Just Friends: YA Contemporary Romance

  It was while I was chopping the dill for one of my flavored cream cheeses that Dad asked, “So, have you filled out any of those applications Coach Braeburn gave you?”

  I almost brought the knife down on my fingertips. “No,” I said, my voice catching a little in my throat. “Not yet.”

  “Where are you thinking of applying?”

  Nowhere, I thought, but bit back. “I’m not sure,” I hedged.

  “Which schools did he give you papers for?”

  I tossed the dill into the bowl with the cream cheese and began whipping it a little too hard. “I’m not sure.”

  “You’ve got them all, right?”

  “Yep.” I braced for his next question, but it never came.

  “Mitch,” he said, and I finally slowed my whisking. “You’re killing that cream cheese.”

  I dropped the whisk and looked at Dad, sure he could read all my emotions on my face.

  He regarded me for a minute before flipping the bagels in his steaming pot of water. “I take it you don’t want to talk about college applications.”

  “Not really.”

  “Okay, I’ll stop. For now.” He placed the boiled bagels on a sheet pan. “But we have to talk about it soon, okay?”

  “Okay,” I agreed, hoping soon would turn into never.

  Holly didn’t come over for breakfast. She didn’t text me, or ask me to come over and help her write her history essay. I wrote those alone, and while I scored eights and nines and even an eleven, I had no idea if Holly had earned her perfect fifteen yet. She certainly didn’t call. She didn’t look at me at all in AP history, and I didn’t see her at my locker.

  I heard her pounding out frustration on the piano, but since we weren’t talking, I didn’t know if she was trying to make it into a concerto or a symphony or what.

  Lance likewise made himself almost non-existent. I couldn’t avoid track practice again, but we didn’t speak, and we didn’t run side-by-side the way we used to. I pushed myself to run faster and faster, which wasn’t hard with all the frustration I felt.

  I watched Drew and Omar hold hands on the front porch every afternoon. I set up practice times with Charity, and found that singing could keep the tension at bay almost as well as running.

  I ate meatballs with my family on Mondays and spaghetti on Thursdays. Sometimes Jade came over, and sometimes she didn’t. We were moving slower than before. Maybe even slower than I’d like. Molasses Mitch kept running through my head, but I wasn’t embarrassed about my pacing with Jade. For some reason, I didn’t want to screw anything up with her, like maybe she could be more important than any other girl.

  That scared me. Scared me so much I found myself writing history essays on self-assigned topics and volunteering to do Drew’s dinner chores so I didn’t have time to think about my own girlfriend.

  15

  Homecoming came before I realized it. One Saturday morning halfway through October, Drew knocked on my bedroom door and wanted to know if Mom should rent me a tux.

  I rolled over in bed, thankful for the dark curtains Holly had sewn all those years ago. Drew cracked the door. “You’ve asked Jade, right?”

  I hadn’t actually done that yet, no. “When’s the dance?” I asked.

  “Next weekend,” Drew answered. “So do you need a tux or what?”

  “Yeah,” I said, sitting up and reaching for my phone. “36 long. Tell Mom to get the nice one.” I had enough money saved from my summer of operating the automatic car wash to look good for Homecoming.

  “36 long, nice one,” Drew repeated and closed my door behind her.

  As I composed a text to Jade, I had a sick feeling that I should’ve asked her weeks ago. What if someone else had asked her? I thought we were exclusive, but I hadn’t even kissed her yet.

  I jammed my thumb on the delete button and erased the message. The least I could do was call. Right? If only I didn’t hate talking on the phone, or conversing in general. I paused, wishing I could ask Holly the appropriate how-to-ask-a-girl-out protocol. It had been five weeks since I’d held Jade’s hand on Danny’s trampoline. And almost four since Holly started ignoring me.

  I can’t ask Holly, I thought, though I desperately wanted to. I looked at my blank cell phone screen and blinking cursor, waiting for me to message Jade. I typed Want to do lunch today? and sent it.

  Jade’s response was immediate. Yeah. Where?

  I had no idea. I swiped a shirt off my desk chair and pulled it over my head. I swapped out my gym shorts for khakis and picked up my phone. We’ll figure it out - can I come pick u up now?

  Now?

  or later

  Now works.

  great

  But great went to crap when I entered the kitchen and found Dad elbow-deep in kneading bread. “Going out?” he asked.

  I felt a flash of guilt. “Why didn’t you come wake me up?”

  “I’ve never had to wake you up before,” he said, glancing at me. He looked away too fast for me to know if he was upset or not. Saturday morning baking was our thing. He even had his music vibrating in the background.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Coach has really been pushing me this week.”

  “You still look tired.”

  I still felt tired, but I didn’t think that had anything to do with running. “I’m going to meet Jade for lunch.” I pocketed my wallet and looked for the car keys.

  “Hope you can ride your bike,” he said. “Drew took the car for driving practice. She and Mom went shopping.” His breath came out in shallow grunts as he pressed the dough into the counter.

  “Can I take your car?” I asked, though I already knew he’d say no. Mom and Dad expected me and Drew to schedule the car around our various activities and work out any problems on our own.

  “Nope,” he said. “Sorry, buddy.”

  “Can Jade come over here?” We could possibly walk the mile or two to the nearest commercial area, but the only options were a McDonald’s and a Mexican joint that had been a Chinese buffet two months ago.

  Dad looked up from his bread. “Of course,” he said. “Is there a you and her yet?”

  “I’m going to ask her to Homecoming,” I said, appreciating that Dad and I could talk about girls without it being weird. I thought maybe I should talk to him about more stuff, like the applications still sitting on my desk or the long silence from Holly.

  But he just nodded with a small smile, and I simply sent Jade a message about the change of plans.

  I met her at the corner down the street from my house, and I took her hand in mine immediately. “Hey,” I said, pulling her close and bumping her shoulder with mine. She wore a long skirt with a tank top that showed enough skin to make me sweat.

  “So no lunch,” she said.

  “Not true,” I replied. “My dad makes a mean grilled cheese sandwich.”

  She smiled and squeezed my hand. We walked toward my house, and after only a few steps I cleared my throat. “Okay, so I was going to do something awesome—” Though I didn’t know what—“and dazzle you with an amazing date and lunch and stuff, and then ask.” I took a deep breath and stopped a few houses down from mine. “But this will have to do. Will you go to Homecoming with me?”

  Jade turned toward me, a strange glint in her eyes. “You don’t give a girl much time to prepare.”

  I looked down at the sidewalk, skating my eyes along the length of her body as I did, and saw that Jade wasn’t wearing shoes. “Sorry, I didn’t—I haven’t—I’ve been really focused on school lately.” And obsessing over Holly’s long silence, and fighting with Drew about Omar. Oh, and it took an extreme amount of energy to ignore Lance.

  “I’ll need a dress,” she said.

  “Will you have time to get one?” I realized that today was the only Saturday before the dance, and I really hadn’t given her enough time to get ready. I felt like a huge jerk. Would she say no?

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe,” I repeated, focusing on her face aga
in. “So should I maybe rent a tux?”

  She smiled, which made my throat too tight. “Is that a yes?” I asked.

  Before I knew what was happening, she moved her hands up my arms to my shoulders, and around to the back of my neck. She stepped closer, standing on her bare toes as she stretched toward me. She tipped her head back and I dipped mine down, and then I kissed her.

  The world went soft and black behind my closed eyelids. I gave the same focus to kissing Jade that I did to cross-country or solving geometry problems, which meant I felt every skim of her fingers through my hair and the gentle curve of her lips against mine. She pulled back a little, tilted her head, and kissed me again. I opened my mouth and she responded.

  I gripped her tight at the waist, keeping her close, steadying her as she balanced on tiptoe. I wanted to kiss her forever, and it felt like we’d been standing in the Saturday sun for an hour by the time she pulled away. I opened my eyes as she pressed her forehead to my collarbone. My chest heaved and my breath came so fast. I’d been right. This thing with Jade was much more than anything I’d had with another girl. So much more that I didn’t have a name for it.

  “That’s a yes,” she whispered into my chest.

  16

  “Lunch!” Dad called from our deck, and I reluctantly dropped Jade’s hand as we bounced to the edge of Danny’s trampoline. We’d gone straight to Danny’s backyard after we’d finally had the smarts to get off the street so we could kiss where no one could watch. We moved through the gate and into my yard, where Dad watched us advance like he was a warden and we were prisoners who might suddenly erupt into a riot.

  Dad had grilled cheese sandwiches sizzling on the griddle and two pots steaming on the stove. “Soup?” he asked as he ladeled tomato soup into a bowl. Then he used a slotted spoon to retrieve noodles from the second pot, which he added to the soup.

  “Yep,” I said, having slept through breakfast this morning.

  “Sure,” Jade said. “Thanks.”

  Dad prepared three bowls with soup and noodles and three plates with gooey cheese sandwiches. He asked Jade to say a prayer, and after she finished, he bit into his sandwich and hefted his plate. “I have reports,” he said around a mouth of bread and cheese and left us alone in the kitchen.

  I felt like the house trapped the emotion and awkwardness that had been allowed to float away outside. I glanced at Jade and she looked down at her soup and took a sip.

  “This is great,” she said. “It’s not from a can.”

  “Dad likes to bake and can and stuff,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t give away that I was the baker in the family. I’d endured summers shucking corn and cutting kernels from cobs to freeze in quart Ziplock bags. I’d blanched tomatoes to get the skin off easily. I’d measured pectin and carried flats of strawberries. I’d delivered bottles and bags and jars of food to people in our church. A lot of what we ate came from a shelf in our dry storage or our freezer in the garage.

  Dad had relaxed a lot these past couple of years. Probably because our basement held so much food, we’d never be able to eat it all. We still made baked every Saturday, and I certainly didn’t complain when I made after-dinner sandwiches on Sunday nights with his bread.

  “What do you like to do, Mitch?” Jade asked. We’d been going so slow, we’d been texting through biology and chatting for a few minutes before English lit—which meant Jade talked and I listened.

  “Running,” I said.

  “Besides running.”

  “Uh, school?” I said like I wasn’t sure what I liked to do.

  “When you’re not at school and not running, what are you doing?”

  “Homework.” I felt Jade’s eyes on me, examining. I felt like an idiot for not knowing how to answer her questions.

  “If you could do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted, what would it be?” she asked. “I mean, when you get to do whatever you want, what is that?”

  Do whatever I want? I thought. I never really did whatever I wanted. I did my homework, because I didn’t want Mom and Dad down my throat about it. I ran because it gave me an escape from everything weighing me down. I’d done show choir because Holly wanted to.

  I looked at Jade, trying to decide if this was a set-up for a joke. She gazed back at me steadily, her sandwich held in midair as she waited for me to answer. “I can wait forever,” she said, smiling. “My dad says I’m the most stubborn person on the planet.”

  I smiled back. “I like to work with my hands,” I said, swallowing the urge to clamp my mouth shut. “You know, making things.” It was almost a confession about my Saturday morning activities with my dad.

  She took a bite of her sandwich and released her eyes from mine. “What kind of things?” she asked after she swallowed.

  “Like, in metal shop I just finished this miniature filing cabinet. I’ll show you.” I leapt up from the bar and hurried to my room. Every step screamed at me to go back, that Jade didn’t care about the filing cabinet. But then I was carrying it into the kitchen. I explained to her that I was the only one that had gotten the corners exactly right, and that every drawer moved without hesitation.

  “This is great,” she said. “My older brother did this project in metal shop and his looked like he’d welded it together with his eyes shut.” She trailed her hand across the top and opened the bottom drawer. I’d put pens in there, and they rattled around.

  “Yours is perfect.” She smiled and sat back down to her lunch. “What else do you make?”

  Something swelled in my chest. My filing cabinet was perfect, every joint and fold in the metal exactly right. I loved how everything lined up the way it was supposed to. Very few things in my life did.

  “Lots of things,” I said. “I like working with metal all right. But wood is great too, and I’m not bad under the hood of a car.”

  “So,” she said. “You must be signed up for a trade program or something.”

  I frowned, knowing what she meant, but worried about this change in topic.

  “Or will you go to college?” she asked. “I imagine you could run competitively.”

  “Coach wants me to apply to college.” I stuffed my mouth full of sandwich so I’d have a minute to think before I spoke again.

  “You say that like you don’t want to apply for college,” Jade said.

  How did she see inside my head so easily? Was it because she didn’t know me that well? And why did I find it easier to tell her all this stuff when I’d shut out Dad with one-word responses?

  “I’m not sure,” I finally said. “I have all these applications, but… it’s like I don’t know what to do with them.”

  We finished lunch, and she threaded her fingers through mine. “I’m going to move to Kansas City and attend KU.”

  “You’ve applied already?” I asked, leading her through the living room to the bench on the porch where Omar and Drew sat every afternoon.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Once I make up my mind, I’m done. I sent my application in last week. I think I’ll be able to get in.”

  “I think so too,” I said with a wry smile. “I’ve heard you’re really smart.”

  She laughed as she smoothed her skirt under and sat down. “One hears the same thing about you, Mr. Houser.”

  I sat next to her and put my arm around her shoulders. She laid her head on my shoulder, and I sighed. “Yeah, I get good enough grades.”

  “Good enough?” she said. “You have a 4.0 this term, right?”

  “I don’t really know,” I said. “I don’t keep track of—” I cut off as I realized who had always kept up with my grades. Holly. I looked toward her house and saw Greg’s Miata parked in the driveway. It hadn’t been there an hour ago when Jade and I had walked by.

  I didn’t know how to make sense of the hollowness in my chest, but it was there and it seemed to be spreading. Sure, I maybe-fathered Holly, but she was the one who managed our grades. She was why I’d registered for AP history—heck, she’d registered me f
or my senior year classes. We relied on each other in so many different aspects of our lives, and our co-dependence suddenly felt very obvious and very painful.

  I tore my eyes from Holly’s house and looked at Jade. “What are you going to study at KU?” I asked, relieved my voice didn’t sound like I was being strangled. “I’m sure you’ve already decided.”

  “Pre-law,” she said. “At least that’s what my dad thinks. I’m also going to sign up for some art history classes, maybe some painting.”

  “You paint?”

  She looked at her hands. “No, I draw. Dad thinks it’s a waste of time.”

  “I get that.” Over the past several weeks, I’d felt the edges of the box I existed in pushing against me. I’d lied to my mom. I’d skipped track practice. I’d slept through Saturday morning baking. Maybe I needed to create a new box for myself, one with enough room for Jade. I couldn’t understand why my friends couldn’t see how amazing she was. I didn’t know why I cared so much that they like her.

  “Anyway, sometimes my house feels so… tight.”

  “My dad can be intense too,” I said.

  Jade sighed. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to college. I know I won’t be a famous artist, but still. I want to take some more classes.”

  I instantly wanted to see what came from inside her mind. “What do you draw?”

  She gestured to the world before us. “Whatever I want. People, mostly.”

  I wondered if she had drawn me. I wanted to ask. “Awesome,” I said. “I’d like to see some of your drawings sometime.”

  “There’s always an exhibit at the end of the term,” she said. “In the student center.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’ve seen stuff set up in there before.” I’d never looked at anything though. I couldn’t draw a circle to save my life, and art didn’t interest me much. At least until now. I squeezed her shoulder. “We’ll go together this year.”

  I felt her smile. “Sure, though it scares me for you to see what I’ve done.”

  “What?” I chuckled. “Jade Montgomery is afraid? Whatever.”