If I Was Your Girl(24)

“Yeah. Thanks for listening,” I said as I began the walk down the bleachers toward the parking lot. I was starting to feel better already. “I think I’m going to be just fine.”





11

The sky was slate-gray and pregnant with the threat of another in a week of thunderstorms. A cool, moist wind rushed past Grant and me as we sat in the bed of his friend Rodney’s pickup truck. I put my whipping, stinging hair in a ponytail and felt my cheeks warm when I noticed him staring at me. The truck passed over a fallen branch, bouncing both of us a few inches into the air. I clutched the raised wheel well for dear life. Grant laughed softly and smiled, then held his hands up as I kicked playfully at him.

“It’s not funny!” I said, starting to smile despite myself. “Riding in the back of a truck is really dangerous!”

“It’ll be worth it,” he said. “Muddin’s a blast, and I want you to meet the guys.”

“If they’re anything like Parker, I hope you won’t mind me staying in the truck.”

“They can be a little rough around the edges,” he said, looking up the road and rubbing his neck, “but Parker’s kind of a special case. You don’t need to worry about him though.” He turned back to me and smiled. “Really, it’s less about you meeting them and more about me getting to show you off.”

“Anyway!” I took my turn to look away. “Why didn’t you pick me up? Isn’t ‘muddin’’ more fun if you have your own car?”

“So you admit it sounds like fun?” he said.

“It sounds kind of dumb,” I said, shrugging apologetically.

“Well, sure it does,” Grant said. “But that’s what makes it fun. It’s an excuse to hang out with your buddies and act like an idiot in the woods and get messy.” I gave him a doubtful look. He patted his backpack. “Don’t worry, though. I got picnic stuff in here. We’ll make our own fun if you get bored.”

“Thanks,” I said as the truck turned off the highway onto a mud-and-gravel track into the woods. The canopy blotted out the already-weak sunlight and drizzled water on us for a few more minutes until the faint purr of engines could be heard; then we burst into a clearing. The grass was torn and rutted with dozens of wildly curving tire tracks as mud-caked trucks careened back and forth with no real purpose besides the motion itself. A small crowd of equally mud-caked figures congregated around a campfire and a convoy of small red coolers. I recognized some of the faces from school, including Parker’s. Grant hopped down once the truck came to a stop a ways off from the crowd.

“Here you go,” Rodney said as he stepped down from the cab and tossed Grant his keys. “I’m gonna grab a beer first.”

“Thanks,” Grant said, and climbed into the driver’s seat. He looked down at me with a confused expression. “Whatcha waiting for?”

“We’re going already? I was hoping for some time to digest my breakfast first.”

Grant laughed. “Just one go-round, at least?” he said, lolling out the window like a defeated rag doll. “Come on, you gotta! And anyway I brought lotsa sandwiches, so if you yak we can fill you right back up.”

“Charming.” I laughed and made my way to the passenger seat over a chorus of conspicuously loud, whooping cries from behind us. I buckled my seat belt, enjoying Grant’s nearness for a moment, until the engine roared and the truck fishtailed.

Grant leaned forward, grinning, his foot stamping the floor. The rear tires shot great arcs of mud into the air behind us for a moment, and then we were off. I screamed and clutched his arm as the edge of the clearing rushed toward us. Grant laughed and spun the wheel at the last second, sending the truck into a long, hissing drift that splashed mud across the trunks of a dozen trees. He righted the drift and took off across the clearing again and now I was laughing too. The truck spun again, this time through a surprisingly deep depression that splattered gouts of mud on the windows and windshield. I remembered insisting that Grant explain muddin’ to me and realized that he never could have, really—not in a way that would have made me understand. How much of life was like that, just waiting for me to come and give it a chance? The truck finally came to a stop at the opposite end of the clearing from our classmates. I just sat and panted for a moment, running my adrenaline-shaken hands through my hair.

“That was…” I began breathily, searching for the most accurate word and failing. “That was awesome!”

“I hoped you’d like it,” Grant said softly. I turned to him, grinning like a kid, and felt a flutter in my chest when I saw a much more reserved smile on his face and his dark eyes locked firmly on mine. He seemed like he was waiting for something. The flutter turned into a tightening as I realized what was about to happen.

“So,” I said, looking away and stroking my hair nervously. I couldn’t stop thinking about how he had darted away after school the other day. I didn’t want to ruin the moment, but I needed to know. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot,” Grant said, leaning against the steering wheel and cocking his head.

“Are we dating?”

“Well, we’re on a date.”

“I know.” I felt like every cell in my body was vibrating, a steady thrum from my hair to my toes. “But are we going to go on more?”