twenty-one

James cut the engine and stillness fell over the boat.  Meghan was behind the cockpit, legs stretched out and her back to the armrest of a bench seat.  James sat in the pilot’s chair behind the center console and turned it to face her.

“This is the opposite of your house,” she smiled, following the white stripe of the moon’s reflection across the flat black surface of the lake.  “No one wanted to go out?”  

James shrugged.  Stamkos had dropped Kaylynn’s name early, saying they had plans.  It wasn’t as if Steven really understood what getting the Olympic camp call meant anyway - he was born and bred a star, this kind of accolade came naturally to him.  James hadn’t felt much like drinking the night away - this wasn’t a moment he wanted to forget.

“I thought this sounded better.  Feels like I haven’t seen you much.”

Meghan was surprised by the melancholy note in James’ voice.  Instead of crowing with joy, even his posture was a little guarded.  She lifted one bare foot and gently pushed it against his knee.  She joked, “You miss me all year.  Now I see you every day.”

Without knowing what he wanted to say to Meghan, it was hard for James to have a plan.  He wanted to spent time alone with her and slow down a summer that was flying by.  But just talking could be dangerous when there were things he wasn’t sure he meant, and definitely didn’t want to say.  “It’s different.”

“I know,” she admitted.

“This whole summer’s different, Isn’t it?  Stammer’s got his girl, you’re off with Lucy….”  James pushed a hand through his hair.  “It feels like the season, in Pittsburgh.  It’s either going out with the guys all the time or nothing, staying home.”

“We’re just growing up a little.”

He reached up by the instrument panel for his beer.  It was hard to think about growing up when his recent memories were full of girls like Becki.  “Maybe that’s the trick.  These guys - Crosby, Stammer, Tavares - they’re so serious.  They have been this good forever.  I don’t know if I belong with them.”

“I know it,”Meghan replied.  James gave her a shy, crooked smile.  She moved down the bench until she was sitting across from him, their knees touching.  They had both known the Olympic invitation was coming, but watching an avalanche happen didn’t keep you from getting buried.  The day was here and the news was big.  No way was she letting James feel unworthy of his biggest honor - not when she’d seen him work hard all his life.  Meghan also knew he’d never share these doubts with anyone else.  When he was worried or vulnerable and just needed to be reassured, that was her department.

“You deserve this.  I know last season was tough - every team is onto how good you are.  It isn’t easy standing behind Crosby all year then spending summer with league leading scorers and Hart nominees.  But you belong on the Olympic team as much as they do.  Maybe more.”

“More than a leading scorer and a Hart nominee?” he said, keeping the sarcasm light so she’d know he appreciated the idea.

Meghan wasn’t having that either.  “James, no one noticed you until you made them notice.”

His eyes settled on her face.  She always saw right through him.  He couldn’t be sad or mad or even proud and nervous without Meghan reading right to the heart of it.  Things seemed to get even quieter, with no land or other people around for miles.  For a long, painful heartbeat he waited for some kind of permission to do what he so badly wanted to do.  It never came.

So he did it anyway.

James leaned forward and kissed Meghan, catching her mouth all at once.  He held the back of her neck, lips closed in a desperate attempt at chastity when he really wanted to scoop her into his lap and hold on tight.  It was a spark, flaring from nothing into bright life all at once.

Then it was over.  She broke away gently, the kiss coming apart in pieces like cracked glass.  When she opened her green eyes, they were almost sad.  James sat frozen and shocked at his own brazeness.

Meghan bit her lip, tasting his kiss even as she erased it from her mouth.  Her breathing was surprisingly steady.  In a small voice, she said, “You have to stop doing that every time you get scared.”

“I’m scared of losing you,” he admitted without flinching.

Meghan’s heart sank.  As much as she tried to play James off like protective big brother, a part of her had known, and feared, this was coming.  Now he was inches away, all light eyes and long lashes, that mop of hair curling in the humid summer air.  Only stars and fish had seen that kiss - what happened now was up to her.

“I….” he started to say.

“Don’t,” Meghan whispered.  “Please, James.”

He stopped.  That mouth that had just pressed to hers zipped shut, swallowing whatever words were to follow.  She didn’t need to hear them anyway.  Meghan forced herself to hold his gaze despite the confusion and hurt she saw there.  

James felt stupid and humiliated.  He hadn’t wanted to say the wrong thing so he’d gone and done something worse.  He wasn’t even sure it was what he meant, but the fear of losing Meghan was now more real than ever.  

She didn’t back away. “I used to think every time you left that I would lose you, all those seasons you went to Portland and Dallas.  I used to hate you for leaving.  But it never happened, James.  It’s not going to happen now.”

So she said.  James couldn’t help wondering if he’d just kissed himself past the point of no return.

“I should have known back then,” he said, a growl of frustration in his voice.  “Everyone always said, ‘You and Meghan, what are you waiting for?’  I just… I didn’t believe them.”  

He examined his hands.  They’d been attached to his body all these years, they could have reached for Meghan at any time.  She took them now, separating his long fingers and wrapping them around her own.  “You would have known, if it was right.  I think I would have known too by now.”

Her hand fit into his perfectly, which seemed unfair.  James asked sadly, “You don’t even want to try?”

Meghan looked at the boy she’d known forever.  Only his body had changed, the heart was still the same.  James had always believed he could do something because other people saw his potential.  Now he was asking her to see the possibility that he could become what she wanted.

“I’m not the girl for you, James.  But if you want to find someone like me, you have to let them see you like this.”

“There are no girls like you.  Girls just see money,” he said sullenly.  A lot of players married their high school sweethearts because that was the last person to ever know them before things changed.

“Not all of them.”  Meghan freed one hand and rubbed his shoulder.  “I’m sure some girls just want your body.”  He laughed softly; it was the sound of Meghan’s heart piecing back together.  Her fingers moved to his jaw, lifting his head.  “And definitely your beard.  Maybe not this hair though.”

James scoffed and pulled her hand away.  Meghan let him.  The movement carried with it the promise of her skin against his and endless, increasingly private moments. If she’d just say yes then he’d have everything, right?  He could stop looking at all his happy friends and thinking happiness seemed like a lot of fucking work.

“It would be so easy, you and me.”  

“But it shouldn’t be easy.  Look at Steven and Kaylynn.”

James had thought about that a lot.  “He’s a mess over that girl.”

“He loves her,” Meghan said.  No one, not Steven himself, had confessed as much but she didn’t need to be told. One look and Meghan knew that Stamkos was far, and happily, gone.  “It gets messy.”

“Have you ever been in love?”  James was so sure she hadn’t, hoped he was right.

“No.”

“Then how do you know this isn’t it?  You are my best friend.  I can be good - I would be good to you, you know that.  I wouldn’t mess around.”  The words were flowing, a last-ditch effort.  He might as well try everything.  “I was a jerk before because I was jealous.  Seeing you with John….”  Just the thought of Tavares made James’ chest tighten.  He pushed it away.  “I could make you happy, Meghan.”

“You already do.”  Her voice faltered, tears tickling her throat.  She blinked at the sky to get them under control.  

“Well that should be my responsibility.”  He paused, afraid her tears were contagious.  “You always believed I could do anything.  I wish you believed in this.”

“I wish you’d believe in yourself.”  Her vision blurred, smearing lights against the dark sky and water.  “You think it would be easy because I’m already here, all that beginning stuff is over.  But that part is so much fun.  You could sweep some girl off her feet - God, you’d be so good at it!  And you would get swept up too, like the big puppy you are,” she laughed weakly.  “None of this hot shot, show-off stuff.  Just an amazing guy falling for a girl who is lucky to have him.”

“And who gets to have you?  Some guy is going to be okay with me breathing down his neck, waiting to prove he’s not good enough?”

That was her chance.  After all this talking, Meghan just had to say one word: John.  But she couldn’t.  Bringing John up now would undermine everything she’d told James.  All her truths would ring false.  James would see John as the reason - the only thing standing between him and his best friend.  James would never believe that Meghan was as scared and confused as he was, as worried about the long run, because she knew how it felt.  Meghan was falling in love with someone else.  It would be so easy to say John’s name now and get it all out there.  But in this case, letting someone down easy was not an easy thing to do.

She squeezed her eyes shut.  A few tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Some fantastic guy,” she corrected.  “Who is more than good enough for me.”

James huffed.  “Not good enough.”

Meghan still held one of James’ hands between hers.  She turned it palm up and spread his fingers wide.  He had big, strong, capable hands, the metaphor for a guy you’d trust with your future.  It killed her that James never let anyone in close enough to see that he could do what he said.  He could be that guy.  But he wasn’t yet and he wasn’t for her and Meghan had never been more sure that James was not the love of her life.

“I know it would be easy.” There were plenty of things she could admit in return for James’ candor.  “I have thought about it.”

“You have?”  

Meghan made a face, but it quickly faltered when she saw James’ serious expression.  How could he not know?

“Did you come home this summer and just discover that I am a girl?” she asked, playful despite the tears.  He smiled thinly.  “Frankly, I’m offended that it never crossed your mind.”

James laughed - only Meghan had the ability to do that, make him feel better at a bad time, even when she herself was crying.  “I noticed before.”

“People said the same things to me - ‘Ooooh, you and James.  Better lock that up before he hits the League.”  Meghan rolled her eyes.  “As if going away would change you.”

“It did,” he admitted sullenly.  In many ways for the better and a few for the worse.

His elbows rested on his knees, hands hanging toward the center.  Meghan circled her fingers around his wrist.  It was as much to touch him as to keep him from touching her.

“Not to me.  You are still my best friend,” she said.

James lifted his eyes.  He had so much to lose.  “Promise?”

“Promise.”  It was all she could say.  In that moment, Meghan wished she wanted James.  He deserved someone great, someone dedicated to him.  Which was why she couldn’t do it.

They were quiet for a while.  James drove the boat around a bit for something to do, Meghan managed half a beer.  Without discussion they turned inland.  Docking the boat was a quick and practiced chore, then they were back in James’ Mercedes heading home.

Inside the car was even quieter than out on the lake.  Meghan looked at his profile in the scattered lights of the road.  “Did I ruin your big day?”

“No,” he said.  She’d been honest and caring and protective of his heart - all the things James was asking her to be.  It just didn’t have the ending he’d written.

She sighed.  “I’m really, hugely, almost disgustingly proud of you.  And I’m going to be insufferable during the Olympics.  Wherever I am.”

He glanced over and saw her smirk.  The only thing better would be if he could kiss it off her face.  “You’d better be.”

At home, Meghan walked slowly to her room.  They’d ended on an okay note but it still felt very much like an end.  James’ house seemed suddenly huge, like there was space for her to fill and she wasn’t up to the task.  He kicked off his shoes and plopped down on the couch.  Five minutes later she came down with a backpack in hand.

“I’m gonna go,” Meghan said.

James had guessed she might.  He’d have enough trouble sleeping without her so close by, wondering if something else or something more might change her mind.  “You don’t have to.”

“I know.  It’s just for tonight.”

He got up and opened his arms.  She folded into his chest like a life preserver, just enough to keep him afloat.  James hugged her for a long time before kissing the top of her head and letting go.

“Night, Meg.”

____

It was not her most dignified moment.  It hadn’t been the easiest drive.  Meghan felt relieved at finally having done it and absolutely horrible about hurting James - if nothing more than his ego at being turned down by the person who knew him best.  If she didn’t want him, who would?  Meghan knew it would take time for him to believe otherwise.  Now that she’d done one awful thing, it was time to make up for another.

Every song that came her iPod seemed aimed right at her heart, raking those already-raw emotions a little deeper.  She let Tristan Prettyman say it best:

We won't break if we let go.

You and I already know

We were bound to be set free eventually.

So, here we are now

You can say anything

If I could have it go any way, any way it'd go like this

Take it back to a couple years yesterday to our first kiss

In that moment I loved you,

This isn't how I ever saw it going down.

In that moment I loved you,

I wish I knew then what I know now.

Then Meghan shut off the radio.  It was barely eleven o’clock when she reached her destination.  Lights flickered behind the living room curtains.  She rang the doorbell and started counting.  At four she wondered if she should’ve called first.  At seven she wondered if he didn’t want to see her.  At eight, John opened the door.

“Hey,” he said, genuinely surprised.  

Meghan burst into tears.

“Woah, okay,” John laughed nervously, pulling her into his arms.  “Are you okay?”

She nodded, sniffling.  John pieced through the day - she’d gone out with James, now she was here, like this.  His blood started to bubble.  “Did something happen?”  

“No, no.  Nothing bad.  I just…,” Meghan drew in a ragged breath.  She hadn’t expected to react like this.  Tears were fresh in their ducts from earlier, just waiting for the call.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”  He stroked her hair, soothing his own reaction away.

“No, it’s not, John.  I should have been here before.  I wanted to be..”

“Well you’re here now.  Am I going to have to carry you inside again?”

That got a wet laugh.  Meghan followed John into the kitchen, where a box of tissues sat by a pile of mail.  She wiped her eyes.  John stood close by, one hand on her back and watched her carefully.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

He touched his knuckle to one wet track along her cheek and whispered.  “I have no idea how to handle a crying girl.  Is there something I should be doing?”

Meghan giggled at John’s awkward honesty.  With a deep breath she tried to get her voice under control.  “I told James I don’t want to be with him.”

John closed his eyes.  One side of his heart was elated.  The other hated to see Meghan hurting for any reason.  He folded her into a hug, gentle and firm, and resolved to stand there in the kitchen as long as she needed.  Which wasn’t long.

“I didn’t tell him about you, not yet.”  The words tasted bad in Meghan’s mouth, like necessary medicine.  “Please don’t be mad.”

“But you will,” John said.

“I will.  I wanted to tonight but…,” her throat got tight again and tears resumed burning.  Meghan hissed at the pain.  “I could only hurt him so much.  I needed him to believe me - that this isn’t about you.  He’ll be mad later but not like this.  This was so sad.”

For the first time since he laid eyes on Meghan, that day she kissed him so harmlessly in the gym, John felt bad for James.  Neal had set this whole thing in motion with a joke and ended up losing something he hadn’t even known was so important.  If there was anything John could understand, it was the fear of losing Meghan.  Faced with that seemingly inevitable future for himself, John was glad she’d done what she could to soften the blow.  Hopefully she’d be so kind if it came time to end his hope too.

He took her upstairs without a word.  She didn’t protest when he gently pulled the shirt over her head and unbuttoned her shorts.  Normally it would have turned him on to undress her, but right now John just wanted to make her feel safe.  He found the softest shirt in his closet, helped her into it and followed her under the covers of his bed.  

Meghan curled in and anchored her arms around his waist.  She didn’t want to talk - every explanation sucked, every turn of conversation hurt.  It was hard to remember she’d done the right thing over how bad it felt.  John’s silence was just another gift in the long line of things he’d given her since they met - not material things, but intangibles like patience and space.  Meghan knew she’d tested the limits today and hoped they were not yet broken.  She found his mouth with a strong, solid kiss and tried to say thank you that way.  Then she closed her eyes, nestled against his body and fell asleep.

____

Some time in the night, Meghan woke just enough to feel John’s hand pushing up her borrowed shirt.  His fingers on her bare skin brought every nerve to life.  She turned toward him - he seemed to just be waking too, surprised to find her hands along his spine.  Without knowing if she was still sleeping, Meghan pulled John on top and fumbled at what little clothing they wore.  He was hot to the touch, his shaft throbbing in her palm.  Meghan guided him to the spot and John took over, pressing her legs wide and his tip between the folds of her body.  The warmth and wetness he found were real enough.  Sinking into her, he closed his eyes and muttered something that sounded a lot like I love you.  Neither of them would remember.  His hands found her wrists, holding them over her head while he moved inside her.  Pinned to the bed, Meghan could only meet his thrusts with arched back and eager hips, the push and pull matching John’s ragged breath.  He came first with a gasp, equal parts pleasure and surprise.  Knowing she could do that to him, that John wanted her so badly he’d take her more aggressively in sleep than ever in waking, put Meghan over the edge right after.  She cried out, the only sound between them too loud for the night.  They fell silent together again, bodies tangled and eyelashes fluttering, quickly back to sleep.

_____