SLOW BURN

by Christie, Nicole

  “Quit picturing it.”

  “I can’t. It’s so good.”

  Johnny shakes his head. “I should have. At least it would have made you laugh.”

  He props his forearms up on the edge of the pool, and I notice him grimace slightly at the movement, his right shoulder held stiffly.

  I frown at him. “Did you hurt your shoulder again?”

  “Nah, it’s fine.” He tries to play it off. “I dislocated it even before the game, screwing around with Jase and Ryan. I popped it back into place—it’s just a little stiff is all.”

  “Well, it keeps happening, so I bet you’ll need to have surgery on it. Why didn’t you sit Friday out?”

  Johnny snorts. “Yeah, right. Coach is already pissed at me for missing practice. And for breaking his nose. He’s not gonna let me ride on anything.”

  “Well you need to get it taken care of,” I say sternly, giving him my most serious look. “I know how much it’s been hurting you.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “But—”

  “It’s fine, Juliet,” he snaps, annoyed.

  My first is response it to punch him really hard in the shoulder, and shout, “Is it fine now? Is it?!”

  God, what is wrong with me?

  Johnny mistakes my disturbed expression for silent anger. He sighs, and touches my arm. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I…I’m just in a shitty mood.”

  I study the tightness around his eyes and mouth. “What’s up?”

  “Ah, my dad knocked up his girlfriend. He’s been calling Mom, trying to sweet talk her into loaning him money—if you can believe that. What a piece of shit.” Johnny glances at me, bright blue eyes blazing. “What kind of douche bag asks his ex-wife for money to help support the ho he cheated on her with? And you wanna know what’s worse? She’s considering giving it to him.”

  He’s shaking his head in disgust. I bite my lip. “She’s probably just thinking of the baby—your little brother or sister.”

  “I feel sorry for it already.” His voice is bitter, his eyes full of dark violence. “He’s not gonna lay a finger on him or her—I can promise you that much. He’s been trying to talk to me lately, you know. Now that he knows I’ve been scouted—and I might actually make something of myself—he thinks he can get in good with me. Like I’ll forget what he did to us.”

  Johnny is a million miles away, lost in remembered pain. I rest my cheek on the rough concrete, studying him. It took a while for him to open up to me about his daddy issues, but I eventually got him to talk about some of the mental and physical abuse he and his mom endured at the hands of his father. It makes me sick, and so sad for him because he can’t deal with it, he kinda just lets all that resentment eat at his insides.

  I’m not a psychiatrist—heck, I’m not even that considerate. I don’t have the rights words to say to him—all I can do is get pissed on his behalf. Too bad any asshole with a good sperm count can be a father. They should make you have to take a test, and get certified to become a parent.

  “So, I have this method,” I begin hesisitantly. “For dealing with bad memories. I, uh, used to do it a lot when I was a kid, but not so much anymore. It’s kind of…really weird.”

  Johnny turns his head, eyebrows raised. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Okay, you know Darren Frazer—the actor? Remember his character from the ‘Bam Sucka’ movies you like so much?” He nods. “Okay, well…picture him in your mind—the way his eyes kinda bulge when he’s glaring. His high-pitched nasally voice. Now, any bad news you’ve ever received—anything mean that anyone’s ever said to you—imagine it in his voice. It makes the bad go away.”

  “What?” He chuckles, confused. “Teeny, I don’t even know…”

  “No, trust me.” I face him, holding on to the edge of the pool with just one hand. “Okay, pretend I’m your father.”

  I clear my throat again, preparing to launch into my best Darren Frazer as Detective Lorenzo Ironwad impersonation—and it’s pretty damn good. I’ve practiced.

  “Johnny!” I screech. “Get yo useless ass over here! I tole you to pick up those toys, boy—don’t make me come over there, and beat the shit outta you! Where yo momma at? Tell her to get her lazy ass in the kitchen and cook me some ‘chiladas!”

  Johnny just stares at me for an incredulous minute. Just when I think he’s going to hit me for being so stupid, he burst out laughing instead. He laughs so hard, he almost drowns.

  “What the hell?” he sputters through his howls. “That’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard in my life! I can’t—holy shit…”

  I wait for him to calm down. It takes a while. Every time it seems like he’s tapering off, he starts cracking up again—until finally, he’s resting his head on the crook of his left arm, looking utterly drained.

  “Oh, shit,” he murmurs weakly. “That was so bad. Do it again.”

  “I can’t.” I shrink down in the water self-consciously. “You didn’t think that was good? I spent a lot of time practicing it in the mirror.”

  “Teeny, you looked and sounded like a crazy cockatoo. That was epic. Best therapy ever.”

  “Oh…” I shake my head. “Look, Johnny, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make light of what you and your mom went through. It was horrible—I know it was. I…I don’t know. I know you can’t erase those memories, but maybe—maybe this will give them less power so you can live with them.”

  Johnny suddenly grins at me, fierce and beautiful. “Darren Frazer. That’s probably the worst damn advice anyone could give me, but…oh, my god, I can’t stop hearing his voice in my head.” He starts laughing again.

  “I know! That’s what my subconscious sounds like now. You know how I get that weird look on my face when I’m trying to make an important decision? It’s ‘cause Darren Frazer’s telling me ‘uh-uh, girl—don’t do it!’”

  “Oh, damn, now I’m gonna hear that voice whenever Coach yells at me.” Johnny rubs a hand over his face, then looks over at me. “How come I’ve never seen this side of you before?”

  I sink to my chin in the water. “I’ve kept it carefully hidden from you. I didn’t want to creep you out.”

  “Are you kidding? Everything you do is precious to me.” He moves closer, touching my cheek and looking intently into my eyes. “I miss you, Teeny.”

  His skin against mine causes a raging surge of lust to blow through my system. I’m paralyzed by the strength of it. Wow, my hormones miss you, too, Johnny.

  I can only hope he mistakes my sudden shivering as the result of being in the pool for over an hour. Oh, god, I shouldn’t hold his gaze like that. And I should definitely not let him come so close to me that his chest is brushing up against mine, and I can smell the light scent of the soap he uses. My body sings for him.

  I start to speak—but Johnny ducks his head and brings his mouth over mine, effectively shutting me up. His tongue tangles with mine, and I fall apart. I wind my arms and legs around his body, leaving it up to him to keep us afloat, because at this point, I don’t care. I’ll drown us both before I stop kissing him.

  I don’t see stars and hearts, and I don’t have any pretty words to describe what I’m feeling right now as we cling together, devouring each other with our mouths and hands. All I can see are writhing bodies, and all I can feel is his mouth on me, and his hard body moving against mine.

  Oh, god, the way he moves…

  “Juliet,” Johnny whispers, trailing kisses down my neck.

  “No,” I say, pulling away with my common sense. The rest of me…it stays wrapped around him. “Not here.”

  Quick as a flash, Johnny is out of the pool, and hauling my water-logged body out as if I weigh nothing. He picks me up before I can protest, and carries me to what looks to be an adorable little cottage around the other side of the lawn. He manages to open the door with his hands full of me, carries me over the threshold, and shuts the door behind us.

  I am only vaguely aw
are of my surroundings. It’s furnished—that’s all I can tell you. I wiggle in Johnny’s arms, and he gets the hint to put me on my feet.

  I shiver, crossing my arms over my chest. “What are you doing, Johnny? We’re half-dressed, and dripping wet…”

  He places a hand on my hip, pulls me closer. “We could be totally undressed, and dripping wet,” he murmurs. He bends down to kiss me again.

  I force the image into my head: the laundry room, Johnny, the moaning chick…wait, why is it turning me on? I have a strong desire to press my body against his, and prove I’m hotter than Laundry Room Girl—that I can get him just as worked up. Anger and desire fight inside of me, entwining, building into something I don’t recognize and am powerless to fight against.

  Johnny’s hand glides over my back, playing with the tie of my bikini top. I try to push away from him, my breath coming in short pants as though I’ve been running for a while.

  “I’m still mad at you.” I speak in a weak wobbly voice that makes me want to slap my own face.

  “I can make you forgive me,” he says huskily, letting me squirm against him.

  “Johnny, just let me go.”

  “Please, let me do this.” His tone turns pleading as he crushes me against him. He inhales sharply, lowering his head to speak softly in my ear. “I know I screwed up all those other apologies—let me do something for you I know I won’t screw up. I can make you feel good. No strings attached, I swear.”

  I close my eyes against his persuading words. “That would be a bad idea.”

  “It’s not, I promise you. Please, Juliet. God, you’re so beautiful. Just…come here.”

  He grabs my hand and tugs me towards the open bedroom. I don’t even offer any resistance. I don’t have any left.

  The room is dark, the shades drawn over the windows. There is a queen size bed covered by a very flowery comforter. That’s all I see before Johnny starts backing me towards that bed.

  He unties my top, and I let him. He lies me back down on the bed, and I let him. I want him. I want him to make me feel good, wanted, less lonely. I understand that I can’t turn off my attraction to him in spite of our problems—but oh, how I wish I could turn off my brain. As good as it feels—it feels so bad, too. I wish I was strong enough to not need this, him.

  I kiss him back just as desperately as he’s kissing me. My hands are restless. They tangle in his soft shaggy hair, glide over the muscles in his back, and around to his chest, held inches above me.

  Electric blue eyes bore into mine. Johnny supports his weight with one hand braced against the bed. The other hand is trailing down my stomach…lower, lower…

  I grasp his wrist and pull his hand out of my bikini bottom. I have to wriggle out from under him before I can sit up, snatching a pillow from the bed to hold in front of me in a belated show of modesty.

  “What’s wrong?” Johnny asks, propping himself up on an elbow, and gazing at me through half-lidded eyes.

  I clutch the pillow to my chest, and try to catch my breath. “I can’t,” I mutter, staring down at a loose thread on the comforter.

  I feel the bed shift as he sits up. “I’m pretty sure you can,” he repeats, his voice hard. “I’ve done it before. Don’t tell me you didn’t like it, because I know you did.”

  I glare at him, even as I’m blushing a little at his blunt words. “Of course I liked it. But I didn’t want to like it! Damn it, we shouldn’t—we’re broken up, and I’m still pissed at you!”

  Johnny sighs harshly, letting his head fall forward, damp hair falling over his eyes. “I made a mistake,” he says quietly. “I was drunk, and hurt—and really fucking stupid. Please, just give me another chance.”

  I hate when he sounds so full of self-hatred like that—it makes me want to do anything to take the pain away. I cover my eyes with one hand, shaking my head. “I can’t do this. I’m so confused, I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore. Could you just give me some space? I can’t think when you keep messing with my head like this.”

  His temper spikes, the way it always does. He gets up and starts pacing, muscles tense. “It’s not that complicated! I screwed up, now I’m trying to make up for it—the roses, the—the serenade—all those gestures you found embarrassing and stupid—were my lame attempts to win you back.”

  He stops in front of me, leans over, planting his hands on other side of me on the bed. “As for what happened just now…I wanted to touch you, hear you make those goddamn sexy noises you make when I put my hands on you. Watch your face when you get off. I wanted to, because I lie in bed every night, missing you and hating my own guts for hurting you. I’m not trying to mess with your head. Jesus, I just want you back. I want you back, okay?!”

  “No, it’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. This is a Mexican soap opera!”

  I scramble off the bed with my pillow, scoop my top off the floor, and turn my back to Johnny so I can put it back on.

  “You know, I’m starting to realize, our relationship was all about hormones and drama,” I continue, trying to untangle the strings, and talk over my shoulder at the same time. “We’re just two horny, melodramatic, screwed-up people who had the misfortune to find each other. What the hell is wrong with this damn thing?!”

  Johnny comes up from behind me. He grabs the tangled mess I’ve made and proceeds to straighten it out for me.

  “You think you’re screwed up? You’re one of the most well-adjusted girls I know.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re self-destructive, obsessive, and unstable—and I like it!” I stare up at the ceiling. “So there must be something wrong with me.”

  Johnny’s arms reach around me. He positions the scraps of material over my breasts, and ties the top strings around my neck. I hold it in place while he does the bottom ones around my back. His fingers brushing my skin sends shivers through my insides. He turns me around to face him.

  “You forgot conceited asshole,” he says with a little smile, keeping his hands on my shoulders.

  “No, I didn’t.” I glare up at him. “I didn’t want to be rude.”

  “Thanks. Listen.” His smile fades, face turning serious. “You could fix me.”

  I blink. “What?”

  Johnny shoulders straighten. He looks me in the eye. “Fix me. Come on. Consider it a personal challenge—make me a better person.”

  I groan. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said that it hurts my brain.”

  He drops his hands, and starts pacing again. “Come on, I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime, Teeny,” he coaxes. “You’re duty bound, as a female, to accept the challenge on behalf of all womankind. Remake me into one of those perfect book boyfriends you keep talking about.”

  I almost can’t believe what I’m hearing. But I can tell Johnny’s being sincere—and he’s sober! “Okay, first of all those perfect guys in books? They’re perfect because they’re fiction. They don’t even have bodily functions, and if you get tired of them, you can just stop reading.”

  I step in front of him to get him to stay still. “I don’t want to remake you into anything, okay? You cheated on me, you disrespected me—and we broke up, simple as that. Us together was kind of a disaster, anyway.”

  Johnny is bewildered. He absently rubs a hand over his shoulder. “What are you talking about? We’re great together. It’ll be even better when you fix me.”

  Wow, he is actually batshit crazy.

  I feel a tension headache starting to form, turning my neck muscles twisted and hard. How does he keep doing this to me? I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Restraining those urges makes me feel like I’m going to explode. I am so confused.

  “I need to think,” I say finally. I look up at him with pleading eyes. “Can you just give me some space so I can figure things out? I will—I will consider your offer.”

  Johnny holds his hands up, palms out, and takes a step back. “Done.”

  “No more crazy stunts.”

 
“No crazy stunts.”

  “And no threatening other guys over me.”

  “No more crazy stunts.”

  I sigh impatiently, folding my arms over my chest. “And the second thing?”

  He cocks his head, giving me an innocent look. “Huh?”

  I groan in defeat. “Never mind. I’ll take what I can get. Um, I’d better get home. What should we do…should I take that home and wash it?” I gesture to the bedding. There is a big wet spot where my head was—my soggy bun is still dripping water down my back and onto the beige carpet.

  “Nah, I can throw it in Mack’s washer,” he says dismissively.

  “Okay, well…can you tell the guys I said goodbye?” I’m too embarrassed to face them after…what happened.

  “Sure. Hey, Teeny.”

  I sigh. “Yeah?”

  Johnny moves closer to me, looking down at me with suddenly vulnerable eyes. “Love me, or hate me—just don’t shut me out, okay?”

  “Johnny…” What can I say to that?

  He pulls me into his arms, and I go willingly enough. He kisses me deeply, and I melt against him.

  I’m such a sucker.

  ******

  Chapter 14

  Johnny’s been behaving himself lately. I don’t see much of him—just here and there on my way to and from class. He always stops to say hi, how are you, like I’m any other acquaintance of his—but that’s it. The longest he spoke to me was when we were evacuated for an hour due to a small fire or something in the girls’ bathroom. He made sure to find me to see if I was okay, and he ended up sticking around for a little while to tell me about Aunt Jo freaking out on the janitor who discovered the fire.

  I don’t even see him at lunch, anymore. When I casually inquire to Nick about his absence at the table, Nick informs me that he’s been eating out with Dean.

  Has he lost interest in me? Finally accepted the fact that we’re no longer together? I don’t know how to feel about this. Not about Johnny eating lunch with Dean, but him treating me like I’m just a friend. That’s what I asked for—space. But instead of giving me clarity, I end up feeling more confused. And so wishy-washy. I wish I could just make up my damn mind.