Tara Kelly - Harmonic Feedback

“Give me five minutes, Grandma! Five lousy minutes.”

But it wasn’t her open-toed heels coming down the stairs. These steps were softer, more like tennis shoes. “Don’t worry. Grandma and Naomi are holding down the fort,” Justin said. “But I brought the camera down in case they decide to go Jerry Springer on each other.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled into my green pillow.

His footsteps echoed behind me and stopped as he set the camera down. He walked over to the side I was facing and leaned against the wall, peering down at me. I turned the other way.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Everything is a big joke to her, including me.”

“She gets off on teasing people. But you aren’t a joke to her, Drea. She went on and on last night about how talented you are.”

“Why is she always trying to embarrass me?”

“Because she wants attention and doesn’t know how to ask for it.”

“You sound like Jackie.”

“So be it. But it’s true. Besides, she feels pretty bad. Your grandma asked where you were, and Naomi told her you didn’t feel well. She got suckered into helping your grandma redo the table display.”

I rolled over and met his gaze. “I told my mom what happened last weekend. She wants to call her dad.”

“Did you tell her about me too?”

“I told her everything. I’m sorry. She still likes you.”

He shifted his weight against the wall. “Don’t be sorry. You guys are close. I tell my sister everything too.”

“I need to convince her not to call Naomi’s dad.”

He shrugged. “I don’t think you can.”

“That doesn’t help much.”

“What can I say, Drea? I’m not very good at the comforting thing, especially when it comes to you.”

“That’s not true,” I said.

“No? You seemed almost disgusted by me the other night.”

I sat up. “And that’s the problem, Justin. Sometimes I just don’t know what to say or the right way to say it. By the time I figured out how to tell you what I was feeling, you had left. Don’t assume my thoughts by the look on my face. Don’t try and read between my words. At least ask me what I’m thinking or feeling first. It might take me some time, but I will answer you.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Okay, then, I’m asking. How do you feel about me?”

“It’s hard to explain. You make me feel connected to the world in ways I’ve never felt connected before. Usually I hate it when people touch me, but with you—it’s comforting. Not in the same way as my mom.”

“God, I hope not.” He gave me a strange look before holding up his hands. “Sorry, go on.”

“It’s a warm feeling, and my stomach kind of tickles. And… why are you smiling?”

He moved from the wall and sat on the bed. Close, but not close enough to touch me. “You’re describing actual sensations.”

“You asked me how I felt.”

“I know, and it’s the most real and honest answer I’ve ever heard. That’s why I’m smiling.”

“Oh.” I ran my fingers along the threads of my purple comforter. “I wanted to say thank you the other night. For giving me a chance, for the driving lessons, for coming to get me and Naomi at two in the morning—and for saying you liked everything about me. Nobody has ever said that before.”

“You don’t need to thank me for liking you, Drea. It was a done deal when I saw you singing to yourself the first day of school.”

I let my hair fall in my face, hoping it would cover up my dumb smile. “I thought you were laughing at me.”

“No, I was wondering how to introduce myself to the beautiful musically inclined girl without sounding like an ass.”

I peeked up at him. “I thought you were cute, but probably a jerk.”

He smirked. “Yeah, I gathered that much—the jerk part, anyway. And you would’ve been right if you’d met me last year.”

I moved closer to him, putting my hand over his. “But I didn’t. So it doesn’t matter.”

He pulled away. “Drea, the stuff I told you about my past was just the highlights. I didn’t get into all of it, because I didn’t think it mattered. But I think it will matter to you—especially after your reaction the other night.”

I moved back to the headboard, curling my knees under my chin. “Oh.”

“I just know that the more time I spend with you, the more I like you. The more I want to be part of your life.” He rolled his eyes. “And I need to shut up because I suck at this.”

“I feel the same way,” I said.

He sighed and laid back on the bed. “What did you mean by—you thought I was more like you?”

“I was hoping you were an inexperienced dork like me, because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Nobody really knows what they’re doing. We’d all like to think we do, though.”

“So it doesn’t bother you, about me?” I asked.

“No. I wouldn’t have even known if you didn’t tell me.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. When you kiss someone for the first time, it’s usually awkward. It doesn’t matter how many people you’ve kissed before.”

“How many people have you kissed?”

His eyes lifted to mine. “I don’t know the exact number.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that.”

“I slept with some of them too. But I don’t remember much. There were times I woke up and couldn’t remember what happened. That scares the shit out of me.”

I grabbed my pillow and hugged it to my chest. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t know what to say to me, either.” He settled on his back again, drumming his chest. “But I was tested right before I moved here. I’m clean.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I keep thinking about my mom. She was obsessed with being healthy—ate right, exercised, didn’t smoke. She wouldn’t even touch alcohol. How’s that for messed up?” He shook his head. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

“You made some mistakes, but you’re a good person. That’s what matters.”

He covered his eyes with his arm, a smile crossing his lips. “Don’t make me go over there and kiss you. Tell me how lame my T-shirt is or something.”

“I like De/Vision. They’re one of my favorite bands, actually.”

“Who was I kidding? You’re Drea. You can’t help but drive me crazy.” He dropped his arm and gazed up at me.

I hurled the pillow at his face, but it missed him entirely and hit my green acoustic instead.

He chuckled. “Nice aim. I’m about—what?—two or three feet from you.”

“Shut up.”

Justin sat up, shaking his head. “Let me show you how it’s done, okay?”

He snatched the pillow off the floor and did a pitching motion with it. I covered my head, preparing for a blow. It didn’t come.

“Oh, give me a break. You’ve got another pillow next to you. Use it,” he said.

I grabbed it and jumped off the bed. He crept toward me, tossing the pillow in the air and catching it again. I charged at him and our pillow–sword fight began. Unfortunately, his height gave him the ability to bop me on top of the head. But I did have a lower center of gravity and better access to a more sensitive region. After he got me in the face, I ducked and flung my pillow at him like a Frisbee. Right where it counted.

He hunched over and winced. “Okay, that was a low blow. You don’t play fair.”

“How can I play fair when we didn’t make any rules?”

“You need to have a reason to go for the balls, okay? Like what you did with Scott. That rocked. This didn’t.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think it would hurt that much. The pillow being soft and everything.”

He walked toward me, shaking his head. “Smart-ass.”