Beast(31)

“I know, I know.” Come on, let’s rip the Band-Aid off already.

Jamie points toward the rose garden below the bandstand. “They’re dead. It happens.”

“Wait, what’s dead?”

“The roses? As in, there aren’t any to see today?” she says in concerned tones. “Are you okay? You look a little off.”

I actually look at the rows of empty bushes. They’re all pruned. Some are wrapped in burlap. Dreams dashed. “What happened to the flowers?”

“It’s fall. They go dormant. Old ladies in funny hats come in with pruning shears and put them to bed.” Jamie takes a picture. “It’s still a beautiful day, though.”

“Is it?” It’s all cloudy and the roses are dead.

“Do you want it to be an awesome day, or would you rather mope all over it? Let me know so I can plan accordingly. Go get a poncho or something,” she says, not exactly hiding the sarcasm.

As her disappointment grows with her folded arms, my apprehension fades. Jamie’s not telling me the next stop is Friendtopia. She’s with me in a boring park on a shitty day with nothing to do but stare at a bunch of dried-up bushes. Meaning she actually wants to be here. With me. I want to give the world a high five.

Bravery surges through me like antidote after a snakebite.

“I’m glad you came,” I say.

“Me too. It’s good to see you.”

Last time we hung out in a park, it ended with a kiss. I think we should begin with one today because I want it to be everything it should’ve been last week: stunningly perfect.

I stand next to her, using the bandstand for balance, and do what the violins tell me to do. The park melts away into a soundstage. It’s our big close-up in a movie. Makeup artists fuss over Jamie, using all the crimson in their paint boxes for her lips. Fangirls are going to break Tumblr with GIFs of us kissing with Jamie swept into my arms like they’re the last refuge on earth and me powerfully embracing her against the vicious winds of a ravaged tundra. Or jungle or postapocalyptic landscape or something more exciting than Portland on a cloudy day.

We’re on set and as she turns toward me, the wind machines gently pick up, her face softly lit and glowing. The director helps me out and says, Lean in, little bit more…slower. Still slower. Now cup her cheek with the palm of your hand. Brush her skin lightly with your thumb, not too much, but just enough. Good, now— Jamie grabs my hand and pulls it down. “What are you doing?”

I blink. The boom mikes and bounce lighting disappear.

The park sits around us, as dappled with midfall depression as ever.

“I was going to kiss you,” I say, deflated she smacked it down.

“I got that. And maybe you’re going to think I’m a complete prude, but please don’t do that.” Jamie edges back a touch and hugs herself. “I got to the park and it was like your brain evaporated and then, boom, all of a sudden you’re all up in my face and I just…I don’t know.”

I lower down into my chair.

“Don’t be mad,” she says. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

“I’m terrified.”

“You are? Of what? Me?”

“No! It’s just I’ve never done this before. The whole be-together-with-another-person thing.”

“No way.”

She laughs. “Why is that such a surprise?”

“Because I figured you’ve already had a whole ton of boyfriends, been going out with different guys since like the sixth grade or something.”

“Yeah? Not so much.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way. More like, how can someone like you be available?”

“Someone…like…me…,” Jamie says with painful slowness. Her eyes narrow.

“Funny! Smart! Pretty!” I say because she’s looking at me with a bit of a death stare.

“Oh.” She smiles. I love it when she smiles. Jamie’s grin covers her head to toe.

“You should’ve been snapped up a long time ago,” I say. “I mean, it’s obvious why I haven’t been. You’re a different story.”

“But you’re smart and funny too.”

“You forgot pretty.”

She looks away. She knows it. “You’re a guy; you don’t have to be pretty,” she says. “But I’ve had crushes. There’ve been boys I’ve liked. I’ve just been too afraid to make a move. Actually, scratch that. I tried once. It did not go well.” Jamie lays a hand against her face. Like she’s hiding a freckle or something.

“His loss.”

“Maybe I’m being too hard on you.”

“If you don’t want to kiss, then we shouldn’t.” I fiddle with the armrest. “I figured that since we almost, you know…I guess I want too much.”

“And what’s that?”

To love someone else. To be loved.

That missing spark that I’ve never had before. I wanted to be her movie star, and now I’m feeling like the guy sweeping up popcorn and scraping old gum and boogers off the seats.

Jamie holds out her hand. I take it. Our palms meet. Her knuckles skim over mine as our fingers wrap together. “Let’s walk,” she says.