by Beck, J. L.
“I’m doing good.”
“You don’t sound good, you sound sad. Is everything okay?” Of course, my mom can read me, even over the phone. Must be some motherly instinct or some shit.
“I’m sorry about acting like a total ass last weekend. Kennedy ran off because of it. Like left school and hid out in a hotel.” I mean, that’s not the complete reason, but I’m not telling her everything. Some things my mother doesn’t need to know.
“Oh, Jackson, I know you’re still hurting, but it wasn’t Kennedy’s fault. It was an accident. Yes, Kennedy made a stupid choice, but she was so young, and people make a lot of mistakes when they are young. I know in my heart, she would never hurt anyone on purpose, least of all her best friend. She loved Jillian, probably as much as you did.”
Damnit. There isn’t any denying what she says. Jillian and Kennedy were connected at the hip. They loved each other as much as any sisters could. I know it because I was afraid that if I ever made a move on Kennedy, it might ruin her relationship with my sister, and I couldn’t risk that.
“I know, but it’s so hard to let that go. It’s so hard not to blame her when if she had just waited for me, things might have been different.”
“You’re right, things might’ve been different, or they might not. Your sister could’ve got in a car accident later on, anything could’ve happened. It’s important to remember that tomorrow is never promised. Your sister’s death opened our eyes to that, and I wish it would open your eyes too.” I kinda sorta hate how right she sounds right now.
“I just… I feel like if I let it go, if I start to forgive, to move on…” my throat tightens, “I feel like I’ll forget her. If I don’t remind myself every day, then I’ll forget her…”
“You’ll never forget her. She’s your twin, a piece of her lives inside of you, and we both know she would be angry as hell to see you and Kennedy suffering because of her.” A smile tugs at my lips as I picture my sister staring me down, her hands on her hips. “I promise, it’s the only way to move forward. It’s time for you to start living your life without carrying around all that pain, all of the time. It doesn’t have to be this way, Jackson.”
She’s right, she’s so right, but I’m not sure if I can forgive and forget so easily. It still feels like she died yesterday. I can start to try though.
“Okay, I’ll try, Mom.”
“That sounds wonderful, sweetheart.” I can see her smile in my mind, and I know she is happy about this. Happy that I’m taking the first steps of learning how to deal with Jillian’s death. “Why don’t you come home to visit next month?”
“Sure, why not. I’ll look at some dates and call you in a few days.”
“Great!”
“One more question… did you get Kennedy’s cell number while you were here?”
“Yes, why?”
“Can you send it to me? I want to talk to her.”
“Sure, I’ll send it right over. Please, be kind to her, Son. She blames herself enough, and even though you don’t want to believe it, she lost Jillian too.”
“I know, Mom.”
We say our I love yous and then hang up. Part of me feels the phone call was what I needed. I’m terrified of what will happen next, but this has to happen eventually. Being angry and bitter every day is killing me on the inside. Destroying the best parts of me. Jillian would kill me if she was here right now and saw the way I’ve been acting.
My thoughts of Kennedy swirl, and I wonder how I’m going to approach this with her. She’s my trigger in the big mess of things. Scrolling through my phone, I open my mom’s text and save Kennedy’s contact info. I’m tempted to go over to her place, but then I’ll want to fuck her, and I won’t get to say what I want. Plus, I’m not sure she is ready for sex yet, and I don’t want to push it. I’m going to do my best not to hurt her anymore. I don’t want to be the reason she continues to hurt herself.
So, I send her a text that says, hey.
Instantly, I get a reply.
K: Who is this?
I contemplate telling her that it’s Jackson, but I figure what I’m about to say is enough knowledge for her to get the hint.
Me: You can’t cut yourself anymore. If you do, I’m telling someone. I won’t let you hurt yourself anymore. Promise me you won’t.
I hit send before I can stop myself. I’m reaching that point where I want to just shut down and say fuck it, but this is part of moving on, and I can only deny that I care about her for so long. It’s time to face the music.
K: Promise.
Reading her single word text, I don’t trust that she really means it, so I send her another.
Me: On Jillian’s grave.
My phone dings, and I imagine she’s staring at her screen with the same conviction I am.
K: On Jillian’s grave.
Dropping the phone onto the mattress, I tip my head back into the pillows and let my mind wander. Maybe I can forgive Kennedy? Maybe I can let go of the pain? Or maybe I can’t? At the very least, I know Kennedy won’t be hurting herself anymore, and that’s the most important thing of all because if she ever killed herself because of me, I wouldn’t forgive myself. It’d be like losing Jillian all over again, and I doubt I could survive that.
85
Kennedy
Life seems to be headed in the right direction. For once, I feel like I’m not suffocating. Like I’m swimming back to the surface, instead of being dragged down deeper. The fact that Jackson isn’t doing everything in his power to make my life hell helps immensely.
We’ve come to this strange agreement that we aren’t quite friends, but we aren’t enemies either. Every day I see a little bit of the old Jackson returning. He smiles more, laughs, and seems as if he too is healing.
I still wait with bated breath for the other shoe to drop. How long is he going to keep up this act of caring before he snaps on me again? I keep hoping things will stay this way, and we can heal together, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that’ll happen.
As sad as it is, I’m wary of every little thing he does. I don’t understand how he flipped a switch, how he went from hating me so passionately to showing he cares in the blink of an eye. It’s not like he goes out of his way for me, but he also doesn’t actively try to make my life difficult anymore.
Descending the steps outside of my economics class, I find Jackson sitting casually against a bench. He looks ruggedly handsome in nothing more than jeans and a T-shirt. He’s surrounded by his friends, or at least, I assume they’re his friends. I stare at him for a second longer than necessary before turning to walk toward my apartment.
I’m not a part of his life in that way, and I’m okay with that. I’m okay with being alone because I’m used to it. I can’t say I don’t miss being his best friend, hearing his laugh, and watching him smile. His joy was once my joy. I used to think I loved him, and part of me still feels that way. I don’t think you can stop loving someone once you’ve started. Your love for them just changes.
Halfway home, I get this odd feeling that someone is following me. Shivering, I turn around to look over my shoulder and find that Jackson is behind me. I’m not sure if him being here is a good or a bad thing yet, but I’ll slow down anyway so he can catch up with me.
“Hey,” he greets, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Hey,” I reply as he falls into step next to me.
In an awkward silence, we walk side by side the entire way home. When we get to my apartment complex, I wonder what his next move is? Is he going to leave? Come in? He answers my questions without even knowing it when he continues walking with me up to my door.
“I’m coming inside,” he tells me. I guess we’re still not on asking terms. “I want to check your thighs. Make sure you’ve kept your promise.”
“I did.”
“Then you won’t mind showing me, right?”
“Right,” I huff.
He follows me up the stairs and into my apartment. I drop my back
pack on the ground and take off my sweater jacket while Jackson closes the door behind us, locking the deadbolt into place. Leaning against the door, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks down at my jeans, motioning for me to take them off. He doesn’t seem annoyed or even impatient, so I should be thankful for that. I know he’s already seen my scars, but the thought of showing him them again is frightening all the same.
“Show me,” he orders, pushing off the door, taking a step closer.
Insecurity takes hold of me as I start to unbutton my jeans with shaky hands. Careful not to drag my panties down too, I shimmy my jeans down my legs, exposing my thighs to him.
He closes the distance between us and gets down on one knee to inspect the scarred area even further. I close my eyes, unable to look at his face while he does this. I don’t want to see the disgust or pity in his eyes. I shiver at the contact, wondering what he’s thinking?
Hot breath fans against my thigh, a moment before lips brush over my skin. His lips against my skin is like a firework going off in an enclosed space. My eyes fly wide open, and I stare down at him, watching as he places soft kisses over the uneven skin.
“What are you doing?” I ask, a light tremble in my voice. I’m ready to push him away, shove his body away from mine, even though part of me wants to pull him closer.
He places one last kiss on my leg, peering up at me while he does before pushing himself off the floor to a stand.
I open my mouth to speak, but before a single syllable can make it out, his lips are on mine. My eyes flutter closed on instinct, and I give in to the feeling… give in to him.
I don’t want to need him, but I know a part of me does. I’ve come to love these secret moments we share together, where we’re not Jackson or Kennedy but two entirely different people. His arms wrap around me, and like putty in his hands, I mold to him, my body curving into his. His tongue darts out and runs over my bottom lip, begging for entry, and I part my lips, granting him access.
He tastes like fresh mint and sin, wrapped all in one. I can’t stifle the groan that slips from my throat, but that doesn’t matter because Jackson swallows the noise, his tongue gliding against mine with ease.
This isn’t my first kiss, but it almost feels like it is. Because nothing I’ve ever done has felt the way this kiss feels. All-consuming, provoking, searing. It’s one of those kisses you won’t forget, that will be forever ingrained in your mind.
One of his hands stays on my lower back while the other travels down over my butt. He strokes me there before giving it a tight squeeze.
Only then do I remember that I’m standing here with my pants down to my ankles.
Jackson doesn’t seem to mind, judging by his hardness, which is pressing into my lower belly. His other hand moves lower until both are cupping my ass.
Without ever breaking the kiss, he picks me up and carries me into the bedroom. Snaking my arms around his neck, I hold onto him like he is my lifeline.
Once in the room, he gently places me on the mattress, breaking our kiss. Opening my eyes, I find he’s hovering above me, his lips swollen from our kiss. There is something different about this moment. Every time we’ve ever had sex, it was me facing away from him, and we never kissed, not once.
“I need you,” he whispers, and I understand what he’s trying to ask.
“I need you too,” I confess.
It doesn’t take him but a second to strip out of his clothing. He is completely naked, but my eyes are glued to his chest as he takes my shoes off and throws them next to the bed. Then he pulls my pants down the rest of the way, followed by my panties. My shirt is next. Once that’s gone, he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra so I can slide it off.
Even though we’ve had sex twice, we’ve never seen each other fully naked. I feel like we are just now discovering each other, seeing one another for the first time. I let my gaze wander over every inch of his body, his muscled chest that leads down to sculpted abs, and the deep V in his groin. My mouth waters, and I reach for him, wanting to touch, trace each line. I want to memorize it all, to hold onto this moment permanently.
I don’t know if this is a one-time thing or something more.
Right now, though, I’ll pretend it’s forever. That he is my forever.
Leaning down, he lowers his head and takes one of my hardened nipples into his wet, warm, mouth. Pleasure zings through my body, and I bury my fingers into his thick dark hair. As he sucks harder, I use my hand to hold his head in place, not wanting him to stop.
He chuckles against my skin but doesn’t stop swirling his tongue around the hard nub. Pleasure blooms deep in my core, and I lift my hips, beckoning him to the area I want.
When he pulls away, I think I might be getting my wish, but he only moves to the other side, giving the nipple there equal attention. While his mouth is busy with my breasts, his hands are busy tracing each and every contour of my body. It’s like he’s mapping out my body, trying to etch an image into his mind just like I am.
Before, he was using my body for his own pleasure, and today, he is worshipping it, giving me pleasure like I’ve never felt before. Caring for me, showing me a different side of him altogether.
“I don’t want to go too fast, but I really want to be inside you.” He pulls away and sighs against my skin as he presses open-mouthed kisses against my stomach, moving lower with each one. I’m drowning in him, his scent, his touch, the way his lips caress my skin. He’s owning another sliver of my heart, and I don’t even think he knows it.
“Yes, fuck me,” I say, letting my need for him drip into my words.
“I will just let me make sure you’re ready.” The deep baritone of his voice makes me shiver, and when I feel his hand moving between my legs, I part my thighs, seeking out his touch. His fingers trace over my folds, gently flicking my clit in the process.
I’m so needy that I gasp and arch upward into his hand. A flush creeps up my chest and over my face, and I feel so hot, I think I might be melting.
“So fucking responsive, you have no idea how beautiful you are, how long I’ve wanted this. I told myself that hate was all I felt for you, but I knew I was lying from the start. Hating you has always been easy, but admitting that I want you is something else entirely.”
Licking my lips, I open my mouth to reply, but the words get lost somewhere in my throat when Jackson slowly enters me with two thick digits.
Everything else fades away for a brief moment as he fucks me with his fingers, slow and deep, bringing me to the brink of pleasure before easing out of me. I want to tell him to put his fingers back inside of me, but he crawls up over my body and hooks one of my legs over his hip, nestling himself between my thighs.
Dragging his cock through my arousal, I let out a sigh, clawing at his chest, needing him closer.
“Soon, Junebug, I know you’re eager, but I want to drag this out as long as I can.”
A deep groan rumbles out of his chest as I sink my nails into his skin and bite at his bottom lip, urging him to get on with it.
The mushroom head of his cock grazes my entrance, and I lift my hips just a smidge, and like magic, he sinks deep inside of me. That one single stroke makes my stomach quake, and I shiver at the intensity of pleasure that ripples through me.
“Fuck. I never think it can get better, but every time it does.”
“Sooo good,” I whimper, holding onto his biceps as he slowly moves his hips, each deep penetrating stroke driving me closer to the heavens.
Jackson grits his teeth and continues his punishingly slow pace, making love to me, and piecing all the broken pieces of my heart back together. With him, I feel everything, all the emotions I want to escape, he makes me feel each one when he’s inside of me.
Moving faster, he buries his face in the crook of my neck. Using one arm to hold himself up and the other to keep my leg in place against his hip, he drives into me, over and over again, until I’m consumed by him. Until there is nothing left in the world b
esides him and me.
There is no escaping the orgasm that lays claim to me right then, zinging up my spine, making me feel completely weightless. My pussy flutters around his length, and Jackson hisses into my skin as he continues to move through my peak. A few more strokes and he too meets his release, his warm release filling me to the brim, and trickling out onto my thighs.
I’m on cloud nine, and nowhere near coming down. The weight of Jackson’s body on mine makes me feel secure and protected. I want to stay like this forever but know all too well, that soon he’ll pull away, tug on his clothes, and disappear into the night.
Maybe this time it’ll be different?
Rolling off of me, he lies back against the mattress, his chest heaving, matching the rise and fall of my own. I’m not sure what to do, so I just lie there, waiting to see what happens next. After a while, he gets out of bed and like I suspected, starts putting his clothes on. Grabbing the comforter from the edge of the bed, I drag it up to my chest, covering myself.
I can feel Jackson’s eyes on me, but I can’t look at him. I don’t know why I thought this would be different. Why had I even hoped? I’m stupid. We may not be enemies, but we certainly aren’t anything else.
“This is nice… I mean, sex with you is great, fantastic even, but that’s all it can ever be.”
“I know,” I whisper, leaning back against the headboard. I can still feel his release against my thighs.
“Good. Maybe we’re not enemies anymore, but we aren’t friends either. I don’t know what the hell we are or even what we’re doing, but it can’t ever be more than sex, Kennedy. Okay?” It’s like he’s reassuring himself more than me, but I don’t say that. I don’t want to fight with him after sharing such an incredible moment together.
“I understand,” I tell him, hiding the emotions from my voice. I lift my gaze up and away from my hands and find him staring at me. I can’t make out what he’s thinking, but I’m not really trying either. All I’ll ever be to him is someone to get off with. Someone he can use for pleasure and discard afterward.
