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She smiles. Gets it—it was the same with Cabel and Shay. And is proud of him for the new way he’s approaching it now. “I love you, you know,” she says. It’s getting easier to say.
He comes over to where she’s sitting and massages her shoulders lightly. But his voice is grim. “I love you too, Janie.”
“And I’m getting really good at protecting myself,” she adds. “My self-defense class kicks ass.”
He tugs her hair. “I’m glad you’re taking that class. You’re really getting buff, you know that? It’s very sexy. As long as you’re not beating me up.”
“Don’t make me hurt you,” she murmurs. “Hey, can I stay tonight?”
“Wow, I don’t know, jeez, I’m, like, really busy and shit. . . . ”
She grins.
And then she hears the binking sound of an e-mail arriving.
Janie,
LOL! Bring the dessert. And the bottle.
And a resounding yes to everything else you asked me, and more.
I could do tomorrow (Tues.) after school, for us to go over the formulas in question. The rest of my afternoons are tied up until around 7 p.m., but if you don’t need much equipment, you could always stop by my house after 7 either tomorrow or Wednesday.
Dave Durbin
“He is so freaking smooth,” remarks Cabel. “He knows tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and there’s not only a big basketball game, but also the pep rally after school and the Valentine’s dance from seven to ten. He’s not expecting you to make it then.” Cabel thinks for a moment. “When you write him back, call him Dave. He’s begging for it.”
With that, Cabel walks away.
Janie purses her lips, and hits Reply.
Dave,
How’s Wednesday around 8? I know right where you live. Thanks!
J.
She hits Send, and waits less than a minute before she has a reply.
Looking forward to it.
Dave
Janie shuts down the computer and finds Cabel in the living room, watching some old western on the movie channel. She slides in next to him.
“I’m going to his house Wednesday at eight,” she says. “Will you spot me?”
He snakes his arm around her neck and tugs gently. “Of course,” he says. “I’m going to alert Captain to it, too.”
“’Kay,” Janie says, snuggling close.
After a while of watching TV, the volume on too low to actually hear the story line, Cabe says, “I wish we could go out tomorrow night. I’m so tired of this routine, hiding out all the time. Our biggest excitement is lifting weights or deciding between green beans and broccoli.”
Janie sighs. “Me too. Do you think we’ll ever be able to go out on a date?”
“Yeah. Maybe this summer. For sure in the fall. Once we rid ourselves of the web of lies we leave behind at Fieldridge High.”
It’s a sober moment.
Janie nods.
Rests her head on his shoulder.
He tousles her hair.
“Hey Cabe?” she asks as they climb into bed.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Do you mind if I practice on your dreams tonight?”
“Of course not. You don’t have to ask me.”
“I feel weird about not asking you if I’m planning it in advance,” she says.
“It’s cool. You working on something in particular?”
“Yeah . . . I’m trying to TiVo.”
He laughs. “What, you mean pause, rewind—that sort of thing?”
“Exactly.”
“That’ll be interesting. I hope you pull it off. You don’t want to take me with you, do you?”
“Not this time. I need all the concentration I can muster. Once I get it, I’ll gladly show you, though.”
He turns off the light and lets his arm rest around her midsection. He strokes her belly with his thumb, like he’s strumming guitar. “You know,” he says, “you could really have fun with a good dream once you learn how to do that.”
“Guess why I want to practice on you,” she says with a smile in the darkness.
“Be careful or you might go to school tomorrow flushed with sex.”
She chuckles softly. “All part of the plan, babycakes.”
“Well, that oughta turn Durbin on.” Cabel’s voice turns bitter.
Janie turns toward Cabel. “Have you figured out yet why nobody narcs on Durbin?”
“I think so,” Cabel says. “It’s because he’s only a few years older and good-looking and athletic, and he really acts as if he likes the science-type kids. He accepts their geek minds and praises them for it. He’s the epitome of a cool, popular kid, whose groupies have never been popular in their lives. They lap it up.”
Janie clears her throat.
Waits.
Clears it again.
“I—I mean,” stutters Cabel, “ah, I mean, some of them are like that, and some, you know, some others, like you, for example, see right through the facade and . . . uh . . . shit like that.”
“Mmm hmm,” Janie says.
“And . . . I love you so much? And now I’m going to shut up and go to sleep, so you can manipulate my mind in a dozen ways and more?”
“Weak,” she says. “But it’ll do.”
Cabel dreams.
Janie slides into the darkness, and then into the computer room.
It’s a dream that’s loosely based on the night they made love the
re. She’s watching him, she’s watching herself, curiously, surprised to see how quickly they find their rhythm together for the first time.
She concentrates with all her might. Stares at Cabel. Pause, she thinks, over and over again.
A minute goes by, but nothing changes.
Another minute.
And then the scene slows.
Ten seconds later it’s paused. In a very interesting spot, Janie notes.
Janie looks around the room, trying to notice everything. The office items on the desk; the clock on the wall stopped as well; the color of everything. It’s incredibly difficult to hold the scene there. And then she begins to lose it. She can feel her body shaking, weakening, and the dream slips into regular speed again.
Her head pounds. Her fingers are numb. She bumps Cabel with her behind, trying to wake him just enough so she doesn’t have to use her waning energy to pull out of the dream too. She knows she can’t do it after that. She can barely feel her arms and legs as it is, already.
Cabel takes in a sharp breath, and she can feel him against her backside, aroused in his sleep. He begins to stroke her numbing body while he’s still in the dream. She can feel his touch, fading in and out on her skin, as she’s seeing it in his mind. And she’s stuck. And falling. And very aroused and blind and numb and watching it in her mind while feeling it on her body, all at the same time, and she wants it. Wants to make love right now. But she is completely paralyzed.
She can’t move.
She can’t feel anything.
She can’t speak.
It can’t happen. Not like this.
She needs to wake him up, before something happens. So they can do it right.
She takes all her strength, all her concentration, all her will. She bites blindly. Feels hair in her teeth. Pulls back with her neck.
And everything goes black.
She’s shuddering.
Shaking.
Trying to catch a breath as she aches to see something. Anything. His face. She wants to see his face.
