by Liz Hsu
“Charles, you don’t look at your friends like that. You don’t brush your friend’s hair out of her face. You asked me earlier about her, and I think she likes you too. But don’t wait too long. She’s nice, funny, and damn cute. If you’re afraid because she has lupus, someone else won’t be.”
His words were true. Anyone would want to date her.
“I said that wasn’t the reason,” I hissed, and Ray wiggled and murmured in her sleep. In her movement, she snuggled her arm to my thigh, her fingers curling into me. I felt myself stiffen in more ways than one at the pleasure her innocent touch sent through me. I mentally recited math problems until I got myself together.
Just then the guys banged down the stairs, and Ray jerked awake.
“Oh, sorry, did I fall asleep?” Her eyes darted to mine as she chewed on her lower lip and rolled onto her back. My fingers were tangled beneath her silken hair. I nodded and she yawned sleepily before mumbling again, “Sorry.”
“No worries.” I gently extracted my hand. “I’ll take you home.” I didn’t want to risk her getting sick when she’d just started feeling better. “I’ve seen this movie a bunch of times.”
The ride was quiet, and James’s words kept playing in my head.
“Thanks,” she said when we got to her place.
“Wait,” I said, startling her to turn and look back at me with wide eyes. “Ray, I, um… What I wanted to say was—”
Crap. I couldn’t form the words, so instead I just slid forward and pecked her on the lips. I didn’t want to be pushy if this was one sided, so I pulled right back.
I risked glancing at her, and she stared at me blankly for what felt like a minute as my stomach somersaulted. Then she grabbed my shoulder and pulled my lips back to hers. This time, instead of an innocent peck, her mouth recaptured mine forcefully. I couldn’t help releasing a groan as her tongue sought mine. Her fingers yanked at my shoulders and I unclasped my seatbelt so I could inch closer to her.
My free hand skimmed her face while hers slid around my neck. Our tongues toyed back and forth as passionately as our fingers tangled—gripping, caressing, clutching each other. I didn’t know how long we kissed for, but we were both breathless when we drew back, her vibrant eyes meeting mine with a look I couldn’t read.
My fingers whispered against her face, unable to resist touching her silken skin. My eyes darted to her swollen lips. I felt my own mouth curve up at the evidence of our kissing with a possessiveness I’d never felt before. My whole body tingled, charged from that kiss. Her smell, her breath, her chest still heaving against mine all overwhelmed me; I couldn’t think of anything but her. She was like a drug, and now that I’d tasted her, I wanted her again. One hit would never be enough.
She was the first to break the silence. “I’ve been hoping that would happen for a long time,” she said.
My grin grew, and I leaned in to brush my lips against hers as I whispered back against her mouth, “Yeah, that makes two of us.”
I forced myself to pull back slightly, even when every instinct urged me to get closer and closer. The guys were at my place and we were on a fairly well-lit street. Not the romantic location she deserved. Plus, she was tired; I couldn’t be the reason she got sick.
“I should probably let you get back,” she said in a faraway voice, but her grip on my shoulder tightened, fighting a battle to create space between us.
“Yes,” I said, but I didn’t stop stroking her soft skin and hair. It looked like moonbeams in this light. She didn’t move away. Instead, she turned into me as if she, too, craved my touch. Her lips parted and her warm breath tickled my skin.
Our lips moved back together like magnets. My hand slipped to her back to urge her closer, her form pressing against me. That electric current charged through me even stronger, setting every nerve ending on fire for her. She sucked my tongue into her mouth and I couldn’t resist clutching her more firmly, never wanting this moment to end.
Finally, she pulled back a second time, breathless. Slowly, reluctantly, I retracted my hands, my fingertips languid in their departure from the satin of her cheeks. She gave me a quirked grin as she slid out of the car.
“Goodnight,” she said softly, just before the door closed.
As I watched her walk to the condo entrance like I had so many times before, a warmth bloomed in my chest that wasn’t just ardor. I’d kissed Ray Ericson—and she’d kissed me back.
A loud knock on my door woke me up.
“Good morning, Ray!” My dad stood, beaming, in the doorway. I smothered a yawn, wondering what was going on. “Wake up, sweetheart, I have something planned for you.” His excitement was palpable.
“Okay,” I said, sitting up with sudden energy. Seeing I was awake, he closed the door. I yelled, “What should I wear?”
“Doesn’t matter!”
Gripped with curiosity and still in a great mood from last night’s kiss with Charles, I got dressed. Dad’s energy was infectious. I bounced into the kitchen, where he handed me a cup of coffee. The black-brown liquid reminded me of Charles’s discerning eyes. Charles’s—
“Today we are going to the Detroit Institute of Art,” Dad said, interrupting my daydreaming with a jolt.
My hold on the cup tightened, and I glanced up in surprise. “The DIA? Really?” Suddenly, I felt ecstatic.
I’d wanted to go there, but with how much traveling to Sweden we used to do, I hadn’t been for years. My appreciation for art had certainly evolved since then.
“Uh-huh, just as soon as you have breakfast and take your morning medicine. And then while we are downtown, I’m going to take you shopping.”
“Shopping?”
“Dorothy, you aren’t in Kansas anymore. Winter is coming.”
I gave him a questioning look.
“Tell me you’ve seen Game of Thrones?”
“Are you kidding? Mom would never let me watch it—too graphic. And um, sex,” I finished with a blush.
“Fair enough,” he relented. “For once, Chrissy might be right. But the weather is changing. Now, what you have is all right because it’s September and it’s been mild. But it’ll be October on Tuesday, and it’s going to start getting quite cold. Your old jacket barely fit at Christmas. And remember you wore my brown wool sweater the whole time you were here, and Karen lent you some in Stockholm?”
I nodded, thinking about my sleek, cool cousin, Karen. She was three years older and had lent me warm things. They were the coolest clothes I’d ever worn. I always saved up so I could buy a few things in the Södermalm district when I went to Stockholm.
“We need to get you a new winter coat, and one or better two pairs of boots you can wear for the next six months,” Dad continued. “Warm ones because of your Raynaud’s. And a few sweaters?” He scratched his stubble. “Soraya made me a list and emailed me all the things she expected me to buy you. She titled it Midwest girl’s survival gear, and said she and I will have words if I don’t get everything for you by the next time I see her. Which is next weekend, by the way.”
I giggled. “Really?”
“Yeah, happy early birthday! And she said she bought the two of you tickets to Selena Gomez the first week of December. She’s playing in Chicago. Coincidentally, I have a conference there, so it’s perfect.”
“Selena Gomez?” I didn’t really listen to her, but a concert had to be fun. I’d never been to a big one before—musicians like her didn’t play in Savannah, not that Mom would have let me go.
“I didn’t ask, but she seemed excited.” He cast me a wry grin. “Sometimes when you love someone, you just say, ‘that’s great,’ and don’t question it.”
“Okay, well, if she bought the tickets, that’s really nice.” I meant it, too. “I’ll download some of her music. Let me wash my face, and we can go.”
“Oh, and bring your new Michigan enhanced ID,
because if we have time, we’re going to take a walk in Windsor. The view of the city is nice from the Canadian riverfront.”
I nodded and hurried to get ready. We arrived at the museum shortly after it opened and spent a few hours there. I sneakily took a picture of the Caravaggio and sent it to Charles when the guard wasn’t looking. Thinking about him and our kiss last night brought heat to my cheeks. I hoped it meant as much to him as it had to me.
Shoot, if it didn’t, it’d be hard for me not to see him that way. As I recalled it, I felt tingly all over. His hands were as dexterous as I’d always imagined. He could rub my back and caress my face and kiss me simultaneously with equal attention. I crossed my arms and sighed. Yep, I was a goner; I wanted more.
Finally, our stomachs pulled us out of the museum and to Dad’s favorite Italian restaurant in Corktown. Then we went shopping, wandering the gorgeous Art Deco streets of downtown Detroit, past the buildings I loved so much. I hadn’t decided if I wanted to study industrial architecture, like Mr. Davis, or residential, but I loved the intricacy of some of the buildings down here.
Soraya’s survival gear list was really extensive. When I protested it was too much—because golly, winter clothing was expensive—Dad blushed and said, “Ray, I used to pay your mother two thousand dollars a month in child support. And it’s really cold here. Trust me, when you’re waiting in snow and slush for the bus, you’ll need this stuff. These boots and sweaters you’ll wear till April, maybe May. Please, you have Raynaud’s—you need to take care of your feet.”
“Two thousand dollars? You didn’t.” I couldn’t believe Mom had been getting that kind of money. She always talked about him like he was a deadbeat dad.
“Ray.”
“You did? She didn’t tell me.”
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, completely flabbergasted. Dad guided me to the building’s edge as people huffed around us.
I dropped my voice so I wouldn’t shout. “That’s twenty-four thousand a year.” I grabbed his forearms to shake him and see if he was joking, but his jaw was tight, like maybe he regretted his words. In all this time, he’d almost never said a bad word about her. Even I could barely hear my voice as I continued, “She made me work to buy clothes. I’ve been babysitting since I was twelve and waiting tables for almost two years.”
“Ray, please don’t hate your mother. It’s good to have a strong work ethic. Maybe she didn’t want you to be spoiled. I don’t understand the way Chrissy thinks—I never have—but I know she loves you. I don’t want you to hate your mom; that’s not healthy.”
Suddenly, I felt suspicious. “Is that why you wanted me to move here?”
Hurt flicked across his face. “No, absolutely not. I wanted what’s best for you. Aren’t you happy here?” The pain in his eyes made me regret those hastily spoken words.
Just then, my phone vibrated. I thought of Charles and how much I was starting to like my new school. And my friends here seemed genuine, not just ones who suddenly liked me because I grew boobs and dated the star running back. It was weird to think, but I fit in here like I never had back in Savannah. Dad let me be me in a way my mom never had.
“Yes, I’m happier here.”
His features softened. “Okay, good, now let’s finish so we can walk and then get you to church.”
I did enjoy seeing the Detroit skyline from the Canadian riverfront—Dad knew me well. The day had been amazing. No one had ever done something so special for my birthday. Even if it was early, it was one of the best birthdays I’d ever had. But on the drive back, I couldn’t help but wonder why Mom had acted like Dad never did anything for me, like he never loved me, like he wished I hadn’t been born.
Almost as if reading my thoughts, Dad said, “I’ve been talking to your mom, and she’d like you to go down and visit this weekend for your birthday. You’d leave Friday. It’s been more than two months. Do you think you’ll feel up to taking the trip by yourself?”
“Yes, I’ve done it for years.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but oh goodness, it’d be good to hug Jeff. And my siblings. Even if Mark never made me feel like his daughter, they were my blood. But everyone else, not so much.
“I know, but I don’t want you to get too tired.” I wondered if he was thinking about the state in which I’d shown up a little over two months ago.
Unaccompanied minors could travel as young as five. I wasn’t sure how old I was when I’d started flying by myself, but it felt like my whole life. Some of my first memories had been getting off the plane in Atlanta, Chicago, or New York and hugging Dad before boarding the next one to Sweden. It had been as important to him for me to know my family as it had been for him to see them.
“I’ll be fine,” I reassured him. He said he’d get me the tickets when I was at church that night. I was so irate with Mom right now—I hoped I could be civil when I saw her. Dad was right, she was my mother, but I did not understand her. Plus, after living with Dad for two months, I’d realized how much more I was like him, or even Soraya, than her.
I didn’t know if I’d bring up the child support, but Dad was not the way Mom had always portrayed him. Not at all. And the worst part was, he knew what she’d said about him and hadn’t stood up for himself, just because he didn’t want me to hate her. I’d always wanted his love and respect, but after getting to know him, that desire had only grown stronger. And even if Michigan wasn’t exactly next door to Savannah, it was in the same country, same time zone even. He could’ve lived in Europe, but he moved for me. He could have taught economics and researched anywhere. I hoped when he’d asked me to stay, he hadn’t meant for just a semester. I really liked living with him.
I just had a few minutes to change into a new raspberry colored sweater and thick black leggings before it was time to leave for church. I smiled the whole walk past all the cafes, shops, and trees showing off their crimson, mustard, and ochre hues. I beamed even more broadly when I found a seat next to Becky. A sigh escaped me as the service started. Not only did I like their church, but I was relieved I wouldn’t have to have that fight again when I went home to see Mom. Choir practice with Becky and James on Wednesday had been fantastic, and both of them had a sharp sense of humor I’d grown to appreciate.
It was late when I walked home, and I was glad I’d finished all my homework Friday night and Saturday morning because I was worn out from the weekend. I yawned, stretching out on my bed for a minute before I worked up the energy to shower and dry my hair before bed.
Just then, Charles texted me, and my heart sped up. Have fun at the museum today?
Almost as much fun as last night (:
Almost? Sounds like I need to do better. Is an encore performance in order?
Heat spiked through me as I smiled. I think an encore is definitely needed—the results are inconclusive.
I guess it’s a good thing I’ll see you tomorrow morning then. I’ll have to imagine opportunities for enhancement. Perhaps a kiss to your jaw.
My skin prickled, imagining those lips doing just that. Perhaps…till tomorrow.
Until then, goodnight.
I sighed as I got into the shower. I felt something for Charles I hadn’t felt for anyone else, even Ross. I felt like he saw me—really saw me, and he liked me anyway. I’d even said as much to him, and it was a little scary. There were parts of me I didn’t like, and somehow I felt like those penetrating eyes bore right into them. Despite the hot water, which was an amazing thing I’d be lucky to get this weekend, I felt goosebumps break out across my skin. I really hoped I’d stay here for more than a semester. But even then, Charles would leave next year. Surely he’d get into Caltech, which was so far away.
Stay present, I chided myself. It was one kiss, and he might not even want to date me. He was so busy.
Still, as I washed my hair, I couldn’t help but daydream about my kiss tomorrow morning and hope Charles would
keep his promise to make it even better than I remembered.
I drove to get Ray, my fingers tapping “Sweet Georgia Brown” on the steering wheel. We’d kissed. We’d really kissed. I lost the beat with my fingers and had to restart it.
Ray—she eclipsed all other thoughts.
There she was, waiting on the curb in a fitted sweater and skinny jeans. Heat seared through me as my heart thudded an allegro beat. She was stunning. Again, I wondered how she could ever think I was good enough for her. I started the beat on the steering wheel a third time, hoping to soothe my nerves.
“Hi,” I whispered as she slid into the car.
She smiled before she leaned over, lips lightly brushing mine. Before she could pull back, I deepened it and slid my hand to cup her delicate face. She moaned back into my mouth before turning her head to place small kisses on my jaw.
“I’m glad we finally kissed,” she said into my ear as her breath fanned my neck.
I tilted her jaw so I could pepper it with kisses as I breathed her in. She truly was intoxicating.
“Yeah, me too,” I said, scraping my teeth across her earlobe before pulling back.
She feather-kissed my lips once more before buckling up. I put my hand on the gear shift, more for something to do than anything else, and backed us up.
“So, we’ve kissed. Twice,” she said with a hint of humor as I eased us on to the road.
“More than twice. I’m in advanced math. I can count.”
“So…” she said after several beats.
“So, I guess that means I’m the luckiest guy in school.” I made it sound like a joke, but I wasn’t actually joking. I felt like the luckiest guy in the world to have kissed those lips and have felt her body against mine.
Just then the radio played the new Weezer song, “All My Favorite Songs,” which we’d just talked about liking. Perfect. The moment couldn’t be more perfect.
“Does this change things?” she asked as the car inched closer to school and the song faded to a commercial.
