Mary shifted uncomfortably, sitting up with her eyes on the field. “I don’t think my story will be as light as yours.”
“So, let me sit in the darkness with you.”
I watched the stars come out in Mary’s eyes as she told me about her life. Some of it she came out with easily, like how her older brother worked at the firm with her dad and how she found Nero’s shop when she turned eighteen and could finally get a tattoo without a parent’s sign off. I was surprised to hear she’d worked at various restaurants after high school, spending most of her money on tattoos until she was ready to move out of her parents’ house. That was when she got the apprenticeship.
She’d moved to the house across the street from us to be closer to the shop, and it really did feel like fate to me that out of all the houses in that part of town, she moved into the one so close to me.
Other things, I had to pry out of her, like who her friends were （to which she said she had none really before Julep） or how she kept quiet when she knew it was me across the street （with great restraint and a desire not to go to jail, she’d answered with a sarcastic smile）。
I shared my life with her, too — opening up about my complicated relationship with my dad, my high respect for my mom, and my desire for her to meet them both. I told her a few stories about being on the team in high school and how excited I was when I got the scholarship to NBU, even though my dad hated it.
“It was because of you, you know,” I said softly, fingers trailing over her leg. “I wouldn’t have had the courage to choose NBU if I’d never have met you.”
“Yes, you would have.”
“No,” I assured her. “I was content to go to Southern Alabama, to be what my dad wanted me to be. But when I met you, when I heard you talk so fearlessly about how you went against the grain with your parents, how you were so fearlessly yourself… it inspired me.” I swallowed. “After I lost you, it felt like a way to honor what we had, to stand up for myself and choose the school I wanted to go to instead of bending to my father.”
Mary smiled, her brows bending together. “I love that, Leo.”
I squeezed her thigh.
With a sigh that sounded like a laugh, Mary scrunched her nose like she didn’t want to admit what she was about to. “I actually did bend to my mom’s will after what happened between us, though.”
I balked. “Do tell.”
“Remember the deal I made with her to get Resident Evil?”
I squinted through the years, reaching through the filing cabinet of my mind for the memory. When it hit me, my jaw slackened. “No,” I said with a smile splitting my face. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, but I did. You’re looking at a certified debutante. I wore the white puffy dress and everything.”
“Okay, I demand a photo.”
I had to tickle her mercilessly before she finally relented, pulling out her phone and thumbing to a photo of her looking horribly uncomfortable in a white dress that corseted her at the top and flared off in a puff of cloud below her waist. Her parents stood behind her, their hands on each of her shoulders, proud as could be.
But my eyes snagged on the girls in the photo, how they held so much pain and sadness even at that young age. She looked like she wanted to crawl out of her own skin, out of the life she was forced into. I realized distantly that, not too long after, she did. She made a new life, one of her own.
The longer I stared, the more I willed the memory of that fateful day to come back to me. But even seeing a photograph of her back then, I couldn’t see her clearly in my mind.
It killed me.
“It’s okay, you can laugh,” she said, ripping the phone from my grasp before I could look too long.
I shook my head, quiet for a minute. “I should have been there with you,” I said. “Should have been your date.”
“I’m rather glad you didn’t have to witness my terrible attempt at dancing,” she tried to joke.
I turned to face her, pulling her closer. “I mean it. I know I’ve said I’m sorry a thousand times now but… I am.” I kissed her knuckles. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”
Her eyes softened, and she nodded. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still scared.”
“That’s okay,” I told her. “One day at a time, I’ll stay. I’ll be here for you. And I’ll prove to you that you don’t have anything to be afraid of.”
I love you.
The words blew through my mind as strong as the October wind, surprising me even though I’d felt them humming under the surface for weeks.
“What?” Mary asked, sensing the shift.
I swallowed the words down, burying them in my chest for now. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they’d crawl their way out, but Mary had just admitted to me that she was scared — of me, of us. The last thing she needed was me to throw that at her.
“Nothing,” I said.
Mary narrowed her eyes but didn’t press. Instead, she bit her lip against a smile. “You know… I always wanted to make out under these bleachers.”
I arched a brow. “Did you now?”
“I’m ashamed to admit how many times I fantasized that it’d be you.”
“Well, shit,” I said, pulling her to stand. “I’ll be damned if I miss an opportunity to play out one of your fantasies.”
I dragged her down the bleachers with her laugh singing sweet on the evening breeze, and when we were alone under the shadow of the bleachers, I pressed her into a dark corner and kissed her until her lips were swollen and both of us were desperate to get back home.
On the drive back, I was once again overcome by the high of life in that moment. We rolled the windows down and let fall sweep in, Mary’s hair blowing everywhere as we sang Breaking Benjamin songs so loud our throats were raw. I soaked up every drop of laughter, reveling in the way it felt to hold her hand and the steering wheel at the same time.
I was on a winning streak — in every possible way.
And with every whispered invocation against Mary’s skin that night, I prayed it would never end.
Mary
“WHERE’S MY BIRTHDAY BOY!?”
The door to The Pit burst open early on the morning of October twenty-first, and in blew a petite, gorgeous woman who I only had to glance at once to know was Leo’s mom.
She had warm brown skin and jet-black, shoulder-length hair that swung in silky strands around her face as she kicked the door closed behind her. She was holding a homemade something in her hands — perhaps a cake? — and her purse was nearly as big as she was as she adjusted it on her shoulder. It was her smile that gave her away, along with those golden eyes that were wide and bright.
They grew even wider at the sight of me.
“Oh,” she said, a little out of breath as she tried to cover her surprise. “Hello.”
I shook off my nerves, thankful I’d actually decided to get dressed this morning before coming downstairs. I didn’t usually, but maybe it was the universe’s way of showing me a small kindness, because for some reason I’d pulled on a hoodie and my leggings.
“Hi,” I said, matching her smile. “You must be Mrs. Hernandez. Here, let me take that,” I offered, reaching out to take the pan covered with Cling Wrap out of her hands.