by Foster, Lily
After what was probably only a few minutes but felt like a lifetime—a lifeline—he pulled back and looked at me smiling, tender and gentle. “Now that right there? That was the best kiss of my life.”
“Ditto,” I breathed, drugged with longing for this boy.
That night, that kiss, was the beginning of one of the happiest times in my young life. But little did I know I was standing on a precipice.
I was about to descend into a nightmare.
Happiness.
When everything is good. When someone you care about looks back at you with eyes that say: you are special to me, I want to be wherever you are, I want you.
Jeremy looked at me that way.
Jeremy: Come over?
Me: Sounds like a tempting offer.
Jeremy: Let me sweeten the pot. I’ll even cook for u.
Me: Say wha?
Jeremy: student, artist, chef…I’m multi-faceted.
Me: multi-talented
Jeremy: In ways you can’t even imagine
Me: sigh maybe someday I’ll get to do more than imagine
Jeremy: Do u like meat?
Me: Um…are we talking about dinner :/
Jeremy: Mind out of the gutter Harris.
Me: The answer is YES
Jeremy: Down girl. See you in an hour?
Me: Yes
“Wow, it actually smells great in here. I’m impressed.”
“Thanks, although that was a backhanded compliment.”
“I didn’t mean to doubt you, Jeremy, it’s just that I don’t know too many people our age who can cook. I can bake a mean brownie but that’s about the extent of my culinary prowess.”
“I love when you talk big, dirty words to me,” he said as he tilted the spoon to my lips, urging me to taste.
I think I actually moaned when I tasted the wine reduction. It was better than anything my father had ever concocted, and I thought he was a seriously talented cook. “Jeremy, this is sooo good. What are you making?”
“Nope,” he said, placing the lid back onto the pan before I could sneak a look. “Five more minutes. Help me out and set the table.”
“So this is like a fully separate apartment,” I said as I opened drawers and cabinets, retrieving plates, glasses and utensils.
“Yeah, it is. I generally eat downstairs with my dad, though. The kitchen on the main floor is, like, three times the size of this box,” he said, gesturing around the small but functional space.
“So you’ll stay here after graduation?”
“Yeah, I have my privacy and everything here. I’m in no rush to get out and I need to sock away as much money as I can for the next two years. Going out on my own—that’s my plan—means I have to be able to purchase equipment, trucks…all that stuff. I’ve been researching small business loans and how to establish credit and everything, but I want to have as much cash as possible on hand.”
“Sounds like you’ve got everything all mapped out.”
“Not really but I know what direction I want to head in.” I must have been staring absently in that moment because he tapped my nose and said, “Did you go somewhere just then?”
I smiled, shaking my head. “I was just thinking that you’re pretty amazing.”
“Yeah?” he asked, looking dubious and a little unsure. “You think that what I’m going to do is good enough, even if I won’t have a degree and all?”
“Of course! I admire people who own their own businesses. And I know you’ll be successful, Jeremy.”
“You think?”
“I know,” I said, moving closer to him, sliding myself between him and the range top. I slid my arms up around his neck and kissed him once, softly. I wanted him to know, without any doubt, that I believed in him. “I know you could tackle college and get your degree but if it truly isn’t something you want to do, then you shouldn’t. I just hope you’re not choosing a path because you think you can’t do it, you know?”
“I’m not. I mean, college classes would be a bitch and I know I’d struggle, but it’s not that. It’s just…I’m impatient. I feel older than most people my age. Hanging out at keg parties isn’t appealing to me. I want to work, I want to earn a living, I want to…get started. Do you understand?”
He looked expectant. I knew this was an important moment. It was like he needed me to reassure him and alleviate the doubts that were plaguing him. I pulled him closer and whispered against his lips before I kissed him again, “I understand you. I do.”
“Dammit, woman, you’re going to make me burn the couscous,” he shouted, laughing as he gently pushed me aside and turned the burners off.
I touched my finger to my lips, tracing the swollen but satisfied flesh. That was a kiss. “I don’t care if my couscous is burned, that was worth it.”
“It was.”
That weekend we were in our own little bubble. I was at his place again on Sunday, getting spanked in some football video game that I could hardly focus on. “You’re cheating,” I whined when he scored yet another touchdown.
He paused the game and looked at me, eyes wide, mouth agape. “Thems fighting words. No one calls me a cheater and lives to tell about it.”
“Oooh, I’m shaking with fear,” I deadpanned.
“You should be,” he murmured as he took the controller from my hand and tossed it onto the floor with his. “Now you’re gonna pay,” he said as he clasped both of my wrists in one of his hands and slowly lifted them over my head. He shifted to sit beside me as he reclined me back into the couch cushions. “Now don’t move,” he commanded. He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m going to let go of your wrists but do not move.” He sat upright and looked down at me. I felt content in a way that I never had before. “You’re so beautiful, Carolyn.” He began tracing a finger down my temple, to my chin and down my neck, stopping at the base. “I mean, you are so, so beautiful.” His finger grazed my collarbone, slowly moving from one side to the other. My pulse rate sped, my nipples were tight and the ache between my legs was closing in on unbearable. I think he could sense it, how much I wanted him to touch me. He continued his light touch, just one finger brushing down the valley between my breasts, down to the waistband on my jeans and back up again. He swallowed and said, softly. “We’re gonna take our time, Carolyn, ok?”
“I trust you, Jeremy.”
“I know you do.”
He leaned down then and kissed me, pressing his broad, defined chest against mine. Later that night, I’d lie in bed reliving that kiss as I touched myself, imagining what it would be like to feel Jeremy in that way, inside of me. There was no fear, as there had been with him, and there was no reluctance, like there had been when Drew and I seemed to be heading in that direction. No, when I thought of Jeremy in that way, there was only a rush of want and need.
What I didn’t tell Carolyn was that I wasn’t willing to go any further down this road until she was mine. Really and truly mine. Until we were out in the open, there would be kisses—seriously body-rocking kisses—but nothing more. She was cute, though, begging me with her eyes and those sweet little sounds she made when I kissed her. I loved kissing her. I couldn’t get enough and holding back was killing me, but I had an untapped reserve of self-control when it came to Carolyn.
It wasn’t just being a full-on couple that I needed, it was that I wanted everything to be good for her, to be right. There was no getting around what happened to Carolyn that summer. For her, I wanted there to be a slow build-up to something great.
Looking at her, hands clasped above her head, hair fanned out around her, eyes clear and wanting me, I knew I’d never see a sight more beautiful than her. When she asked me later that afternoon if maybe I’d sketch her someday, I thought to myself that I’d already committed that earlier pose to memory, and as soon as I dropped her off that night, I’d be transferring that memory to canvas.
Every day after school that week, she was at my place or I was in her room. I’d never been happier.
At school, t
hough, I laid low. We laid low.
I’d sit in class daydreaming about the hours ahead. She made a cup of tea every day after school. I found that adorable—I pretty much thought everything she did, said or wore was freaking fantastic. I’d imagine her standing at the counter, as she did, dipping the teabag in and out of the cup, slowly. I’d walk up behind her and place my hands on the counter, caging her in. I’d kiss her neck, exposed when she wore her hair in a ponytail. Her head would lean back against me and I’d trail my lips up and down her neck. She’d push her hips back into me, her breath quickening with mine. In reality I didn’t go further, but sitting in class my mind would take us all the way. When the bell rang, I’d have to take a moment to regain my sanity and some semblance of control over my lower body before I stood up.
On Thursday night I caved. “All right, stop begging. I’ll sketch you.” I laughed inwardly thinking that this would probably be the hundredth time she was the subject of my art.
I dragged a counter stool to the middle of the room and turned on a lamp situated a few feet away. When she sat on the stool, I smiled. The lamp cast a warm glow on Carolyn’s skin. Perfect. Her hair was down, the loose waves reaching the middle of her back. She was wearing a black tank top and yoga pants. “Now, you’re going to sit facing the window but I want your shoulder tilted back towards me a bit. Like this,” I said as I positioned her. “No whining, Carolyn. It can get tedious, sitting in one position.”
She looked back to me with a sultry pout, batting her eyelashes. “No whining, Picasso. Got it.”
Fuck, this girl is going to be the death of me, I thought as I went into my room to get my supplies. When I came out a minute later, Carolyn was perched on the stool, facing away from me, wearing nothing but a pair of white cotton, low-riding hipsters. No, the white cotton thing didn’t make them look innocent at all—they were tiny. “What the hell, Carolyn?” I asked, dropping my shit on the couch as I grabbed an afghan to throw over her shoulders. “I didn’t mean you had to strip!”
She waited silently but then cleared her throat and said, “I know I’ll never be fearless enough to bare it all like your models do but I want you to draw me, Jeremy. I want you to see me.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”
She looked to me, pleading. The afghan slid off one shoulder as she turned, exposing her creamy skin. “Come on, Jeremy. Just pretend you’re in class and I’m a model who came to pose. Pretend it’s just another Tuesday.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna work.”
She turned her head defiantly and then assumed the pose I’d dictated before. She let the afghan fall to the floor, exposing nearly all of her. My dick hardened immediately but I retrieved my gear from the couch, not even stopping to adjust myself or ease that ache in any way. I shook my head and then got to work setting up the easel and laying out my charcoals.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked when we were fifteen minutes in.
I shrugged. “I’m a guy. I was just thinking that your tits are sweet.” She blushed and looked down at herself. “Are you checking yourself out, Harris? I like it.”
“I’m not checking myself out,” she said, embarrassed.
“How are you doing? Still ok with this?”
“I’m good,” she answered, nodding to reassure me. “This isn’t as difficult as I thought it would be, you know?”
“Good.”
“I actually feel kind of powerful right now. Like I’m wielding some sort of power over you.”
“I’m completely at your mercy right now, Carolyn.”
“Ask me what I’m thinking about.”
Deep breath. As I made sweeping strokes, I obeyed. “What are you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about you kissing me. Except this time you don’t stop at my mouth. You kiss me everywhere, Jeremy.”
“Well fuck, if you keep talking like that this drawing is gonna go to shit.” I put the charcoal down and shook out my fingers. “You’re making my hands shake with talk like that.”
“Sorry,” she said, giggling.
“One day I will do that, Carolyn.”
“Promises, promises,” she teased, but then we eased back into a comfortable silence as I worked.
About an hour in, I could see she was getting uncomfortable, shifting her weight from one hip to the other. I really didn’t want to stop. I could tell this was some of my best work; it was more life-like and emotive than anything else I’d ever done. I’d just worked on the lips and they looked to me as if Carolyn was mid-sentence, saying something evocative, maybe even something suggestive. She was my goddess, my muse.
But it was late.
“Hey, it’s getting late.”
“I can keep going,” she reassured me.
“No, we’re good. I have what I need.”
I turned the canvas around when she craned her neck, trying to sneak a peek. “No. Can’t see it until it’s done. I’m serious.”
“All right,” she pouted as I grabbed the afghan, draping it back over her shoulders. Then I kissed the soft curve of her neck.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“I think that was a gift to me, angel.”
Carolyn nudged one of my hands so that the afghan slid off one shoulder. She led that hand slowly to her breast. God, I had ached, physically ached to touch her this way. Holding back had been the right thing to do, but now? Now I just didn’t seem to have it in me. She made a breathy sound that made my dick harden to steel as my fingers traced the curve of her breast. She twisted on the stool so that she was facing me and I was standing, nestled between her open thighs. We were lined up so that her body was pressed up against mine. She whispered my name, a pleading moan. “Please don’t stop now, Jeremy.”
“Hold onto me,” I rasped as I lifted her and carried her to the couch. She was straddled across me as I sat, her sweet, rounded breasts right at the level of my mouth. Oh, what I wanted to do to her in that moment. I wanted to lick, kiss and suck every inch of skin that covered her. I wanted to sink inside of her heat and make this girl mine.
She ran her hands through my hair. “I love your hair, Jeremy.” She giggled a little, which made her tits bounce just slightly. The zipper of my jeans was digging in. Then her look turned serious. Carolyn pressed her mouth gently to mine and said between kisses, “Make me yours, Jeremy, please.”
“So, rumor has it that you’re single, Harris.”
I was at my locker early Friday morning. The hairs on my neck stood at the sound of his voice. He was standing less than a foot away from me. “Why would you care one way or the other, Chase?”
“Always wanted to get to know you better, I guess. I don’t think anyone at Westerly really knows you, do they, Carolyn?”
I turned and faced off with him. “You might want to get to know me but I have no desire to know you better. Go creep out some other lucky girl.”
“I met a friend of yours last week,” he said, ignoring my dismissal. As he spoke, he did a slow perusal of my body, lingering on my chest for an extra beat. The way he looked at me made my skin crawl.
I turned my back on him to slam my locker closed. He moved closer and pressed his body up against mine as he whispered in my ear, “Haven’t you heard, Harris? I’m a sought after lacrosse recruit. I was being wooed by Duke just this past weekend.” The mention of that school had me frozen in place. “I liked it there,” he cooed. “I had a great guy showing me around, Greg Henley. Turns out, he knows you. He had lots of really nice things to say about you, Carolyn.”
“Get away from me, Chase.”
I heard him chuckle, pleased with himself. “I’ll see you at the party tonight, Harris,” he said as he sauntered away.
I ran to the closest bathroom and up came everything I’d eaten that morning. I sat through my morning classes like a zombie. I didn’t go to the lunchroom, which probably pleased everyone. They didn’t have to choose sides today. I’m sure my friends were relieved they could sit
with Drew and the boys again.
My run-in with Chase made the decision to skip Samantha’s party a no-brainer. She didn’t want me there, anyway. I dropped a present off at her house that afternoon. Samantha pouted, acting sad when I told her I was going to skip, offering to do something with her the next day. She cocked her head to the side as she said, “I’m bummed you won’t be here but I do think you’re doing the right thing.”
Samantha was so not bummed. She motioned zipping her lip to me when her mother said, “See you tonight, Carolyn.” That would have been all sorts of awkward. Mrs. Cavanaugh was like a second mother to me and would have flipped if she knew Samantha was more than good with me missing her party.
I wasn’t planning on sitting home alone by myself, moping, though. I would be seeing Jeremy later that night.
I’d been practically floating on air since that night he’d sketched me. He didn’t take things far, showing that same damned restraint I was coming to despise, but he did shower me with kisses, gentle touches and words that made me feel more cherished, loved and more womanly than I ever had.
But now when I thought of Jeremy? Now I was scared.
I wanted to tell Jeremy. I wanted someone to help me, to protect me from this shit storm that I knew was brewing. I was fairly certain that Chase wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d made me suffer. He was like that; he was cruel. I knew, though, that Jeremy couldn’t protect me. Jeremy had gotten into a scuffle with one of his obnoxious teammates during a practice last year. I’d heard through the grapevine that Jeremy was informed, in no uncertain terms, that he would be “out on his ass” if there were any incidents even remotely resembling an assault. If Jeremy knew what Chase was saying to me, he would go after him. It’s just how he was.
I couldn’t have Jeremy being thrown out of school a few months shy of graduation because of me.
I couldn’t tell him the truth this time.
“I’m good,” I lied when he asked how everything went between me and Samantha. “I dropped a present off for her earlier and she acted disappointed when I told her I wasn’t coming tonight.”
