In the Lyrics Page 6

  “She went ahead outside to get the class going, honey.” Mrs. Blair points to a door in the back of the room. She winks at me, causing an eerie chill to run down my spine.

  Opening the door, I take a few steps down and walk out to an open field. About three yards away I see Hensley jump on some dude’s back. It looks like he is tickling her, and she is laughing. My ears start to burn as my temper ignites. I know I’m a fool. I have no grounds to be angry, but I thought, I don’t know…I thought maybe she was a little into me too. After all we did hold hands; she had to have felt the connection – it was palpable. This girl is making me crazy and we’ve only just met.

  As I approach the group of three small children, the dude helps guide Hensley’s body back down his back. She turns around to see me staring. Attempting to hide my anger, I look away and break eye contact with her. She notices.

  “Glad you could finally join us, Colby. Everyone,” she holds her hands out in front of her and points to me. “This is my friend and he is going to be joining us today. Is that okay?” Only one child speaks up. He looks about six. The other two simply shake their heads.

  “I’m Joshua!” the small boy says enthusiastically as he waves at me.

  Bending down so we can be at eye level, I hold my hand out in front of me. “Nice to meet you, partner.” His smile melts my heart and makes me think of Levi. God, how I wish it were his hand I was holding and his pure eyes I was looking into.

  “Well, now that everyone knows who our guest is, let’s get in a single file line,” Hensley instructs.

  Joshua runs in front of the other two children.

  “Me, me, Logan! I wanna go first.”

  Logan? Isn’t that who Hensley said could bring her home if I decided to leave? I don’t want him driving her anywhere, especially with what I just saw.

  “Didn’t you go first last time?” the dude questions Joshua. He isn’t much bigger than me, in build that is, but he is shorter, about a head or so. His hair is dark and matches his tan complexion. I bet he is part Indian or something.

  “Yes, sir,” Joshua sulks while looking down towards the grass.

  “All right, you get to go first again, but this is the last time, and then it’s Leslie’s turn to go first, okay?”

  “K, Logan.”

  I watch as the dude I now know as Logan helps Joshua up and onto a salt-and-pepper colored horse. As soon as he sets him in the saddle, Joshua’s white helmet falls to the ground, startling the horse. It’s like everything goes into slow motion, and before I know it, the horse rears back and Joshua slides off of him. My eyes register him falling, as if in slow motion, and he lands on his butt with a thump. In a matter of seconds, Joshua is crying, the horse is bolting, and Hensley is standing, still and in shock. Immediately I push the other two children behind my back. If just the noise of the helmet hitting the ground startled the horse, I don’t want them to get hurt next. Joshua’s cries grow louder as Logan tries to control the wild mare.

  “Oh my God! Code white!” I hear Hensley shriek into a walkie-talkie she has hooked on her belt. Bending down, I start to examine Joshua. There doesn’t appear to be any serious damage, just a scratch on his forearm and a few tiny droplets of blood from the scrape caused by the impact. He looks frightened as he peers into my eyes. Leaning down, I scoop him up into my arms, also grabbing one of the other kid’s hands.

  “Joshua, I need you to hold tight around my neck, okay?” He nods. When he does, I take a second to take the smaller child’s hand and raise it up, intertwining her hand with my belt loop. “All right, come on, guys, let’s go get Joshua cleaned up.” The two kids follow me step by step as I hold one’s hand, and the other holds onto my jeans belt loop. Holding Joshua up with one arm isn’t a problem; he’s pretty light. His arms grip around my neck as his small body bounces on my arm from my movement.

  I don’t look back. I’m sure Logan can tame the horse, and Hensley, well, she looked stunned to say the least. I know children with disabilities all too well, and I know I needed to get all three of them out of that environment. Sometimes kids with special needs get frightened easily, and let’s face it, they all looked pretty shaken up.

  We reach the stairs as Mrs. Blair is opening the door with a wet rag and an ice pack. Holding her arms out, she reaches for Joshua.

  “It’s okay, ma’am. I’ve got him.”

  She opens the door wider so I can move past her and go inside. Walking into the same open room we were in earlier, I place Joshua on the sofa, and pick up the two other kids, and sit them next to him. They don’t talk. “Now would it be okay if I looked at your arm, Joshua?” He doesn’t say anything. He must be really upset. Not talking is something I’m used to. Levi would sometimes go days without speaking. We just had to come up with other ways of communication. Holding my thumb in the air, I silently ask for his permission. He mimics my hand gesture and I know it’s okay to look at his arm. “There’s just a little scrape here,” I point to the area, and his eyes follow.

  “Where did you learn how to communicate with children like Joshua?” Mrs. Blair asks, choosing her words carefully.

  Looking around, I see that we are the only adults in here. Hensley must be outside still trying to tame the horse with Logan, so I feel safe saying, “My little brother had Asperger’s syndrome.”

  I can tell when people notice I use the word “had” and not “has.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” She frowns as she moves in front of me and starts her own assessment of Joshua’s injuries.

  “Joshua!” Logan howls as he rushes through the back door. His face falls flat when he sees me kneeling in front of Joshua, doing his job. The one he failed to do.

  “We, um, got this, Colby. Thanks for bringing him in,” Logan mumbles as he reaches us. He looks pissed when he sits down next to Joshua on the couch. Joshua’s body stiffens and I know he is uncomfortable. Looking over towards me, his eyes silently beg me to sit next to him and not Logan.

  Mrs. Blair pats my hand that is resting on Joshua’s knee. “I think I saw Hensley taking the horse into the stables; you’re welcome to go meet her out there.” Getting up, I tousle Joshua’s hair, and turn on my heels heading towards the door. “Thank you for helping us today. We appreciate it, and I know little Joshua here does too.”

  “No problem, ma’am. I’m glad it wasn’t worse.”

  “Me too,” I hear her whisper before I shut the door behind me.

  Walking towards the only stables I see, I can hear the soft sounds of a girl crying. As I stroll nearer, I see Hensley bent down sitting on a bale of hay. Her hands are covering her face muffling the noise, but I know she’s crying. The sound is burned into my memory from my mother. Not speaking, I walk up in front of her, but she doesn’t move her hands. Bending down, I kneel and reach up to grab her hands. Lowering them, I can see her cheeks are wet and stained with mascara. Silently scooting closer to her, I raise the cloth of my T-shirt on my shoulder and start to wipe away the wetness from her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry. I’m a mess. You don’t have to do that. Please stop, I don’t want to ruin your shirt,” she hiccups through her sobs.

  “You’re not ruining anything, Hensley.”

  Once her face is clean and the tears have stopped, she opens her mouth to talk. Quickly moving my hand in front of her face, I place my index finger on her lips. She looks surprised by my touch, but whatever excuse she’s about to give me, I don’t want to hear it.

  “Shh, Sunshine. You don’t have to explain what’s got you so upset. It doesn’t matter, all that matters is that you stop crying. He’s okay, just a few little scratches on his arm and a sore bottom. Nothing major.”

  Her eyes are half-lidded, glossed over, and glued on mine. As we hold one another’s gaze, she reminds me of a child pouting. Even her lower lip is slightly puckered out. There’s so much that this moment says about her. She’s vulnerable. Joshua brought that out today. This proves that there are more layers to this woman than she lets on.
I want to peel them back, slowly, and reveal the real girl underneath. On the other hand, I want to know why she’s so guarded. Why she feels like crying is a sign of weakness. Using this moment, I collect a small piece of her puzzle.

  “Yeah, but it could have been worse…much, much worse.” She turns her head away as if she’s ashamed.

  Moving my hand up again, I place my index finger under her chin, and hold it in place with my thumb, gently tilting her head so she’s forced to look into my eyes. I know it’s a bold move, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take. “And the sun could have not come up this morning, and Dusty could have forgotten to pay the electricity bill and instead of eating your amazing pancakes we would have had to tragically run through a fast food joint. Things could always be much, much worse, but they’re not.”

  Her voice cracks, “Because you were there. I didn’t know what to do. That’s never happened before. We’ve never, not once, had a horse get spooked like that. I was there, but I wasn’t. I was stuck in shock. I could hear myself yelling to help him, but I couldn’t move. And then I saw you. You swooped in.”

  “Well, then you ought to be happy you invited me this morning.” I wink, trying to lighten the mood.

  “I’m happy I invited you and that you’re here with me. That’s why I’m crying.” Her words shock me. She’s crying over me and my presence, not Joshua being thrown off the horse? I’m so confused. Looking down, she starts to play with her fingernails.

  Her beauty captivates me, and I feel like I am fighting a losing battle. I might as well admit that since the moment our eyes met, from the moment she opened her sweet mouth and sang, I surrendered. “You’re crying because of me?” I question her. Why on earth would she be crying because of me? Slowly she tilts her head back and shakes her head. Like I should know the answer to the question, but I don’t. A few stray pieces of hair fall out of her headband and cascade around her face.

  Our eyes lock as soon as they are level with one another again, and my heart skips a beat. The look in them is calling out to me, like she is the master of my soul and I am her servant. I’d happily fall at her feet if it meant I got to keep this sweet and incredibly sexy Hensley instead of the ill-mannered girl that sometimes appears without warning.

  Nodding her head yes, she swallows and then does something I for sure don’t expect. Licking her lips, she inhales a deep breath and then leans forward and kisses me. It’s quick, and when her lips leave mine, I do everything in my power to fight the urge to yank her into my arms and kiss her again and again.

  Pulling away, she doesn’t open her eyes. She sits still and motionless for a few seconds. I imagine she’s allowing this, whatever this lingering feeling is between us, to process. Much like I am, but I’m too selfish to keep my eyes closed. When our lips parted, I opened them. I was hungry to steal as many tiny glances as I could get. After a few brief seconds, she opens her eyes. She looks flushed as she grimaces.

  “I’m so sorry. I never meant for that to happen.” Standing up, she all but runs out of the stables, leaving me to wonder what just happened.

  “But I’m glad that it did,” I whisper knowing that no one is around to hear me.

  WHAT WAS I thinking kissing him like that? Fan-fucking-tastic! I’m sure he thinks I need to be locked up in a padded room. One second I’m acting like a lunatic, the next I’m pleading at his feet, begging for forgiveness, and then I’m crying in the corner like some weirdo before attacking him and kissing him. I have got to get myself under control, or figure out what it is about him that makes me feel like I’m losing control.

  Stalking out of the stables, I run straight towards my car even though I have two and a half hours left in my shift. Today has been hell, and I just need a few minutes to myself. Opening the driver’s side door, I hop inside and pull my phone out of my back pocket. Scrolling through my recent contacts, my index finger hovers over Dusty’s name.

  I’m an idiot.

  I type and then hit send before I talk myself out of confessing. A few seconds later he responds.

  Oh no, what’d ya do, baby girl?

  I glance at Dusty’s words and then back at the barn where I can see Colby emerging from the open door. He looks lost. Actually he is. This is the second time today I’ve run off and left him to fend for himself.

  My fingers dance over my phone’s keypad in a hurry.

  I kissed your roommate.

  He doesn’t text me back, which I find odd. He never, repeat, never doesn’t immediately return my text messages. I sit and reread my message several times, not noticing someone walking up beside me.

  “Where’s your boyfriend?” Logan taunts me as he walks up to the driver’s side door. His hands rest on the frame as he leans forward into the window and into my face, smelling of expensive cologne, the strong odor jars my senses. He is handsome, in an old-fashioned way and comes from money; regardless of all of that, he’s nothing more than a friend. For as long as I can remember, he’s tried to woo me with nice cards and gifts, all of which I’ve returned to his mom. The feeling isn’t reciprocated, trust me, but I’ve grown fond of the friendship we’ve made. We have an unspoken agreement – we can hang out and enjoy our playful banter, without a title hanging over us, other than friends. Well, he wants a title, and I would rather drink murky water than ever give him one.

  Besides Dusty, he’s the only person I can be myself around. I’ve been working for his parents since I was old enough to drive, so we’ve spent a lot of time together at the farm and school. It’s an odd thing that hangs between us, and although he should be smart and just cherish our friendship, he’s always pushing me to my breaking point, like right now. Dusty and he have never understood one another. Where D is calm and was probably a hippy in his former life, Logan is high strung and thinks Dusty’s alternative lifestyle is a bit much. I’m the only thing that connects them, and they both hate it. Logan also hates the fact that D is my number one. Always has been, always will be. I think a lot of the anger he tosses Dusty’s way has to do with that fact, even though it’s me he should be mad at.

  Feeling defensive I snarl, “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s Dusty’s roommate.”

  “Oh yeah, where’s that little nut lover?” He sneers down at me from the doorframe. His words make me slither in my seat. He knows that’s the only button he can really push. I see red, and then I open my mouth and spit in Logan’s face. In this moment I don’t care that he’s my bosses’ son or my friend, all I care about is defending my best friend’s honor, and no one gets to talk shit about him, not even Logan.

  “Are you kidding me, Hensley? You’re going to act like a little bitch, just like him, and do something like that?” he yells as his hand flies up. I flinch and prepare to lean out of his reach, but Colby grabs his hand mid-air and holds it firmly in place.

  “I don’t think I need to remind you that a man should never talk to a woman like that, and a man should know better than to ever raise his hand to one either. That’s if you’re a real man, Logan, which I see that you’re not. So excuse me while I drive Hensley home, she’s had a rough day.” Colby doesn’t say another word as he lets go of Logan’s arm and braces his hands on his shoulders, moving him to the side. Then he holds his hand out in front of me. Grabbing it, I let him pull me out of the car and guide me around to the passenger side. He pauses to throw one last look in Logan’s direction and then opens the door and helps me in.

  By the time I look back to the driver’s seat, Logan is gone, and after this little incident, I don’t think our friendship will even be salvageable. It’s always been me trying to keep the waters calm, and I knew what would happen if the boat rocked a little too much. Today it sank.

  Deciding it was for the best, Mrs. Blair canceled the afternoon classes and shut down the center early. She reassured me that it was fine if we headed home and that Logan would tend to the nightly feeding.

  The ride home is quiet. I’m sure that Colby has a million questions running through his mind. And
after that kiss, I’m sure to as well. No words are spoken until about halfway through the ride when Colby asks, confirming my suspicions, “What’s up with you and Logan? Is he your jealous ex-boyfriend or something?”

  I knew he was curious. Frankly, I would be too after stumbling upon our fight. “Honestly, we’re just friends, nothing more, nothing less. I’ve worked for his parents for a really long time. Trust me, I know our friendship is shocking. He’s popular, and I’m not. But he’s never treated me differently because of our social statuses.”

  Looking forward, Colby’s jaw clenches. “Friends don’t hit friends. At least not where I’m from.”

  I hate to seem like I’m sticking up for Logan. Raising his hand to me wasn’t right, but I don’t think he would have done anything. Yes, I was scared for a split second, but that’s just Logan. He has a temper. I’ve learned to deal with it. “He’s like a giant bear. Harmless until you provoke him. Your presence provoked him,” I reservedly confess.

  I can tell Colby isn’t satisfied with my answer, but he doesn’t pry anymore. As soon as we pull up to Dusty’s apartment complex, I feel a sense of relief wash over me. All I want to do is run inside and into my best friend’s arms and cry. I want to cry for being such an idiot this morning and not paying closer attention to the strap on Joshua’s helmet. I want to cry for acting crazy in front of Colby for two days straight, and more than anything, I want to cry because I can feel myself starting to like him. Although I don’t know him any better than I know Joe down at the 7-Eleven, I feel like I’ve known him for years. When he’s around, even though it’s only been two days, I feel a sense of calm. It’s something about his smile, his confidence, his Southern upbringing, and maybe a little bit of his masculine sex appeal, but whatever it is makes me feel content. What if I actually start to like him, then what? I’ll be breaking every rule I’ve ever had and in the end who knows what will happen.

  My mind races as Betsy’s ripped seat makes a sound that resembles a fart. A smile spreads across my face. Glancing over at Colby, I see he looks mortified.