Hometown Heartless

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by Carrie Aarons


  I hear the catcalls in the distance, the wolf whistles of our mutual friends. But I don’t stop until we’re well out into the woods, probably in the same spot Everett dragged me to that time over his shoulder.

  “Well, if you wanted me, I guess I know the way to get your attention now.” He winks, grazing his nails up and down his abs once I stop and drop my hand.

  Momentarily distracted by his own preening of himself, which makes me clench my thighs, I forget my train of thought.

  And then it’s back. “Wait, what? To get me to notice you? You’re the one who has been ignoring me the whole night!” Way to not sound desperate or needy, Kennedy.

  Everett looks surprised and reaches out a hand to cup my chin. “I was keeping my distance. Thought you’d want a fun night with your friends. And I admit I was having too much guy fun time with my own. But God, have I wanted to come over and lick that cranberry juice off your lips.”

  Oh. Shit. I’d spent so many years afraid to approach Everett, and in recent months gone out of my way not to be screamed at by him. He’d left me with many feelings of rejection, desperation, unrequited love and the sort. That now, when we’ve finally gotten to the root of things and were working to move forward together, I was reverting back to my old way of thinking. I guess it’s only natural to think this way, since I was in it for so long.

  But, I never gave Everett the benefit of the doubt that he was giving me space to have fun while he had fun, too.

  “I thought, maybe, you didn’t want your friends or other people to know we were …” I trail off, not knowing what to say.

  “That we’re dating? That you’re my girl?” Everett fills in, a knowing smile on his face. “Because you are my girl. Always have been. In case anyone was wondering.”

  How he says it though, it’s as if he knew I was the one wondering. And I wasn’t ready for him. Romantic Everett, I wasn’t ready. I’ve been faced with all different types of Everett, but not this one who makes me swoon so hard I fall over.

  “I like when you call me your girl.” Pressing up on my toes, I lay my lips over his.

  I feel the primal bristle in Everett, the way his body molds into mine. When he breaks the kiss after a few seconds, I can feel his hardness against my belly.

  “Should I put you on my shoulders and parade you around the party as my girl? Will that make you feel better?”

  I shake my head, laughing. “No, that’d be a bit much. But I’d like to stay here for a little while longer.”

  Everett smiles. “I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

  27

  Kennedy

  The next month goes by in a whir of activity and schedules.

  The football team makes it to State, but loses. Everett was asked back for next year, though he hasn’t accepted but it shows good faith in that he did a great job this season. Cheerleading ends with us coming in third place at Nationals. My EMT schedule ramps up because of my newfound freedom from cheerleading ending, as it has in years past.

  And, my peers start hearing from their early decision colleges.

  I didn’t apply to any early decision, not wanting to get my hopes dashed too early. But I have to say, I’m green with envy of those fellow students who already have their future set. I’m left to sweat it out, crossing my fingers and praying until around March or April. This is torture, what these colleges do, but I guess sifting through thousands of applicants isn’t a fast process.

  I do have Everett through it all, though. He’s been helping tamp my anxiety down with lots and lots of kissing … among other things. The way he can get my body to respond, it’s like he knows it better than I do. And it’s not just physical. I’ll wake up to a single flower on the windshield of my car. Or walk out of school at the end of the day to him sitting on the hood of his, ready to take me for coffee or pizza. We spend weekends with my friends.

  Last Saturday, he took me to New York City for the day to walk around. We visited the Bryant Park Christmas shops, ate lunch at Carmine’s and saw the big Rockefeller tree all lit up before taking the train home with hot chocolate in hand. It was perfect.

  Though, this week has been nothing but insanity. I don’t know why I volunteered to help chair the Winter Wonderland dance at the high school. It’s tertiary to homecoming and prom, but it’s still a school dance and an excuse to flirt in pretty dresses, so everyone goes. As one of the senior girls who has a prominent role on both a sporting team and in many clubs throughout school, I’m always named when anyone wants to throw one of these events. I didn’t have to say yes, but I’m a goody-goody and can’t seem to stop campaigning for college even with the applications already in.

  Which is how I find myself, two days before the dance, cutting out paper snowflakes in the cafeteria at nine o’clock at night.

  Two other people, the senior class president and her vice president, are helping, but it’s taken this long to get them all done. We still have a mountain of work to actually set up, and I’m exhausted.

  “I think we should call it a night,” I tell them, and they nod, agreeing with tired looks in their eyes.

  By the time I get home, all I want to do is drop onto my mattress and go to sleep.

  What I’m met with, though, is something I never expect.

  A trail of flower petals leads to my room, and I’m about to call downstairs until I catch a glimpse of Mom ducking behind the bannister. She gives me a sly smile and a thumbs-up, so clearly she’s in on whatever this is.

  I haven’t heard from Everett in hours, and now that I’m standing in front of my bedroom door with pink and red roses under my feet, I have a sinking suspicion I know why. Pushing it open, I reveal my room bathed in candles, and vases of roses on every surface.

  “Oh my …” I suck in a breath, marveling at the spectacle of romance before me.

  In my entire short life, I’ve never been given flowers. None have been delivered, or left in my locker on Valentine’s Day. So this? This makes me want to fall to my knees, it’s so beautiful.

  The path is clearly made to my window, where it stops, a note is taped to the inside.

  When I get to it, I peel the note off.

  K,

  I have a question for you. Open the window and pick up my call.

  -E

  Smiling to myself, I open the window, Everett grinning from across the void. He points to the paper cup on a string, set up by a pulley-system he’s rigged between our houses. Picking it up, I press it to my ear as he begins to talk.

  “Remember when we did this as kids?” he asks, chuckling.

  I hear his talking voice more from between the houses which are only a few feet apart rather than the paper cup, but he’s being so freaking cute that I still move it to my mouth to speak.

  “Yes. It didn’t work then either.”

  Everett laughs harder. “I guess not. But I did have a question to ask you.”

  My heart skips a beat as I press the cup closer to my ear. I stare at him, nodding, and our eyes create what feels like a cosmic force.

  “Will you go to Winter Wonderland with me?” He smiles, holding up his two crossed fingers.

  As if I would say no. “Everett, did you just prompose to me?”

  He chuckles. “I guess I did. But this isn’t prom. Don’t worry, that’s coming.”

  My heart nearly flatlines, because if this is just for Winter Wonderland, what’s he going to pull out for prom?

  “Yes. I’ll go to Winter Wonderland with you.” I swear, my cheeks are on fire.

  “Did you hear that Brentwick? Kennedy Dover is going to Winter Wonderland with me!” Everett cups his hands over his mouth and shouts.

  “Shhh!” I whisper-screech across the void. “It’s almost ten o’clock!”

  “You better get to sleep then, gorgeous. Wouldn’t want to miss that beauty sleep.” He winks.

  And although he’s being sarcastic, I know the compliment is real. This feeling, this one I have with him, I would wait foreve
r to have it. It seems like I did.

  No one in the world makes me feel the way Everett Brock makes me feel.

  28

  Everett

  Kennedy steals my breath.

  She’s kept it the entire night. From the moment she walked down the stairs of her parent’s house in a form-fitting black lace dress, to the way her head laid on my chest during a slow dance.

  I wanted to make Winter Wonderland everything for her that I never gave her. I didn’t ask her to my proms, and I barely acknowledged her when she went to homecoming as the senior queen. It feels like destiny that we’re finally here, that we finally took pictures in her living room as her mom cooed and teared up behind the camera. That I could hold her hand walking into the high school, even if I’m not a student there anymore, and grind up on her during a Top 40 song.

  It also feels like fate that my parents are out tonight, staying in a neighboring town at a B and B for a friend’s anniversary party. Kennedy’s parents think she’s staying at Rachel’s house, but probably aren’t fooled that she isn’t right next door. I think our parents are just so happy we’re finally dating, that they’ll condone their children staying together while lying to their faces.

  “You look incredible tonight. Not even. I don’t have the words.” I breathe as I back Kennedy into my bedroom.

  “It feels strange to be in here for …” She gulps, and I know she was about to say this.

  Not that either of us have talked about this. I guess it’s implied that if all the stars aligned and we wound up together, in a house, without parents, overnight … that well, something is bound to happen.

  “Relax,” I tell her, trying my best to be smooth.

  Inside though, I’m fucking freaking out. I’ve never done this either, haven’t gotten this close to the sun. And she is my sun. The one I’ve waited for, the prize I’ve wanted to take and be claimed by. Fresh, untouched by anyone else.

  When I lean in to kiss her, Kennedy bows her back, pressing her breasts into me. The soft lace of her dress indents my fingertips as I grip her hips. Before long, our kissing turns heated, then frantic, with each of us trying to get out of our clothes.

  We’ve done this dance plenty of times now, in the tree house, in our basements, and in my car at the barn parties. I’ve grown accustomed to her body, its little tics and how she responds to certain pressure and pleasure. The sounds she makes, how she practically melts when I make her come on my tongue.

  Shit. If I keep fantasizing while I get Kennedy’s clothes off, and with her hands where they are, I’m going to come way too quickly.

  Once my chest is bare, her dress is strewn on the carpet, and our shoes are kicked off, we make out while walking our way to the bed. My hands fill with her perfect tits, searching for the nipples that I know, when rolled in between my thumb and forefinger, will bead and make her moan.

  My heart is soaring, flying somewhere above me. I think, I’m not sure, the words are on the tip of my tongue.

  I’m in love with Kennedy Dover.

  I’ve known for a while, hell, a long time. But as I lay her back and begin to kiss down her stomach, I’m shook that it might be the time to tell her. Am I ready for that? It took me this long to get here, to let myself be with her. And it’s not without reservations every day. There are still secrets I have to keep from her, ones that if I told her I love her, would end up blowing up in my face. Would she love me back if she knew?

  I shake away my thoughts, reaching to pull her underwear down her hips. But instead of her usual response of heavy breathing and moaning, or maybe saying my name, Kennedy is still on the bed.

  Glancing up, I see her peering at the ceiling, muttering to herself. And my heart drops. Because I know I should have talked about this before. By not addressing it, we’ve put way too much pressure on the situation.

  I crawl up the bed toward her, and a small smile paints my lips as I lay my body on hers, my arms circling her face.

  “Whatcha doing?” I bend my neck to place a small kiss on her collarbone.

  “Nothing. Sorry. I … let’s keep going. Your turn?” She is so distracted that she thinks it’s time to go down on me.

  “Baby, what’s going on?” My tone is sincere, but gentle.

  “I’m nervous, Everett. I’ve never done this before.” She averts her eyes, staring at my arm that brackets her head.

  I can read it all over her body; she’s not just nervous, she’s embarrassed. Rolling over to my side, so that I can face her, I palm both of her cheeks.

  “Look at me.” She won’t focus those gorgeous brown eyes on me. “Kennedy, look at me.”

  She blinks up, bringing our gazes level.

  “I’ve never done this either.” I nod, convincing her before she questions me.

  Kennedy gasps. “You haven’t? I thought for sure—”

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” I tell her, because it’s the truth.

  Her expression is priceless. Clearly, she did not think this was even a possibility. That we were both virgins. That we would lose it to each other.

  “I couldn’t take your first kiss. But I can be your first. And it doesn’t have to be tonight. I’ve waited a long time to be with you, Kennedy. It took me a while, and I’m stubborn as hell, but I’ve always known it’s you. If I have to wait a little longer, then I’m okay with that.”

  “I don’t think I’m ready yet.” I see tears in her eyes.

  “Baby, don’t cry. I’m happy just to lie here and fall asleep next to you.” I brush them away from her bottom lashes.

  And I mean it. This is so big of a moment, and when I finally do sink into her, when we become the most intimate two people can be, I want her to be begging for it.

  “This night has been perfect. You are perfect.” She breathes, snuggling into me.

  I’m not. Far from it, actually. But for her, when she looks at me like she does, I want to be.

  29

  Everett

  They come for me a couple weeks after Christmas.

  I’m at home during one of the first days Kennedy goes back to school after winter break, just goofing around. With football season over and my community college courses, English Lit and Sports Sciences Throughout History, I don’t have much to do. I spent every minute of Kennedy’s winter break with her and am bummed she’s back in classes.

  But that’s how they find me on a random Wednesday morning. In my house, in sweatpants, about to start a marathon of a season of The Office I never watched.

  The knock comes at the door, which in hindsight I should have thought was odd, but I’ve been a civilian for a couple of months and I’m not as alert.

  I should have been, though.

  When I swing the door open, a protein bar in my hand, I nearly drop it. Standing on the front porch are two Marines, decked out in their dress blues. They’re high-ranking, you can tell by the eagles and stars marking their uniforms.

  “Corporal Everett Brock?” the big, burly one asks.

  “That’s me.” I stand up straighter, not able to do anything about the sloppy clothing I have on.

  Guys like this are meant to intimidate, and they’re doing a hell of a good job. Caught me off guard, at home, in my sweats. I couldn’t be at more of a disadvantage.

  “We’re from the Marine Corps Criminal Investigation Division, just following up on your initial interview after escape.”

  This guy, the second guy, has a kinder tone and is slimmer, less intimidating. But his eyes, a white blue that is too clear to not seem creepy, they tell just how dangerous he is.

  “I told the other investigators everything they needed to know.” I scowl, because it’s strange that they’d need more information.

  And, I suspect, this isn’t a friendly call. Whatsoever.

  “Can we come in?” I still haven’t let them in, and the burly one is practically growling.

  I notice they haven’t given me their names, which is another tactic. If I ask for them, they’ll only gr
ill me harder. Better to appear nonchalant, like I have nothing to hide. I know how certain members of the military operate. I learned that part very quick. It’s just that being home, I let my guard down too much.

  Time to get back up to speed. “Sure.”

  I step back and then turn, letting them follow me into the dining room. It’s the room with the least amount of windows, so no one can see them in here. Not that they won’t notice the official vehicle in the driveway. At least Kennedy isn’t home and won’t be able to question me about this.

  I wouldn’t be able to tell her a word of it.

  The slim one speaks as we sit. “You told the initial investigators that you were detained while doing a check of the site where the mission was to take place?”

  “Yes,” I answer simply.

  “Did anyone deploy you to do that?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  I’m not going to get verbose, or implicate myself. And even though I appear calm and cool, or at least I hope I do, my heart is hammering in my chest. I know why they’re here, that there are holes in my story. That the mission was abandoned after the US military supplies were taken, with me, after I was found by the enemy.

  But they’ll never be able to prove it was my fault that the mission went south, or never happened. Or at least I think they aren’t able to.

  “I understand you were close to a number of villagers?” the slim one asks, his eyes unfocused. Or maybe they’re just too light to read properly.

  I bristle, and he knows he’s hit a nerve. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  The burly one snorts. “Count on a newb to fall in love with the villagers. You do know we’re there to shoot them when they fall out of line, right?”

  Under the table, my hands ball into fists. Actually, our presence in the Middle East or any other war zone is to protect the people, the villagers. It’s to protect innocent people, not just our own, from being slaughtered by their own government. To keep the women and children just trying to make a better life for themselves alive.

 

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