Simple To The Mind
Tyler Connell was not a morning person usually, especially when he had gone to bed the night before at twelve thirty, trying to erase the image of Val from his mind. And then he woke up at eight forty-three and had a leisurely breakfast, and now at… he checked his watch again… nine fifty-two, he had to put up with his mom in the shower. So, all right, the house did have plenty of bathrooms, but one didn't have a shower or bath, one only had a bath, one William was in, and one, for some reason, contained all the umbrellas and towels and—sand buckets?!—for the beach. Tyler assumed it was better just to use this one… if his mother would ever--
"Get
out!"
Tyler
pounded on the door and, getting no answer, groaned and wished his family had decided
to get another bathroom.
He
was discussing with himself, a minute and thirteen seconds later, whether he
should go use the "beach junk" bathroom, wait five more minutes on top of the
ten he had already waited, or take a bath, when the door swung open.
"Finally!"
he practically yelled, before realizing just who it was. "I mean, hi, Val."
Wrapped
in a white robe, Val was obviously trying not to laugh as she wrung out her
hair.
"You
know, Tyler," she said, "I was only in for ten minutes."
She
walked down the hall and entered her room, pulling the door shut behind her.
Tyler thought she was gone when she poked out her head: "I'm going down to the
beach soon. Want to come?" The door shut again as Tyler nodded.
Tyler stared at the
closed door and then began to hit his head on the door… before realizing that
he needed a shower.
Val
had been on the beach for almost half an hour when Tyler came out, awkward and
uneasy after the shower incident. Val was reading a magazine, blond hair
spiraling down in slightly damp curls to touch the glossy page, legs absently
kicking as she chewed on a pen. Time to time she circled things on the paper.
"Hey,"
Tyler said as his shadow fell over her, casting darkness onto the page. She
squinted up and smiled.
"Hey."
"I
just, you know, wanted to say…" The teen football player wasn't often
uncomfortable or unsure, but sometimes Val could do that to him. "…that I'm
sorry. For the shower thing."
"It's
okay," Val assured him. "I mean, it is your house."
"Right.
Exactly." Tyler shifted a little, then sat down next to her. "What are you
reading?"
Val
looked at him, confused. She looked back at the magazine and forced a laugh.
"Nothing."
"Well,
it has to be something, or else you wouldn't read it," Tyler pointed out.
"I'm
not reading—I'm just… looking." Tyler leaned over her shoulder and read the
title.
"How
to make your co-worker like you," he said. "Val! I'm shocked! You have a crush
on Jamie!"
"I
do not! He's Caitie's."
"Hank."
"Uh…
no?"
"Your
cheerleader friends! Val, I'm not adverse to that or anything, but you could
have told me you were like that! Oh, wait. There are male cheerleaders too,
aren't there?"
"There
are, but I don't like them. Now, can I please have back my magazine?"
"Why
don't you… come get it?"
Inevitably,
the tall teen leaped up and ran down the beach. Val was close behind him, their
feet spraying white sand as their soles hit the beach in rhythm. Val tackled
Tyler, jumping on his back. He flipped her off onto the soft sand, and—perhaps
of cheerleader training—she landed on her feet. Val reached for the magazine,
almost getting it—until Tyler held it at a lofty height over his head. Even
though she was only a few inches shorter, a few inches, Val thought, could make
a big difference.
"Come
on, Tyler," she said, jumping for it. "It's just a stupid magazine only an
idiot would read."
"Then
you're an idiot," Tyler reminded her, "because you were reading it." His hand
lowered slightly, but Val had suddenly stopped reaching and started staring
into his eyes.
"Yes,"
she agreed slowly, "I am an idiot." Soft voices are not heard in loud sound,
but it was silence, except for accelerating beating of the heart on behalf of
both Tyler and Val, and so the voice carried to ears that heard it, and heard
the tone of it.
"But
that's all right," Tyler said gently. His hand almost involuntarily reached up
to touch her cheek. "Because I'm a fool."
"Why
are you a fool?" Val inquired, feeling like a madman was at her ribs with a
giant sledgehammer as her heart slammed into her chest.
"Because…
only fools fall in love."
"Then
we're both fools, aren't we?" Val whispered. Tyler looked into her eyes, then
let his lips touch hers gently. She most definitely felt it, certainly enjoyed
it, and both of them felt like time had stopped for precious seconds. Lips
parted of own accord, allowing their owners to claim back senses and catch a
breath of sea air.
Val's head fell to
Tyler's shoulder, then, a moment late, lifted, as if she had realized what she
was doing. Of course, meeting with confused eyes that mirrored her own was not
the best remedy for slowing her heartbeat to normal, but a step—and another—and
another, slowly, solved that problem.
"Tyler," Val
breathed, "I need to… I can't… I mean… I have to think," she finished finally,
slowly backing away. Her feet were acting on their own, possibly with help from
her mind, because all her heart wanted to do was be held in his arms again, and
kiss him, and have him cradle her head on his shoulder… but instinct tends to
go with the mind, and no matter what her heart wanted to do, her body turned
away and began running… running away.
Tyler watched her go,
falling into a state of depression. I think I may have lost her before I
even had her, he realized, mentally berating himself. Then he looked at the
magazine, crumpled in his hand, and read the line—the line that said, 'What is
the name of your co-worker?'
Neatly printed, in
capital letters, resembling Val's handwriting, were two words:
TYLER
CONNELL