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“Not right now.” She glares at me and I laugh as she tries not to look at my crotch. “Sorry, but you asked.”
She shakes her head and stands from the bed. I stand up after her and she stares at the blue suitcase where it lies on the foot of the bed.
“I’m happy for you,” she says, though she doesn’t look happy at all.
“For us,” I say, grabbing her hand. “Be happy for us. This is just the first step.”
“The first step away from me.”
“We’ll always be together. Even when we’re apart. You know it’s true.”
This elicits a faint smile. “Don’t forget me.”
“Forget you? In eighteen days?” Her smile widens, so I take her into my arms and kiss her forehead. “It would take at least nineteen days for me to forget you.”
Forever Alone
The worst part of the last eighteen days has been spending my entire Spring vacation alone. Jackie took a day off from the bakery during my week off. She made appointments for us to get manicures and pedicures, but I only went so she wouldn’t feel bad. I don’t want a mani-pedi. I want Chris.
I feel so stupid admitting that, but it’s true. I miss him so much. Even now, as I sit in my English class, he’s all I can think of. He’s supposed to be back tonight around eleven p.m. or later. I don’t care how late he gets home, I’m staying up.
Mrs. Ainsley writes the page numbers of the homework on the whiteboard and I quickly jot it down in the upper right-hand corner of my notebook. Then I slam the notebook shut so I can start packing my backpack. But the moment I twist in my chair to reach for my bag, someone taps my shoulder.
I look up and the sight of Chris’s face takes my breath away. “Oh, my God.”
“Hey,” he says softly, and the sound of his voice, not heard through the static of a cell phone, makes me tear up.
I shoot out of my chair and throw my arms around his neck. “I missed you so much,” I say, my voice muffled by the hood of his sweater as I bury my face in the crook of his neck.
He lifts me off the floor and hugs me so tight I can’t breathe. “I missed you so much more than that. Next time, you’re coming with me.”
“Get a room!” someone shouts from behind me and I don’t care.
I don’t care what anyone thinks or says. All I care is that I have Chris back. His smell, his touch, his voice, his arms. He’s back.
He walks me to my locker to get the rest of my books, greeting a few people who’ve missed him since he dropped out. Then we hop on his bike and I hold on tight as we ride home.
Home.
It’s not home without Chris.
As soon as we get to the house, we fall onto the sofa, a tangle of arms and legs. Kissing, hugging, touching, breathing each other in.
“I’ve missed your lips,” he murmurs.
And for the first time, I find myself wrapping my legs around his hips. He grinds his pelvis into mine and I moan when I feel the hot friction between my legs. Holding his face, I kiss him deeply. Hoping that he can feel just how much I missed him.
Then I feel it. Just how much he’s missed me.
His erection grows solid beneath his jeans and my heart races. “Chris?”
“I want you so bad.” He reaches for the button on my jeans and I grab his hand to stop him.
“Wait.”
“Why?”
He looks down at me, confused by my words. I shake my head and he lets out a soft sigh as he sits up. He knows I want to wait until I’m eighteen. It’s an irrational self-imposed rule, but I promised myself I wouldn’t have sex until I’m eighteen. Even if we’re careful, I don’t want to end up like my mom, saddled with a kid when I’m just seventeen. Chris knows about my rule. And as I sit up, he winks at me. A small gesture to show he respects it.
“I can wait to have sex with you. But can we do something else? You can leave all your clothes on.”
I glare at him because this sounds dubious. “Do what?”
He leans over and whispers it in my ear, though there’s no one else around to hear him.
“You want to lick my tongue?” I say out loud. “Isn’t that the same as kissing?”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Just get it over with.”
“Don’t move. Close your eyes and stick your tongue out.”
A smile curls the corners of my lips as I let my jaw drop open just enough to stick out my tongue.
“Remember: You can’t move, even if you get the urge to touch me. You have to stay still.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, just do it already.”
“Okay, stick your tongue out,” he whispers so softly it sends a shiver over my skin.
His voice is closer. I can’t see anything, but I can feel his breath on the tip of my nose. I stick my tongue out again, a little farther this time, my heart racing as I anticipate the moment of contact. Then I feel it. The tip of his tongue is wet and firm on the tip of mine. A flash of pleasure pulses between my legs as he slowly traces his tongue over mine from the tip to the center. As if his tongue is touching places I’ve never been touched.
I push him away as I attempt to catch my breath.
“How did that feel?” he asks eagerly.
“Where did you learn that? Were you with someone else while you were gone?”
“What? No! Of course not. I saw it in a movie.”
“You went to the movies?”
“It was a movie we saw in the hotel.”
“What kind of movies were you guys watching?”
“It was just some teen movie from the 80s. I can’t remember the name.”
The pulsing between my legs slowly dies down, but I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have him touch me there right now. Or lick me. Oh, God.
“I have to go….”
“Where?” he says, standing up after me.
“To the bathroom.”
He smiles then licks his lips. “I’ve missed the taste of your mouth. Hurry up. I want to taste you again.”
Forever Jealous
April, 2011
When I pull my motorcycle next to the curb in front of my old high school, the last thing I expect to see is Claire rolling around on the grass with another guy. I feel as if my insides might explode with rage as I watch them untangle themselves from each other and scramble to their feet. He brushes some grass off her back and she laughs and they both reach for something on the grass at the same time. A piece of paper.
Claire takes the paper from his hand and gazes at it for a moment with a huge grin on her face. Then she appears to thank him and he nods bashfully. She turns around and her eyes widen when she spots me.
She snatches her backpack off the grass and jogs toward me. My heart is pound
ing as a million thoughts race through my mind. But the most prominent thought is how naive I was. I never thought Claire was the type to even flirt with other guys. And here she is rolling around on the fucking grass.
“What the fuck?” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“What’s wrong?” she asks innocently as she stuffs the piece of paper into her backpack.
She slides her arms through the straps then waits for me to answer her question, or at least get off the bike so we can unlock her helmet.
“What the fuck was that?”
I nod toward the grassy area where she came from.
She glances over her shoulder then turns back to me. “That was just Jason. He gave me a stupid drawing of Sailor Moon ‘cause he saw the sticker on my notebook. Can you get off the bike so I can get the helmet?”
“I’m not talking about the drawing. What the fuck were you two doing on the grass?”
“Oh,” she laughs. “He was chasing after me to give me the drawing and when he called my name I stopped suddenly. He ran into me and we fell on the grass.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Are you mad because we fell on the grass?”
“Does he know you have a boyfriend? Why the fuck he is drawing pictures for you?”
“Are you seriously doing this right now?”
“Answer the fucking question. Does he know you have a boyfriend?”
She glares at me, her nostrils flaring. “You’re not allowed to talk to me like that.”
She turns on her heel and starts walking toward the bus loading zone.
“Claire, come here.” I hop off the bike and quickly catch up to her. “It was a simple question. Why can’t you answer it?”
“Leave me alone.”
“Come on, Claire. You’re not taking the bus over this. Just get on the bike.”
I reach for her hand and she smacks my hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
