Page 2 of The True-Blue Romance

The room is full of quiet whispers as he settles in. I hum to myself and finish my drawing of a hummingbird puking all over a sunflower. Beau might like that one; he always laughs at my silly little doodles.

“Hey,” the new kid whispers, but I ignore him, assuming it isn’t directed at me.

“Hey,” the new kid says louder.

I glance over to find him looking at me. He has large brown eyes, with long eyelashes, and he smells like expensive cologne. Like the beauty section at Dillard’s. That’s where my grandma used to take me to get a new suit for Easter service. Until she died. Now we don’t go to church anymore, and that’s when Dad’s drinking got even worse.

“Do you have a pencil I can borrow?” New Kid asks with a twinkle in his eye.

I roll my eyes, bend over to grab a spare pencil from my backpack, then lean over to hand it to him. His fingers touch mine and an electric shock passes through us. I yank away with a scowl, but his smile stays, not dimming for even a second.

“Sorry about that.” He lifts the pencil up in thanks, then deftly tucks it behind his ear. The curl swirls in around it. Why is that infuriatingly cute? “Thank you. I’m Joey.” He leans over and holds his hand out for a real shake, like we’re grown men.

I wrinkle my nose but do the proper thing, in case people are looking. I shake his hand and then pull it away with a grimace.

“Lee.”

“Lee,” Joey repeats with the same kind smile.

I scowl and return to my notebook, ignoring him for the rest of class. Thankfully, he’s quiet until the end of the hour, but I’m unlucky enough to find out he’s in four of my seven classes, including gym. I’m also unlucky enough to find out that he and Beau get on swimmingly, like old buddies.

I’m grumpy and sullen by the time I make it to practice, which is a total about-face from this morning. But I know that running through some drills on the field will help me. At least, I assume so. I grab my practice clothes and hide in the bathroom, changing away from curious eyes. I’m fat and everyone knows it, but that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable enough to put myself on display in front of a bunch of teenage jocks. Sure, no one messes with me because of Beau, but I’m not going to test the limits, despite me knowing most everyone since kindergarten.

But when I make it back into the locker room, I’m flummoxed to find Joey standing there in his own practice clothes and that wide, odd grin on his perfect mouth.

Coach claps to get everyone’s attention. My stomach immediately curdles. No. No.

“Welcome to the first day of practice!” My classmates cheer and Coach smiles kindly at all of us, even me. This whole town hates my dad, so I get my fair share of pity, but Coach—who’s also our history teacher, as it’s done in the South—pities me the most. I’m pretty sure that’s why I’m on varsity this year instead of junior varsity. ’Cause he thinks maybe it’ll keep my dad off my back. Joke’s on him. I could be the first man on Mars and my dad would still hate my guts. “We’ve got a new walk-on! Joseph came all the way from New Jersey, and he’s been playing football since he was ten. I know that’s a late start for some of you Pop Warner kids, but treat him kindly.”

Everyone claps, again except me. Because when he smiles shyly and waves, it hits me again.

I don’t hate him.

I’m fucking attracted to him.

I’ve never been attracted to anyone before. Of course I’m attracted to the new kid with the wide grin, dimples, and black ringlets. Oh, I’m going to actually kill myself. I make my way over to my locker, shove my clothes into it, and slam the door shut a little too hard.

Beau sends me a curious look before heading over to chat with Joey, also known as the new bane of my very existence.

But despite me trying to avoid him at every chance, he’s always there, and I have a feeling he’s never, ever going to go away.

1

LEE

Twenty years later

Plant in the spring, reap in the summer. If I know one thing, it’s that simple truth. My alarm goes off before the sun has risen. The moon’s still out, high in the sky, the gentle silver light shining through the gaps in my blackout curtains. I tug on a pair of old faded blue jeans and a T-shirt that’s seen much better days. The garden doesn’t need fancy outfits; the gentle ground just needs me.

I fix a cup of coffee under the glow of the microwave light, swaying back and forth to the sound of an old Kenny Chesney song playing in my head. I head out onto my back porch to take in the day. The early spring air is warm, but less humid than the summer. Spring in Florida is the perfect amount of crisp before the oppressive humidity makes it feel like you’re in a swimming pool when you step outside. The day should be enjoyed no matter what.

After a final sip of the too-hot coffee, I place the cup on the wooden railing of my back porch and slowly make my way out to the garden shed. I grab some tools and get ready to work the plot next to my current garden.

The other day I brought home some tomato bushes, hoping to plant them and get a good crop during the summer. The melons in the other plot are slowly growing—I planted them last year and hope to have some good watermelons and cantaloupes this summer. I didn’t plant honeydews because, well, I don’t like them. They taste like spicy water to me.

I set down the tools in the area that I cordoned off yesterday and make my way over to the small shelter I built for the goats. My two pygmy goats, Aragorn and Falcor, happily bleat at the sight of me. At least someone loves me unconditionally.

“Morning, babies,” I coo at them as I open their enclosure. My land is fenced for a few acres, but I’ve cordoned off a little area for them, so they can roam as far as they want and not get out. Especially since the fence is netted and they’re not as great at jumping as they think in their head. Most of the time they prefer to stay in their little house I created for them.