Be good,” he said, with the same grin that Megan had on her face. These two are ridiculous.
“You too,” I told him. It was Saturday. I had used up all my good barbs for the week and that was the best I could do.
Brock was waiting at the door for me, literally. He was standing in the doorway, waiting for me. It was nice, but you have to admit it was also a little weird.
“Hey Molly, Jake told me you were here.”
“Hey. Yeah, I passed him on his way out. Megan must really love him to drive three hours to a car show.”
Brock smiled. “You wouldn’t do it?” he said. I took my coat off and sat down on the couch. I was getting so comfortable here; I didn’t even wait to be asked anymore.
“For Jake?” I asked with a grin. “Never!”
He sat down next to me. He doesn’t fight fair. He smells so good…all the time. Seriously, the guy never has a bad smell day. Sometimes when he looks at me with those blue eyes I completely forget what we’re talking about, and whose turn it is. Did he ask me a question?
“No, not for Jake,” he was saying. Now I remember. “For the man you love.”
“Hmm, that’s a hard one. It’s November which means it’s colder than a witch’s teat out there. I don’t like to be cold.”
“I do know that,” he said, fighting dirty still with an almost edible grin.
“I’m not a big fan of the car either. I mean, I’m okay with sitting in it to go from point A to point B and back again. But would I drive three hours to see one or more? It’s doubtful, even for love.”
Brock laughed. “That’s what I like about you. You’re honest to a fault, even if it goes against the social norms.”
“Are you saying I often go against the social norms?” I wasn’t sure if I should be flattered or insulted. Was he saying I wasn’t socially normal? It’s true in a lot of ways, but if that’s what he’s saying, shouldn’t I be insulted?
“You know what I mean. Peer pressure and all of that. I like it that you’re not one of those girls who thinks you have to be in a sorority and talk and dress and act just like every other girl your age. It’s a good thing.”
“Okay,” I told him. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“So what are we going to watch?” he asked me.
“What do you have?” I asked him.
“Since we watched Benny and Joon, I guess I don’t have to be embarrassed of my Johnny Depp obsession. I have pretty much everything he’s ever been in. And I have lots of Robert DeNiro; I like him too. I’ve got all of the Fast and the Furious movies, but if you don’t like cars…”
“I didn’t say I don’t like cars with Paul Walker and Vin Diesel in them,” I told him with a grin.
“Johnny Depp it is then,” he said with a grin of his own.
“Johnny Depp in a car is good too,” I told him. “Oh! A pick-up. I like Johnny Depp in a pick-up. Do you have Gilbert Grape?”
“What kind of Johnny Depp collector would I be if I didn’t have What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?” he said.
“A poor one,” I told him, honestly.
He laughed again and said, “There it is…that brutal honesty again. Do you want anything to eat or drink before I start it?”
“What do you have?” I asked him. Again, the level of comfort I was beginning to feel here was a little bit over the top for me.
He went over and opened the fridge. “I have apple slices, I have bananas, I have raspberry parfait yogurt; Jake hates the fact that it’s in our fridge so if you eat it, you’d be doing us all a favor.”
“Why does he hate it in there?” I asked him.
“Because he’s a homophobic weirdo. He had a friend of his over playing X-box the other day and he was embarrassed because the guy saw it in the fridge when he went in for a beer.”
“Huh! That’s terrible!” I said in a mock-terrified voice. “What if he tells everyone that Jake eats pink yogurt?”
Brock pulled two out and two bottles of water. He closed the fridge door and got two spoons before he said, “Yes, luckily for his manly reputation, he is a fast-thinker. He told me that he said they were Meg’s. I asked him why he didn’t just tell him they were mine and he said, and I quote, “I don’t want him to think my roommate is gay, dude.”
He had Jake’s voice so down pat, it was hilarious. He handed me the yogurt and the spoon and I thanked him and then he turned on the movie. We sat back into the couch eating our “gay” yogurt and watching What’s Eating Gilbert Grape. When I finished my yogurt he reached for the cup to throw it away and his fingers touched mine. It was just a little brush, finger-on-finger. But I got this thrill, like a little electric jolt or something. It was so weird. I have never been this weird over a guy before. Maybe it was my new medications. I’ll have to ask the doctor about that next time I go.
Brock sat back down and this time he kind of slouched so that his face was even with mine, and he was kind of leaning towards me. It was nice, and it made me nervous at the same time. It would be the perfect position to go in for a kiss.
“So what is it you like about this movie?” he asked. I realized I was still looking at him and not at the movie. I supposedly don’t want this guy to kiss me, yet here I am, staring at him like I’m waiting for it. I looked back at the screen. It was at the part where Leonardo DiCaprio climbs the water tower and Gilbert has to talk him down.
I looked back at Brock. I knew what I liked about it, but I didn’t want to sound too sappy when I said it. Finally, I said, “It’s one of those movies that just brings home that no matter how screwed up your family is…you still love them. You’ll still stand up for them and fight for them, no matter how much they drive you crazy.” He was looking at me again with those blue eyes. I know that it’s really me that’s not being fair. What was he supposed to do, look at me with someone else’s eyes?
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” he said. “My family is pretty weird and screwed up, but I’m the only one that’s allowed to say so.”
I knew what he was talking about. “My family consists pretty much of me and my grandmother,” I said, “But if someone talks crap about grandma I will go bat crazy on them.”
He laughed at that. “Bat crazy?” Now he was making fun of me, but in a cute way.
“Yeah, have you ever seen a bat try to fly in the daylight?” I asked him. I was just giving him more ammunition, I know. I couldn’t stop myself though.
“No,” he said, still amused.
“They fly into walls and whatever else is in the room. They’ll beat themselves into a closed window until they’re bloody. It’s really interesting to watch.”
He raised his eyebrows then. I know he’s rethinking that kiss now. I’ve shown him how weird I really am. “So you’ve tried this?” he asked. Now he was picturing me trapping bats and setting them loose in the house to see what they’d do.
“Not on purpose,” I told him. “We used to have this old shed out in the back of our house. There was a bat nest in there, but I didn’t know that. I used to sleep with my bedroom window cracked a little bit and one night Count Dracula flew in. I thought it was a bird, until I turned on the light. Then he really freaked out. He was squeaking and running into things, and I was screaming. Grandma came running with her own bat…the Louisville Slugger kind. It was a whole ordeal.”
“And there you have the explanation for your “bat crazy” saying,” he said it with a grin.
Yeah, he’s over the kiss now, I’m sure.
“I just thought of something.”
“What?”
“Your grandma had a “bat” too right? Maybe that’s what the saying means…that she went “bat” as in Louisville slugger…crazy. You know like in the Carrie Underwood song where she takes the Louisville Slugger to both headlights?”
It’s funny I think how, as a musician, he relates so many things back to music.
“Are you calling my grandma crazy?” I asked.
“I would never,” he said. “You just told me she owns a bat and she’s not afraid to use it. I’d never call her crazy.”
“You would be a smart man not to call her that to her face. Grandma’s a pretty tough old cookie. She is a little bit crazy though, and please don’t ever tell her I said that.”
“Scared of her a little bit?” he said with a grin.
I shrugged, “She does have a bat.” He laughed again. I have to admit, and I know that it’s weird, but I like that he laughs at my corny jokes. In reality, it should make me question his intelligence. I can come up with some doozies. I guess I always laugh at his too. I remember that first night I met him, promising myself I wasn’t going to be one of those giggly groupie girls. I guess laughing at all of his jokes was just as bad. He is a pretty funny guy, and it’s not always so much what he says, as it is the way he presents it.
We both looked back at the movie then. I watched as Gilbert and his friend tried to fix the floorboards under where Mama sits everyday so that the whole floor wouldn’t cave in. They do it quietly though, trying not to alert Mama. It’s one of those parts of the movie that reminds you to love your family, unconditionally.
As I stared at the movie, I could feel him looking at me every now and then. I’m pretty sure that he’s planning on going back in for the kiss tonight. I could almost see the wheels in his head turning. He was overthinking it. I thought, “Just do it.” Then I remembered that I didn’t want him to do it. That wasn’t true either though. I did want him to. I wanted to be normal and have a boyfriend that I cared about and knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t walk out on me as soon as I needed him most.
Unfortunately, I’m not normal. Not the kind of normal he would get if he dated one of the five thousand or so other females at the university. I still wonder why he’s with me, when he could probably have all five thousand of the others. Just as I had that thought, he came in close. He was going for it. I saw it coming and I was millimeters from leaning into it. What could it really hurt if I just gave him one little kiss? I started to lean into him and close my eyes before I regained my senses and pulled back. It was obvious, and abrupt. I couldn’t tell if the look in his eyes was hurt or embarrassment. It wasn’t my intention to embarrass him. Either way I felt bad.
He sat up straight on the couch and said, “I’m sorry, Molly. I just got caught up.”
I knew what he meant. It was like the other night at the haunted train ride. It had just been the two of us, and it was dark and raining. I got caught up in the heat that was coming from his body, the beautiful way he was singing Aerosmith in my ear. The moonlight was probably partially to blame that night as well. I was so close to kissing him. Five more minutes would have done it, and as I think about it now, I almost wished I’d had the opportunity to go through it that night, before I over-thought it…like I was doing right now. I didn’t want him to be sorry. I wasn’t ready to say that I didn’t ever want it to happen.
“Don’t apologize,” I told him. “I’m just not ready, Brock. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He didn’t look amused any more. I had taken the amusement out of his pretty blue eyes. I felt really bad. “I’m sorry,” I told him again.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said.
“I’m here all the time. We’re together a lot lately, and then I tell you I don’t want to get involved…”
“You’ve been honest with me from the start, Molly. I knew within an hour of meeting you that you didn’t want to get into a relationship right now. You’re just so pretty and so smart and funny and on and on and on,” he said. “I’m extremely attracted to you, Molly. But I also like being your friend, a lot. I don’t want to mess that up. I won’t pressure you, I won’t try to kiss you anymore…not unless you tell me that you’re ready, okay?”
Damn! He really does fight dirty. He thinks I’m pretty, and he is apologizing for trying to kiss me. I think there are millions of women out there who would call me eighty kinds of crazy for not wanting to be with this guy. They’d probably stone me in the streets.
“Okay,” I said. I suddenly didn’t know what else to say. I couldn’t backtrack now and say, “Oh what the heck, kiss me.” I couldn’t do that, but don’t think I didn’t give it some serious thought.
We turned our attention back to the movie. It was a little awkward now. I knew he was embarrassed and he knew I was feeling guilty for saying no. Somewhere along the way I shivered. It was a very slight shiver, and I didn’t say anything about being cold. I was, but it was his apartment. I wasn’t going to say so.
He excused himself right after the shiver, and he went down the hall and came back with a blanket. This guy was something else, and those women would be right, I must be eighty kinds of crazy. That was my last conscious thought before I fell asleep. I guess the blanket put me over the top…