Starting Position

Chapter 27

As my third date with Morgan came to a close, I stopped resisting the feeling that something wasn't right. While he had been nothing but nice, and continued to open doors and ask questions, I couldn't help but feel like I needed to be on guard and barricade myself from him. 

After just having walked the perimeter of the lake, Morgan and I sat inside his car while I tried to keep up with the one-sided conversation. My mind was preoccupied, and, if I was honest, so were my emotions. 

I had been thinking of Ben and our American Lit. project. We had started to put together the children's book, which was coming along nicely. His image appeared then: bright eyes and crooked smile framed by sandy blonde hair that was held close by a baseball cap. My insides came alive, and my chest suddenly felt like it had no room left.

Morgan had reached a hand over to mine, cradled it in his own and brought it to his mouth to kiss. I quickly retracted my hand. 

Instead of becoming offended, Morgan simply smiled, a greedy display of straight teeth, and brought his hand back to mine. He said huskily, "Playing hard to get, I see."

I didn't respond. A moment later, Morgan arced his body over the center consul and planted his mouth on mine, his tongue trying to part my steadfast lips. I pushed him away immediately.

"What?" he asked, his face angular and edgy.

Something hot and acidic was rumbling in my stomach.

"Just because we've kissed before doesn't mean I automatically want to again."

Morgan sat back in the driver's side seat, his mouth slightly open, wearing an incredulous look.

"So – what – I'm supposed to ask your permission every time beforehand?"

I winced and said, "No – yes – I don't know!" I lifted my hands to cover my eyes.

Suddenly, Morgan wrapped a hand around one of mine, gently rubbing it. A fraction of me relaxed enough to let him draw my hand away from my face. And then I felt them. He began running kisses up my arm, working his way closer to where I didn't want him.

"Listen," he breathed into my ear, "I know this is all new, but we've spent a lot of time talking and, I don't know, I think maybe it's time we get to know each other a little better, maybe without our clothes."

The bile was now in my throat. With all my might, I pushed Morgan away.

He recoiled. Anger now filled every inch of his face. "I don't get you, Elliot."

And there it was, plain as day. The sole reason I didn't feel connected to Morgan. How could I have been so oblivious? Instead of listening to my gut, I had pushed towards something that never felt right. I needed to leave. 

I forcefully opened the car door and threw myself out, slamming it shut on the many pointed and confused questions Morgan was hurling towards me, their impact now blockaded.

I then darted off, fully aware I was about a mile from home but not caring. I couldn't be inside the car with Morgan anymore. My feet carried me down the dirt pathway along the pristine lake, and I put my trust in their ability to take me home. I thought I had heard Morgan shouting at me as I zoomed out of view but couldn't be certain. I didn't dare look back.

Soon enough, I was sweating. The spring day was mild, but I was  consumed in fervor. Just as I was able to leave the pathway and turn down a main road infiltrating town, I finally cooled. Morgan would not be able to find me here, I would be safe from all the feelings I had run from.

When I saw the safeguard that was my house, I didn't experience the rush of relief I thought I would. I just felt exhausted. I was so tired of always running away when things became difficult.

***

Ben and I had met in the library the next week and were able to nearly complete our project. The more we delved into developing the story, the more connected to it I felt. It was as though a part of me lived inside it, blossoming as it grew, and wondered if Ben felt in any way the same. It was his idea, after all.

After this session in the library, we figured we would need to meet just a couple more times to finish it. This timeline fell perfectly in the line with end of the semester. One aspect we hadn't really decided on was the artwork. Since it was a children's book, we thought it would be important to include some illustrations. 

When Ben brought this to my attention, I immediately thought of Cambrie. She started doodling when she was younger and had advanced to drawings and paintings in recent years. She would be the perfect person to help us. I didn't mention my idea to Ben, although I did add it to the list of reasons I needed to speak with Cambrie again.

Ben seemed quieter today. He still spoke about how we could proceed with the story, shot off ideas, and engaged in a little small talk, but something was missing. It was between the last time I had seen him and now he had put up a wall, but not a solid one, more like a screen, something to stop unwanted material from entering or leaving.

As we left library at four o'clock that afternoon and headed towards the track, Ben and I found ourselves in an all too familiar situation. Just beyond the main building stone steps stood Tyson, as if waiting for us.

"Well, isn't this something," said Tyson uncouthly, arms crossed.

I was immediately washed in shame. I tried to ignore it, not wanting to be permeated by the feeling and make the same mistake as I had last time. It was as though we had come full circle, and now was my chance to end the cycle. Ben and I were facing Tyson.

"So, Ben," Tyson said, his voice foul, "heard you made some tremendous improvements to your time last track meet. What's your secret?"

Ben said nothing, and neither did I.

"Come on, there must be a secret. I mean, you ran an eleven-minute mile, right? I mean, that's impressive, really impressive."

Malice was woven into Tyson's voice and, even though by default I wanted to remain silent, I felt a calling deep inside me, begging me to say something.

"Stop, Tyson. Just stop."

Tyson forcefully rounded on me. I could feel Ben stiffen at my side.

"I'm just messing around, Ell – c'mon – you know that, right, Ben?" Tyson cast Ben a poorly disguised look of disgust. "Yeah, you know. I mean, your race time really is so impressive."

I wanted to hurtle a fist into the center of Tyson's twisted face.

"You know what?" Tyson said. "How about you come to the party next weekend, Ben. I bet people would like to hear all about your miracle mile."

I turned towards Ben and saw his focus was set entirely on Tyson.

"Ell's going. Aren't you, Ell? It's at Dillon's. You know Dillon, don't you?"

I was still looking at Ben.

"I'll be there." Ben's voice sounded strange, far away. 

"Great," Tyson said brashly. "Can't wait." He cast me a look and my skin crawled on command. "See you at the party, Ell."

Standing in disbelief, I watched as Tyson's large body descended back inside the main building. I was completely at a loss for words, in disbelief.

"You don't have to go," I croaked. "He's a prick – a huge prick – and you don't have to go."

"I want to go."

"Why?"

But Ben didn't answer. His gaze was still left on the door that had swung shut after Tyson, but his mind was elsewhere.

"I'll see you at practice, Elliot."

And then he left, and I was alone.