Touch Screen: a small town romance

by L. B. Dunbar

  I was shocked at her words, and I could tell she thought she’d said too much. They were serious words. If I thought last night might have moved a bit fast, the words drove home the idea that things, in general, might be moving rather swiftly with her.

  “I should probably go,” she said softly, dismissing what she’d just said with the wave of her hand.

  I would have liked for her to stay. I had a sense of déjà vu and another memory came to my mind of her watching me play summer ball once.

  Scene: The Field

  She was fifteen; I was seventeen.

  It was our first summer back together, and after our initial reunion we thought of any excuse we could to be with one another. I was very patient with her because she was younger than me, but on this particular night I was pumped. I was playing an amazing game at first base and then as pitcher. The crowd had grown on the early July night, giving the game a feel of nervous energy. We were down until I came in to pitch as the closer, and when I struck out the last batter, my adrenaline was high. Britton was in the stands and I liked that she was watching me.

  She came to the fence to greet me when the game was over, and I kissed her through the chain link. The stands were clearing and people were leaving for a party or the bar or their homes, but Britton and I lingered. Some of my friends told me about a party on the lake, and I assured them I’d be there later. Much later.

  The lights finally went off over the public field and only a few players with one or two girlfriends still hung about, reveling in the win against a local rival. Someone had snuck a few beers to us, and I stood possessively with my arm around Britton. I pulled her out to the pitcher’s mound, trying to show her how to pitch a ball in the darkness. She wasn’t terribly athletic and she had bad form. I eventually realized that she was doing it on purpose, so I would stand behind her. I made her spread her legs, wind up, and stretch forward to release the ball.

  After several times coaching her from behind, she playfully rubbed against me and I was hard. I had previously pulled the cup from my pants, and I knew she could feel every part of me. I leaned over her one more time.

  “Okay, stand like this. Legs spread,” I overemphasized the words. “Good. Mmm…” I moaned in her ear.

  “Okay, arms up in front of your chest, like this.” I positioned her hands together in front of her then let my hands drift lightly across her breasts. She sighed and leaned back into me again.

  “Don’t move. Hold the ball,” I stressed. She tried to look serious, but she was biting her lip hard. She had my hat on backwards, and she looked beautiful.

  “Now, look to second over your shoulder and then back to home, slowly.”

  She did so and an idea came to me.

  “Here, you’re terrible,” I laughed. “Stand behind me.” We traded places. I put her hands on my hips and I looked to home plate, then to second, and back to home. I swiftly turned toward first, which startled her as she was in the direct line of that base. I reached for her before she fell off the mound, drawing her to me and kissing her hard.

  “That move was a bawk,” I said softly, brushing her lips with mine.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It was a fake pitch. To psych out the guy on first base.”

  “Mmmm. It didn’t taste fake,” she giggled and tipped up on her toes to kiss me again.

  “And if I was first base, I might like to be caught,” she added. It was a terrible comeback, but I took the hint and slid my hand tentatively up her side and over her breast. I was already hard, and I felt myself spring forward with the contact. I hadn’t touched her like this yet, except for playfully sliding my hand across her chest moments ago. Her comment was a full invitation to touch her, and she filled my hand. I massaged her through her tank top, feeling her nipples peak beneath my greedy palm. She pressed into my hands as I continued to kiss her. At seventeen, there was nowhere else I’d rather be than in a triple play: on a baseball pitching mound, hands on a breast, and kissing the most amazing girl.

  * * *

  Tonight, the plan for Jess’ bachelor party was to finish the ball game, drink beer, drink more beer, and then crash the bar where the girls were headed. I wanted to shower first, though. With the way Britton looked tonight, she wasn’t going home with anyone but me. No matter what I was thinking of her earlier comments about home, I would be the one taking her there. If her remark implied that I was her home, I wanted that to be the place she went tonight.

  When I walked into the River Bar three hours later, I almost thought she might have left. She’d said she wasn’t staying long and that she would see me later. It never occurred to me that ‘later’ might mean another day. I was just about to leave when I saw a flash of long tan legs under a too short dress, moving her hips on the dance floor. For a place that hosted karaoke on a Thursday, it was packed tonight. A rather loud, collective rendition of a popular song about wrecking balls came from all the ladies on the dance floor. It seemed like most of the town had shown up for the bachelorette party, women and men alike.

  I was pleased that Jess didn’t want any stereotypical strippers or a last night hurrah with a hooker. Not that Jess would really partake in either or those things. Instead of having the party for himself, I knew that Jess was really having the bachelor party for his brother, Tom, who had insisted on it. The concession had been the mildly competitive game of softball and crashing the girls’ party afterward. Tom still spoke of strippers, saying he’d skip the hookers and settle for The Hangover Elk Rapids-style instead. Jess responded by saying he didn’t even know what that meant, and he would have preferred celebrating alone with Emily all night. This brought on endless ridicule from his older brother, who was getting drunker by the minute.

  I stared at Britton’s ass for a few seconds until a hand snaked around her waist and landed on the place I had just been admiring. Looking up, I noticed a tall figure standing too close to her with dark hair and too-neat clothing for a small town dance club. George Carpenter. I walked swiftly towards the dance floor, but was intercepted by Jess.

  “Whoa. What’s the hurry?”

  “George Carpenter has his hands on her ass.”

  Jess looked in the direction of Britton and shuddered a moment before he looked back at me.

  “You have some kind of claim on her?” He eyed me, his jaw clenched.

  “No, but…” I thought about last night. “Maybe…” I shook my head. I didn’t know what I had with her, but I didn’t want someone else touching her, least of all George.

  It didn’t really matter, though, because out of nowhere came Jacob Vincent to snatch his pregnant fiancée out of the dance floor mix. He pushed George out of the way, causing him to step back from Britton. Jacob could have a menacing look to him with his rocker style, dressed in all black. He seemed to hesitate for a moment with his grip firmly on Pam’s wrist. As if he was thinking about something, he paused before he turned around and reached for Britton as well. Gripping her arm with his other hand, he practically pulled both girls from the floor.

  He walked up to Jess, who was still standing in front of me.

  “Here,” he dragged Britton forward. “Don’t let her near him.” He had already wrapped a protective arm around Pam and kissed her wrist. She leaned into him, and they seemed to melt into each other.

  “I’m pregnant, for heaven’s sake,” she laughed. “He wouldn’t try anything. I’m getting too fat.”

  “You aren’t fat. You’re pregnant. With my baby.” Jacob wasn’t joking.

  “Still. He wouldn’t do anything,” Pam tried to assure him, but her smile was fading.

  Jacob turned to Jess. “Did it stop him before?” Jess’ eyes went serious and I knew the answer. When Debbie Swartz found out she was pregnant, even though George knew it was Jess’ baby, he had proposed to Deb. He promised he would take care of her and take her away from this small town. She’d always wanted that escape, but it wasn’t good enough, and Debbie declined the offer. I sometimes wished
George had stolen Debbie then Jess wouldn’t have suffered having her as a wife. But I also knew that George would then have claim to Katie, and Jess would never have stood for that.

  I thought of Gee for a moment. His father must have been satisfied with someone else making claim to his son, leaving Britton behind to find someone else to marry her and be Gee’s father. I looked at her as she stared at Jacob. He had released her arm, and she had her other hand protectively over the arm he had grabbed.

  “Did he hurt you?” I asked softly, reaching out to cover her hand.

  “Startled me is all. I don’t understand,” she said looking at the group.

  “That’s George Carpenter. He tried to steal Jess’ first wife. But more importantly to me, he hit on Pam and then insulted her later because she refused him. And both times he did it in front of me. I don’t like him to even breathe the same air as her,” Jacob explained.

  Pam laughed, but Jacob was a bit intense.

  “That’s George Carpenter?” Britton looked back at the overly dressed man now leaning on the bar. I was surprised she would remember him. “Well, he’s certainly changed.” I wasn’t sure I liked her tone of voice appraising him, and I definitely didn’t like that he had his hand on her ass a few minutes ago. It didn’t seem to upset Britton as much as it upset the men standing in this circle.

  “You seemed friendly with him. Do you remember him?” I tried to keep the jealousy out of my tone.

  “I do now. Mr. I’ll-Wait-For-You-When-He-Dumps-You,” she looked pointedly at me. She definitely remembered him correctly.

  “I’d never been so insulted in my life, or so aggressive with my response,” she laughed.

  “How could you let him touch you then?” Jealousy crept into my tone, despite my efforts.

  “It happened so fast, and so briefly. I…I don’t know,” she looked up at me, confused. She still had no idea how sexy she was in that tight dress, with her legs almost fully exposed.

  I had to laugh. “You have no idea do you?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “No. I mean no idea how incredibly sexy you are.”

  “Me? Sexy? Please Gavin, how much did you drink tonight?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Not enough to make me stupid and kick his ass. Not enough to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here. Both of which I want to do, so maybe I need another drink or two.” I snapped my fingers exaggerating, like I needed a waitress, and Britton reached for my wrist.

  “No more. Take me home,” she whispered, and I knew that she meant literally this time. Suddenly, I felt I wanted my home to be her.

  I drove her car since I knew I could coerce Ethan into picking me up in the morning. I’d bribe him with breakfast at the pancake place just east of downtown Traverse, an old favorite after late nights at the bars in this city.

  When I pulled up next to her house, I carried Gee inside while Ben leaned on Britton. At fifteen, he seemed like a good kid, and he was comfortable with Britton. They joked playfully with each other. They acted like siblings more than aunt and nephew, but she could be firm with him like a mother to a child, and he never disobeyed her. He was slurring like he was drunk, and if I had to guess I’d say he might have had a beer or two. I couldn’t prove it, though, and I didn’t want to rat out the boy when it was something I might have done at fifteen.

  On the other hand, Ben could have been drunk on spending time with Madison. He had spent the rest of the day with her at Karyn’s house, staying for dinner, and going out with her and her friends later. I wondered if I ever looked drunk with young love like that. Then I looked at Britton in her too sexy outfit, kissing Gee on the forehead and saying she loved him. I had definitely looked like that once, if not five times – at sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, and twenty years old.

  Take 30

  Under the Moonlight

  I followed her directly to her bedroom; no stalling on the couch even though Ben knew I was staying. In the morning, I would pretend that I’d slept on it, but not yet. I wasn’t pretending. I wanted her again, and I wanted her for the whole night.

  She walked around the bed to a tall dresser in the corner when we entered her room and removed her earrings. She looked at me through the mirror as I watched her walk. She was silent as she stared at my reflection. I smiled. I imagined a future with me watching her every night do simple things like remove her earrings and unclasp a dress. I could see her take off her shoes and walk barefoot to open a drawer, pulling out pajamas. I had an overwhelming feeling of seeing a premonition that would never come true. It would not be me who witnessed her doing these things night after night, but I somehow sensed I wanted it to be.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked me through the mirror. I continued to stare at her.

  “Is it too weird? It’s been so long, and yet you feel so familiar to me. But this…” She waved at the mirror. “This isn’t familiar. We aren’t really sneaking around. And we aren’t seventeen anymore.” She looked down at the dresser top and smoothed her hands over it.

  “I still remember so many things, but I’m not a kid anymore. And neither are you,” she added.

  I remained silent. I sensed she wasn’t done and I was afraid to speak. I felt like she was saying good-bye to me before we even finished our hello.

  “You leave on Monday.”

  I blinked and looked at her bright blue eyes staring back at me.

  “Yes,” I choked on the word. I was still going home. To California. I knew what she was asking. What would this mean for us? What was between us? Was there an us?

  “Things could be different now. Especially since we’re older.”

  “It’s hard to run away when you have a child, Gavin,” she said softly.

  “I’m not suggesting you run away.”

  “What are you suggesting?” she whispered into the mirror.

  “I don’t know,” I said softly.

  She walked over and stood before me. She was so close that I could almost feel the brush of her breasts, and yet I felt like she was miles away from me already.

  “What I do know,” I began, “is I’m not ready for it to be over…again.”

  She nodded and placed a shaky hand on my stomach. I took her hand and slid it up my hard chest to rest over my heart.

  “I don’t know that I could say good-bye again,” I whispered as I looked down at her chest, which was starting to rise and fall more definitively.

  She leaned forward, resting her forehead on my chest, and I bent to kiss the top of her head.

  “Can I be so selfish as to ask for one more night?”

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t ask,” she whispered.

  I slid my free hand around her waist and up her back, tugging her long hair slightly and prodding her to raise her face to me. When she looked up at me, I whispered in a raspy voice, “Thank you.” Then I kissed her softly. The tenderness was heartbreaking at first, but when Britton slid her hand up my arm, over my shoulder and around my neck, I knew she was feeling as desperate as I was.

  She tugged the hair at the back of my neck to deepen the kiss, and I obliged with my hands in her hair, pulling lightly. She responded by moaning against my mouth. I opened slightly and her tongue entered me. We collided in a delicious dance and my lips feasted hungrily on her.

  I slid my hands down her sides and inched the dress upward, slowly exposing her smooth hips to discover that she again wore a thong. I wrapped a finger into the thin material at her hips and pulled back with a snap.

  “I could kill George Carpenter, knowing he got this close to you,” I growled low as I slid my hand over her bare ass, now exposed by the hiked up dress. I pulled Britton toward me with my hands on her backside and she lifted one knee. I bent to brace her leg from behind her knee and gently tugged upward, then slid my hand down her thigh to her firm ass to pick her up. I lifted her easily. She wrapped her legs and arms around me, never breaking our kiss.

  Carrying her to the bed, I
gently set her down and stood between her legs. I reached for the hem of the dress and removed it over her head. She surrounded me, legs spread open, stunning in her black lingerie.

  “What is that?” I growled, skimming a finger over the top of the bra that pushed her up and almost out of the contraption.

  “A strapless bra.”

  “I know that, but you had this on tonight,” I moaned as I continued to trace the skin lightly above the black satin. My fingers tickled her softly and she pushed my t-shirt up, leaned forward, and kissed my rippled stomach. She licked one ab and lightly traced another with her fingers. She pecked softly then sucked on the ridges of my muscles. Her hands moved down to the waist of my pants and she slid her fingers inside, tugging me toward her. I was so turned on. My firm length was barely an inch from her mouth. This made me pulse with excitement.

  “God forgive me, I want it all again tonight,” she said softly to my waistband, and heaven forbid I would deny her anything. I would do whatever she wanted, however she wanted it.

  Guiding her backwards, I removed my own pants and t-shirt then crawled over her.

  “Tell me what you want,” I commanded, rubbing my palm softly between her breasts and over her stomach, stopping short of her center. She sucked in a breath.

  “You are so sexy, Precious,” my deep voice croaked.

  She looked into my brown eyes, searching for something as I continued my travels and slid a finger across her center, outside the thin material. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes.

  “Look at me,” I said softly. “I want you to know it’s me.”

  She slowly opened her eyes again and looked at me, questioningly. It was almost too intense. I momentarily had second thoughts about her gazing at me.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking?” I whispered as I nibbled her neck and slid a finger under the lace fabric, touching her wet folds.

  “It’s you. Always you,” she sighed and ran her hands into my hair, massaging my head with her fingertips as I slid my finger inside her.