“How are you feeling?” she asks. She’s actually looking at me, not staring past me. I can’t explain how good that feels.
“I’m good, really good, actually,” I say honestly, and a smile spreads across her face. “I-I got you something to say thanks,” I say, and she looks at me curiously.
“Really?” she asks, excitement creeping into her voice. She’s excited.
“Yeah,” I say, my own excitement growing.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says, almost reminding herself she shouldn’t be.
“I wanted to,” I say sincerely.
“Can you throw on a jacket. I want to show it to you outside. I’ll tell my mom to listen in on Caylen,” I explain. She looks at me suspiciously, a glint in her eye.
“Uhm. Okay. Just give me a minute,” she says, and I nod. I head upstairs, ask my mom to listen in on Caylen, and she agrees. I grab the box and meet Lauren back at her room.
“For me?” she guesses, her eyes gleaming, and I nod. I gesture for her to come with me. Once we make it outside, I can tell she’s anxious. The box is pretty big so I hold it for her.
“Can I open it now?” she asks enthusiastically. I nod and she quickly lifts the top off, revealing a pair of brand new white roller skates. She starts to laugh.
“You shouldn’t have,” she says, picking one up and examining it closely.
“You don’t like them?” I say, trying to hide my disappointment, and she quickly shakes her head.
“No, they’re beautiful. It’s just, well, you saw me back at the rink. The only thing I’m worse at is cooking.” She chuckles.
“My mom says you’re getting better at it,” I assure her, and she shrugs.
“Are you going to try them on?” I ask her, and she looks a little skeptical.
“I was just so bad at it last time,” she says nervously, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear.
“Aidan just sucked as a teacher,” I tease her.
She looks at me skeptically but then concedes. She sits down on the porch, takes off her shoes, and carefully puts on both skates.
“Okay, give me your hands,” I say, and she slowly puts them out. I take them and pull her towards me. Except it’s a little too fast and her chest crashes into mine. She looks up at me apologetically.
“Sorry, I told you I suck,” she says quietly. As I look down at her, I have to fight the urge to kiss her. It’s hard, but I do. I show her how use the brake on the skates to stop, and how it’s better if she tries to slide her feet rather than walk choppily the way she did with Aidan. After about 30 minutes, she’s confident enough to try without holding my hand, and when she skates a few feet by herself, you’d think she won the lottery.
“I can’t believe it!” she squeals as she carefully turns around and starts to skate towards me. She doesn’t go that fast, but her movements are much more fluid than before.
“You’re a much better teacher than Aidan,” she quips once she makes her way to me.
“In his defense, I think he liked you falling all over him.” She looks away from me bashfully. She clears her throat and runs her hand through her hair.
“Can you help me over to the stairs,” she giggles, sticking out her hand. I laugh and take it. Her hand feels so small in mine but we fit. She sits on the stairs and starts to untie her skates.
“About that night,” she says quietly, and I feel my stomach drop. “I’m sorry that I did that,” she says glancing at her skates.
“You don’t owe me an apology,” I say.
“No. I should. I wasn’t thinking,” she says quietly. “Actually, I was, but not with my brain. It’s just this is a lot harder for me than I thought it would be,” she continues. “I think I’m doing pretty well. God, if this would have been three years ago.” She laughs, shaking her head. “It still wasn’t an excuse for the position I put you in. I know that you want us to be friends and at first I didn’t think I could be okay with that,” she says, glancing up at me. “But today, when you had your panic attack, it occurred to me how much I need you. And, even though it was not life-threatening, I realized that I need you in my life,” she says, her eyes on mine, the sincerity in her voice sends a chill up my spine.
“And not just for Caylen,” she says quickly. “So if it has to be as a friend, I can learn to do that. There may be times here and there where I’ll need a little space to remind myself that I’m your friend.” She chuckles, “But I can do that. I don’t want to lose this. I like getting to know you. It’s just that sometimes it's hard for me because the more I get to know you, the more I…” She stops herself and gives me a weak smile.
“What?” I ask her, walking closer to her. I just need her to say it. I look her in the eye, my heart beating rapidly, and she looks up at me like she’s contemplating. If she would just say it.
“Chris.” We turn to see my dad approaching us.
“Thank you for the skates. It was really nice of you,” Lauren says quietly before glancing at my Dad.
“Mr. Scott,” she says, acknowledging him before going into the house. Once she’s inside, my dad’s hard glare turns to me.
“What was that about?” he asks and I shrug.
“We went skating and Lauren didn’t know how so I thought I’d show her,” I say simply.
“You think that’s a good idea?” he asks sarcastically.
“I don’t see anything wrong with it and that’s what matters,” I say before heading up the stairs.
“Chris—”
My vision starts to blur again and I see myself storming down the stairs of my house. My face is red, there are tears in my eyes, and I look furious. My dad flies out of the house behind me.
“Chris. Just let me explain. Please,” he yells, trying to catch up with me.
“Don’t fucking talk to me. You stay the hell away from me!” I shout back at him.
“All these years, all lies. Your moral code, your rules and lectures, you’re a liar. A fucking hypocrite,” I continue to shout at him. My dad looks like he’s seen a ghost as I look at him.
“I hate you!” I growl at him.
“You don’t mean that, son. You’re angry. You’re upset,” my dad stutters, and I turn to walk away but stop and turn around. In a split second my anger dissipates and a smug grin spreads across my face.
“I should thank you. Dad. You’ve just created the biggest problem of your life,” I say with a wicked grin on my face.
It’s him.
My dad stares back at me, slack-jawed. He’s frozen in place. I don’t think he realizes I’ve jumped in his truck until I’ve pulled off. He’s calling after me, running behind the truck, and I flip him off outside the window.
“Christopher!” my dad says, and I realize I’m back to the present. I try to shake the memory from my thoughts. Judging by my haircut and the way my dad looked, that had to have been years ago, I must have been in high school. I think the beginning of the memory was me, but the end was Cal.
“What’s wrong, son?” he asks, looking at me carefully.