
Butterface
by
Gwen Hayes
Butterface
Copyright © 2010
by Gwen Hayes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Photo Credit to Expressive Stock http://expressive-stock.deviantart.com/
Butterface
Lucas O'Leary didn't often question why his life always seemed to fall into place just right. He was satisfied with the outcome, after all, and it wasn't like he didn't work hard and give it everything he had. Just because everyone called him Lucky, didn't mean luck really handed him everything.
But sometimes, like tonight, part of him felt a little guilty.
"Lemme guess. Pancakes, a side of bacon, and a large milk?" His waitress didn't even pull out her pad. He'd also never seen anyone so bored. Or tired. She seemed like a robot tonight. Or maybe a zombie.
"Long night, Liz?"
"Working a double."
"That's the third one this week." God, she was only a year younger than him, but she looked closer to twenty-eight than eighteen tonight.
She pulled the towel off her shoulder and dried the ancient Formica table next to him. "Don't you think it's kind of sad that you know so much about your waitress? I mean, you're some kind of soccer god at the U. Shouldn't you be at a toga party or something?"
"I have to keep up my grades or lose my scholarship." And if he stayed home, he'd know a lot about beer bongs and Halo and nothing about Chemistry 101. It probably wouldn't have been any better if he lived in the dorms, but sharing a house with six teammates was proving to be more of a challenge than he anticipated. Luckily, Bing's Diner was open all night and they served breakfast 24/7.
He watched her behind the counter, filling sugar bottles while she waited for his order. It wasn't fair. She was just a kid. High school classes hadn't started yet, even though his college ones had. She should be out with her friends, living up the last few weeks of summer vacation. Lord knows that's what he always did.
"When school starts, who's going to serve my breakfast every night?" Lucky asked when she set down his dinner.
"Oh, it'll still be me. I just won't be here during the day."
"You work too hard."
She rolled her eyes and set his bill on the table. "You're too retarded to be a soccer god."
She always made him laugh. She reminded him of his sister in a lot of ways. Smart, sometimes too smart, and lots of sharp edges. Not his type, though. He liked girls with rounder edges. Soft, round edges, preferably in the C range. Which made him think of Becky, the girl that sat across from him in Chem class. Now she was definitely his type. Becky was sunshine and bubble gum. Liz...well, Liz was like a thunderstorm and gummy worms. Maybe if she did something with her hair or make-up or whatever it was that girls did, she'd hook a guy.
But he liked her.
An hour later, a table of four scruffy guys came in. Lucky sent her a look of commiseration. For one thing, they'd been drinking. He'd seen enough drunk assholes in the restaurant to know that they usually made her life miserable. And it made it hard for him to study.
One of them was particularly obnoxious. He kept asking what time she got off work...did she need a ride... When he asked if she swallowed, Lucky couldn't take anymore. He got up and started clearing their table, handing plates to Liz.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"We're not done eating, preppy," said the asshole.
"Oh, you're done all right. Pay and leave."
The jerk stood up. "Or what?"
He had the asshole on the ground with his arms behind his back in five seconds. "Hey Liz. Did I ever tell you I wrestle too?"
"Um, no."
"What about that I taught self-defense classes twice a week at the Y back home?" he asked.
"Nope. You're an all around sporty guy, soccer god."
"My mom and my sister could take this guy down. I'll teach you sometime too." He backed off the weasel.
Lucky hoped it would end there. He probably couldn't take all four. Okay, he definitely couldn't take on all four. Unless they stood in line and took turns.
Thankfully, the morons left quietly. They weren't afraid of him as much as they were bored. They forgot to tip of course, but at least there wasn't a big scene. Still, he didn't feel it was safe to leave Liz alone. The cook never even came out of the kitchen. Who knows what would have happened if he hadn't been there.
"That was pretty dumb," she said.
"Yeah, he was."
"I was talking about you, dreamboat."
"Excuse me?" Lucky hadn't expected her to gush "my hero" at him, but insulting him was rude. "I saved your ass."
"You provoked them. Plus you jilted me out of my tip."
"You know, you shouldn't work by yourself this late. And it's not my fault they were jerks. You could thank me."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"For making things worse and making sure I lost a tip. I really appreciate it, soccer god."
"Liz, you are a real---"
"Beth."
"That wasn't the B word I was going for."
"That's my name, genius. My real name. Liz is my waitress name."
Lucky wasn't always clear on girlspeak, but he thought she was trying to tell him something important. So he shut up. Because that is what smart guys do when a girl is winding up to talk about something important. If you interrupt with what you think might be a reasonable question like, Do all waitresses have pen names? She will shut down and say, Nevermind. And that word is the kiss of death to any make-out session you'd been hoping to have later that night.
At all costs, when it comes to girls, avoid being told nevermind. Even if you weren't planning on kissing them. It's just good sense.
"When I'm not here, I go by Beth. It's kind of dumb, really." She gestured to the baggy polyester dress she wore. "I just don't want this to be who I am. So, when I'm slinging hash, I'm Liz. But my family and my friends...they call me Beth."
Lucky wasn't dense. She'd never thank him for playing the hero because she wanted to believe she didn't need one. But sharing her real name meant she didn't just think of him as some clown who ate pancakes every night.
And so they became friends.
\*
Beth Anderson wished she were a lesbian.
So many things would make more sense.
If she were into girls, she'd have a niche, a label, something that wrapped up all the things that made her different and put a rainbow-colored bow on her life. She already had the right wardrobe, for God's sake.
It was just a shame, really.
Most of the time, she was completely asexual anyway. Most of the time. But she was human and she did have hormones, and when those hormones got busy they were usually fueled by Channing Tatum and sometimes, to her dismay, the smell of the cologne they sprayed on the clothes at Hollister in the mall.
Pathetic.
Moving to a college town didn't help Beth's confusion much. She'd just finish talking herself into thinking the entire male species needed to go back to the primordial swamp when a really cute one would walk by and she'd get hot flashes. And in a college town, there were really cute ones everywhere. All the time.
And she could look all she wanted, but they would never look back.
You see, that was the other thing.
Beth wasn't pretty. Not even a little bit. Part of it was her messy hair. A real lesbian would have chopped it off into to an easy to manage butch crew cut. Alas, life wasn't that simple.
The messy hair, while being annoying and hard to manage, was a curtain. It hid things. Things like scars. Scars from surgeries that almost, but not quite made her normal.
She was lucky, they used to say. A lot of babies born with hemifacial microsamia had more distinct deformities. It was a stupid thing to say to a child. Lucky people won lotteries. Lucky people catch all green lights on their way through town. Lucky people don't have facial deformities---less distinct or otherwise.
Yes. She escaped the kidney and heart problems that plague some patients with the birth defect. And yes, the surgeons did fix her jaw. Mostly. But looking at her face straight-on was usually an uncomfortable experience for most people. For instance, her father, who took off when she was two and was never heard from again.
Beth did her best to proffer the right side of her profile whenever possible. She had to keep her hair in a braid at work, but she pulled it to the side instead of behind. She often held her neck at an angle, tilting her cheek towards her shoulder. Anything to soften the effect of asymmetry. She hated starting senior year in a new place with a whole new cast of characters to affront with her abnormality.
"Earth to Beth."
She blinked several times until she realized Lucky was standing at the counter. "Sorry for the spaceout. Is something wrong with your table?"
He shook his head. "No, you just looked weird."
Her heart stopped and, for the first time since she'd met him, her stomach soured. Lucky was one of the few people she'd ever met who didn't squint when he looked at her like he was trying to imagine what she should look like instead of how she did.
"I always look weird. I was just standing here wishing I was a lesbian is all."
His expression went blank, like he lost the thread of where he thought the conversation was going and couldn't figure out how to get back there. "I've known you for six weeks now, and half the time I don't understand what you are talking about." He took a seat at the counter, which was unusual. "When I came in, you were lost in thought. You looked like somebody kicked a puppy or something. I was concerned. Sue me. "
Quick to cover, she said, "Be still my heart, he cares." Beth poured him a glass of water and checked her watch. The dinner crowd was finally gone. And it was a Tuesday. Tuesdays were quiet most of the time. "How did your test go, soccer god?"
He pretended to look at a menu. It's not like they didn't both know what he was going to order. "Well, I can almost say with certainty that I didn't fail."
She rolled her eyes. "So another 'A' then?"
He laughed. "Probably. I'm just lucky I guess."
Lucky. There was that word again. Except Lucky O'Leary worked harder than most people she'd met. The guy studied all the time. And was always working out or running. He was one of the few beautiful people she didn't begrudge. How could she? If anyone deserved to have it all, it was someone like him.
"How is your senior year so far?" he asked
"Well, I haven't killed anyone yet."
The bell above the door rang, and her night took a bad turn. Two really good looking college guys sauntered in like they owned the world. And they probably did.
"O'Leary," said one the one with floppy hair.
"Hey guys, what's up?" Lucky stood and they all did some complicated non-hug thing. Testosterone was strange. And also very enticing. God. College guys were hot.
Lucky grabbed some menus and the water pitcher off the counter and pointed his friends to a table like the restaurant was his kitchen at home. "Sit guys." Then he grabbed her order pad right out of her hand and told her to take a break. He'd give the order to Marty, the cook, when they were ready to eat.
What a strange guy. It was weird enough that he hung out there so much. But now he was going to pseudo-work there too?
Whatever. Her feet hurt and she needed to study. If he wanted to play restaurant, he was welcome to it.
\*
His friends were jerks.
He really didn't want to subject Beth to their douchiness, so Lucky tried to run interference. At least they hadn't been drinking. Sometimes they were really embarrassing.
"So this is where you come every night instead of partying with us, O'Leary?"
Lucky shrugged at Taylor. "If I lose my scholarship, I don't get to play soccer. I need the grades."
"Who's the chick in the corner?"
"The waitress?" Lucky asked.
"Yeah, dude. You should bring her next Friday."
He looked over his shoulder at Beth. She was wearing her iPod and writing that paper she'd told him about. Lucky shook his head. "Nah. We're just friends. Were you guys going to order something?"
"She'd be perfect," Dell said.
Taylor added, "If you don't bring her, I will."
"Why?" That was all Lucky could think of to say. I mean she was a neat girl, but really not the type they went for. She was smarter than both of them put together for one thing.
Dell leaned in. "I'm glad I don't have to participate this year, but I would have been all over that last year. She's exactly what you want. Most guys make the mistake of going over the top, but subtle is the key. You don't really want to win---only the truly desperate go for the win. You just want to make a good show."
Lucky didn't get it. "What the hell are you guys talking about? Win what?"
"Next Friday is the Dog Dinner, dude," Taylor answered. As if that solved anything. He must have realized that Lucky still didn't understand. "Dog Dinner---all the rookies have to bring ugly dates to the party. Whoever brings the most hideous rover wins. But like Dell says, you aren't going to impress anyone by actually winning. Guys who try too hard look like losers. It's all about finesse. She's perfect."
Taylor nodded. "She is classic butterface."
Lucky couldn't wrap his mind around anything they said. "Butterface?"
"Yeah. You know...smokin hot bod...but her face..."
Lucky's stomach churned. Jesus. They really were assholes. "You guys, she's my friend."
Dell laughed. "Even better. She won't expect you to slip her the tongue then, because that would be a tough sell to Mr. Happy."
Everything about this conversation made Lucky want put the hurt on both of them. Beth was a great girl. She may not be a knockout, but she was funny and smart and he really liked her. "This conversation is done. I'm not bringing anyone to a Dog Dinner, especially not a very sweet kid. The whole thing is immature." He wanted them to stop looking at her. It was like they were tainting her with their eyes.
"You need to rethink your attitude, O'Leary."
"It's not my attitude that's the problem, Taylor." His heart was pumping rage instead of blood into his veins. If he didn't cool down, there was going to be a problem. He could put up with a lot of crap when it came to himself, but he really hated it when innocent people got hurt.
"You know, your spot on team isn't all that solid. You were top shit at your high school, but we all were, man. Your skills aren't enough anymore. You want to be on the team, you have to be the team." Taylor nodded to Beth, still oblivious to it all. "Girls like that don't get invited to college parties very often. You'd be doing her a favor."
"You're saying I'll lose my spot on the team if I don't bring a date to a party next weekend."
"I'm saying we're a family and you need to start acting like you want to be part of it."
A dysfunctional family.
A couple came in the door, so Beth got up to seat them. She stopped back at their table to see if they needed anything.
"We're fine," Lucky answered.
"Hey Liz," said Dell. "You a freshman at the U?"
"Senior year, high school."
"How many girls in your class get invited to college parties?"
Someone struck a match to Lucky's gut while he watched Dell turn on the charm and smile at Beth like she mattered to him. Sparks of acid churned as she blushed so sweetly and told him she really didn't know. She was new this year and didn't know a lot of the kids yet.
"We're having a party next Friday." Taylor got in on the action while Lucky's insides caught flame. "You should come."
"Oh, I don't know about that," she said on a rush, clearly not used to the attention.
"If you need a ride, one of us can pick you up," said Dell. "Maybe O'Leary?" Dell met his gaze across the table. "Or if he can't, maybe I can swing by and---"
Lucky interrupted. "I'll do it."
Taylor stood up and tapped Lucky's shoulder. "Good. It's settled then. My brother O'Leary here will take good care of you. C'mon Dell. We should let him get back to work. He's got all that studying to do."
"I'm coming home too." Lucky stood up, catching the confused look on Beth's face. "I'm not as hungry as I thought. I'll see you tomorrow, okay."
He couldn't even look her in the eye.
\*
Lucky kept looking at her funny.
Beth couldn't figure out what his deal was. Since Tuesday, he was just off. Too nice, too chivalrous, too attentive. And when he looked at her, he started really looking at her.
"All right, dreamboat. You are weirding me out," she finally said on Saturday.
He was walking her home again. Another new strange behavior that began on Thursday. "Why? Hey, do you want to go to the zoo tomorrow?"
"What? No. I mean why?"
"I don't know. It just sounds fun. And you have a day off and I don't have practice. If you don't like the zoo, we don't have to go. Maybe we could catch a movie."
Lucky took a few more steps before he realized she'd stopped.
He spun around, all grace and dexterity. "What, you don't like movies either?"
She wished he weren't so good looking. Or so athletic, or smart, or funny. Or so goddamned nice. If he could only be less of each of those, she would maybe be able to not feel like she was drowning every time he came around.
"Aren't there any girls at your school?" Because at the bottom of it all, the rock in the pit of her stomach told her this was pity. And she would rather die than have him pity her.
He closed the distance between them. "I like you. I have a shortage of friends I like right now. Haven't you ever had a guy friend before?"
She thought about it for a minute and shook her head. "No."
"Having a guy friend is pretty awesome if you're a girl and you pick the right guy."
"And why is that?" she asked.
"You always have someone to open mayonnaise jars and you don't have to shave your legs for him."
"I never thought of that. That makes me the luckiest girl in the world, doesn't it?"
He smiled at her. In the moonlight, he lost some of that perfect All-American polish and looked heartbreakingly human. Part of her wanted to unlock her soul and hand him the keys. It would be stupid. He was a great guy, but he was too great a guy for her. At some point, he was going to stop feeling out of place and homesick, which he was even if he wouldn't admit it. He'd start acting like the other guys on the team, start dating pretty girls, and he would slowly drift away from her. He would do it with perfect courtesy of course, but he would do it just the same.
Lucky threw his arm around her and pulled her down the sidewalk, tying another brick around her ankle while she fought just to tread water.
They spent the whole day together on Sunday. And Monday, he hung out her entire shift and walked her home. Tuesday night, she went to his game. It was a mistake. He was too good and so talented. She hadn't seen him in shorts before. He was like a work of art. She shrunk further and further into her corner of the bleachers, leaning her misshapen face against the wires and wanting to cry.
He found her there, still clinging to the cyclone fence long after everyone had gone. The bleachers shook as he took the steps two at time. So sure of his body because it had never betrayed him.
"Thanks for coming," he said after a few minutes of charged silence.
"I'm sorry I'm having a nervous breakdown at your game."
"You want to talk about it?"
"God no."
Lucky reached across her and loosened her fingers from the fence. Then he pulled her into his chest and held her. Just held her. He'd showered after the game. He smelled like soap. He was so clean. She'd never feel that way. But she was glad he could. It occurred to her that if given the choice, she'd take the defect again if it meant he could keep this life for himself.
The stadium lights went out all at once, leaving her outside environment as dark as her inside environment. Except that Lucky's squeezed her a little closer, and all her synapses started firing different messages at once.
"Your eyes will adjust in a second." His voices soothed her senses like warm honey.
"Okay," she squeaked.
Every sense but her sight sharpened. The sound of his steady heartbeat, the softness of his sweatshirt, the scent of his soap and the grass of the field...she could have stayed in the moment forever. But he was right, there were enough security lights from campus to slowly return the black world into the real world again.
He stood and carefully helped her down the bleachers. On the last step, her foot slipped and she tumbled into Lucky and her very first kiss.
\*
He didn't know what the hell he was doing. Every day, he dug himself deeper. At first, Lucky told himself that he was only trying to make up for his friends being such jerks, even if she didn't know they had been. He needed to undo the karmic damage or something. He'd make her see how great she was, maybe help her with her confidence. And no way was he taking her to that party. He'd figure something else out.
The guys didn't understand what a great kid she was. She didn't deserve to be called a rover or a butterface. She had a couple scars that barely saw the light of day, and a slightly rounded jaw. No big deal.
So he decided to be a mentor to her, be the big brother she never had. It wasn't a hardship to spend time with Beth. Her sharp edges smoothed the more he got to know her, and the harder he worked to gain her trust, the more he wanted it. Spending time with her was refreshing. More than anything, he wanted to be that guy she saw when she looked at him.
But then he'd seen her wearing a tank top.
She didn't like to wear her uniform home, so she changed in the bathroom one night, coming out in jeans and a little pink tank top. It hit him like an anvil Wile E. Coyote ordered from the Acme Co.
Jesus Christ, she's a girl. His palms tingled and his mouth went dry. And all the virtue he thought he'd been stocking up on by taking this mission on was gone. One small shirt undid it all. He was no better than the jerks he lived with.
He recovered quickly enough. Mostly. He tried to push his shallow feelings to the corner of his mind and concentrate on being her friend, and he did a good job for the most part. He still liked her after all. He didn't have to stop liking her just because he had inappropriate feelings. So what if he noticed that her eyes were just as green as they were brown, depending on what color she was wearing. And if something tugged on his gut whenever she bit her lip, he could live with it. If he dozed off at night thinking about that tank top and the breasts underneath it, nobody had to know.
But he never intended to kiss her.
Finding her clinging to the bleachers had punched like a fist. He hated seeing girls cry, but it never made him feel like that before. Helpless. There wasn't a villain in sight---how does a guy slay dragons for a girl when they're all in her head?
He swore to God he never intended to kiss her.
They had been moving slowly down the bleacher, awkward and hindered by the lack of light and powerful emotions swirling around them. He was guiding her, but had no idea where he was leading her to. She trusted him, and that made him feel like a god.
And then she fell into his arms and there was nothing left but to kiss her.
\*
When Beth opened her eyes again, she was startled to find that the world hadn't changed despite the fact that everything was different.
"I'm sorry," Lucky said.
"You're sorry?"
"Not really." It wasn't so dark that she couldn't make out his smile.
"Me either. I wasn't expecting that."
Lucky hadn't let go of her yet. "I'm a little surprised myself."
"I sort of figured kissing wasn't in the same equation with the mayonnaise jars and unshaved legs." Did she really just say that? "If you want to take it back, you can."
"I can?"
She nodded. Damn it. Way to go Beth.
"I can just take it back like it never happened. You'll just forget that I kissed you?"
She nodded again. I am the biggest loser ever.
"Then I didn't do it right." His mouth covered hers again. This time, he was serious. Insistent. Glorious. Beth trembled as equal parts fear and excitement coursed through her body. The first kiss had been an accident of circumstance and attraction. The second kiss was as far from happenstance as she'd ever been.
When they finally parted, she was delighted to see he was shaking too.
And for the next two days, her cheeks hurt from smiling all the time. She couldn't study, couldn't read, and couldn't keep her orders straight at Bing's. She'd catch Lucky looking at her, and he'd duck his chin to his chest and pretend he was studying. She barely ate, she hardly slept. She felt consumed.
Thursday night, he kissed her sweetly at her front door and she actually sighed. Like a girl. She wanted to kick her own ass. But something in his eyes changed at that moment, like they caught flame. Suddenly, he kissed her so hard she found herself crushed to the wall and whatever had sparked in his eyes roared to life in that kiss. It wasn't sweet. It set fire to her blood and melted her bones into molten lava.
At this rate, she was never going to be a lesbian.
When Lucky pushed away, he stared at his hands while he caught his breath. Beth stared at them too. Just a minute before, it seemed like they were everywhere. It was hard to believe there were only just the two.
"I'm sorry," he rasped.
"Really?"
He chuckled and she felt the tremor low in her belly. "No." Lucky reached for one of her hands. "Sometimes, you look at me or you sigh, and I just feel invincible. I don't know how else to explain it."
She really didn't have a reply for that. She already thought he was bulletproof, invincible wasn't such a stretch. "What time are you picking me up tomorrow?" she asked. "For the party?"
His face changed again. "I don't want to go to the party."
"Oh." As the air left her tires, all she could think of was how stupid she was. Of course he didn't want to take her to the party. If she had invested any thought at all into the last week, she'd have realized that they spent little time in the company of other people. She couldn't deny he had feelings for her, but showing her off to his friends was something else. She couldn't blame him. All his friends were soccer gods, just like him. They probably had goddess girlfriends. It would be like parking your 1982 Celica in a Rolls Royce lot.
"Don't," he said simply.
"Don't what?"
"Don't shrink like I just slapped you." Lucky scrunched down, forcing her to look at him through a haze of stupid girl tears. "The guys on my team are jerks. We should do something else."
"Sure," Beth said. Where are you, Beth? Did the real Beth still exist under all the new layers of estrogen, sugar, and spice? Was she really prepared to live like this now? It was one thing to hide behind your own armor, but it was something else to be hidden. "No, I take that back." Begin like you mean to carry on. "I want to go to the party. Even if we just go for a few minutes. It's important to me."
"Why?"
Because I'd rather be alone than know you're ashamed to be seen with me. "Because, it just is."
They left it there. Somewhat uneasily, but with him agreeing they could drop in for a few minutes. Goodbye was more awkward than usual, he seemed distant and reserved. She didn't know if she was proud of herself for forcing the issue, or mad at herself for risking what little happiness she'd found. Reasoning with the new Beth seemed nearly impossible. She wanted smoldering kisses and shy smiles. She didn't care about things like pride and self-respect. She didn't know that they were important lines of defense in a world that was sometimes cruel. She just wanted to stay in her happy place with all her hopes and dreams wrapped up in the hands of a boy.
Which is exactly why the new Beth was devastated in the girls' room at lunch the next day.
She ran all the way home. She never even stopped at her locker. She just had to run. Aware of only the roar like the ocean in her head and the snippets of the overheard conversation repeating on a loop; she didn't look for cars or people. The tape just kept playing over and over. Men's soccer team...annual party...that poor fat girl, Clara, didn't know it was a dog dinner...like anyone would really want to invite her on a date...she must really be stupid...ugliest date wins a prize.
They didn't know she was in the stall, but they didn't know her and wouldn't have cared anyway. They were talking about some poor fat girl who'd been invited to a college party and thought someone really liked her.
Poor Clara.
Beth ran until she couldn't breathe. She staggered into her bedroom and then she lost it. She didn't realize, for a long time, that she had climbed into her closet. She cowered in the corner, holding her knees to her chest thinking the pressure would stop the tears. The ugliest date wins a prize. Oh God, how had she allowed this to happen? She replayed every moment of his complex deception. Every sheepish grin singed her all over again. Every false tender moment gutted her. Her tears were so hot they stung her skin, but didn't she just deserve that? God, he'd invested a lot of time into wooing her. He must really think she had a chance to take first place.
Her scars itched.
Finally, she reached the end of tears. She was blessedly hollow now. And the new Beth was sufficiently dead. She wouldn't miss her or her newly acquired stupid girlheart. Life was back to normal now. Almost.
There was still just the one thing left to do.
\*
Lucky was too young for an ulcer, but try telling that to his stomach.
Everything burned.
God if he could just talk her out of this party.
She'd never looked prettier. He was surprised to see she'd worn her hair pulled back off her face. He wondered if maybe he could take credit for that. It was stupid; it probably had nothing to do with him. But still he wondered and kind of hoped. Maybe she wasn't so shy about her scars now.
She was quieter than usual and didn't eat much. Neither did he. Food was like adding coal to the furnace his stomach had become. He tried to make small talk, but every word tasted sour in his mouth. Tonight, when she looked at him, it didn't feel like she saw that guy anymore---the one he wanted to be. Instead, she maybe was looking at the same guy everyone else saw. He didn't like it.
The walk from the street to the front door of the house was like the Green Mile, every step like slogging through thick mud. Lucky grabbed her wrist at the bottom step.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I don't feel well." Please.
"Well, we're already here. Let's just go in, make sure everyone sees us, and then we'll leave, okay?"
He never should have confided to her that the team questioned his commitment. That's probably why she'd been so insistent that they make an appearance this whole time. He couldn't catch his breath. He was on the edge of a cliff, and she was gonna push him off.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Only the rookies were required to bring ugly dates. There weren't that many, it's possible it would escape her notice altogether. They could stay for a few minutes, so she knew he wasn't ashamed of her, and the guys would see he was a team player. Then they could go. The acid in his belly mellowed a little and he exhaled a deep breath. Maybe he'd take her back to the soccer field. He had a blanket in the car. They could sit on the grass in the middle of the field, and he could ask her what she thought he should major in. Because it was really bugging him that he didn't know yet, and she had a way of making him see clearly.
"Wait." Lucky tugged Beth's wrist again. He wanted to tell her how she made him feel. How important she was to him. That she was his best friend.
But then the door opened and Taylor stood in the doorway with two plastic cups of beer. "Glad you showed O'Leary. Nice to see you again, Liz."
She started to correct him, but Lucky decided that Taylor didn't deserve to know her non-waitress name. He marched her up the steps and took the beers, handing her one.
The party was in full-swing but not out of hand yet. Lucky was nervous. He couldn't keep his feet still, couldn't bring the cup to his face without jittering. Beth raised up on her toes to tell him something. He was glad; she'd probably make him laugh. She had a way of looking at the world so differently than he did.
She whispered in his ear, "Do you think we'll win?"
The blood drained from his face. "Win what?"
"First place, silly."
Oh God.
She knew.
She knew what he brought her to, and she came anyway. In fact she insisted. "Beth---"
She rocked back on the balls of her feet. "It's Liz tonight. I think that's more appropriate, don't you."
The look in her eyes diced him into a million pieces. She meant to hurt him; he could see she wanted him to be miserable right now. But what killed him was how she couldn't disguise her own hurt behind all that righteous anger. That's what he'd done to her.
"We need to talk."
Somebody turned up the music.
She shook her head. They stood in the crowded entry way, people bumping into them, and noise polluting his senses. He was going to lose her. He felt like he was shrinking, like everything around him---the things that didn't matter---were getting bigger. He looked at her scars and realized those weren't the ones that hurt her. The scars inside, the really deep ones, were the ones that still gave her trouble, and he'd opened them all back up for her.
"Let me explain." He had to yell over the music.
She shook her head again. What could he say really? He brought her here. He didn't have to. He could have told her the truth or told the guys to go to hell. He could have been the person she thought he was, but instead he just tried to make his life less bumpy. He was Lucky O'Leary. He didn't need to question why his life always seemed to fall into place just right.
Beth turned away from him and started walking through the house. She held her head high and didn't tilt her cheek to her shoulder. She breezed through the crowd, and he followed her like a ghost as she faced all her own dragons.
They didn't stay to find out who won. And she didn't say a word to him on the way home. She simply slipped out of his car, and he lost more than the girl that night.
He lost any respect he had for Lucky O'Leary.
\*
Time doesn't heal all wounds.
It helps. But time can't do it by itself. If you pretend you don't have a wound, for instance, there's very little time can do for the wound except allow it to fester.
Which is what Beth had done for a long time.
Walking through that stupid party had hurt, but it had cleansed her wounds. The stinging had to be done, to get it ready to heal. And now, instead of denying she was hurting, she checked her inside scars everyday. She talked to her mom. She volunteered to babysit babies with birth defects once a week at the Children's Hospital. When something hurt, she stopped denying it, and what do you know...the wounds started to close finally. With time.
Lord only knows how her mom managed with no outside help all those years, but Beth was able to give parents a few hours away from the constant drama. The babies she didn't used to be able to look at without self-hatred were just babies after all. They were cute and funny, just like other babies. The parents saw her living a full life, and she could see the relief on their faces.
And one day, after babysitting a little girl whose entire left side of her face bulged so badly she couldn't see out of her left eye, Beth felt lucky that her deformities were less distinct.
That was the day she finally tried to contact Lucky O'Leary.
And the following week, she watched him picking up orange cones after soccer practice. She'd been shocked to find that he'd quit the team and moved back to his small town two hours away. She felt bad. She hadn't expected him to quit his whole life as soccer god over her. But, as she watched him coach a team of six-year-olds playing spring soccer, she realized he hadn't done it over her. He looked so at ease out there, doing what he loved and not worrying about living up to The Standards of Doucheness his team had tried to make him adhere to.
She sat on the bench next to his gear and waited, her heart thumping wildly, wondering if he would be glad to see her or not. She knew the moment he recognized her, even though he was still too far to speak. He tightened up, squared his chin, and took his time getting to the bench.
"Hey, dreamboat." Her voice faltered.
"How have you been?" His voice didn't falter, but it was clipped.
"Good days, bad days. You?"
He nodded and sat down next to her. "Same."
Be brave, Beth. She squinted her eyes tightly and began. "I owe you an apology."
"Beth---"
"Please, let me finish. I used you. I wanted you to overlook my imperfections, but I didn't offer you the same courtesy. And I know you didn't want to go to that party, but I pressured you into an impossible choice."
"I should have told those guys to pound sand. The whole idea of a dog dinner is repulsive. I went along with it anyway. I don't see how you think you need to take responsibility for that."
"You turned your back on everything."
"Not really. I'm going to community college, playing city league soccer, and coaching the most uncoordinated kids on the planet every Saturday. My life is actually almost exactly how I want it."
Beth opened her eyes. "Almost?"
"I wish you had let me apologize to you that night, Beth."
She looked at him for the first time since he sat down. "Why do you have to be so perfect?"
He slammed his eyebrows together in confusion. "I think we've established that I'm far from perfect."
"Well, you're far too good looking."
He laughed. "I'm sorry? Is that the right response? I've never been told that before. Good looking, sure. Too good looking, never."
Beth swallowed around the lump in her throat and tried to smile at his joke. It probably didn't look much like a smile. She had to say what she was going to say quickly or she was going to flee.
"I was so angry at you, at first. When I found out that it was all a trick to get me to go to that party."
He tried to interrupt her, but she held up her hands.
"No, let me finish. That's what I thought. That you tricked me into believing that you really liked me just to take me to that contest. And that was good, that I was so angry, because it gave me courage. But after, when I had time to settle down with my thoughts, I saw all the times you talked about the soccer team. How you really didn't like them, how you felt like you didn't fit in and didn't want to. And I realized that you were trying to be my friend. You wanted to make up for them being jerks because that is the kind of guy you are. It was me that put my own romantic spin on things."
She inhaled deeply, checking the wound. Still okay.
"You were kind to play Prince Charming. I'm embarrassed that I put us both through that. I know you saw the person inside of me, and I appreciate that you were one of the few people able to see past the outside."
"You're not the sharpest tool in the shed are you?" Lucky asked.
"Hey! I just laid myself bare to you and---"
Lucky clamped his hand over her mouth. "It's true. You're not my type. Hey, don't bite me, I'm not finished. You aren't blonde, you don't wear mini-skirts, and when you call me handsome, it usually means you are making fun of me. That is the opposite of my type. So, I didn't know what to make of you. But I liked you. I liked spending time with you."
He lowered his hand, testing to see if she would let him go on.
He was quiet a moment longer and then said, "But I don't think I see the same face you see when you look in the mirror."
Beth gasped, unaware she hadn't been breathing.
"I think you're beautiful. Maybe not the way some guys think their girlfriends are, but I think my way is better."
His hand caressed her left cheek and she shivered. Nobody but doctors and her mother had ever touched her face.
"You're smart, most of the time. You're funny, except when you're picking on me. And you have a light that shines from somewhere inside you." Lucky looked down, collecting his thoughts. "I like looking at you. I especially like looking at you when you wear tank tops." He still didn't raise his eyes, but he reached for her hand. "When you needed me, I never felt more like a man. And when I let you down, I never felt more---"
Beth broke in. "I need you. Right now." Geez. Did she really just say that?
He met her gaze and smiled that heartthrob movie star grin that made her stupid and girly.
She stammered, "I...um...I'm trying to pick a school. For next year. I was thinking of community college. Do you know any good ones?"
"As luck would have," he said, kissing her knuckles. "I do know a great one in the area. I could maybe give you a tour?"
She nodded. "That would be really nice."
"Well, then, I guess it's our lucky day."
The End

