Back to You(33)

“Yes. As soon as you go down again.”
Lauren pushed off the slide in a huff, and she heard him chuckle behind her as she climbed the slide again.
“Put your arms up this time. And say ‘wheee’ when you come down.”
“No,” she said as she positioned herself at the top of the slide.
“Just humor me, please,” he said, his smile gone. “This is serious.”
She stared at him for a second before she nodded. “Fine,” she said softly, and she pushed off the top and lifted her arms. “Wheee,” she deadpanned pitifully, and as soon as her feet hit the sand below, he burst out laughing.
“My God, that was pathetic. Get over here,” he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her off the slide.
“Is the point of this to make me look like an idiot?” she said as he dragged her away.
“No, that’s not the point, but it’s definitely a plus,” he said through his laughter, and she reached over and smacked him with her free hand.
“Here,” he said, backing her into one of the swings, and she grabbed the metal cI think we got a good thing go, lehains on either side as he came up behind her, gripping the chains just above her hands. And then he took several steps backward until she was as far back as the chains would allow.
Michael leaned forward so that his chest was pressed against the length of her back, and her breath caught in her throat. “Ready?” he said in her ear, and before she could respond, he shoved her forward with such force that she lost her stomach; Lauren squeezed her eyes shut as she gripped the chains tighter and curled her knees up to her torso.
As she swung back, she felt his hands on her lower back, cushioning her descent and sending her right back up, even higher than before. The cold wind whipped her hair around her face, and as her stomach dropped again, she laughed.
She careened back toward Michael and this time he caught her by the hips, gripping them firmly as he ran forward and gave her a vigorous push as he darted underneath her. Lauren flew up higher than she’d ever been on a swing set, and she screamed, followed by unbridled laughter.
“There ya go,” he said with a smile, walking back over to the swings and sitting on the one next to hers.
Lauren began pumping her legs, keeping herself going as her height gradually lessened, and she looked over at him and smiled.
“You feel better?” he asked.
“I do, actually.”
Michael pushed off with his feet, rocking gently in the swing. “Whenever I’m pissed off about something, I always think to myself, ‘What do I feel like doing right now?’ And then I go and do it, whatever it is. Screw everyone else, ya know?” He looked over at her with a smirk. “And just now, I felt like coming here.”
“Well, I guess that’s better than kicking someone’s ass.”
“Hmm. That’s debatable. It depends on whose ass I’m kicking.”
Lauren laughed and shook her head as she pumped her legs, making the swing go a little faster.
“See, Red? When life hands you lemons, you know what you gotta do now.”
“Wow,” Lauren said. “Yes, Mr. Cliché, I know what I have to do. I make lemonade.”
“No,” he said. “You scream, ‘Fuck you, lemons!’”
Lauren whipped her head toward Michael, her eyes wide, and she quickly scanned the park, forgetting for the moment that it was the dead of winter and no one else was there.
“God,” she said with a horrified laugh.
“And then you throw those goddamn lemons into oncoming traffic, and you go do what you want to do.”
She tried not to laugh, but it was pointless, and as soon as she broke, he laughed along with her. She turned to look at him sitting on the swings next to her, rolling from the balls of his feet to the heels as he rocked himself in the swing.
Lauren wondered if she’d ever stop being floored by these moments. It was almost surreal. He’d been suspended three times in the four months they’d been friends, and two of those were for fighting on school grounds. She’d seen the way others looked at him, the way they avoided him, and she’d seen the way he carried himself around those people. The look in his eyes changed, his posture changed. It was like he was actually someone else.
And it was so strange, because the truth of it was, the infamous Del was just Michael to her, the boy who was quickly becoming her best friend in the world { display: block; text-indent: 0%; leasha.
And that weekend, as Lauren stood at the edge of the mat chalking her hands, her eye was drawn to the stands, where one spectator stuck out like a sore thumb.
He sat on the highest bench, a sharp contrast to the adults sitting demurely in the rows before him, with his backward baseball hat, his overly casual posture, and his arm draped over the back of the bleachers as he absently drummed his fingers against the wood.