God Bless This Mess(32)

That parking lot turned into our spot. It was close to both of our houses, so night after night we would sneak out, and meet up, and talk and make out with each other, for hours, in the back seat of his bright-red Ford F-150.

When I hear that old Bob Seger song “Night Moves,” I think of Brady. We didn’t go all the way, but in the back seat of his truck we would get pretty hot and heavy. Just exploring each other, so fearless. When I think to those days, I still smile. It was a little bad, yeah, but I finally felt like myself. When my mom found out just recently that her “golden child” had snuck out of the window, she was just floored.

It was that kind of young dumb love that makes you feel alive. During those nights, I finally felt like I didn’t have to keep up the act anymore. I could be free. Free to not be perfect. Even though sometimes I had to breathe quietly while I snuck around, at least I could finally breathe.

I loved Brady. I didn’t tell him that. I was too scared. I couldn’t tell him when we were in secret like that. But I thought he loved me back. He told me he did. And it’s hard to describe how good it felt when said it.

I knew he’d been sexually active. But he never pushed me. He never made me feel uncomfortable. He never made me feel bad for wanting to stay true to my values. That gave me a false sense of safety. And it’s safety that I needed in order to be open, and so much more willing, if you know what I mean.

I knew it was wrong to be sneaking around. I didn’t feel good about hiding this, or doing any of this behind his girlfriend’s back. When it was clear that they were together, I wouldn’t talk to him. I wouldn’t go meet him. But, gosh, I wanted to be with him. I couldn’t understand why he would go back to someone who was so mean to me. I couldn’t understand why he ever picked her over me. Why did I feel the need to have to prove myself to him? Eventually he didn’t feel good about it either.

Brady broke up with that other girl. “It’s over. For good,” he said.

We waited a little while before he and I went public, and then suddenly everyone at school knew we were a couple. We did everything together. Well, not everything. He had a separate life, a party life that didn’t include me. But we did everything else. We spent time with each other’s families. We went to prom together. He had already made up his mind to go to the University of Alabama, right there in Tuscaloosa (Roll Tide!), and so I decided to go to UA, too. Of course I never told anyone that he was the reason, but he was definitely one of the biggest reasons. (Girls, never follow a boy!)

Toward the end of our senior year, I was getting ready to go into the Miss Alabama pageant for the first time. I was feeling good about it. I was so prepared, and so into it. But my dedication to the pageant meant I couldn’t go on our senior trip.

Brady was going. So was his ex. That made me nervous, and we talked about it. He assured me he had never been happier than he was with me, and had no interest in getting back together with her.

The night before they left, I snuck over to his house. He picked me up and carried me up the stairs to his bedroom. We just wanted to spend the night together, and we did. We snuggled in his bed, and nothing more.

That night, I finally whispered in his ear, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said. “And I promise you have nothing to worry about.”

I worried the whole time they were gone. He stopped really calling me during the week, and when he did, he sounded like he had been drinking. I made myself sick over it. I lost like eight pounds that week—not from dieting, but from worrying.

I heard from a friend that Brady and his ex had been hanging out together the whole trip. “They looked really close,” the friend said. “Like, really close. As if they were totally back together.”

Brady and I had told each other everything on our late-night escapes. He knew every detail about me, and what had happened in my relationship with Tucker, and probably everything I’ve told you about my childhood that you’ve read in this book, and so much more. I wanted to know everything about him, too. But I didn’t. There were things he was hiding from me, and I wouldn’t find those things out till years later.

So the first time we saw each other when he got back, I asked him, straight up, what was going on. And I trusted him. I expected him to tell me the truth.

He admitted that he and his ex had hung out. He said they talked. He told me that they still had a spark. I felt my heart sink, but I was kind: “I understand, y’all have history and will have a connection, but that doesn’t mean that what we have isn’t great and worth continuing to grow.” I didn’t want to accept the underlying truth.

“Well, did you kiss her?” I asked. “Like, what happened?”

“No. Nothing happened. But . . . I think I want to give it another try with her.”

I couldn’t take it. To this day, Brady would say he’s never seen someone cry like that. I was so broken. I wasn’t dramatic, I didn’t curse, I was just heartbroken. This was two days before I left for the pageant I had been preparing for all year. Needless to say, I didn’t handle it well. The heartbreak killed any chance I had at doing well that year.

*

It didn’t take long before the truth came out, and I was told that they had not only kissed, they’d slept together on that senior trip.

It felt like everything had been a lie.

Just a few weeks later, I ran into a guy named Luke. He was a year older than me, and he was a quarterback in college now. He was such a catch, and I had always admired him when we were growing up in town. We ended up having a fun summer romance. He helped me find my smile again. Luke was a class act, a good guy—and he let me know that he was all in with me at the end of summer. When I went to UA, and he went back to football, he wanted to continue our relationship. So did I.