Page 24 of Trading Paint
His head shot up.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He cleared his throat reaching for his paper. “Listen, I don’t want boys spending the night. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I know,” I agreed pouring myself a bowl of Captain Crunch. “It wasn’t planned. Like I said, we were a little freaked out by that movie.”
“I know, but just...becareful okay.”
“It’s not like that dad. Jameson and I are friends, nothing more.” I said this as though I was trying to convince myself of it when really; I think I was.
I felt something for him but I had no idea what it was. I couldn’t even decide on what to wear in the morning most days let alone decipher feelings.
Charlie looked at me for a long moment before narrowing his eyes at me. “Have you thought of college yet?”
I shrugged.
“Not really. It’s a little overwhelming.” I pulled my hair back into a ponytail before digging into my cereal.
“That’s life kid,”
I snorted, bad idea with milk in your mouth. I ended up inhaling a crunch berry up my nose. “And I thought deciding on what cereal to eat in the morning was hard.” I choked out.
He chuckled carrying his empty coffee cup over to the counter. “Well kid, it’s time I made it to the track. Some people don’t have the luxury of sitting around all day eating cereal.Some peoplehave to work.”
“Some people will enjoy doing nothing today. Some people; have fun.”
I sort of zoned out reading the back of the cereal box in front of me as Charlie stared out the kitchen window.
“Hey Sway...is Jameson okay?”
“Uh...I think so, why?” I looked up from the box glancing around the kitchen to see Jameson in the front yard, puking.
Concerned, I ran out there.
“Are you all right?” I asked frantically rubbing his back over his t-shirt.
“I think so...my head just hurts.” He took in a deep breath before removing his t-shirt to wipe his face of sweat and puke.
“Maybe you should go to the doctor.”
He slumped back in the grass. “I’m fine...it’s just a headache.”
I watched him for a moment. The sharp defined lines of his stomach contracting with each deep breath he inhaled and exhaled.
I’ve been around enough race car drivers to know they willneveradmit when they’re hurt and willnevergo to the doctor. Most say it’s nothing a beer can’t fix.
“Maybe you should take a shower.” I suggested. “That might make you feel better.”
He finally smiled.“With you?”
And he’s back.
“No,” I laughed. “You take a shower—without me.”
“Oh,” he stuck out his bottom lip. “It might make me feel better.”
“I don’t think so champ. That’s what Chelsea and your hand are for.”
I helped him to the bathroom and he tried to drag me in there with him laughing and I slapped him. He winced, I felt bad but not bad enough to get in there with him.
