by Lewis, R. J.
Because they have nothing to fear.
Four
Lucinda banned me from going back to my house. She said since I was a month shy of eighteen, I was going to be an adult soon and didn’t need my parents anymore for anything. Not that they ever gave me anything, anyway.
I tried to swap Jaxon’s sleeping arrangements so that I got the floor and he got the bed, but he refused. Lucinda did too. Then I began to see why; Jaxon went out almost every single night, and wouldn’t come home until the early hours of the morning. Sometimes he would crash on the couch, other times on the blanketed floor next to my bed. He told me to cover for him every time Lucinda asked him when he came home the next morning. He’d say eleven knowing full well that his Mom couldn’t keep her eyes open longer than ten, and I would have to nod in agreement at his answer every bloody time.
School was winding down, and prom was on the horizon. Every day I’d wait in anticipation to be approached by a boy. I got so many looks – looks that clearly screamed they were interested in me, but nobody asked me. I was so desperate I knew I’d say yes to anyone – even Garrett Abbott. But not even he approached me despite the fact it was so obviously apparent he had no date either.
What the hell was everyone’s problem? I felt like I was in a quarantine, and people were too in fear of catching some kind of zombie mutant disease from me. It wounded me deeply. After working hard on my appearance, it was a low blow to watch even the most unlikely girls get asked.
“Anyone ask you out to prom yet, Tiny?” Jaxon would probe me every single day I came home from school.
But one particular day, I’d had enough. “No, Jaxon, nobody!” I snapped, running up to the bedroom to get away from his annoying smirk.
“You okay?” he asked me sometime after.
I was crying in his bed with the covers over me. It was embarrassing – because really, why did Prom even matter so much to me all of a sudden? It wasn’t like I was the most popular girl in school.
Still. Nobody asked me. Why?
“I’m fine,” I lied. But he ripped the covers off before I had the chance to wipe away my tears.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks, Jaxon! Thank you for telling me I look like shit. Don’t you think I know that?” I barked back, fighting to grab the covers from his grip. “It’s the only reason I haven’t been asked to Prom, so don’t tell me what I already know!”
Silence. Then, “Are you on your period or something?”
“Ugh! Just go away, Jaxon!”
He didn’t. He sat down facing me instead and grinned from ear to ear like there was something so damn amusing to him. I glared daggers at him, hoping his eyes would explode and his mouth would disappear into that smartass face of his.
“If you’re so hard done by for not being asked to Prom, why don’t you ask just someone?” He crossed his arms, watching me with a face like he had some kind of secret.
“Ask someone to Prom?” I repeated his question in repugnance. “Are you stupid? Do you know how desperate and embarrassing it would be for me, a girl, having to ask a guy out to Prom?”
“It’s not that bad. You little feminists go on and on about equal opportunity, maybe these guys are waiting for you to put your hand up.”
“We’re talking about a high school prom, Jaxon, not political progressions beneficial to the female race.”
“So that weird lanky dude didn’t even ask you out either?”
“No.” I felt my cheeks heat up. I really thought Doug was a sure bet. How odd.
“Oh well, his loss. It’s not a big deal. Plus, you know what any guy would do to you if they took you out, right?”
I looked at him strangely. “What?”
“They would try and deflower you.” I expected him to laugh, but Jaxon looked dead serious at me. “That’s… assuming you haven’t been already?”
“Shut up, as if I’m telling you that.”
His eyes widened in horror. “Was it Jordan?”
“No! It was nobody. That’s none of your business, though.” I wouldn’t dare tell him how his mom had put me on birth control and gave me a rather out there sex talk (gory details and all) when Jordan and I were together. To that day, she made sure I kept taking my pill as a “just in case” precaution.
He actually looked relieved by that. Then he smiled again, this time to himself. What was he hiding that was so bloody funny because I sure as hell wasn’t doing anything!
“Believe me; all a guy thinks about on Prom night is screwing their girls, Sara. Is that what you’re looking forward to?” He was sarcastic, but I swear there was a hint of seriousness in there somewhere.
“Is that all you thought about?” I retorted, knowing I’d trapped him.
“Yep,” he nodded nonchalantly. “Tanya didn’t even try to play hard to get.”
“Ugh, you’re such a whore, Jaxon.” I shook my head at his blasé attitude, like there was nothing wrong at all with what he was saying.
“I don’t go looking for it,” he protested, and smiled larger. “They come to me, Sara.”
“And you don’t push them back either.”
“But I never go looking for it.”
“What’s the difference? You accept it, that’s what’s so wrong.”
He looked at me for a long moment before propping himself up beside me. It never ceased to amaze me how much taller he was to me, even when sitting.
“Do you want me to stop?” The question threw me off. He looked down at me, blue eyes glowing with sincerity. Oh my God, he’s being serious.
“No,” I said slowly. “What you do is your own business.”
Looking thoughtful once again, he eventually nodded and looked away. I didn’t know why he was acting so weird. It was so unlike him. “I can take you out to Prom if you want,” he quietly said after some time.
My eyes widened. “Why?”
“Because no one’s asked you, and you’ve run out of time.”
I scoffed. “Oh, so it’s just a pity offer–”
“No,” he interrupted sternly. He leaned in so that his face was mere inches from mine and seriously said, “It’s not pity, Sara. I want you to have a fun night. Plus, I’d be a good date for you. I can drive you there, dance with you, give you a good time and there won’t be that underlying expectation to deflower you.” There’s that word again. Deflower? Really, where did this guy pick his words from?
I wanted to be happy by his offer, but I was disappointed. I didn’t care how he looked at it; it was still a pity date.
“Come on, stop wallowing,” he said, nudging his shoulder into mine. “Let me take you.”
“Because you feel bad.”
“No, because I want to.”
I studied his face. He looked genuine. Then he did a pout, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Jaxon, in all his annoying, thieving, man-whore ways could be so damn adorable. He smiled, showing me those dimples and straight teeth; he knew he won me over.
“Okay, Jaxon. I’ll let you take me.”
“Let me? You act like I’m dragging you…” He looked wounded.
“No, it’s not that at all.” I shook my head at myself; I shouldn’t have picked those words! I grabbed his hand and looked him square in the eye and said, “Thank you for asking me out to Prom, and I would love to go with you. Especially if it means you won’t deflower me – that’ll take a load off my shoulders.” To emphasize my point, I gave him a light kiss on the cheek, and his eyes brightened.
Lightly laughing, he arched a brow. “Gratitude. That emotion suits you, Sara. I promise you’ll have a great night.”
“Yeah, fine, just never use the word ‘deflower’ again when you’re around me or my friends.”
“I’d never bring that up around people you know.” He was so sincere saying that, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was up with this serious shift in mood. I wasn’t accustomed to him being so… genuine and caring.
We stared at each other for a long while as he s
oftly drew circles around my palm with his forefinger. All the while I kept trying to decode the face he was giving me; it was an expression he’d only started giving me lately, filled with an admiration that ran deep in a way that fluttered my heart uneasily. Every time it snuck on by, I squashed it like a bug; prolonging the denial was the only way I could get out of the truth of what was unravelling between us.
Five
You would have thought Christ returned in the flesh to proclaim saviour to all his followers the way Lucinda reacted to the news. She was over the moon – no, over the Milky Way would be more accurate – at learning that Jaxon would be my date. It was like Christmas every day leading up to Prom.
I eventually felt better at having him as my date. If it was up to me, I would have preferred someone ask me out of true romantic interest, but I’d gotten over that disappointment.
I’d picked out a pink coral heart shaped bodice dress encrusted with jewels (fake of course) with a flowing A-line chiffon skirt. I left my dark hair down in long curls, decorated myself with stud earrings and a fake pearl necklace that Lucinda had picked up the day before. She gave me a French manicure that morning, and due to last minute timing, picked up my pink jewel encrusted high heels to match my dress. Then she came home, did my make-up, fed me nothing but an orange and water so that I wouldn’t get “bloated” and told me to wait in the bedroom until Jaxon was done dressing in her room.
When she finally let us see each other, my eyes bulged out of my head. He was wearing a black tuxedo, hair so completely slicked back it almost looked like he had short hair; he looked polished, and even his cologne smelled fresh when it wafted into my nostrils. The suit made him look extra masculine the way it framed his broad shoulders and chiselled body.
He looked me up and down with a hard to read expression. I half expected him to laugh and make fun of me like he usually did for looking so girly, but he didn’t say a word for the longest time. Lucinda directed us to stand in front of the living room area so she could take photos. Then she marched us outside to stand in front of her well-manicured garden for even more photos. All the while she kept telling us to get closer, for Jaxon to put a hand on my lower back and for me to lean into his side as if we were a couple.
This would have made us giggle like idiots any other day, but I felt strangely nervous. It didn’t help that he didn’t laugh about it either, and that he was stiff next to me when I got any closer to him. He loosened up after the photos, and we left in his car to the recreation centre where the prom was.
There were so many people there, people I’d seen every day in class, or around the cafeteria, and ones I never had the chance to associate with. The girls were dolled up, dressed in flashy looking dresses, and I had a momentary anxiety attack at having to blend in among them. I certainly didn’t feel as confident as them. I had half the urge to turn back and go straight home.
“Let’s go have some fun at your prom,” Jaxon said to me as he turned off the engine.
We got out and walked inside, hand in hand. Tables were set up everywhere for the buffet, and a dance floor was already starting to crowd with couples dancing to fast paced music. As we made our way to our table, I felt like someone had set me on fire. The amounts of stares from everyone made me want to shrink my shoulders into myself and disappear.
The girls were of course gawking at Jaxon, but the guys…. Well, that was nerve wracking.
“Is there something wrong with my dress?” I asked Jaxon as we neared our table.
He looked me up and down, scrunched his eyebrows and then broke into a smirk when he realized why I asked the question. He noticed the stares too. “They’re not looking at you because there’s something wrong with your dress, dummy,” he said, giving me a light push on the shoulder. “They’re looking at you because you look gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous?” I repeated, eyeing Jaxon suspiciously. Was he trying to be funny?
“Afraid so, Sara. You look hot.” He spoke so casually and then shrugged as he looked around the place. “Most of these girls pale next to you. That’s why some of them are staring daggers into the back of your head.”
Before I could respond, we were barraged by some of my peers and their dates. Being among friendly faces, I was able to forget the attention even though it felt like there was a neon sign on the two of us.
The evening was fun. We had a buffet followed by an awards ceremony that students had participated in to vote for their favourite friends. Afterwards, tables were pushed aside and the dance floor was made bigger to accommodate everyone.
Jaxon, who looked calm and easy, had a content smile on his face throughout. Then he grabbed my arm and forced me up.
“I’m not a dancer,” I squeaked loudly, pushing myself back into my seat.
“Don’t be boring, Sara,” he replied, pulling me forward onto my feet. “I told you I was going to dance with you. So come.”
I was mortified at first, especially when he broke out dancing in front of my stiff body. I covered my face with my hands, fighting the blush that wormed itself in. But he grabbed me and brought me close to him, moving in ways that forced my own body to reciprocate. Pulling away my hands so that I could see him, he raised his eyebrows and said, “Relax, Tiny. Just enjoy yourself. Pretend no one’s watching.”
Giggling like a school girl and terrified of how I must have looked, I did what he asked. Everyone was so involved with their partners, and with their friends, there was no concern over anyone’s terrible dancing skills. In fact, as I looked around, there weren’t many fantastic dancers at all. Feeling more at ease, I let go and moved along with the music.
Despite the amount of attention girls were paying Jaxon, he batted nobody an eye. He kept his eyes solely on me, bringing me even closer when the music slowed down so that I could see nothing but his face and shoulders.
“You clean up really well,” I muttered to him.
“Expected me to look like a bum?”
“No, just not this slick.”
He smiled widely. “I’ll take that as a compliment, right?”
“Does it sound like an insult?”
I felt his shoulders shrug under my arms. “Telling me I look good tonight might mean I look terrible most days. So, knowing you, there could be a hidden insult somewhere in there.”
I stared into his deep blue eyes, watching the humour dance about his face faster than our own dancing. In fact, we were way slower than everyone else, especially now that the music had changed and picked up pace. My arms still comfortably sat around his neck, and my fingers absentmindedly pulled at the back of his hair, tangling it around each finger.
“You should know better than anyone else that you’re handsome,” I said to him, motioning with my chin around us. “You’ve never had a problem with girls. Have you ever even been rejected?”
“No, but like I said before, I never go looking for it.” He was suddenly serious with that statement.
“Why not?” Girls were never a topic of interest between us. This was probably the first time I ever probed him about it.
“Hadn’t met someone I wanted to chase, I guess.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “That feels really relaxing, by the way.”
“What?”
“Your fingers in my hair.”
I frowned at him and assumed he was trying to change the topic of our conversation, so I dropped it. I eyed his straight nose, full lips, chiselled chin, high cheekbones and random freckle here and there, and agreed internally that he would never have to go hunting for a girl – they would come crawling to him. And for the first time, I could really see that beauty about him. It wasn’t the usual “Yeah he’s hot, who cares” attitude, it was more of a “Holy shit, how did I not notice it before?”
The first improper thought I’d ever had of him was right then and there, and it was staring at his lips, thinking, I wonder what those taste like. I felt immediately regretful for thinking it; after all, he was my best friend, nothing more.
�
��You alright?” he asked me.
I must have reddened significantly at my dirty thought. “I’m fine.” I turned my head away from him, mentally kicked myself, and wondered if it was just the special night that had evoked those feelings in me.
“No you’re not.” He put a finger under my chin and forced me to look back up at him. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I heaved a shrug, finding it suddenly hot in here with his gaze so intently fixated on me. “Just thinking about what you said. I find it hard to believe you never wanted someone.”
“I didn’t say I never wanted someone.”
“So you do?”
He smiled down at me, wistfully. “I guess you could say that.”
“Well, what’s stopping you? I’m sure she’d move mountains to be with Jaxon Barlow, the bad boy of Gosnells.”
His smile faltered. “That’s not all I am.”
“That’s not you at all,” I corrected him. “I’m just stating a common fact on why girls are crazy for you.”
“I don’t want any of them.” After he said that, I felt his arm tightening around me, and his face coming closer to me. He rested his forehead against my own, and though we were still rocking back and forth, we weren’t at all paying attention to the fast paced music in the background.
It was the feel of him around me, of his forehead against mine, of his gentle and caring voice, and of the way he was looking at me that had my heart stopping cold in its tracks; something was unfolding fast, and I was too terrified to confront it.
That dirty thought of kissing him morphed into doing more. Images flashed through my mind: of his bare strong body wrapped around mine, of his hot breath in my mouth, of his hands roaming up and down my body. His experience would undoubtedly send me over the precipice of bliss. I imagined him satisfied, or nearing the height of it; of his moaning in my ear; of his hands tightening around my waist as he drove himself and me to dizzying ecstasy.
