Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

LETTIE

O ur eyes collide while Hannah's legs are wrapped around him.

Why is he looking at me while holding another girl in his arms? And why can't I look away? Why does it hurt?

One day, it's going to be too late to tell him how I feel. He'll have a perfect, sweet as sugar partner to walk through life with him, and where does that leave me?

Nowhere.

Until recently, I hadn't thought of him leaving for the NBA as a negative. I only imagined Dane playing professional but now, I realize I'll be a distant memory. Our calls will get fewer and farther between. It won't matter how much we care about each other or how many cherished memories we have, his girlfriend or wife won't understand.

I fight the lump in my throat as Devon comes to my rescue. "You need to dump Nick and give me a second chance."

"We're just hanging out."

Devon grins. "So, does that mean I have a shot?"

"No. I'm leaving in a couple of weeks for Grand Prix training and competitions, so I need to steer clear of distractions."

He winks, and his chocolate eyes sparkle. "A distraction might be good to take the pressure off."

"No distractions."

"Not even Dane?"

"Why would you say that? He's my best friend."

He darts his eyes between Dane and me, as Dane sets Hannah's feet back on the ground.

"It sure seems like Dane might be a distraction." He whispers in my ear, "You might want to ask yourself if you're willing to see him with another girl… permanently."

I answer, "No one can take my place. We've done everything together since we were six."

"Everything?"

I roll my eyes. "No, not everything." Inside my stomach is doing back flips.

Instead, I turn to the rest of the group. "Where to now? You know I can't stand still." Especially now that I'm hyper aware that at least one person senses I want to be more than Dane's trusty sidekick.

Dane says, "Let's ride the Turbine Twister. It's Lettie's favorite." He comes behind me, squeezing my shoulders.

"You aren't scared of me throwing up on you?"

Dane's hands slide over the column of my neck, and Devon's lips tug at the corners, in a knowing smile.

"What are best friends for? Vomiting on each other means we are the best of the best friends," Dane says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Devon, our mutual friend, smirks in amusement, fully aware of the tension between us.

"Last one to the Turbine Twister has to buy glow necklaces!" I shout as I take off running.

"Lettie Bug, you're going the wrong way!" Dane's voice booms.

I can almost feel the electricity between us. I try to focus on our friendly competition of who will be the last one to the ride.

And guess who's last in line? No, not me—Dane. He knows I'm flat broke because I haven't been able to work this summer, due to training. He deliberately lets me pass as he brings up the rear.

He's my best friend, and I'd like him to pin me against a wall and show me how great Dane Greathouse is. I need to scream these confusing thoughts out of my body and what a better place to do it than on a rollercoaster.

Sliding into the bench seat, the bars come down over our shoulders. Locking in place. As we ride the heart-pumping rollercoaster, my hands are in the air, hoping I can k eep the contents of my stomach inside.

With the wind whipping through my hair, it flies in all directions. I squeeze my eyes shut as we corkscrew several times, and the smell of adrenaline pumps through me. Even with the g-force pinning us against the seat, Dane calms me with a simple touch, pressing his leg against mine intentionally. This is the part of the ride where I got sick in high school.

He remembers everything.

The ride ends, and he drapes his arm around me, pulling me in playfully. "You did good, Bug." He looks at me with such warmth, and I think he must feel that something has shifted between us, but before I have time to smile, he darts his eyes to Hannah. "And you might have left marks on my arm."

What? Why would she not be holding onto the bars? For safety?

"I knew you would protect me," she says with princess eyes.

How can I compete with her? Especially since Dane knows how my vomit smells and how my breath smells after no toothbrush on a weekend campout.

"Dane protects everyone," I burst out. Dane's eyebrows dip a tad either in confusion or annoyance.

Hannah says, "Does anyone need to go to the bathroom?"

A couple of guys and girls go with her, and we agree to meet by the lagoon for the fireworks. The rest of the group leaves to buy drinks and snacks, while Dane and I go i n search of glow necklaces and wands.

The sun has set with just a streak of pink and coral stretching across the horizon. All of Dane's hard lines are softened around the edges. It's the time of the night where you can't quite see full details, just an outline of a face, not knowing where his dark-brown hair ends, and his square jaw begins.

Dane holds his finger out. "There's the stand." He drops his hand, and his long fingers curl around mine. If I said we have held hands a thousand times, it wouldn't be close to the truth—more like ten thousand. We've always dragged each other around.

So, why is there a smile tucked inside my lips? Why is my stomach twitching?

"Which colors should we get?" he asks.

"Blue for the Stallions."

"How about we get necklaces the color of the Olympic rings? Because you're making it to the Olympics."

He believes I can do anything, just like I do him. I never want to mess that up.

"I hope so. Let's do it."

Dane buys red, green, blue, yellow, and since they don't have black ones, he gets the multicolored ones. And for the wands, he buys blue. "Hold the sticks."

He takes a red necklace from his hand, putting the rest of the necklaces between his thighs then slides his hands around my neck. His head tips over my shoulder to clas p the glowing circle.

"Red for my energetic, passionate Lettie Bug."

Passionate?

He tips my chin and looks in my eyes. "You can do anything. Take what you want. Take what's yours."

Is he speaking of the Olympics or himself?

My chest rises like a soufflé his mom bakes for her fancy dinner parties, but Dane's knuckles are steady. He's always steady.

Shadows hide his face and expression, which I desperately need to see to figure out how he intends for his words to hit me. But then a whisper of a kiss touches my lips. So slight, I'm not sure it even happened.

"You can do better than Nick, you know. What color should I wear?" he asks like nothing happened. Maybe I imagined it.

"Umm… green because you're calm and collected even when you should be nervous."

I slip a green one out of his hand as he bends down and lets me secure it around his neck.

The fireworks shoot over our heads, and I imagine walking in with Team USA into the opening ceremonies. Can a little girl from a tattered and torn trailer, with drug-addicted parents, make it to the Olympics?

If I do, it 'll be because of Dane. I owe the life I have to him.