Filed to story: Love on the Sidelines (Natalie & Karl)
“So did I,” he mumbled. “But I’d have sworn you’d never do anything like you did tonight, so maybe I don’t.”
“That was your fault.” I glared at him. “I only went because I was mad at you.”
“You’ve got a weird way of looking at things, Natalie.”
“I do not.”
He finally let go of my arms. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been acting like an asshole.”
I studied his face. “Are you going to stop ignoring me?” For the first time that night, he smiled. “Yes.”
“And you’ll start talking to me again?”
“Yes.”
He staggered when I threw myself into his arms. “Then I forgive you,” I whispered.
“Just promise me one thing.”
“What?” I’d have done almost anything at that point, I was so happy to discover he didn’t hate me.
“Don’t drink anymore. ‘Cause I got to tell you, Natalie, you are one mean drunk.”
“Deal.” I laughed.
Karl took me home right after that, and I managed to make it to my room without rousing my family. I was still awake when Mama opened the door and tiptoed to the side of the bed, gazed down at me, and sighed with relief, but I pretended to be asleep.
When she left, I sent up a silent prayer that she’d never find out what had happened, and promised to be good from now on.
My relationship with Karl settled into an uneasy pattern after that night. We were still friends, but something had changed. Now I knew that while I was dreaming about him, he was dreaming about me, and we couldn’t go back to the way we’d been before.
Every time we were together, awareness crackled between us like static electricity. Our touches were no longer innocent, but done deliberately and at every opportunity. One of us would be talking, then suddenly stop and we’d stare at each other in silence.
Things were different at school, too. Rumors about my rapid degeneration and subsequent rescue by Karl flew over the grapevine faster than a brush fire after a ten year drought. My classmates looked on me with a respect bordering on awe. The seniors glared at me every time we met. Most of them still sported bruises and various injuries when school started, and Devon had a limp that kept him out of basketball practice for a month.
The first break between classes, Jenna dragged me outside and demanded all the details. I gave her an abbreviated version, after which she did a lot of glaring at Devon and my cousins.
“Bastards,” she declared.
She’d gotten a short haircut that did wonders for her face, making her eyes look big and gorgeous, the way it curled softly on her cheeks. And she was wearing makeup.
Looked like I needed to have another talk with Mother.
“So what’s up with you and Karl? I heard you two were an item.”
“We’re just friends, you know that.” Whatever was going on between Karl and me was too strong, too personal to talk about, even with my best friend.
“Yeah? Well, he sure isn’t looking at you like a friend. Let me put it this way. If you were a rabbit and he were a wolf, you’d be dead meat right now. Lord, I wish a guy would look at me that way.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see what she was talking about. Karl was standing fifty feet away, propping up a tree while he stared in my direction. There was something strange about this picture, but it took me a second to figure out what it was.
He wasn’t on the steps guarding Lindsey. He returned my gaze steadily until I turned back to Jenna.
“Wonder where Lindsey is?”
“I heard she quit.”
“Why would she do that?”
Jenna shrugged. “Liz dropped number seven a few weeks ago. She needed Lindsey to stay home and take care of it while she worked.”
“She got a job?”
“Yep, out at the roadhouse, waiting tables. Lots of folks think the kid might be Frank Hayes’s.”
Why hadn’t Karl mentioned any of this to me? He must be upset about something like that. I sure would have been. But Karl wasn’t the kind to talk about his problems. It was nothing short of a miracle that he’d told me as much as he had about Frank the night of the brawl, and I suspect that if I’d been stone cold sober, he wouldn’t have.
“So, what’s it like to get drunk?” Jenna asked, as though she’d read my mind.