His head turns again, and his eyes sparkle in the glow off the dash. “You think I’m good looking?”
“Oh, come on. You know you are.” Suddenly, my hands sweat. What am I doing with this man again? He’s so different than me. Successful. Confident. Gorgeous.
“You’re even more beautiful than when we were teens.” His voice is soft.
My face heats. He’s good at this. “Wow. That was sweet.”
Memories return. How he’d kiss me slow and tender. How he took his time discovering the places I needed him to discover. How he triple-checked that I wanted to give my virginity to him.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know.” I whisper, suddenly missing that girl who wanted a boy so badly she could hardly sleep some nights. And remembering a girl who missed a boy when that summer ended.
“Why did we break up again?” The question is playful while his tone is curious.
“Summer ended, I guess.”
“Yeah, summer ended.”
This isn’t a topic I want to discuss. How hard it was to walk away from him. He had dreams. I had goals. He was going to make it big, and he wouldn’t have wanted some girl hanging onto a summer fling like it meant something. We weren’t in love. At least, he didn’t feel that way about me. And I never would have exposed my feelings to him. He wanted to get away from Chicago just as I did but for different reasons. His future awaited him. I wanted to leave my past behind.
After a few minutes of silence, I reach for the radio and turn up the volume. We shift to safer topics like music we love and current movies we’ve seen.
The past goes back into its box, wrapped in permanent paper, and sealed with a bow.
+ + +
I haven’t been to a high school football game since . . . high school. But it wasn’t lost on me that some things never change. The students still had sections within their section. The band kids. The rambunctious senior boys. The quiet girls up and to the back filled with unrequited love for one of those rowdy teens.
The family section didn’t feel much different, collecting people by cliques. This neighborhood. That subdivision. This Catholic parish. That suburb of Chicago.
Zebb leads us through people who want to shake his hand, acting as if they were long lost friends. Comments about his former status are given. Those who know his nephew as the current star quarterback offer congratulations although the game hasn’t even started.
Eventually, Zebb guides us up the bleachers, higher than most of the crowd, and to a bench with two women sitting side by side.
“We thought this might be better for you.” While one woman speaks to Zebb, the second woman does a double take at me. She has similar features as Zebb—light brown hair bordering on a rusty red with deep dark eyes—and I recognize her as his younger sister, Marnie.
“Thanks. Where is Brock?” Zebb references their older brother.
“He’s down there pacing the fence by the sideline.” The woman beside Marnie explains. Her voice is rich and face beautiful with coal-black eyes and long lashes. Her lipstick is a deep plum color, and her dark hair is swept up in a plethora of braids.
“Jesus. He needs to cut Nick some slack,” Zebb grumbles.
Both women huff to agree.
“Marnie. Lisa. This is Eva.” The way I am presented makes me sound like a specialty dish. Our main course tonight is . . . Eva. And for dessert, we have . . . Eva.
“Hi.” I wave weakly as Zebb spreads out a sleeping bag, providing us a cushion on the cold, metal bench.
“Eva?” Marnie was a freshman when we were seniors. She can’t possibly remember me, but her gaze zings from me to Zebb. She stares at her brother, who ignores her prying eyes.
“We can pull this up and around us if we get cold,” he says to me.
I smile as I take a seat. The air temperature is around thirty, and I dressed accordingly. Long underwear underneath lined leggings plus knee-high rider boots and my insulated thigh-length winter jacket. I wear a beanie cap and scarf but seem to have forgotten gloves. Sitting still, it doesn’t take long before I’m chilly. While Zebb seems to be comfortable in only a flannel shirt and tee, tonight he wears a heavier jacket and a beanie cap as well.
“I’ll get the awkward out of the way.” Lisa leans over Marnie and Zebb groans on the other side of me. “How long have you two been dating?”
“Lisa,” Zebb moans and lightly laughs.