Waiting on the Sidelines

“No, Reed. It’s time. Now, come with me,” I was firmer. I held out my hand and he just stared at it, his arms slumped down at his sides. His face was somber. After a few very awkward seconds, he grabbed my outstretched hand loosely and just looked back up at me shrugging.

“OK,” he said.

I made eye contact with Sarah and she mouthed, “do you want me to come?” I just shook my head. I knew Reed was harmless in this state. I could knock him over if I wanted to. The only things he could hurt me with were words, and she couldn’t protect me from those.

I got him over to my car and slid his long legs into the front passenger seat, grabbing the seat belt and handing it to him. He just smiled with a stupid grin. “Do it for me?” he asked, like a child. I grabbed his hand and put the belt in it and slammed the door.

Swearing to myself as I rounded the front of the car, I threw my side open and slid in forcefully, slamming it shut again. I started the car and peeled out a little as I backed up. I had no idea how I did that.

Reed looked out the window most of the way to his house. His playful demeanor was now more quiet, deep in thought. When I pulled up into his driveway, he turned towards me one more time. “Promise you’re not mad at me?” he asked like a kid who broke their parents’ lamp.

I may have told a lot of lies tonight, but I still couldn’t lie to him. “No, Reed. I can’t promise that. But we can talk about that tomorrow,” I said, getting out of the car and coming over to his side.

Getting him into his house and up his stairs was a feat in and of itself. I think I blanked out on the last few minutes because suddenly we were in his room with the lights off and he was flat on his bed. I pulled his shoes off and jerked the shirt out from under him that had been tucked in his pants. It was one of my favorites. A dark red and blue plaid button down from Abercrombie. Under different circumstances, I would probably find a way to take it home and sleep with it so I could take in his smell while I slept. But tonight it smelled of alcohol. In fact his entire room did.

His breathing was heavy, so I was pretty sure he was passed out. I fluffed a pillow and slid it under his head. It was pretty dark, but I was fairly sure his eyes were shut. I waved my hand in front of his face a few times to make sure. To be perfectly honest, I may have given him the finger once or twice, too, in my own amusement. I went into his bathroom to splash some water on my face, cracking the door just a little so the light didn’t disturb him. When I was done, I sat back on the edge of the tub and let out a heavy sigh.

I turned the light off and came back into his room. I checked on him one final time, looking closely at his face. His face looked flushed in the moonlight that was streaming through his window. I put my hand on his head gently and he felt a little warm. I snuck back into the bathroom keeping everything dark to get a wet wash cloth when I heard him speak.

“Nolan?” he asked softly. I couldn’t tell if he was dreaming and talking in his sleep or not. I stood still at the sink and waited a few seconds. He didn’t say another word so I came back into his room and carefully put the cloth on his head, pressing it a few times before removing it to cool him off. I left it on his night stand in case he needed it later and then carefully made my way to his door, my footsteps quiet.

“Are you still here?” he asked again. I froze and waited. “Nolan?” he was really talking. This wasn’t a dream.

“Yeah, I’m here,” I sighed and leaned into the frame of his door. His eyes were closed, but his face looked pained. I walked back to him to get a little closer so I could see his face. I picked up the cloth again and put it on his head. He reached his hand up and put it on mine. His eyes still closed.

“I love you,” he said simply. “I f**ked up. But I love you.”

There was no way I was going to be able to drive anytime soon. I felt like Dorothy flying through the tornado to Oz. Everything was spinning, and I couldn’t get a full breath. I sat down on his bed and just stared at him, his breathing heavier now. He was fully asleep moments after dropping that bomb on me.

It was the earliest hours of the morning, and my friends were sprinkled around town, none of them able to talk me through this. I had to do this on my own. Reed said he loves me, I thought, over and over. Arguing with myself, I would one minute have myself set on chalking it up to his drunken state. But my heart was fighting against all other reasoning. The scariest part was I so badly wanted it to be true. And I wanted him to say it to me again in the morning.

I must have spent an hour sitting bedside with Reed, listening to the light rhythm of his breathing and watching his chest rise and fall. I found myself checking his forehead a few more times until I felt like his fever was reduced. It was 2 a.m. by the time I was able to get my feet working enough to tackle his stairs. I stopped in his kitchen for a glass of water and was washing it at the sink when I heard the sound of his front door opening. The lights went on and I didn’t know what to do. I was sure it was Buck, but I didn’t want to scare him.