Point of Retreat

have. I can't tell you how many times I've told her. I can't get it through her head. Now she wants me to leave her alone so she can think . I'm getting so frustrated; I don't know what else I can do."
     
    My grandmother rolls her eyes at my perceived ignorance. "A guy can tell a girl he's in love with her until he's blue in the face. Words don't mean anything to a woman when her head’s full of doubt. You have to show her."
     
    "How? What else can I do? I disabled her car so she’d have to ride here with me today. Short of stalking her, I don't know what else I can do to show her."
     
    My pathetic confession prompts a disapproving look from her. "That's more like a good way to get yourself put in jail, not win back the heart of the girl you're in love with," she says.
     
    "I know. It was stupid. I was desperate. I’m out of ideas."
     
    She walks to the refrigerator and pulls out a pie. She sets in on the counter next to me and starts cutting slices. "I think the first step is for you to take some time to question just why you're in love with her, then figure out a way to relay that to her. In the meantime, you need to give her the space she needs. I'm surprised that little spectacle you just pulled at dinner didn't get you punched."
     
    "The night is still young."
     
    My grandmother laughs and places a slice of pie onto a plate, then turns around and hands it to me. "I like her, Will. You better not screw this up. She's good for Caulder."
     
    My grandmother's comment surprises me. "Really? I didn't think you liked her very much."
     
    She continues slicing sections of the pie. "I know you think that, but I do like her. What I don't like is the way you're always all over her when you're around her. Some things are better left in private. And I'm referring to the bedroom , not the laundry room," she says as she whips her head around and frowns at me.
     
    I didn't realize how publicly I flaunted my affection toward Lake. Now that my grandmother and Lake have both brought it up, it's kind of embarrassing. I guess the laundry room incident from earlier also didn't help to dissuade the opinion Lake thinks my grandmother has of her.
     
    "Grandma?" I ask as I pick at my dessert. She never gave me a fork so I tear off a piece of the crust and pop it in my mouth.
     
    “Hum?” She notices me eating with my hands so she reaches into the drawer, pulls out a fork and drops it on my plate.
     
    "She’s still a virgin, you know."
     
    My grandmother’s eyes grow wide and she turns back toward the pie to cut another slice. "Will, that's none of my business."
     
    "I know," I say. "I just want you to know that about her. I don't want you thinking the opposite of her."
     
    She turns and hands me two more plates of dessert, then grabs two of her own and nudges her head toward the kitchen door. "You have a good heart, Will. She'll come around. You just need to give her time."
     
    ***
     
     
     
     
     
    Lake sits in the backseat with Kel on the way home and Caulder rides in front with me. The three of them talk the entire ride home. Kel and Caulder are droning on about everything they did with Grandpaul. I don't say a word. I tune them out and drive in silence.
     
    After I pull into my driveway and we all get out of the car, I follow Lake and Kel as they make their way across the street. She heads inside without saying a word. I pop the hood on her jeep and reconnect the battery, then shut it and head back to my house.
     
    It’s not even ten o’clock at night yet. I’m not tired at all. Caulder’s in bed and Reece is more than likely still out with Vaughn. I sit down on the couch and turn the T.V. on when someone knocks at the door.
     
    Who would be coming over this late? Who would knock ? I open the door and my stomach flips when I see Lake shivering on the patio. She doesn't look angry, which is a good sign. Her hands are pulling her jacket tightly around her neck. She's got her snow boots pulled on over her pajama bottoms. She looks ridiculous…and beautiful.
     
    “Hey,” I say, a little too eagerly. “Here for another star?” I step aside and she walks in. “Why’d you knock?” I ask, shutting the door behind her.
     
    I hate that she knocked on my door. She never knocks. That small gesture reveals some sort of change in our entire relationship that I can’t pinpoint, but I know I don't like it.
     
    She just shrugs her shoulders. “Can I talk to you?”
     
    “I wish you would talk to me,”