Wet: Part 1

by Rivera, S. Jackson

  “The next thing I knew, my brother and his girl were going at it on a blanket next to us on the beach—I was mortified! Then, Peggy started kissing me. Gawd, I was so sick of girls always trying to kiss me. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, but Peggy—she didn’t give me much choice. She peeled off her clothes as I gawked. She pushed me down, and started ripping mine off . . . oh man! Talk about being scared shitless.” By the time he finished, Paul was laughing so hard, he tried but could barely manage to maintain a steady voice enough to conclude his story. “Not how it usually happens, but it is what it is.”

  “You were raped.” It came out quietly. Rhees felt so sorry for him.

  “Hell no!” His denial came out sharply. “It was consensual . . . eventually.” A slow smile broke across his face.

  “You were forced to do something you weren’t ready for.”

  “No. There was no force involved. It just took me a minute, that’s all.”

  Rhees wasn’t buying it. She regretted asking him to tell it. She felt sick for him and couldn’t come up with any words. Paul didn’t even seem to know how he’d been robbed, and she wondered if he might be different—if he might have a different attitude about sex and relationships—if only he’d been able to wait—if his first time could have had . . . meaning and emotion associated with it.

  “Pete dragged me on a few more dates with them, but then he eventually lost interest in his girlfriend and moved on. Girls had always chased me . . . after that, I stopped running.”

  The story made her so sad her heart ached for him.

  “Are you disappointed?” he asked.

  She huffed out a laugh, but couldn’t sound convincing. “I don’t know what to say. I wish it could have been more romantic for you.”

  He tossed his head back and laughed. “Oh, Rhees, I’m not the romantic type.”

  “But maybe you would be . . . if you’d been able to wait—wait until you were in love.”

  He laughed again, but now, his laugh sounded sardonic or sinister. “There is no such thing as love—doesn’t exist. People feel hormones, think they’re in love, and do stupid things like get married. The hormones wear off and they’re stuck with this person so they start making each other miserable.” He cursed a few times and shook his head in disgust.

  “I’ve never been in love, will never be in love. It’s just biology—mechanics. I get hungry—I eat. When I get sleepy, I sleep.” He peered down at her from the corner of his eye. “When I get horny . . . I fuck. That’s all it is. The whole fantasy of love just gets in the way.” His tone grew quieter. “Makes smart people do stupid things—screws everything up.”

  “You must think I’m pretty stupid to want to wait for love.”

  Paul was drunk enough for his filters to be a little off. He normally might have answered tactfully. “I said I don’t believe in love, so yeah, you’re denying yourself a shitload of pleasure for nothing.”

  Again, she quickened her step and left him standing in the middle of the road. He stood, dumbfounded. She made it thirty feet before he ran after her.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “No. I’m mad at myself.”

  He grabbed her arm and spun her around.

  “Aw, shit!” he growled. “Are you going to cry?”

  He strung a few more swearwords together.

  “Please, don’t cry! You know I don’t do crying women very well.” He put his hands on his hips and glared at her.

  “I’m not going to cry,” she snapped, and the look on her face morphed into pure determination not to make a liar of herself. “Thanks for dinner. I’m glad I could be your service project for the night.” She turned to stomp off.

  He caught her, gently this time. “Rhees, please . . .”

  Rhees did her best to avoid looking at him, but the harder she tried, the more he obnoxiously stuck his face in hers, making it impossible. She finally smiled at how goofy he could be. Her eyes were drawn to his mouth and she watched it twitch, barely noticeable, but since Rhees had figured out the nervous habit of his, she knew he was anxious—she’d made him nervous, but she didn’t know why.

  “You have to know it’s not like that, don’t you?” He looked down. She thought he looked down a lot and wondered why he had such a hard time looking her in the eye. “Tell me what I did this time . . . so I can fix it.” His tone sounded quiet, contrite.

  “I already know I’m stupid. I don’t need it pointed out to me.” She couldn’t admit that he’d made her think, if only for a millionth of a second, he may be right. She couldn’t admit it, not to him . . . not to herself.

  “I never meant to make you feel stupid—you’re nawt stupid, so stop saying things like that. Next time . . . just believe me when I tell you it’s best to leave my past in the past, okay?”

  He looked so helpless. He seemed too vulnerable and it didn’t sit right with her. She felt sorry for him and wanted to let him off the hook.

  “Are you still walking me home? Because we’re not doing much walking.”

  Thank God, he thought, hopeful again. He took her hand, he held it a moment, and then they were on their way. He gently squeezed her hand and drew circles on her skin with his thumb until they reached Oceanside.

  She turned to say good night at the yard like the last time, but he wasn’t about to let that happen again. He pulled, leading her before she had a chance to say anything, guiding her around the yard and up the stairs.

  She followed, guardedly, wondering what he had in mind. They reached her door and she tried to say good night again, but he gestured to her to open the door. She fumbled for her key, and fumbled again with the lock until the door was open. She turned to look at him, expecting him to leave, but he didn’t. She walked inside, thinking he just wanted to see to it she made it safely inside, but he followed her in and stood very close to her in the living room. It made her nervous.

  “Umm . . . I have to use the bathroom,” she said. “All that wine is doing more to me than making me a little tipsy.” She unlocked the door to her bedroom with uncertainty. She didn’t want him to get any ideas, but she really did have to go. “Make yourself at home.” She slipped into her room and quickly closed the door behind her.

  Paul walked into the kitchen. He looked around, studying every detail. He opened the fridge and studied the contents, pleased to find an open case of beer, his favorite brand. He took two and guzzled one down right away.

  When Rhees walked out of the bathroom, her bedroom door was open. Paul leaned against the doorjamb with half of the other beer in his hand. He’d waited for her to do her business, but now that she was done, he walked in and started looking around her room, touching her things.

  He checked her expression every now and then as she watched him, silently, while he snooped. He figured his brazen curiosity annoyed her, yet she seemed amused by it at the same time.

  “Tell me what you’re looking for. Maybe I can help you find it,” she said.

  He half smiled, but didn’t stop. He walked over to her bed, knowing she slept on the double and not the twin. He sat down and bounced, testing the mattress. He winced. He reached up and patted her pillow.

  “Do you always make your bed?” He tried to hide his grin.

  She moved to the other side of the room and sat on the twin bed.

  “Most of the time. Why? Don’t you?” She watched him warily. “Are you making fun of me?”

  “No. I need to use your bathroom.” He stood and put his second empty beer bottle down on the little table attached to the wall and went into her bathroom.

  “That’s Regina’s beer,” Rhees said loud enough to make sure he would hear. “She’s very territorial about it. She’s going to give me crap for letting you take some.”

  “I only drank two.”

  “Two
?” She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “I’ll pay her back,” he answered.

  “She’ll still be mad. Everyone promises to, but she says they never do.”

  “Here. Here’s a ten.” His hand hung out of the doorway to the bathroom that didn’t have a door, holding a ten-dollar bill. “This will buy her a whole case and then some.”

  Without thinking, Rhees jumped up to take it, happy to have something to put in the fridge. She hoped Regina would see the money before she noticed the missing beer and all would be well, without a tongue-lashing.

  Rhees froze as soon as her hand touched the money—which was attached to the arm—which was attached to the body, standing at the toilet . . . exposed.

  It felt like time stopped for both of them. Paul wouldn’t have thought anything of it except for her reaction. She looked like she was going to die. Her jaw dropped, she turned pale, and her eyes slowly rolled up to meet his in absolute horror.

  She stood in shock, frozen in a moment of indecision. She finally spun around. Her hand flew to cover her eyes, which made him laugh since she faced the other direction now and couldn’t see him anymore anyway.

  She stood immobile as the sound of water hitting water continued for another few seconds. She heard the sound of a zipper, a flush, and then water running in the sink, hands wiping on a towel.

  She heard the sound of her medicine cabinet opening. He was snooping again. Her things being shuffled around—touched. She heard the sound of the shower curtain slide open. He was looking inside her shower.

  She jumped when he put his hands on her shoulders. He stood behind her, his hands gently rubbing up and down her arms.

  “That is nawt the first time you’ve seen a penis,” he said quietly.

  She didn’t answer.

  “You’ve seen movies, magazines . . . your pud boyfriend?”

  She shook her head in short, quick jerks.

  “Seriously?” He didn’t believe her. “Sex education . . . in school, everyone has to learn about this stuff.”

  He turned her around to face him, she glanced down. He pulled her chin up, but her eyes still refused to look at him. It’s true! Again, he couldn’t believe it.

  Oh God, she is so . . . so . . . “I’m sorry.” His voice was soft. “I didn’t know.” He stared at her, waiting for her to look at him. She finally did, and he rested his forehead against hers and sighed. His hands, still on her shoulders, started rubbing up and down her arms, tenderly. He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead softly, but his lips lingered against her skin.

  “I wish I understood how—you,” he whispered, barely audible. “I wish I understood you.”

  His lips skimmed across her forehead and down the side of her face. One of his hands slipped around her waist, but then he pulled it back, nervously, when she gasped and tensed up. He tried again, slower this time. He rested his hand on the small of her back and pulled her closer. His other arm slipped around her neck and he nuzzled his nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. He kissed her delicately just behind her ear. She moved, exposing her neck. He caressed it with his mouth, his breathing growing unsteady against her skin.

  He held her, pinned against him. His lips finally made soft contact with hers and it felt so good. He pulled her even closer and rubbed himself across her belly. He moaned faintly. She positioned her hands on his hips. The movement was all it took for him to lose what little control he happened to be managing to preserve. He pressed himself into her and kissed her, hard.

  “Aw, Rhees,” he breathed. He tugged on her, drawing her closer and closer—he couldn’t get close enough. He felt her heartbeat growing faster, matching his own. His lips sealed against hers. His tongue worked its way into her mouth and he moaned again at the thought of being inside her.

  Paul wilted.

  He stood so close. His arms trapped her, but she needed to get away. He kissed her behind the ear and she turned to twist out of his arms, but it made him hold her even closer. She stilled, racking her brain to think, what to do that wouldn’t have the same effect again. She could feel it—him. It scared her. She put her hands on his hips in an attempt to keep it from pressing against her, but he was so strong and it only made him press harder. Every time she moved to get away, it just made it worse.

  The wine made her dizzy, Paul made her dizzy. She felt her heartbeat speed up. She didn’t know how to stop him. His tongue slithered into her mouth, gagging her, and she couldn’t breathe. She tried to say something, but his mouth sealed so tight against hers, it came out a muffled groan. She understood this was just his way, what he knew, but she needed him to stop.

  And then he wilted, the way she’d imagined the girls he’d talked about. He just kind of melted for her.

  “Paul.”

  “Mmm . . .” he moaned.

  “Paul!” She pushed him. He was so strong—the way he held her—the need.

  “Pleeease, Paul,” she cried. “Stop.”

  Chapter 19

  Every part of him wanted to devour her, but her plea reached him. He knew he had to stop. He shifted himself into reverse, every move he’d made, until he ended up resting his forehead against hers again. His hands rubbed up and then down her arms a few more times before he grabbed her hands and squeezed—squeezed them to remind himself not to let go. He couldn’t let go of her hands, or he might start all over and not be able to stop again.

  “I’m sorry.” He started backing up toward the door with her in tow. He let go of one of her hands and turned to lead her out of the bedroom. He stopped in the living room for a second, looking around. Even the living room wasn’t safe enough. He led her out through the screen door, took a deep breath of the fresh, outdoor air, and brought her hand to his lips. He gave her knuckles a gentle kiss before letting go, and he walked to the rail to look down at the yard below. He didn’t say anything, he just stared.

  She moved to the rail at the other end of the porch and watched him leaning against the post of the patio cover, for support maybe, but possibly as a shield or barrier. He finally plopped himself down on one of the two Adirondack chairs in the corner by the door and leaned his head against his hand, covering part of his face. He exhaled heavily.

  She inched her way closer and slipped into the other chair, facing him.

  “You go from zero to nasty in four seconds flat,” she said quietly.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He finally looked at her, trying to read her. “I don’t understand you. You’re sending me mixed signals.” He didn’t even try to tone down the intensity of his glare. He knew he probably looked too intense at the moment. People told him he could be that way.

  “Mixed signals? What does that mean?”

  He leaned back in the chair and his gaze rolled upward to the ceiling. “I never bother with the girls who aren’t interested in me—I don’t need to waste my time with those. There’re always enough girls . . . hovering. Those are the ones that . . . I test, until I decide which one I’m going to take home—be with.”

  He focused on Rhees, trying to figure her out. “You don’t hover . . . but you don’t ignore me, either.” He narrowed his eyes. “And you kissed me at Ray’s. Girls I don’t even know have been trying to kiss me my whole life, but you—that was the best damned surprise kiss bomb I’ve ever had.” His mouth twisted into a crooked grin at the memory, but the look on her face brought him back to the seriousness of the conversation.

  “It was just a peck—you made it more.”

  His eyes grew wide that she saw it that way.

  “You ridiculed me in front of everyone,” Rhees said. “I didn’t want the whole island to figure out what a baby I am, not on my second night here. You’re the one who got tongues involved.”

  “Oh . . . yeah.” He laughed thoughtfully, thinking back on it.

&n
bsp; She closed her eyes. “But I overdid it, didn’t I?”

  “Depends.” He leaned forward to study her again. She pulled back to keep some distance between them. It made him grin, but only because, yet again, she confused him.

  “Yeah, maybe. At least, when it’s me we’re talking about, because I thought you were offering yourself, just like all the others, and you made eyes at me all through dinner. I thought you were flirting, but then, at Tanked, the rest of the night, you didn’t. You confused me. I waited at the bar for you to find me, but eventually I sought you out . . . because you weren’t looking for me. You were out on the deck, ready to read a book like you forgot I existed. I took a chance. I asked you to come home with me—I never have to ask, you know? Everywhere I go, the girls line up, and all I have to do is pick one.” He leaned back again and watched her for a few seconds, perplexed.

  “Sometimes, I think you actually enjoy being around me—me, not just my face.”

  “I do—” she started to say but he didn’t wait for her interjection.

  “Even when we were, you know, back when you said you hated me, you still showed up early, and you didn’t really have to. You said things like you hated my guts, but you didn’t really act like it. Sometimes you actually made me forget how angry I was at you, in spite of how you’d rejected me, hurt my pride. You’d catch me staring at you, and you’d just smile, with that . . . beautiful smile of yours. Just last night, you were jealous when Kelly sat on my lap.”