Finding Solace

A smile threatens to break the frown right off her face. Delilah might have broken my heart, but sitting here, I realize she has the power to do it twice.

I used to think she couldn’t resist me, but she had no problem earlier this week. Let’s see if she can this time. I have a few tricks up my sleeve when it comes to Ms. Noelle that I’ve been thinking about all night. “I’ll be right back.”

“What?” my mom asks, watching me get out of the car. “Where are you going? The light’s going to turn green at any second.”

I keep walking.

Delilah sees me. She lowers her sunglasses from the top of her head, but I imagine her eyes are probably damn wide right now. Reaching for the lock on the door, she pushes it down with her finger just as I arrive. She can kid herself all she likes, but she knows damn well the most I’ll do is pressure her into giving me a little of her time.

Standing on the other side of her door, I knock. Delilah finally looks up and points at the light. It’s green. I shrug, but then make the lame twist of the wrist roll-down-your-window motion with my hand because I have a feeling she might not understand if I pretend to push a button to roll it down.

“Get back in your car, Jason,” she says through the glass.

“No. Roll down your window.” To sugarcoat it, I add, “Please.”

I can see her eyes through the lens. “Why?”

“What do you mean why? I want to talk to you, and I don’t want to shout through the glass.”

Huffing, the glass slowly slides down. “What is it?” She keeps her hands on the steering wheel, and her grip seems to tighten just a bit.

When her eyes settle on mine, I say, “I want to see you.”

“You’re seeing me, Jason, so if that’s all there is, I’ll be going now.”

The glass starts to roll up, but I clamp my palm over it. She releases the button and looks up at me. “I don’t know what happened the other day, what turned your mood so quickly, but I’d like another chance to talk.”

“It’s not a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea, actually.” I can see the smile tugging itself free. I grin in response. “All you have to do is say yes.”

“No.”

My smile tilts into a smirk. “You haven’t changed much.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention.” She sighs. “Red light.”

“I have three minutes to change your mind.”

“Why do you want to talk, Jason? Just let things lie the way they’re meant to be.”

Meant to be . . .

She and I were once meant to be. Maybe that’s why this notion keeps making itself known. Is there still something between us? “I want to come by this afternoon. I’ll bring lunch.”

Shaking her head, she looks down at her lap. “I can’t.”

“Delilah.” Her eyes return to mine, and the glass is level with the car again. I rest my hands on the door and lean down. “Let me see your eyes.”

Another car pulls up behind her car, and I wave. It seems like the courteous thing to do.

Her body gives her debate away, her chest rising and lowering—her breath deepening. She gives in and moves her sunglasses to the top of her head and looks into my eyes. “What are you doing, Jason?” she whispers.

“Is that you, Jason Koster?” a woman calls out, sticking her head out of the car window.

“It is. Good morning, Mrs. Robertson.”

“You’re going to make us late for church if you don’t get a move on.”

“I’d love to get a move on and not be late for the Lord, but Ms. Noelle has refused me the pleasure of her company, so I thought I’d see if I could change her mind.”

Delilah’s blush spreads across her face and starts down her delicate neck. I know where it’s heading, and the memories of her bare chest against mine cause me to shift.

“Jason, please?” Her voice is so quiet as if she wants to say yes without anyone hearing, except me.

I don’t care what’s happening around us. As I stand here, it’s just me and her—our worlds colliding again.

Matching her tone, I say, “Please what, honeysuckle?”

“I’ve not been your honeysuckle in a long time.”

“But it was so good when you were.” She stares ahead, trying to pretend her body doesn’t react to me like mine is reacting to hers. Leaning even closer, I rest my arms on the door. “We can play games all damn day, but you and I have unfinished business to tend to. So how about that lunch or better yet, dinner tonight?” A car horn blares, causing me to look back. Mrs. Robertson shrugs, but it wasn’t her honking.

It was the car behind hers. That’s when I notice a trail of them stacked behind us. The horn is honked again, and then my mom leans out the window and shouts, “Cool it, Janice. You’ll survive if you don’t get there in time to flirt with the choir director.”