by A. M. Hooper
"What was his name?" he asked quietly.
"Bentley," I responded proudly. I had always liked his name, too.
"Did you love him back?"
"Of course! He gave me a penny! That was hard to come by when you were four!"
"Okay, then it counts," he acquiesced. "Okay, my turn."
"Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Okay." I thought for a moment. "What's your favorite place to be in the whole world?"
"Right now, it's on this island with you." He smiled up at me and my heart skipped a beat. I could feel the blood rushing to my face. Cheesy lines like that probably permeated his conversations with lots of girls. Cheesy or not, though, I found I cared less and less what Cephas actually said, as long as he was talking to me.
"Truth or dare?" he asked quickly, thank goodness.
"Truth."
"Do you like it when my shirt's off?" I could see the grin crossing his face.
"No," I responded. His eyes narrowed in disbelief. "It makes me nervous." I was never this truthful. What was I doing?
"Truth or dare?" I urged, not wanting to give away any more information.
"Truth," he responded. Lightning cracked above our heads and the sprinkling rain erupted at once into a downpour. My clothing was soaked before Cephas could even react.
"We'd better get out of here before we get struck by lightning," Cephas warned, scrambling toward a small opening in the rocks. He set me down and gently shoved me with his body into the tiny cave. His arms lingered, wrapping protectively around my torso. I leaned against his chest, listening to the thunder cracking above my head. The sky was amiss, but I felt completely calm in the dark cave.
"Have you ever been in love?" I asked. He didn't respond. His right hand left my abdomen and moved to my neck, gently pushing the wet hair off of my skin. He pulled me closer with his left arm and moved his head toward mine. A chill ran up my spine. His nose nuzzled against my neck, the scruff on his chin grazing my tender skin. I felt the warmth of his mouth near my neck.
"Once," he whispered. "But I don't think I'll ever love anyone else again." I felt his fingers run along my abdomen, dancing around my bellybutton. I was too distracted by his rhythmic touch to decipher his evasive response
"Truth or dare?" he whispered. Why did he have to speak in that muted tone?
"Dare." The word was barely audible.
"I dare you to shut your eyes."
"They're already shut," I responded, an anxious smile creeping across my face. A gasp escaped my lips as he turned me to face him, pushing me up against the hard wall. I kept my eyes shut, feeling the blood rush through my body at rapid speeds. His hands rested on my waist, his slightly calloused thumbs moving across the little bone above the top of my jeans.
"Truth or dare?" I asked.
"Dare," he responded, his head moving closer to mine.
"I dare you to kiss me," I whispered. My eyes were open now. He looked up, his face inches from mine. Our eyes locked and he pulled me tighter to his body. He leaned toward my mouth and I could feel his breath mingle with mine. Those captivating eyes swirled turquoise—blue, just as they had during my nostalgic story. My eyelids closed gently as he leaned closer. He stopped suddenly, though, his heavy breath filling the silence. I felt his hands release my waist as he stepped back. Casting his eyes away, he mumbled the words, "I can't," and shook his head.
“Emma?”
My eyes flashed open and I saw an annoyed look on Cephas’ face. I looked over his shoulder and saw Chase standing in the opening. His eyes looked accusing as he stood with his arms folded, a blue hat backwards atop his head. He looked intimidating without a shirt on; he had been swimming in the lake, and his body was wet. Each muscle flexed and I instantly stepped away from Cephas.
“Chase, I—”
“Don’t even talk. Let’s go. We’re about to start a campfire,” Chase shook his head in disgust and looked disdainfully at me. I glanced up at Cephas, who looked expectantly at me. My line of vision recoiled toward Chase and I began to walk away. There was nothing I could do about the situation. Chase would lose all control if I argued with him; he had already caught me alone with another guy.
“Emma,” Cephas whispered, grabbing my hand. I didn’t look back at him. I couldn’t: I might cry. Easing my hand out of his grasp, I walked to Chase's side.
“Hey,” Chase spat, glaring at Cephas. “Stay away from my girl.”
CHAPTER 4
He was only a few feet away: I could see beads of sweat rolling down his dark, shaven head. A purple, sleeveless jersey hung loosely over his muscular shoulders, moving slightly as his arms arched and his knees bent. Silence held the air around me so that I could almost hear Marian's heart pattering. She bit her lower lip and clenched her hands into fists. Everybody was on their feet. The entire crowd seemed to move upward with the player as his body sprung and released the worn out ball. With a flick of his wrist, the ball soared through the stale air. The rim vibrated with each hit from the ball; it bounced twice and then began to swirl, slowing with each second. It nearly stopped before falling straight through the hoop, landing with a thud on the wooden floor. Before the ball had time to bounce a second time, masses of people poured onto the court.
The people around me cheered and jumped up and down, blocking my view of the 50 inch flat screen. Marian hugged me in the way girls hug other girls, her eyes alight with the victory of winning. Her high pitched squeal had always bothered me a little, but this time the noise dimmed next to the whoops of joy from the boys in the small living room. Chase and Brandon threw their arms around one anotherand slapped each other’s backs.
"The Lakers are goin' to the play offs!" Chase shouted.
"Well, that surely calls for a celebration, eh? Brandon suggested.
"My good man, I do believe you're right. Phillipo's?" Chase suggested jovially.
"Phillipo's!" Brandon shouted, the other teenagers joining in the chant.
"You gonna go?" Marian asked. I looked up at her understanding face. She knew I hated going to Phillipo's. Chase always drank at that restaurant. The owner didn't I.D. anyone, and he enjoyed a large profit because of it. The cops never came by, though; I had never figured out why.
"Yeah, I don't have anything better to do," I responded. A mechanical smile crossed my face, though I didn't fool Marian.
"Are ya sure, honey? We can go somewhere else—hang out. Just the two of us." Her eyes glanced over toward Brandon. She and Brandon had just started going out again, and I knew she wanted to spend some time with him. I lighted off the couch and put my hands out toward her.
"C'mon," I offered. "It'll be fun!" A smile spread across her face as she grabbed my hands. She jumped up, her deep, nearly black hair bouncing in a high, loose bun. She grabbed her purse and unzipped it, searching for something—lip gloss, I was sure. She put the stuff on like crazy. I followed her out the door to an old, tan jeep. The doors had been removed and a lift had been added. I climbed through the opening and sat on a poorly upholstered bucket seat, grabbing onto the roll bar as Marian turned the key in the ignition. The jeep skidded backward through the gravel. I held on tight; Marian liked to drive fast. Phillipo's was just around the corner, a two minute drive. We sailed down the road until pulling into the outer edge of the parking lot and coming to an abrupt halt. I leaped out of the jeep and walked with Marian across the parking lot.
The familiar smell of grease and beer wafted through the air. The Latin music grew louder as we neared the entrance (an old wooden door with green paint flaking off in places). The stucco around the door frame was cracking, though it seemed as if it had always been cracked. The door creaked when Marian pulled it open, and a roar of noise exploded through the opening. I glanced around to find a place to sit as Marian diverged across the room. Chase and Brandon sat around the loudest table. The group cheered as Chase finished off a pint, and judging by the empty glasses littering the table top, the group would cheer him on to more. Marian w
alked excitedly over to Brandon's side. She perched on his lap and threw her arms around his neck, kissing him gingerly on the cheek. She flashed her bright smile and waved to the group at the table, who gladly acknowledged her presence. Marian was always the life of the party.
"Emma!" a higher, male voice shouted from across the room. I looked around and saw Jake waving wildly at me. Jake was a grade younger than me, as were all of his friends. He was always excited to see me, and the feeling was mutual. He was like the younger brother I never had. I headed over toward their already packed table.
"Move over—Emma needs a seat," Jake ordered, shoving Andrew hard in the shoulder. Andrew slammed into Josh, who sat next to him. I saw the all too familiar glint in Josh’s eye. Like clockwork, Josh and Andrew stood a little ways off the bench and shoved back, tossing Jake onto the floor. The group erupted into laughter and Jake stood on his feet. His laugh was the loudest. I think he might like it when they shove him off the bench, because it happened quite often. The laughter died down after a moment and the three boys scooted in to make space for me. Now it was time for introductions.
"Emma, this is Ali," Josh motioned toward the girl in front of him. "And this is Tiffany, and that's Savannah." I smiled at each of them. The same guys always came here after a game, but there was always a new set of girls. There was no use getting to know any of them. Three different girls would fill their seats next week. Plus, these girls were likely from some other city. Andrew alone had already gone through most of the girls in our small town years ago.
"Girls," Josh continued, "this is Emmaline, our dearest, stupidest friend." He smirked and I hit him playfully in the arm.
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he responded, putting his hands up in defeat. "Emma is actually the genius of our time. It's true," he nodded, eyes wide and full of spurious sincerity. I had never heard a serious word escape his mouth.
"I'm neither genius nor idiot. I'm just normal," I responded, feigning annoyance. These girls obviously leaned toward the idiot side of the spectrum, however. Their eyes widened in a futile attempt to take in the conversation. These guys sure knew how to pick them. One leaned over to the other—Ali, was it?—and whispered something in her ear. They both giggled and all three of them stood.
"We'll be right back," one spoke, barely containing her giggles. "We need to use the restroom." The three walked off, holding hands through the crowded room. I turned toward the guys.
"Why are your eyebrows raised like that?" Jake asked innocently. He began to laugh too; he was always giggling like a little girl.
"Well, I'm quite impressed you remembered all their names this time," I jeered. They all began laughing.
"Remember that time you met us here, and Josh had been telling you about that girl the night before?" Jake began.
"Yeah, and you were like, 'Oh, you must be Claire'" Andrew added, imitating my voice, though very poorly. They were all rolling with laughter by now.
"And it was a totally different girl!" Jake finished. I joined in their laughter, hiding my face in shame.
"That one didn't last too long, did she?" I asked.
"No!" Josh complained. "She dumped me an hour later!" He acted appalled, but his laughter betrayed him.
"What are you all laughing about?" a high—pitched voice asked from above my head. The three girls had returned and were standing, expectantly.
Jake rolled his eyes.
"We've gotta go, Emma. We promised these girls we'd only stay for a half hour; they wanna see the water tower." Jake winked and I stood to let him out of the bench. They always took girls to the water tower, and, for some reason, girls always went along with their scheme.
"Be good, Emma. Try not to get into too much trouble," Josh advised, slinging his arm over my shoulder. "We won't be here to save you this time." He pointed at me with a smile, then turned and took his date by the hand. Though I felt indignant for a moment, he was right. I always managed to get into some fix, one way or another. The jovial group walked out, the old, wooden door closing with a resounding thud.
I looked around and spotted a place at the bar. Phillipo wouldn't mind if I sat there, regardless of my age. The bar was especially crowded tonight. Everybody seemed to be celebrating the Lakers' victory. I sat on an old, red bar stool. The metal legs squeaked as I plopped onto the worn cushion. Tossing my purse on the brown, Formica counter, I nodded to the bartender, who brought me a glass of water.
"Thanks, Phillipo," I smiled. He knew I didn't like to drink. I couldn't figure out why I even came to this place. The water didn't even taste good, and I never sat with Chase. I felt a pair of eyes on me, so I glanced to my right. Our eyes met, but only for a moment. He looked forward. His square jawline clenched as he bit his teeth together. His rounded chin held up a perfect pair of lips while a prominent nose took in a deep breath. Cephas. I could barely tell—his hat hid his appearance well. His eyebrows furrowed into almond—shaped eyes. His eyes. They were gorgeous. Even in the muggy light of the bar they sparkled—blue sapphires in a musty cave. I thought back to the other night in the cave. Elbows leaning on the counter, Cephas’ toned muscles peaked out from behind a gray, cotton shirt. His eyes caught mine again, and the left corner of his perfect mouth twitched upward.
"Hi," he offered, breathing the word out. I smiled in return, holding out my hand.
"Emmaline," I told him. He grasped my hand and a low chuckle escape his mouth.
"Cephas," he responded. There was that smirk again.
“Nice to meet you,” I replied, retrieving my lingering hand.
“You're so ridiculous.” He pushed a basket of greasy food forward and turned toward me. As he licked his lips, his eyes twinkled with mischief.
“What are you doing in a bar?” he asked. “How old are you anyway?”
“Same age as you, probably. Besides, anyone is allowed in this bar. Phillipo thinks everyone is old enough to have a drink or two.”
“Or three or four, like your boyfriend over there.” Cephas gestured toward Chase who was busily chugging down another pint.
“Besides, they let you in here,” I argued, ignoring his comment. “How old are you?”
"Too old for you," he said casually.
"What! Just how old do you think I am?" I asked indignantly. He didn't respond, but the left corner of his mouth twitched upward again.
"I'm 17," I said matter-of-factly. "I'm about to graduate. I just don't turn eighteen until next month."
"Well, now. That's quite intriguing, isn't it?" he responded. He was still looking at me. In his eyes, a deep, nearly black color outlined swirling blue and turquoise circles, diving into pools of black. The bar lighting, or lack thereof, caused his pupils to enlarge. He stared right into my eyes. I couldn't tear my gaze from his. We just kept staring.
"Emma!" a voice slurred next to me. I jolted from my thoughts and saw Chase standing a few feet away from me.
"What are you doin'?" he asked. "You flirtin' with my girl again, Cephas?" he asked seriously. I was up in an instant. Grabbing Chase by the hand, I started to pull him through the crowd.
"Nothing's going on, Chase. I was just chatting. Cephas is your friend—he's on your basketball team. He would never do something like that." I walked through the back door into a cemented, fenced-in area. A putrid smell permeated the small area, probably caused by the dumpsters sitting in the right corner. The stains from washing off the mats every night spotted the cement ground. I turned around and faced Chase.
"You were tryin' to get with su'mother guy!" he accused, pointing his finger at me. His face was so close I could smell the liquor on his tongue. I just scowled and turned away. He caught me by the arm as I turned and spun me back around. A familiar fear ran through my bones, threatening the experience I knew would come. Chase got drunk quite frequently, and he was usually angry.
"I don' like my girl messin' aroun' behin' my back!" he spat. I wiped the spit from my face right before he grabbed my shoulders with both hands. He must have sensed my
fear, because his angry face loosened and he smiled a little. He stood about four inches above me.
"You scared, huh?" he asked, a devilish smile growing wider across his face. "You need to respect me!" he warned. I tore my shoulder from his grasp.
"You have no right to intimidate me!" I retorted. How dare he! His eyes hardened and he raised his right arm. I yelped as his hand came down hard on my left cheek. The slap was so brutal, his eyes so intimidating, that I stumbled backward in mere shock. Raising my hand to my face, I felt blood trickling over from my cheek bone. I looked up and gasped—Chase looked as if he could kill the devil himself. He took a step toward me and his hand lifted again, but something stopped him. He glanced to his right, eyes narrowed. Cephas was coming toward us, clenched fists and gritted teeth revealed his furious demeanor. A green baseball cap with a flat brim sat on his head. It looked just like Chase's, but newer. He tore it from his head and threw it to the ground, revealing a freshly shaven head. Light from the parking lot caught his eyes, and a dark, nearly black, blue reflected the fierce anger inside. He seemed even angrier than Chase had been a moment ago. Chase now seemed to show signs of fear. I took a step back; was Cephas going to fight Chase? Though drunk, Chase could hold his own. In an instant, however, Cephas walked straight up to Chase and reeled his arm backward, ready to launch. I saw the muscles flex in his biceps. The gray shirt he wore revealed a built chest and hinted at the brawny abs I had seen on the beach. I let out a yelp as his fist flew right into Chase's jaw. Chase stumbled backward, hitting the chain link fence behind him. Shoving himself off of the fence, Chase walked back toward Cephas—fists clenched, game face on.
“What's your problem!” he shouted at Cephas.
“No guy hits a woman when I'm around,” he responded through gritted teeth.
“Oh, look at the hero,” Chase said sarcastically.
