Free Hold on Tight by Deborah Smith

can’t believe you don’t want to admit it.”
    “I do admit it. I don’t want to ruin it.”
    His hands gripped her arms. “We’re not gonna ruin it.”
    She took a ragged breath, inhaling determinationwith it. “That’s right. Because we’re not going to be anything but friends.”
    His hand slid slowly down the center of her sweater and paused over her left breast. Anger and sorrow were molded in his features. “Your heart’s beatin’,” he said, “but does it feel anything?”
    She nodded and thought, It aches as if you were tearing it out. But she only told him, “I’m sorry.”
    “I pushed too hard, is that it? Too hard, too fast.”
    “No. I let you push. I didn’t tell you how I felt because I didn’t know how I felt. But I do now. I think you better leave.”
    One of his hands stayed on her arm as she moved off his lap and stood up. Dinah squeezed his shoulder, then forced her hand away from him before she gave into the urge to place her fingertips on his face and caress away all the bewilderment and sorrow she’d put there. “I’ll get your jacket,” she told him. He nodded and let his hand trail away from her.
    When he stood at the door, the jacket in his hand, he looked down at her with a pensive frown, as if he were certain that he could understand her if he only studied her long enough.
    Dinah cleared her throat and hoped that he couldn’t tell how close she was to tears. “If you’d like to go back to Birmingham right away, I’ll make your excuses about the pep rally tomorrow,” she assured him.
    “I don’t run from problems, Dee,” he said in a low, grim voice.
    “So I’m a problem?” She smiled wistfully.
    “No. A mystery. One I intend to unravel.”
    She gazed up at him with worried, searching eyes. “Is that the writer or the man speaking?” she asked.
    “Both.”
    Dinah almost reached out to him then. Her hand rose but halted in midair. “There’s nothing to know,” she said.
    Rucker’s look said he didn’t believe that in the least. He raised one hand to stroke her cheek. The sensual gesture was a warning that he knew at least one way to destroy her defenses if he had to.
    “Good night,” he said.
    “Good night.” Her stomach in knots, Dinah followed him onto the porch and stood at its edge, watching as he walked to his car. He turned, held up one hand in a final good night, and got in the car. She waited motionless in the chilly night air, hugging herself as the Cadillac disappeared down the long driveway toward the paved road.
    Dinah continued to stand in the dark, her throat closed with restrained sorrow, her mind blank. Suddenly she was aware of a soft clicking sound, the sound of small feet scraping across old wood. Frightened, she hurried inside and flicked a switch. Light poured onto the porch from an overhead fixture, and Dinah caught her breath.
    “Possum,” she said tenderly, and knelt by the door as the rotund, ugly little creature waddled toward her. He stopped, sniffing the air suspiciously, and she knew that he was looking for Rucker, not her.
    Dinah held out her hands to him, and eventually he came to her. Tears slid down her face as she picked him up. “You just couldn’t leave that rascal alone, could you?” she said raggedly. “I don’t know if I can either.”

Four
    “Pump it, Ms. Sheridan, pump it!”
    “Go for the burn, the burn!”
    Dinah exhaled a long, strenuous breath and curled the twenty-pound barbell up to her chest one last time. Then she grabbed it with both hands and lowered it gingerly back to its rack. She straightened the delicate mauve material of her chic, double-breasted suit dress and eyed the two students with a mildly baleful gaze. Eddie Burcher captained the wrestling team. Lorna Lancaster was ranked highly in state track and field events. They were both in disgustingly fine, teenaged condition, Dinah thought.
    “I just came down to the weight room to ask a quick question about technique,” she protested.