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If anyone asked, Belly would tell them that Jeremiah Fisher is the sweetest boy she’s ever met. She’d tell them about the tenderness in his eyes when they meet hers, the firm safety of his arm around her waist, his hand clutching hers, the gentleness of his fingers running through her hair. She’d tell them how secure she feels in his love for her.
They’d snuck out to the state fair together late one summer night – clasped hands swaying as they made their way along the boardwalk, ice cream cones in their free hands, strawberry for him, mint chocolate chip for her.
They found a ring toss booth, and – “Hey, why don’t we try this out?” from Jeremiah; “Best out of nine wins,” because he can never resist the urge to challenge Belly to a competition.
Jeremiah had won. He was ecstatic, picked her up, spun her around; he was laughing and she was giggling, happier than she’d ever been before.
“It’s time to pick your prize,” the vendor reminded him, and Jeremiah picked a stuffed giraffe, joking that “this is gonna go with my dorm decor so well.”
But Belly’s heart rate was crawling to a stop, the fairground dissipating before her eyes, her ears filled with nothing but a piercing buzz.
Conrad picking the polar bear. Conrad giving her the polar bear.
Jeremiah had noticed her smile fall. “What’s wrong, Bells? Didn’t know winning was that serious for you.” He handed her the giraffe. “You take it, stuffies aren’t really my thing anyway.”
Belly telling Conrad she would have preferred the giraffe.
She forced herself back into the moment, shaking her head, wincing at the audible strain in her laugh. “No, no, you won it, you keep it. Besides,” laughed again, “I’ll get to visit him every day when we’re at school together, won’t I?”
He shrugged, kept the giraffe; they moved on to the funnel cake stall. Belly couldn’t quite shake the heaviness she felt, the reminder of how her heart had shattered for Conrad that day.
• ~ •
Jeremiah had attended the party Taylor and Belly had thrown for their high school graduation, even staying late to help them clean.
The acrid stench of sweat and alcohol had been heavy in the room as Jeremiah led Belly to the middle of the dance floor, arms tight around her waist, gliding her around in a gentle slow dance.
“I love you,” he had shouted, so that she could hear him over the noise and –
Conrad, forgetting to bring her corsage to prom.
Jeremiah’s adoration evident in the way he held her, how he pulled her ever closer against his frame, how he gazed into her eyes as if nobody else was present.
Conrad, breaking up with her, leaving her, on the most important night of her life.
Belly knew full well that Jeremiah was not his brother, that Jeremiah would never discard her – and yet, her hesitation, just one moment too long, before “I love you too.”
• ~ •
And then there was the night in Jeremiah’s bedroom, when Belly ran her fingertips down his bare chest, his lips achingly soft against her own, her fingers tangled up in his hair.
Conrad’s hands brushing across her lips, her collarbones, trailing down her hips, between her thighs.
Jeremiah had noticed her hesitation – asked if she was alright, brushed an escaped strand of her hair back behind her ear. She hadn’t responded; instead, took a moment to ground herself, to be reminded that those were Jeremiah’s hands, Jeremiah’s lips; had then leaned back in, kissing him harder, tugging her shirt off, straddling him.
Conrad’s hands fumbling with the zipper of her jeans –
But it had been Jeremiah, and she had forgotten again, so she had pushed him away with a “Wait, I don’t think I want to do this with you right now.”
The glimmer of hurt that had crossed his face as she pulled her shirt back on, as she walked out of the room.
If anyone asked, Belly would tell them that Jeremiah Fisher is the sweetest boy she’s ever met. She would never breathe a word of the boy who haunts her through Jeremiah’s every move.