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Adam
We’ve been showing my family around to where our classes are all morning. This afternoon is supposed to be when they meet Harley, but they just know her as “a friend.” The pit of my stomach feels like it could combust, sucking me in like a black hole. I need it to be over with, so I can eat and breathe fully again.
“Adam, you wanna play Red Rover at the campsite?” my four-year-old sister, Rebecca, asks me.
Her eyes are nearly the same color as Harley’s. She smiles at me, and I notice one of her front baby teeth is chipped. No doubt the result of her wild little farm girl life.
“I don’t know, Becks. Let’s let Terrence the tosser decide.” I pick her up in my arms, throwing her up into the air.
Her giggles fill the campus parking lot, blonde curls bouncing around her shoulders in the October sun.
“Grrrr. All right, Terrence says yes.” I set her feet back on the ground, her cheeks pink.
“Again, again!” She jumps up and down.
“Can’t. Terrence’s arms might fall off,” I say, attempting to maintain a serious tone.
My ten siblings, including Dan, are all starting to pile into the fifteen-passenger van when Kenna’s Jeep blazes into the parking lot, finding a space several cars down from us. The lump in my stomach flips over as Harley gets out, her inked golden skin contrasting with the pink dress she’s wearing. I wish it were longer. I know what my mom will think when she sees it.
Harley waves good-bye to Kenna, turning toward me. My black tee suddenly feels like it doesn’t fit as she walks over. Heart pounding, I step toward her.
“Hey. You look beautiful.” I try to smile casually.
She returns it, but it’s not as bright as usual when she sees me.
“Hi. Thanks.” She looks behind me, staring in amazement at the navy-blue van.
It’s almost completely full. Children, ages four to seventeen, are crawling around, fighting over window spots inside. My parents are already seated up front, buckled in.
“We, uh—I figured we could take my truck.” I gesture behind her to where it’s parked.
She nods, speechless. I rub my hand on the back of my neck, debating if I should introduce her now or wait until we get to the RV and start cooking hot dogs over the campfire.
“Do you, um, do you want to meet them now or…” I stammer out, hating how flustered I feel.
“They’re…already driving away,” she observes.
I flip around to see the filthy back doors of the van getting smaller as it reaches the edge of the parking lot. It merges into traffic, a set of hands pressed to the windows.
“Okay, well, let’s go. Do you, uh, want to change first?” I look down at her legs, so much smooth skin on display.
She crosses her arms over her chest, shaking her head. “I’m good.” She strides toward my Chevy.
I wonder if I should tell her we’ll most likely be playing volleyball or that there will only be a few lawn chairs and everyone else will be sitting on the ground. She’s already at the truck, so I jog up next to her to open the door.
“You know we’re going to a campsite?” I sputter. Please want to change.
She buckles in. Looking firmly ahead, she nods. I shut the door and walk around to the driver seat. This should be interesting.
We drive through the city with the windows down, her jet-black hair blowing around her. Finding out she was a model didn’t really surprise me. She’s picturesque and gorgeous all the time. I find it hard to inhale when she’s around, like I have to remind myself I require oxygen.
“So, how was brunch?” I ask after we merge onto the highway.
“Fine,” she says, not elaborating.
She seems upset, and I wonder if it’s because of her visitor yesterday.
“Are you…okay? You seem upset about something,” I finally ask.
