Kick, Push

Page 18

“So what’s been going on?” Chloe asks, catching me distracted by my phone. “Same old, C-Lo. You know me.”
“No,” she says, standing up and walking over to me while wiping sand off on her jeans. “Something’s going on. I can tell.”
I figure fuck it. I have no one else to talk to about Becca, at least no one who’s not going to give me shit about it like Rob and Kim. So, I spend the next fifteen minutes talking while she listens and Tommy plays. I don’t tell her everything. I keep out the parts I know are too private or personal. She smirks at first and I know deep down she wants to tease, but she doesn’t. She just nods and tells me to go on. I tell her about last night, about Becca’s nightmare and how she hasn’t spoken to me since. And as each event, each word, leaves my mouth, I can see Chloe’s frown deepen.
“So that’s it,” I say. “And I don’t know what to do now.”
Chloe clears her throat, her eyes on Tommy. “You know, I get it. I mean, you were there from the very beginning with Blake and I. You saw me push him away, afraid I’d hurt him with the whole cancer thing. You remember what you said to me?”
I shrug. “Honestly, no. Did I call you a bitch?”
She punches my arm and laughs so loud it frightens Tommy.
I add, “Because I’m pretty sure that’s what I was thinking at the time.”
“Shut up!” she whines. “I’ve had cancer. Don’t be mean.”
“You can’t pull out the cancer card whenever you feel like it. It doesn’t work like that.”
“Bullshit, I can’t. I can do whatever I want.”
I laugh. “So what did I say?”
“You said that if he wanted to spend time with me—that it was his choice. But I had to let him make it.”
“I don’t see how that’s at all relevant.”
“Make your choice, Josh. You want to see her…” She points to the main house. “…go see her. But be ready to get turned down—because if she’s anything like me—she’ll keep pushing. Don’t give her the chance.”
“So what you’re saying is I should do what Hunter did and propose to your crazy ass.”
She laughs again and throws her arm around my shoulder… then gets me in a headlock and starts ruffling my hair. I wriggle out of her hold and stand in front of her. All joking aside, I say, “Thank you, Chloe.”
“You’re welcome.”
I tug a strand of her short hair. “And I’m kidding—about the bitch thing, kind of. You’re just lucky you’re beautiful.”
She pouts. “I have a feeling you’ll be fine, Warden.”
I nod and shove my hands in my pockets.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“What?”
“Don’t just stand there! Go get your girl.”
“Now?”
“I got Tommy. You got time. What you don’t have is excuses. Go!”
 
 
11

-Becca-
secret sikrt/
adjective
not known or seen or not meant to be known or seen by others.
 
Josh’s voice filters from downstairs up to my room and I sit up slightly—afraid he’s going to be at my door at any moment. But it’s not him that comes. It’s Grams. She’s holding a box, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Joshua just dropped this off for you,” she says, setting it on my bed by my feet. She slowly backs out of the room, her eyes shifting from me to the box and I can’t help but smile. I raise my hand and wave for her to sit down on the bed. Her smile widens as she picks up the box and hands it to me. “What could it be?” she says, rubbing her hands together.
I wonder if this is what it’s supposed to feel like—to have someone in your life who shares your excitement and your fears and your secrets.
I look down at the box, but there’s no writing or labels that indicate what it might it be.
“Open it,” Grams encourages, tapping the envelope that’s taped to the box. I do as she asks and pull out the note.
 
You know what comes after you kick and push?
You coast.
Coast with me, Emerald Eyes?
 
I cover my smile with my hand and drop my chin to my chest, hiding my blush.
“Are you going to open it?” Grams asks.
I nod, lifting the lid on the box.
It’s a bright green skateboard.
My very own skateboard.
I look up at Grams, unable to contain my grin. Then I realize I’m shaking and I have no idea why. “It’s a beautiful day out,” she says.
And before I know it I’m out of bed, changing my clothes, grabbing my skateboard and running down the stairs. I stop half way and run back up to Grams. She’s waiting at the top with my camera bag in her hand. I thank her—actually say the words thank you—but that’s not why I came back. I hug her with one arm, my body buzzing with excitement. She hugs me back. “Praise Jesus, what a blessed day,” she murmurs.
I practically run out of the house and toward his apartment, skateboard under my arm. Before I get to his stairs, I hear Tommy yell my name from the yard and my gaze snaps to him and Josh and… my heart drops to my stomach.
Josh walks toward me, his smile wide but I can’t move.
I can’t think.
I can’t pull my mind off the beautiful girl standing next to Tommy.
Josh’s smile fades as he approaches. “Becca?” he says, but I still can’t move. I can’t breathe. His hands are on my shoulders now and his face is in my vision and for some reason I want to punch him. And puke. And if I could do both at the same time I probably would.
“Come meet Chloe,” he says. “My best friend’s wife.”
 
“So do you really like it?” he asks, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on my leg.
I look down, feeling the warmth of his touch spread across my skin. “I love it, Josh. Really.”
“Good. That’s good. I mean, it’s lame, because I’m giving you something that’s kind of my thing, but I don’t know. I kind of want to share something with you, you know? And maybe next weekend we can do something with your photography?”
I face him. “You want to learn about it?”
“I want to learn everything about you, Becca.”
My breath catches.
He adds, “Well, as much as you want to share…”
 
Ten minutes later we’re pulling into a skate park. Once he’s parked, he turns to me and rolls his shoulders. “Ready to skate?”
“Ready to try not to suck at skating? Yeah.”
The second I’m out of the truck, he takes my hand and leads me to the path alongside the concrete playground. “Drop your board,” he says, and I carefully place it on the ground. For some reason, this makes him laugh. “Boards are durable, Becs. You don’t need to be so gentle.”
I look up, one eye squinting against the sun behind him. “But it’s so pretty and perfect.”
He smiles at that, his hand curling around my neck and his lips lowering to mine. He stops an inch away from my mouth. “You know what else is pretty and perfect?” he says, his voice husky. “You.” And then he kisses me. Just once. But it’s more than enough. He pulls back and taps my foot with his. “Get on.”