Free If I Was Your Girl by Meredith Russo

I climbed the bleachers and opened my Catalogue of American Fiction textbook to “A Good Man Is Hard to Find,” by Flannery O’Connor. I immediately hated the old woman in the story, though it was pretty obvious I was supposed to. Part of me could sympathize with the bizarre standards she held herself to, to make sure people knew she was “a lady,” but it was a small part. I was highlighting a line when my phone suddenly erupted in the Star Wars theme. I pulled it out and saw that Grant was calling. The ringtone finished once and looped back to the beginning before I gave in and accepted the call.
    â€œHey,” I said, trying to sound distant.
    â€œSo. Your phone ain’t broke,” Grant replied.
    â€œNo,” I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose in anticipation of the next logical question: why hadn’t I responded to his texts?
    â€œAnd you like Star Wars ?” he went on. “That’s badass. I love Star Wars ! Which one’s your favorite?”
    â€œ Empire Strikes Back ,” I said reflexively, before sitting up straight and looking around. “Wait, how’d you know that?”
    â€œAw shit, Empire ’s my favorite too! Look behind you.” I turned and saw him sitting on the highest bench, a duffel bag over one shoulder and a phone to his ear. He grinned, flashing perfectly white teeth, and waved like a little kid.
    â€œWhat?” I said, as I stuffed my things back in my bag and stood. “How did you…”
    â€œI just came up on the far end over there,” he said, pointing off to the side. “You were so into whatever you’re reading I could’ve run up and down the field naked and you wouldn’t’ve known.”
    â€œAre you stalking me?”
    â€œNaw,” Grant said, shrugging. “I accidentally left some stuff down by the benches after practice yesterday and saw you when I came to get it.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œI’m glad I ran into you though,” he said. “You’ve been runnin’ outta homeroom before I can even say hey, and I ain’t seen you in the cafeteria all week.”
    â€œI was eating lunch out here,” I said, rubbing my arm and looking away. “The weather’s been nice.”
    â€œAnd my texts?” he said, as he descended the bleachers in long, loping strides. “I thought you liked me. You can tell me if you don’t. I can handle rejection.”
    â€œNo,” I said, scooting over on the bleachers. “I mean yes. I do. It’s just … do you remember the conversation we had when you asked me out for Parker?”
    â€œAh,” Grant said, sitting down next to me with his duffel bag between his knees. “Is this ’cause your dad’s strict? I could meet him if you want, let him see I ain’t any threat to his daughter.”
    â€œI think that would be a bad idea,” I said, trying to imagine bringing a boy home to meet Dad. “But I mean … about me being complicated.”
    â€œEverybody’s complicated,” he said, scratching his temple.
    â€œNot the way I am,” I said. “I have a past, okay? And you really don’t want to get involved with it.”
    â€œEverybody’s got a past,” he said. “That don’t mean you can’t have a future.”
    â€œOkay, but there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
    â€œI know you’re one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen,” Grant said, leaning even closer. “I already know you’ve got a good heart. I know when we kissed I felt warm all over, like when you sit too close to a campfire, and I know no girl’s made me feel that way before.”
    â€œThat’s really nice,” I said, running fingers through my hair and looking up at the empty sky. I knew that if I looked at him, I would soften, I would give in, and I couldn’t afford that.