My mind takes me back in time. It's the closest thing to time travel I believe we'll ever have.
It was a little chilly. The sky was overcast. No rain. Yet.
Matt insisted on going to the park. I didn't know why he wanted to go so bad. We only had a few hours before we had to be back at my house for Thanksgiving dinner.
He had decided to quit his classes at the University. His dad wasn't happy about it. At all. He said Matt was making a huge mistake and throwing his future down the drain. Matt didn't budge. He felt he'd made the right decision. Even so, I knew it was hard on him, having his dad constantly lecturing him. I tried to be there for him. I tried my best to be supportive and encouraging. Eventually though, after weeks of nonstop arguing with his parents, he just couldn't deal with it anymore. He moved out. He decided to rent an apartment in town. Anne and I helped him move in and get settled.
"Want to walk to the lake?" Matt asks me. I shrug and say, "Sure." I don't know why he wanted to come here. I mean, who goes to the park on Thanksgiving? But I just went with it. I've learned to (somewhat) embrace his flares of spontaneity.
Anne couldn't come. She's visiting family out of state for the holiday. So it's just me and Matt.
I'm a little worried it might start raining. It's been cloudy and grey all day. I look up at the sky as we make our way to the lake. Definitely looks like rain.
"Why do you have that bag?" I ask Matt. He's got a leather messenger bag slunk over his shoulder. I've never seen it before.
"I needed it to carry my stuff in." He glances at me and winks. I raise one eyebrow at him and squint. "What 'stuff' are you talking about?" He doesn't usually carry extra "stuff."
"I guess you'll just have to wait and find out."
It's not a long walk to get to the lake. No one else is here. I wonder why.
"Will you sit on that big rock over there, Bay?" Matt asks, pointing to a boulder-type-rock-thing beside the water. I look at him strangely.
"Why do you want me to sit on that?"
"Because. I want to sketch you. The lake is a great background," he says, smiling at me. I chuckle a little and go sit on the rock.
"Are you sure you have enough time? We've got to be back by six, you know. I don't want to be late," I remind him. "And since when are you into sketching? I didn't know you liked to draw."
"I used to draw all the time as a kid," he says, sitting down at a picnic table nearby. "Then I started sketching at school when I couldn't figure out the homework. I remembered my parents bringing me here when I was younger, and I thought this lake would be fun to sketch. Especially with such a lovely subject in front of it," he says, looking up from his paper and grinning at me. I roll my eyes and smile back. "Yes, you're really quite charming," I tease him.
"I know."
He concentrates on his sketch, getting a little crease between his eyes. I watch him for a while. He looks up and sees my eyes on him. He smiles in a way I wish he wouldn't; all gentleness and unspoken longing. I read it in his soft emerald eyes. They speak volumes.
I look away. At the lake. At the trees. Anywhere but at him. I just can't stand it when he looks at me like that. It's too much. Knowing I'm hurting him...it's just too much. He tries to hide it, but I know it's there. It's always there, underneath his positive attitude and his energetic personality. And I know he still hopes. He is still hoping I'll change my mind. Develop feelings for him. Will I? Have I?
"So?" I ask. "Are you finished yet?" It's been about an hour and a half. I am beyond the point of discomfort; sore in unmentionable places. The sky seems to be getting darker, threatening to pour out its contents at any moment.
"Just about. I can finish up the shading later. I guess we better head back, huh?" He stands, putting his pad and pencils back inside his bag.
"Well...can I see it?" I ask, slowly stepping forward. He grins and shakes his head. "Nope. Not a peak. You have to wait until it's completely complete," he says, smiling. He's always smiling. It makes his eyes glitter, even in grey weather. It's nice.
Just as we've started back toward the parking lot, the skies open and raindrops fall as if their sole purpose is to drench us.
"Crap! Come on!" Matt yells, grabbing my hand and starting to run. My legs are much shorter than his. It's hard for me to keep up.
"I'm sorry! I can't go any faster!" I shout at him, as he is pulling me harder and harder. After a few minutes of running, Matt stops and, bending down slightly, says, "Get on my back!"
"What?!" I yell.
"Just get on!" I jump, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. He takes off running. We're actually moving faster this way. I can feel the tensed muscles in his back as he runs. With my face so close to him, I breathe in his scent. Mixed with the smell of the rain and the earth, it's like nothing I've ever smelled before. Dirt, rain, dry leaves. And him.
In no time at all we're back in the parking lot. He stops in front of his jeep and I slide off. He turns to face me and laughs. I don't know why we're just standing here. We ran all the way from the lake because of the rain, and now we don't move.
He's so close. As if I have no control over what I'm doing, my hand reaches up and moves his wet hair to the side. Raindrops continue to fall. With my finger, I follow the trail they've made down his face. He steps forward. I can't move. I can't breathe. His face comes closer to mine. Closer. He's inches away. My hand is on his chest. How did that get there? His face is so close to mine. I feel his nose touch my cheek. And with that touch it's like I wake up. I gasp a mouthful of air and jerk myself away. What in the world just happened? I frown and walk around to the passenger side of the jeep and get in.
Matt almost kissed me. I almost kissed Matt. Matt! I can't stop these thoughts from playing over and over in my head as we drive back to my house. I feel so stupid. How could I have let that almost happen?
I can't look at him. I stare out the window, not really seeing anything we pass. I'm so focused on my thoughts that I jump a little when he says, "You're freezing. Here, take my sweater." We're at a stop sign. He takes off his wet jacket and throws it in the back, then removes his sweater and hands it to me. I open my mouth to say I'm fine, but the look on his face makes me take it. I sigh and smile back. I am cold. And his sweater is soft and warm. Like him.
I take off my drenched jacket and pull his sweater on over my head. "Aren't you cold though?" I ask. He's only wearing a t-shirt now.
"No," he says, "I'm fine." I look over at him for the first time since we started home. He's trying to hide his disappointment. It's written all over his face. I hate this pain I feel. It kills me.
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