My (Not So) Perfect Plan (Believe In Us #2)

FIVE

EVAN

I watch the tips of Claire’s braids disappear around the corner as she all but runs out of the room. I scrub my face with my hands. What in the heck is wrong with me? Why does this girl get me all tied up in knots? I already have enough knots, don’t I, considering I just had a career ending injury before my career even got started? And now this? Why do I feel like I just kicked a puppy?

I have kissed at least thirty different girls since kissing became something that girls wanted to do with me, starting in eighth grade. There had been some serious make out sessions in there, along with some lighter, sweet ones for girls that wanted more than I was willing to give them. But I was always aware of the difference between them. With Claire, everything had gotten all mixed up.

All it takes is one look at her to know that she’s a forever girl. She wants the works, including the commitment and dating and the whole nine yards. I know my reputation was bit man-whore-ish, but I was never the type to lead a forever girl on because that was just cruel. I mean, I flirt with anything by the name of female, but some girls were more fun to flirt with than others and if they were good with a flirtationship, so was I.

But kissing Claire had gotten out of hand. That was where I had screwed up. I lace my fingers behind my head and lean back against the headboard, wondering how it was that I had even started kissing her in the first place. Maybe the injury had something to do with it. And being starved for attention. That was it. I’m tired because I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m on pain killers. We had had fun all day and then she was there, looking so beautiful and fresh and compassionate. Completely irresistible. And then I couldn’t stop because I wanted to drown in her sweetness and not come out. I frown. Maybe it was the compassion that did it. Or the drugs. It could definitely be the pain killers they gave me.

Claire surprised me today. She surprised me earlier too with the card and the chocolates (hey, jerk off, next time lead with ‘thank you’ instead of waiting until you screw everything up!). I never expected her to get all slave driver and professional on me, like I was just some idiot that was wasting her time unless I tried harder. I could relate to that. Pushing my buttons about my body hadn’t done much for me just because it conveyed her desire for me more than the threat of obesity in my future, but the dig about my being a wuss had actually worked, though I would never admit it to her.

And now she wanted everything professional. Probably a good idea considering I didn’t have any intention to seriously date anyone. I opened the ipad and went into my assignments. Of my four classes, English IV was proving the most difficult, followed up by Spanish II. I really hadn’t wanted to take Spanish II, but somehow I hadn’t managed to get my foreign language credits completed before senior year.

I really shouldn’t have kissed Claire. Was it going to get all weird now, what with her tutoring me and helping me with the rehab? I sigh. Idiot.

She comes back in with a few icepacks and some hand towels. “Here.”

I take them from her and work on fixing them around my knee with the ice packs folded inside them. By the time I’m done, she’s sitting down with her own ipad out, looking through her assignments. We work on assignments for another hour, getting help from each other on the stuff we need tutoring on. Reading into literature is really not my thing, but after she explains it to me, I understand it better. While I’m working on Spanish I practice saying the words out loud, she bursts out laughing at me.

“What?” I ask.

“That’s the worst Spanish accent I’ve ever heard!” she sighs.

“Well, you do it, then. You’re my tutor. How do I make it sound right?”

She studies me. “Okay.” She points to, the word ‘escribe.’ “Say that.”

“E-scribe.”

She laughs again. “Oh, gosh. Sorry. Okay, I think you are trying too hard. Spanish is a soft language. Think romantic. There are a few hard sounds, but when you push the sounds too hard, they come out sounding, um, with an American accent, let’s say. Try this one,” she says, pointing to ‘derecha.’

“De-Recha.”

“All right, your ‘r’ sound is typical for an American, but in Spanish the ‘r’ sound is between a ‘d’ and an ‘r’ sound.”

She shows me what she means, but I can’t figure out how to do it, in part because I’m distracted by watching her luscious lips and trying not to think about what I would prefer to be doing with them. We try for a good ten minutes. Once we’ve gone through the list of vocabulary words and I can name most of them she packs up her books and stands.

“I have to get home for dinner and chores. Your mom is dropping me off today.”

“You want to get your license tomorrow?” I ask. I hadn’t planned on asking her that yet, but the idea of her not coming over makes me feel unsettled.

She smiles painfully. “I don’t know. Would you mind if we went driving one more day first?”

“Sure. Tomorrow?”

She bobs her head and then waves goodbye. I hear her leave with my mom. My knee has started hurting me again. I don’t want to take pain pills, but I do. As they kick in, I relax back on the bed and relive that kiss. It was unexpectedly amazing. I want more of them, even though I know I shouldn’t. Who would have thought Claire Brown would have me panting at the thought of her?

The next day is Friday. I’m kind of torn up because it’s game day. There’s a pep rally at the school. I’m reminded that I am going to miss homecoming.

Halfway through the morning Jaxon texts me a picture of himself at the pep rally. Rachel, Claire, Tamara, and Raven are in the background whooping, their cheeks painted with our school name initials and their hair dusted in sparkly glitter in our school colors to show their school spirit.

JAXON: Dude, wish you were here! Hurry up and get well so you don’t miss out on all the fun!

I know the picture is supposed to motivate me, but instead it just depresses me. He’s wearing his basketball jersey. At best, I’ll be an honorary member of the team from here on out. It should be cool being able to ride with the team to all the games, but I don’t even know if I want to. I don’t respond to the text, even though it makes me feel like a tool.

Mom keeps me well stocked in ice and snacks. Claire reminded me that I don’t want to lose all my muscle tone, so while I trade between binge watching all the episodes of Bones on Amazon and playing a few rounds of Battlegrounds, I work on some of the rehab exercises I’m supposed to be doing.

I’m eating a bowl of my mom’s chicken and dumplings (because apparently my mom thought I was in need of comfort food - she’s not wrong) when my phones pings with a text from an unknown number.

UNKNOWN: Hey. How are you doing today?

ME: Who is this?

UNKNOWN: Claire

Nice. My heart beats a little faster. I save her as a contact in my phone.

ME: How’d you get my number? Hit up one of my friends?

CLAIRE: Ha! No. Your mom gave it to me.

And now I feel stupid.

CLAIRE: So… how are you?

It’s not like I’m going to whine about how today sucks because it’s game day. Before I can say anything my phone pings again.

CLAIRE: I figure today can’t be easy for you, considering there’s a game today.

Bingo.

ME: Yeah, well. It is what it is.

CLAIRE: I would be upset if I were you.

I swallow. I don’t know if I’m upset. I’m disgruntled, kind of depressed. But admit nothing because I’m not a pansy.

ME: You could cheer me up.

CLAIRE: Watch this really cute video of pandas cuddling.

Claire sends me a youtube link and after I open it I crack up laughing.

ME: You totally Rick Rolled me!!!

CLAIRE: My favorite music finally became a viral thing. I had to.

CLAIRE: Plus, that song is awesome.

I watch the video again, trying to listen to it the way Claire would.

ME: I could totally see girls loving that song if they like 80s music.

CLAIRE: It makes me nostalgic for something I’ve never had.

I have to read her text a few times, but I still don’t get it.

ME: That was deep. Too deep for me to understand.

CLAIRE: You’ve never been sad about something you’ve never had?

Seriously? What did she think I was going through right now?

CLAIRE: Never mind. Stupid question. Are you really telling me that Never Gonna Give You Up didn’t make you feel all squishy inside?

ME: Nope.

CLAIRE: It’s like you’re not even human.

ME: Who are you ignoring at the lunch table while you text me?

CLAIRE: I told them all I have a secret boyfriend and now they are all trying to read my texts. It’s hilarious.

ME: What’s going to happen when they find out it’s me?

CLAIRE: You’re not my secret boyfriend!

ME: Then who is?

I laugh, because I love messing with Claire. I can imagine that scrunched up face palm thing she does every time I take the conversation into bizarre world.

CLAIRE: What?! No one! That’s why it’s funny.

ME: Aw, I really had my hopes up that I could be your secret boyfriend.

CLAIRE: ‘Kay. I’m not talking to you anymore right now, ya freak. See you after school.

ME: Can’t wait. ;)

For the rest of the afternoon, half of my brain is in ‘waiting for Claire’ mode, while the other half is working on my exercises, icing my leg, or attempting to distract myself from the fact that all of my dreams have been destroyed.

Mom wants me to start on a new plan for life, one that obviously doesn’t involve football. I really like woodworking, so I was thinking about trying to do something with that. I’m not great at it, but I figure if I get a good job with a carpenter, I can eventually start my own custom woodworking business. I’ll get married and have a few kids – weirdly, an image of Claire’s laughing face comes to mind when I think of the mother of my children. I quickly discard that thought because I know the only reason she came to mind is because she’s the one I’ve been spending the most time with recently.

Come to think of it, where are all those girls who were so ready for a good time when I was on top of the high school football rankings? Was I back to being a nobody dweeb? The idea of losing all my status makes me sweat. Time for distraction.

I watch more Bones until the doorbell rings and my mother goes to get the door. I quickly shut off the TV, chuck the remote and grab for my t-shirt, which is hanging off the bed. It falls on the floor as I’m trying to grab it. I roll over, groaning as a twinge of pain pulses in my knee.

A pair of canvas chucks come in my line of sight, I follow them up to a slim pair of legs clothed in skinny leg jeans and then to a pink dress that falls mid-thigh. I swear it’s like the girl gets cuter by the day. Claire folds her arms and raises an eyebrow at my slow perusal.

She bends over and picks up my shirt for me before throwing it in my face.

“Don’t be a Neanderthal,” she says.

I pull the shirt off my head, and contemplate not putting it on, but stop moving when I see that her eyes can’t seem to pull away from my body.

“You were saying?” I ask, incapable of keeping the smug note out of my voice.

She whips around, putting her back to me, her embarrassment palpable. I laugh and pull the shirt over my head.

“We have about four hours before the game starts. Rachel is going to pick me up on her way there,” she says when I’m decent.

I frown before I can stop myself.

“Hey,” she reaches out and touches my forearm fleetingly, “I was thinking though, your team would appreciate your support, wouldn’t they? They would love to see you at the game. Why don’t we take your truck instead?”

That brings on about a ton of guilt. I’ve let them down with this stupid injury. Thankfully, our second string is almost as good as I am, so I know they have a fighting chance. But I’ve pretty much cut myself off from them, just because the reminder has been painful. But I miss it. And she’s right about showing support for the team. Coach Jenkins and Coach Carter have been really good about checking in on me, even though we all know my football career is done for.

I nod my head. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Are you going to be okay showing up with me?” she asks.

I look over at her. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. Because people will talk and it will hurt your street cred to be seen arriving with strait-laced Claire Brown?”

“I’d think I should be asking if you’re concerned about showing up with me considering your reputation might take a hit because of rumors.” I raise my eyebrows at her. Is it something she’s worried about, but didn’t want to say? “Or we could save ourselves the trouble of explaining how we aren’t together and just let people think we are together since they are going to want to think that anyway.”

And then we could kiss without any problems. Oh, crap.

“Um…” she says, her eyebrows coming together in confusion.

I think I might have just kind of asked her to be my girlfriend.

“So I’ll be your girlfriend because it’s convenient ?” she asks. Her voice kind of squeaks at the end and the downward turn of her mouth should be a huge blinking neon sign to me that she’s offended, but me being me, I don’t catch on.

“Sure.”

Claire laughs, but not like she finds it funny, and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, no. That’s not going to happen.”

“So you don’t want to be my girlfriend?” I ask. I swear it’s like I have no control over my mouth around her. Do I want her to be my girlfriend? A girlfriend right now is not a good idea. What the hell am I saying?

“I didn’t say that,” she says, staring down at her fingers.

“So you do want to be my girlfriend.” I laugh. I’m relieved and disappointed at the same time.

“I’m not opposed to it, but that doesn’t mean I want you to be my secret boyfriend or my boyfriend or my boyfriend of convenience or anything else,” she blurts out in a rush. She has a full body blush going on and I just want to take her into my arms and kiss her until that blush calms down.

“How about this? Claire, will you please take me to the game?” I try to restrain the laughter in my voice but it bleeds through anyway.

“Sure. Thanks for asking. You’re a good friend ,” she says.

Being around Claire is both hard and easy. Hard because I can’t just touch her the way I want to, drag her onto the bed, tickle her until she screams, and then kiss her until her lips are swollen. It’s easy because she seems to know what I need before I need it, she gets my snarky sense of humor, and she’s drama free.

I have to remind myself that I don’t really want her like that, I just think I do, that it’s the proximity to a pretty girl, and the lack of other female interaction that is making me go a little nuts hormonally and speak without thinking it through. On the other hand, with the way my thoughts have been going, not thinking has been a bit of a relief.

I feel kind of bad about the fact that this is happening in the first place because I never considered myself such a horn dog, but maybe I am. I know Claire finds the idea of a relationship with me laughably absurd, probably because of my reputation with the ladies. On the other hand, I’m a guy. God made me want women and be attracted to females. Is that such a bad thing? No conceit intended because it’s just true, but is it my fault women find me attractive and throw themselves at me?

We work on the homework and leg exercises and I really have to try to stay focused, especially when the scent of her perfume and the touch of her fingers on my abdomen and legs wreak havoc on my senses. It’s a good thing we’re going to this game tonight, I realize, because it will give my lizard brain the opportunity to realize there are other women out other than Claire. A bevy of hot girls ready to kiss up the injured football star has to pull me out of this, right?

Claire turns off the truck and sits back, looking over at me.

“You ready for this?”

She’s brought my wheel chair so I don’t have to wear myself out using the crutches all over the stadium. Convincing my mother that this wasn’t a bad idea took some doing and the promise to bring ice pack changes in an insulated bag. I have enough pain killers in me to take the edge off, so when Claire asks me if I’m ready, I grin and open my door.

She climbs out of the cab and then climbs into the bed of the truck to drag my wheel chair over to the tail gate.

“Just leave it there Claire, I’ll get it down.” I can just imagine it collapsing on her while she’s trying to pull it off the tailgate. She comes around to my side.

“Okay, what can I do?” she asks.

I lower myself down and she doesn’t realize how close she’s standing. I take a moment to enjoy the proximity, leaning over her, almost close enough for me to lower my head and smell her hair.

“Here, let me hold onto your shoulder,” I say. I left my crutches at home since I wouldn’t be using them and while I can hop and hold onto the truck, I’m much more inclined to use her. She turns and I put one hand on her shoulder and one on the top of the side of my truck. As we work our way around to the back, her arm comes up to hold me around the back. I know she’s just concerned about my falling, but that doesn’t stop me from enjoying it. I hope by the faint pink blush on her cheeks that she’s enjoying it too.

I pull the wheel chair down and she opens it and sets it up for me. By the time we’re moving up the ramp into the field house, the crowd is starting to grow and the parking lot to fill. Everyone is full of school spirit and that produces a restlessness and tightness in my chest. We wait for the automatic disabled door to open after she pushes the button. I’m trying to fight off negative thoughts and just think about supporting my team mates, but it’s hard when I want to be down there with them, and I know I never will be again. Like she knows exactly how I’m feeling, Claire silently squeezes my shoulder with one hand. It helps.

I have her take me back to Coach’s office since the locker rooms are obviously out. Coach Jenkins is happy to see me, slapping me on the back and thanking Claire for bringing me out and helping care for me. Word spreads fast that I’m there and the guys start coming in various states of dress. Claire goes and sits down on a bench while the guys hassle me and I hassle them back, but I keep an eye on her, amused at the flush on her skin, no doubt because of all the bare chests that keep coming out of the locker room.

I’m smiling before I know it, mostly at the antics of my friends and team mates. I’ve missed their stupid comments. My eyes flit over to Claire and I see that she’s watching me. She smiles back.

Coach tells me I can come to all the games with Claire and sit on the sidelines with the team. It’s a nice gesture and I figure I’ll take him up on it.

When we get out to the sidelines, the cheerleaders come over and start cooing over me. It helps to right my negativity, knowing that I’m still worth being of cooed over, but when they leave and the announcer comes on to begin the opening ceremonies, I start feeling nauseous.

Claire crouches next to me on a knee. “You all right?”

The football players break through the spirit banner at the end of the field. My mind goes back to what that’s like, like being on top of the world, with all the fans cheering. It’s only high school football, but the feeling of being a part of a team, of being hailed for one’s prowess and ability, it’s like a drug and I’ve suddenly had to go clean.

Claire rises to her feet and starts whooping and cheering. I don’t think I can recall seeing her so enthusiastic at a game before, not that I noticed considering my head was usually on the game. Still, maybe the cheerleaders got to her? Her energy is infectious and I join her in cheering on my team mates.

We just barely win the game, but I’m happy to see that Lane, the second string QB, knows what he’s doing. He’s got a few weaknesses, but nothing that a season won’t fix. Since he’s a sophomore this year, barring any career ending tragedies like mine, I think sourly, he’ll be really good by the time he graduates.

Afterward, the guys meet me out by my truck. Claire quietly stands next to me while we analyze and recount a few of the plays. They invite us to hit up the diner with them and some of the fan girls and cheerleaders. I look over at Claire, which has everyone else looking at her too. She takes a step back at all the eyes on her and I grab her hand to reassure her.

“You up for going?” I ask her. My leg is starting to hurt a bit, but I wouldn’t mind showing up for a few minutes to support my friends. And getting out of the house is probably good for me.

“Only if you are,” she says. I nod and we all split up.

“Here,” she says before we leave. I’m sitting in the truck waiting for her to climb in when she hands me another ice pack and waits for me to give her the one I abandoned a half hour before. “You need more pain medicine?”

“I still have another two hours to go before I can,” I grimace.

“All right, well, when you want to go, say the word.” She touches my knee slightly and shuts my door. I watch her as she rounds the front of the truck. All sorts of feelings explode in my chest at the care and concern she displays. Then again, I remind myself and downplay her concern, she’s a therapist, it’s kind of her job. She might be attracted to me, but since neither of us want to become anything, I really need to focus on getting my mind off her.

The restaurant is loud and crowded. Parents are coming up to the football players and congratulating them, which makes navigating to the table in my wheelchair more difficult. Several parents come up to me as well, offering their sympathies over my injury. I appreciate the sentiments, but I don’t want to be reminded of it right now, or be strong about it. I’d rather just have some fun, maybe a half hour, no strings attached. It certainly seems like some of the cheerleaders are willing to make me happy considering how quickly they discover a mile wide Florence Nightingale streak. Anything I could possibly need is taken care of, along with plenty of touching.

Claire pulls up a chair next to me. I send her an apologetic look for the way she’s being ignored by everyone, but her amused smile and the shake of the head as her eyes dart up to the girl behind me massaging my shoulders has me laughing as well.

The guys and I talk football while the girls plan some party for Saturday night. I’m thinking I’m about ready to leave when Tina Griffith leans her boobs on my arms and puts her face near me.

“You are coming to my party, aren’t you? We’re going to blow it up. My parents are out of town and everything. It’s gonna be craaaazzy. You have to come.”

Boobs. On my arm. My brain kind of shut down. “Yeah. Sure.” Tina inadvertently bumps into my knee and I wince, breaking my daze. Right. Party. Ouch. My knee. My eyes flit to Claire. “I’ll have to bring Claire with me, but you’re cool with that right?”

“Why do you have to bring her ?” Tina asks, shooting a look that could kill in Claire’s direction. The cattiness pisses me off, considering Claire has been there for me a hell of lot more than Tina, Emily, or any of them ever have. Claire has been nothing but kind, generous, and caring. She’s done nothing to deserve Tina treating her like crap. I’m angry to the point of seeing red and speak without thinking. It’s stupid, and impulsive, and terrifying, but in the moment, I don’t care.