Waiting on the Sidelines (Waiting on the Sidelines #1)(13)
“Oh god, it’s sooooo not what you think,” I said, stopping her before she went too far. Then, part of what she said sank in and I flinched, squinting my eyes. “You really think he’s got a thing for me?”
“I don’t think. I know,” she said, matter-of-factly. I wasn’t sure she was right on this one, but I was flattered that she would even think that about me. I stood silently, trying to take what she had said in and sorting through the source of my stress for a good place to begin. I decided starting with Tatum’s flirtation was the genesis. Sienna winced when I recanted the scene from outside the gym after volleyball tryouts and hugged me when I told her what I said, inches away from Reed’s face. Finally, I got to the part about the note, and she shook me by my shoulders.
“You seriously have been holding onto his letter for, like, an hour not knowing what it says?” she was dumbfounded.
“Yeah… I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough time to read it, and I’m a little worried about what it says.”
Sienna’s eyes were wide and her mouth was tightly closed, almost like she was holding something in.
“Nolan, you have to go read that. Like… right now!”
She was right. Now was the perfect time. I had lunch after PE, and I could take all the time I needed and hide out if I needed to. Part of me wanted to just ask Sienna to read it for me, just like when I cover my eyes during scary movies and ask her to tell me when the gory scenes are over and catch me up on the major plot points. But this was personal from Reed to me, and I knew it was something I had to do all on my own.
As she slung her bag over her shoulder in the locker room, she looked back at me and said she’d save me a seat at lunch and tell Sarah I had to talk with the coach. Grateful, I smiled.
Finally alone, I straddled the bench, unzipped my bag and pulled out the note. As I unfolded it, I was first amazed at the length and surprisingly nice penmanship. It was clear that he had written quickly and had a lot to say. Holding my breath, I began:
Nolan:
I don’t even know where to start, but I guess the best place would be with sorry. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please believe me that I am being sincere in asking for it. I am embarrassed ashamed of what you heard and want you to know that that’s not the guy I am. I don’t have any excuses other than sharing with you the only behavior I’ve ever known. My parents hate each other. My mom fills me with stories about my cheating father and my father talks about how greedy and superficial my mom is, not that she’s any different from any other wife he’s had or the many women he’s had affairs with. My brother was the most popular guy in school and I’m supposed to be just like him. Jason was is an *. I’ve grown up watching him put people down and have others lift him up for it. Deep down, I’ve always known it was sort of a douche bag way to be, but I guess I got caught up in it. Again, I don’t have any excuses, so I am sorry.
Second, let me just say for the record that you are very pretty. I actually remembered your knee-high socks that you were wearing that first day we met, and they were kinda cute. So, while it might not erase those hurtful things we said that day, I hope it’s at least a start.
I’m sure you’ve noticed that our paper is done. I never intended on having you do all the work. Just so you know, I’m not some stupid jock. I’m actually pretty smart and school has always been easy for me. I’m sure you’ll still read the paper word for word to make sure it’s of ‘Nolan quality,’ but I can assure you that it’s an A. I will bring the model in on Monday so we can turn them in together for our grade.
I guess that’s all. I like hanging out with you and really hope I didn’t F things up. Still friends?
~Reed
My knees were numb and I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it to the cafeteria for lunch, not that I was hungry in the least. Reed’s letter was…well, it just was. I wasn’t sure what I had hoped for, but this was certainly not what I expected. I folded it carefully into quarters and pulled out my wallet, tucking it behind my school I.D. I lay back on the bench and pulled my knees up to a bend, resting my folded hands on my forehead. I knew I wasn’t going to make it to lunch; I just needed to take some time to soak in this moment. Sitting up, I pulled out my phone from the front pocket of my bag. I typed out a quick text to Sienna that I would fill her in later and that all was good in the world again and hit send. She wrote back immediately, :-).
My next text required more thought. I pulled up Reed’s name and stared at the empty screen for minutes. Just as the bell for class was ringing, I typed and hit send:
Still friends, :-)
Almost instantly, he wrote back:
Awesome. C U after the game!
Sarah was going to be happy. There was no way I was missing it now.
5. Friday Night
In the past, I attended Coolidge High football games wearing my brother’s old Bears shirt, cut-off shorts and flip flops. But for some reason, I couldn’t seem to settle in on how I looked. I was uncomfortable in my own skin. Of the dozen or so combinations of outfits I tried, I kept coming back to the black-and-white tank top that tied around my neck and the hip-hugging denim shorts. Pulling my hair up into a loose ponytail, I let a few strands fall at the nape of my neck, slightly curled from the humidity. I would be comfortable outside in the desert for the evening, but wouldn’t need to worry about climbing over washes. I stuck with the converse shoes, sockless, so I could navigate my way through the dry brush and rocks at the party as well as climb the bleachers for the game.