Page 181 of Trading Paint
Later that night, after flying home to Mooresville, it was around two in the morning when I finally reached my room. Fully clothed, I threw myself on my bed, yearning for sleep I knew wouldn’t come. Racing always left me rather amped.
Vacillating between not calling and calling, I opted to text her. My thoughts had been centered on her all night and I couldn’t sleep without the connection.
To my amazement, she texted me back.
How was the race?
Instead of texting her, I called. With the harsh blinding edicts of everything around me, she was like a balm, providing a refuge. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, to get through the day, I needed her. For someone who was so blatantly focused to make his own path in the world, I was sure reliant on her.
“Are you all right Jameson?” I knew right then she was looking for the honest answer, not the standard, “yeah I’m fine”I gave to everyone else.
“I just...I don’t know, honey. I don’t know what’s wrong with me these days.”
“You’re in a stressful position.” She said mellifluously. “It’s understandable.”
Closing my eyes, I listened to her voice, tranquilly soothing. “Are you ready for graduation?”
She laughed, a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. “It couldn’t come soon enough. I hate these assholes here.”
“Who’s an asshole?”
“Don’t get mad.”
“You know me better than that.” I warned. “Neverstart a conversation with don’tget mad.”
“Fine, I won’t tell you then.”
“Don’t do that.” I snapped.
“Blake kissed me.” she blurted out. “I kicked him in the balls and Tommy rescued me.”
You could have heard a pin drop. My voice, failed. My throat felt like someone had just dumped sand down it. Gasping for air, I replied with, “What?” at the same time.
“I uh—”
“I heard you the first time.”
“Oh, you said—”
“Nope, heard you,” Coughing, I tried to relieve the dry sensation rolling up my throat.
We were both silent for a moment, me concentrating on breathing, her with hesitation in fear I was going to snap. Finally she stuttered out. “Jameson?”
“I’m here.” My answer was quick. “Just thinking,”
“About?”
“Killing Blake,”
“That’s a little harsh. I already kicked him.”
“It’s not good enough.” My voice was even again, surprisingly controlled.
“You focus on your career...not unwanted kisses.”
“Unwanted?”
“Yes, unwanted. I never had feelings for Blake.”
