The Boy From Hot Ice

"Oh, you're Jeremy, huh? The boyfriend?"
Jeremy looked at Steve as he spoke with a slight look of disgust on his face as he stepped beside me. "Yeah, I'm the boyfriend. Who the hell are you?"
"Jeremy..." I reached my hand out and touched his arm to calm him, since I could see he was upset. And I didn't blame him.
"I'm Steve," he said, reaching his hand out to shake it.
Jeremy refused, of course, and I looped my arm into his, trying to pull him away from the situation, but Jeremy did something I never thought he'd do. He pulled away from me. "So what was this, huh? What was I seeing here?"
"I was just saying goodnight," Steve told him. "No need to get mad, buddy."
"You were kissing my girlfriend, so, yeah, I have plenty of reason to get mad, brother."
"I kissed her cheek."
"He kissed my cheek!"
"Yeah, and who knows what would have happened if I hadn't showed up!" Jeremy shouted.
"Calm down, okay?" Steve said as he put his hands on Jeremy's chest and lightly pushed away as Jeremy got closer to him. Big mistake.
Jeremy grabbed Steve's wrists and twisted them slightly, just enough to send the message, and then he pushed down so that his elbows bent back and Steve had no choice but to back off considerably. Steve, enraged by this action, suddenly retaliated by lunging forward and pushing Jeremy to the ground.
"Stop!" I yelled.
They were now rolling around in the driveway, Jeremy less phased by the rubble since he was fully clothed while Steve wore his shorts and a simple tee shirt. I remember arms flailing, punches being thrown, both of these generally non-violent guys insisting on getting the last hit in.
"Guys!" I jumped into the middle of the pile because I wasn't sure what else to do, and I grabbed Steve, seeing how he was the one who needed rescuing more, and pulled him the best I could out of the struggle.
"Seriously?" Jeremy said as he stood and wiped his bloody nose, "You go for him right in front of me?"
By now, the other girls were witnessing he action, and I was worried one of them would call the police, having no idea what was going on and not sure who Jeremy was. "Jeremy, can we just go talk about this somewhere else? Come home with me."
He looked at Steve intimidatingly for a moment before walking silently to the car he'd arrived in. It was my car.
"You okay?" I asked Steve as he removed his shirt and used it to wipe his knuckles.
"I'm fine," he answered, his shirtless body revealing several scrapes he'd earned. "You might wanna talk some sense into your little boyfriend, though."
I wanted to stand there and explain that Jeremy was not a violent guy, that he was only keeping an eye out for me, that he assumed I was being taken advantage of, or else he would never have resorted to a physical altercation. But I was scared Jeremy would drive away before I got to him, and I didn't want him to leave before we could talk about it. I bolted for my car and sat inside it, waiting as Jeremy tried to get his nose to stop bleeding, and I wiped the grass and dirt from his jacket as we sat there together.
"Can you not touch me?" He said finally.
I immediately teared up. How could he not want me to touch him? He had never wanted me to stop touching him. All we'd been talking about for the past two months was how much we wanted to touch each other.
"You're overreacting," I told him. "Nothing was happening there."
"I trusted you," he said so simply and quietly, it killed me to hear such words so tenderly.
"You still can!" I insisted. "He kissed my cheek, ok? That' all that happened. He was saying goodbye, and he leaned in and kissed my cheek."
"You didn't exactly seem to hate it."
"I - I didn't know how to react. I was just trying to be nice."
"I should have known better. I should have listened to everyone who said I'd regret this."
"Jeremy, don't say that. I promise you, nothing happened with us! Don't you believe me?"
He didn't speak, only shaking his head and finally removing the tissue from his nose.
"Okay, you want to know the whole truth? He has a crush on me. He has been asking me out since school started. But I'm not interested, okay? I turn him down every time. And tonight, I guess I was just being nice. And yes, maybe I shouldn't have been so nice, but I was. But I love you, Jeremy. I love YOU!" I snuggled into him, wrapping my arms inside his new jacket and around his strong torso. I leaned my head into the crook of his neck and closed my eyes, as if doing so could transport me back home and erase all memory of the past couple months.
"We should talk about this," he said. "You know, a serious talk."
I nodded in agreement because I had to, but I let him speak first.
"You know, I came up here today to deliver your car to you. You should have been there for the hell I went through convincing your mom I was capable of doing this."
How sweet was this gesture? And the fact that he dealt with my mom, whom he actually couldn't really stand, was nothing short of gallant to me.
"I've been driving since six this morning," he told me. "I wanted it to be perfect. I thought seeing you would just make everything so much better."
Instantly, I saw what he was getting at, and that sick feeling I'd had in my stomach all day only grew worse.
"And then the first thing I see when I see you is you holding his hand and kissing him. Or him kissing you. Or whatever - it doesn't even matter."
"It does too matter!" I told him. "He kissed me on the cheek. That was it!"
"But you two were alone, not wearing too many clothes, standing in the dark, he was leaning close to you, holding your hand... what would have happened if I hadn't showed up?"
"Don't you trust me?"
He pulled me away from him so gently, it hurt. "I did," he said, his eyes now tearing, "I'm not sure I do anymore, though."
"Please don't say that. I promise you, nothing happened. And nothing will!"
"But I'll be at home every day wondering if you're with him, wondering if he's making a move on you, wondering if he's wearing you down or taking advantage, or if you're just so sick of waiting for me that you turn to him. I have to wait for you, and you might not do the same for me, and I hate that. And I can't live like that."
"Please don't do this," I cried. "Please don't break up with me."
He wiped away a tear, hoping I didn't see since he hated to be seen crying, but of course I saw. And it gave me the assurance that he hated this as much as I did. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
We held each other briefly, both of us crying, and him not leaving quite yet because I think he really didn't want to break up with me. I couldn't fight about it any longer. He was right. He would be thinking about me with Steve every day, and it wasn't right for him to go through that torture, but that didn't mean I was okay with this breakup. Never had I wanted anything less, in fact. And just when I believed the worst day of my life was the day I moved to Tacoma, I was wrong. This was.
"You can stay in the spare bedroom tonight," I told him. "Please don't head back until the morning."
His hands, which had been laid on my shoulders as I leaned in to him, traveled to my face and pulled away the stray hairs that had fallen there. His eyes, a color I couldn't quite see in the dimmed lights, blinked as he looked into mine. His eyebrows were furrowed and uncomfortable, as they hardly had to worry like this. "I'm gonna miss you," he whispered.
"Why would you do this to me?" I whispered back. We were both too choked up with tears to speak in a louder toner. "Just give me another chance."
"Look, we have time to make this right if it's meant to happen," he told me. "And I can't do this. I can't think about you and him."
I nodded, having made my point earlier that he had nothing to worry about. I trailed my hands from my sides up his, then held his face the way he was holding mine, and somehow our lips, probably remembering the connection they'd had, found their way toward each other, and we kissed. It was a salty, dirty kiss, the kind you have when you're greeting a returning soldier, I would imagine. We were inseparable, our lips welded together by the heat of our emotions, our eyes closed together as we remembered days past, our minds in a happier and simpler time not too long ago. And as quickly as it happened, it stopped, and we were transported back to reality.
"I love you," I told him. "I'll love you always."
He drew circles in the palms of my hands. He stayed silent. I knew he would.
I left the car and got into my dad's, and he followed me to my house. He stayed in the car, just as I assumed he would, and he must have slept there all night, because in the morning he was gone, and when I checked the train schedule, there was one leaving at 7:20. I almost wished I could have said goodbye that morning, but it would have been too painful. Just realizing I no longer had my boyfriend, not even at a distance, was pain enough to keep me indoors that weekend.
When my dad woke up at eight, he joined me at the breakfast tale. He'd obviously been clueless as to the previous night's events, and he began our breakfast conversation with nonchalant chit-chat and talking about the pool party, the details of which were only positive ones to him.
"Oh, and you got a package in the mail yesterday," he told me. I froze as the words left his mouth, knowing where it was from. Or rather, who.
"Where is it?"
"It's on the coffee table. I thought you'd see it last night but I guess it was too dark - "
I rushed into the front room before he finished his sentence and I grabbed the package, ripping it open faster than I knew I was even capable. Inside was a cassette tape, simply titled "Patch."
I rushed up to my bedroom and popped it into the player. As it began, Poison's "I Won't Forget You" began to play.

Late at night I close my eyes
And think of how things could have been
And when I look back
I remember some words you had said to me
It's better to have lost at love
Then never to have loved at all
I won't forget you baby
Even though I could
I won't forget you baby
Even though I should, yeah
Sometimes in my head
I can still see pictures of you
And I laugh to myself
When I think of all those crazy things that we used to do
Although miles come between us
Just between you and me
I won't forget you baby
Even though I could
I won't forget you baby
Even though I should, well
I should let you fade away
But that just wouldn't be me
Oh, baby
Although miles come between us
Just between you and me

He knew how much I'd loved that song, and he had included it first in a series of songs he had recorded for me. That song had never hit me like it did in that moment. It had never before been so relevant or sad, it had never induced the tears that streamed down my face just then. I wouldn't ever forget him. I couldn't. And even though he had given up on me, I would never give up on him. Miles, boys, different states - nothing could keep me from him. Nothing could keep me from trying with him. And nothing, nothing could ever make me stop loving him.