We started hanging out more and more as the weeks passed. That summer you started playing baseball for the local team and I never missed a game; sitting on the bleachers in your old cap. When you would walk up to bat, you always looked back and smiled at me. I would wave, sitting on the edge of my seat. I cheered the loudest for you, which always made your mom laugh. Your step-dad didn't really like it but soon he began to like me when he realized that I actually knew the game. We would sit there, him writing down what you needed to work on, and me shouting out things to you. Together we trained you.
One night after a game, we were sitting on the bleachers. I knew something was wrong because you didn't play as good as you normally did. We sat in silence for a long while, me looking at you and you staring at your hand that held your old baseball cap. The silence was starting to get to me but before I could think of something to say, you spoke, voice broken by pain. "It was nine years ago today that my dad died. My real dad that is." You had never talked about your dad before so I was at a lost of what to say. You kept going, even without my comments. "He in a car crash. I was just about to start kindergarden. My parents were already separated when he died. A year later mom married Steve." His named rolled bitterly off your tongue. "I barely remember him. I can't tell if what I do actually remember are my memories or stories I've heard."
I couldn't stop the words that came out of my mouth but I didn't regret them. "My dad left before I was born. Mom says he couldn't handle being a father. But honestly I don't know. I'd rather have stories than nothing." It came out as soft as a whisper but you caught every word.
"I guess we're both a little broken." You smiled over at me, tears sliding down your face. You put your arm around my shoulder and I rested my head on yours. Together, we watched the last bit of the sunset. That day, I started to become whole again.
September rolled around and we found ourselves in high school. It wasn't much different than grade school. Living in a small town meant that you knew everyone. We had the same friends as always. You were starting to come out of your shyness and I was as adventuress as ever. I joined a bunch of clubs and the dance team, while you stuck with your garage band some of your friends and you had. Somehow we always found time for each other. Everyone asked if we were dating but we both blushed a no. It was no secret that we liked each other but neither one of us was willing to risk our friendship first.
Homecoming was coming up and you started acting different. I didn't question it, figuring it was something at home that you would talk to me about when you were ready; I knew that Steve's drinking had gotten worse and your mom worked late nights. I was sitting in my room, listening to music and doing some math homework, when Mom called for me to come downstairs. I groaned, as any typical teenager would do, but went to see what she wanted anyways. She didn't say a word; only nodded out the window. And there you were, just as you had been a few months before. In your hands was another home-made sign. Red glitter spelled out "Homecoming?" I met you outside, laughing. "Is this how its always going to be Streaks?"
"Hasn't failed me yet." You smiled, an awkward, crocked smile that was being corrected by wires.
"I'd love to go with you." I copied your smile, although minus the braces.
You turned your sign around. "As my girlfriend?" was written in purple glitter.
My smile grew, if that is even possible, as I threw my arms around you, making you drop the sign. "Of course." I whispered in your ear. You held me so close, and there we stood hugging, neither one of us willing to let go.
My friends asked a million and one questions. "Has he kissed you?" "Do you love him?" "When are you going out?" I tried to answer them all but they were firing them out like crazy. Your friends did the same to you, although if I remember correctly, their questions were more graphic. You met me at my locker at the end of each day, always greeting me with a smile no matter how bad of a day you had been having.
We went to dinner with your baseball friends before the homecoming dance. You never let go of my hand until our food came. The second we were done eating, you took my hand again. You kept whispering to me that I looked absolutely beautiful. I would only blush and look away from your caring eyes. Everyone awed at the gym's decorations of different board games. Under our feet was a place made of "candy" like in Candy Land. To the right were Monopoly pieces and money. To the left, under a Life sign, was the photo station. People already cluttered the dance floor, bodies pressed together in ways that should have been illegal. A member of our group yelled out over the music, "Let's dance!"
Our group stayed together, claiming a spot away from the orgy huddle in the middle of the dance floor, deciding that we were all too young to deal with that. We danced through all of the fast songs but the second a slow song would start, you would make an excuse to leave the gym. At first I didn't really mind because I was just as nervous, but soon I started doubting if you were ever going to dance with me. During some random song, you disappeared for a minute, leaving me with my friends whose gun of questions was loaded, mostly about why we hadn't slow danced yet. I pretended that I was find with it, faking a smile and dancing along with them.
You returned as a slow song started. You smiled shyly at me as you held out your hand. "Would you like to dance?" I nodded, taking your hand and let you lead me to the dance floor.
"This is the first song we danced to." I told you.
"I thought it could just be our song." You looked at our feet as you spoke.
I lifted your chin with my finger. "I like that idea." You let out a small laugh. Our faces were so close by then, I could feel your breath tickle my face. Slowly, as if time stood still, you leaned down and closed the space between us. I smiled into the kiss, which made you smile as well. When we broke apart, your friends along with mine cheered, making us laugh and others glance over confused or annoyed. Then you kissed me again.
We stayed strong all through freshman and sophomore year. You went to all my dance recitals, no matter how many there were, and I went to all your baseball games, still wearing what had become my old, dirty baseball hat. I would wear your jersey in the halls before a big game. For your sixteenth birthday, I bought you tickets to your favorite baseball team and for Christmas, you bought me a hockey jersey.
