Redemption

IN THE HABIT OF BEING WRONG

I looked at the man beside me who hadn't moved to take his seatbelt off yet. I didn't either. We sat there staring at the empty house with an empty driveway and neither of us wanted to get out. Almost like he too didn't want the night to end. So, we didn't let it. We stayed in his truck until the cab got cold, and then he turned to me with a weird look on his face that said he had a plan, but he wasn't sure if I'd go along with it.

"Do you want ice cream?" His eyes pleaded with me to say yes. "I'm a growing man, Sawyer. So, if you say we shouldn't, I'll be hurt."

"Where does it all go?"

"I work it off," he patted his stomach. "What about shakes? I know the best place in town."

I looked back at the house. "We just got back."

"Well, I wasn't done hanging out with you, Sawyer," he adjusted the hood on his head. "I hope you're feeling the same way."

"Let's go then."

A giggle fell from my lips as he threw the truck into reverse. He didn't say another word. Instead of staring at him the whole drive, I focused on the city I hadn't seen up close. One turn, and we're surrounded by lights. The roads were flooded with gold.

People were out celebrating their team's win. The bars were so full people were standing outside to chug beers, conversate, and just enjoy their weekend. I liked it. The way that everybody felt comfortable, and everybody was nice to each other.

"I'll bring you back when it's not too cold, okay?"

I turned to Carter. "Promise?"

"I promise."

I watched the bodies walking up and down the sidewalk as the tattooed footballer pulled into a parking space on the road. The small shoppe was crowded, a small line formed outside as if everybody had the same idea of getting ice cream on such a cold night.

"Are you coming with me?"

I started shaking my head. I'm not afraid of going into the crowds of people. I didn't need Carter paying for anything else. I already felt guilty after he bought our pizza earlier. I hated him spending any money on me.

"I'm full."

"I couldn't hear you, Sully."

My fingers curled into the pockets of Carter's hoodie that I assured myself I wouldn't be giving back anytime soon. "I'm full. I don't think I can eat anymore."

"Bullshit."

"What?"

"Bullshit," he shrugged. "I think you're lying."

"Why would I – "

"Don't," he moved his head back and forth. "Just tell me the truth."

"I don't want you paying for me," I mumbled. "You already got me pizza and I have nothing to give you in return."

"Nothing to give me? For starters, I'm not inviting you out because I expect something in return. So, kill that thought right now. I enjoy your company, Sawyer, and right now I'm asking if you want to go with me to get ice cream. If you don't want to, say that. Otherwise, get out of the car because I'm not freezing alone."

"Carter – "

"Yes or no?" He interrupted me. "I'm not ready to watch you walk into your bedroom tonight and wonder when we're gonna talk next. If buying you whatever you want on the menu promises me I get a few more minutes of your time then I'm taking those chances."

"Why?"

"You know, I heard stories from Fletcher's childhood friend, Winston. He talked about a little sister that's smile was so big it'd make you happy, and how she was capable of making anyone feel at home, but she made it impossible not to fall in love with her. Fortunately, he's not in the habit of being wrong."

"I'm not her anymore."

"For what it's worth, I didn't know you then, but I like you as you are now, Sawyer," he unbuckled my seatbelt with one swift move. "Now, get your pretty little ass out of the truck, and let me buy you some ice cream."

I didn't need to say yes. He popped open the passenger door and I couldn't say no. I don't think I could after everything he said anyway. So, I followed behind him, listening to people congratulate him on his win.

While we waited for our ice cream, we scouted out seats. So, by the time it was handed over, we were making our way towards a wooden table below a tree losing its leaves. I kicked my legs over the bench, watching him adjust the hood on his head.

I wanted to question the look on his face and why his head cocked to the side as he stared at me. I'd give anything to know what he was thinking, but I couldn't bring myself to ask. I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"Tell me more about you, Sawyer Price."

I dropped my gaze to the frozen dessert below me. "Like what?"

"Anything."

"I told you – I really like football."

"I'll be getting you tickets to every home game then. I couldn't play if my favorite cheerleader wasn't in the stands to celebrate with me after every touchdown."

"Do you ever leave for games?"

"Yeah," he furrowed his eyebrows. "I leave Thursday for Oregon. We'll play on Saturday."

"You've never played them?"

"No," the gears in his head started turning. "Their offense is dangerous."

"How good can they be if they don't have you?"

His eyes flicked up to me. "You have too much faith in me, pretty girl."

I shrugged, dipping the spoon of fruity pebble ice cream into my mouth. "If you say so."

"Keep telling me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?"

He shrugged. "What's your favorite color?"

I fisted the sleeve of Carter's hoodie in my hand. "Yellow."

"Is that another recent discovery?"

"Something like that."

"You should come to practice with me on Monday. We're running new drills. I think you'd like the behind-the-scenes stuff."

"Really?"

"If you want."

"I'd love too."

I didn't sign up for it, but I've been on a rollercoaster these past few days. I've experienced twists and turns, highs and lows, and things I'd never seen coming. But after a while, I raised my hands into the air, knowing I'd let it take me wherever it wanted. I ended up at a football game. My throat still hurts from cheering. I've been out to dinner with Carter and now we're eating ice cream. The ache in my stomach was still there from laughing, but I also felt the lingering pain in my face. Every smile strained the muscles, but Carter had a habit of making me happy, and I couldn't fight it.

The tattooed boy would rather spend time with me than go out with his friends to celebrate their win. He offered to help me fill out an application for Fall classes. I know two things for certain – he hates saying goodbye at night and will do anything to see me the next morning. What I do not know is why I follow wherever he goes. I can't continue doing it. If I do, I might find out that I like him more than a friend, and that can't happen. I'll only end up getting hurt, and I don't know what I'd do if the person who started picking up my pieces was the same person to shatter them all over again.

Then I looked at the man, sitting across from me as he spoke, and every worry slipped from my mind.

"Hey, Carter?"

I wanted to apologize for interrupting him, but he didn't seem to mind. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

"For?"

"Tonight."

"It's been my pleasure, Sawyer."