Page 8 of Jacob Michaels is Not Here

Lucas stared at me for a moment before turning to walk along the shore of the lake again. I followed silently, my hands still in my pockets. Suggesting more activities we could do instead of nothing came to mind, but I let it go. Spending time with Lucas at the lake had actually become my favorite activity very quickly. I just didn’t want him to get bored with it.

“Are you coming to the football game on Friday?”

“I guess,” I said, “I mean, I always do, right? Everyone does.”

We both chuckled.

“Do you usually watch the game…or do you ignore it like everyone else?”

“I watch.”

He glanced out at the lake quickly then gave an upward nod.

“Do you…I mean, you cheer for me, right?”

I gave him a nudge with my shoulder as we walked.

“Obviously.”

He smiled, his eyes down.

“Grandpa cheers really loudly, so if I can single anyone out in the crowd, it’s usually him.”

“I guess I’ll have to cheer louder.” I shrugged, regardless of my desires.

“You don’t really like sports, do you?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“No,” I said. “Not really.”

“But you still go to the football games?”

“Something to do on a Friday night, right?”

“You could go to the ‘bowling alley or the movies’,” He teased.

Again, I was shrugging.

“Why do you keep coming?”

How to respond to the question evaded me as we walked along the shore, the perfectly still water and lack of breeze making the silence palpable. Initially, I started going to football games because that’s just what high school kids did. They went to football games and socialized and flirted and hung out. Sometimes they actually even cheered for the team. Over time, I realized that football was no more exciting than any other sport I despised. I enjoyed socializing with my friends…mostly…but I was also incredibly bored at the games, too. In sophomore year, when Lucas started playing, though, things changed.

The blonde, good-looking guy—though I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that at the time—that I vaguely knew from classes and the hallways, caught my eye. It made the games more tolerable. After the very first game, I made sure to say “hello” to him in the hallways anytime I saw him. I’d smile at him in classes if I didn’t actually talk to him. A friendship slowly began to form. Lucas glanced at me as though he would add a follow-up question, so I knew that answering his first question was important; otherwise, he’d think of ten more.

“Well,” I said, “I have to support you, don’t I?”

“I guess.”

“I guess?” I feigned a chuckle. “I don’t have to come, do I?”

“No.”

“Then show some gratitude, damnit.” I genuinely laughed.

But the laugh was cut off when Lucas turned to me, took my face in his hands and pulled my face into his. My eyes opened wide in shock as his lips connected with mine. Lucas’ eyes were closed firmly with concentration and determination. The kiss itself was too wet, too firm, too…perfect. After a moment, I let my eyes close as Lucas held his mouth to mine, though that was all the kiss really consisted of—two pairs of lips pressed together firmly and wetly. When Lucas finally pulled away, I let my eyes flutter open to find him staring fearfully at me. His hands didn’t leave my face.