Pieces of Paisley

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  “That is all you got from that whole conversation?”

  “No, I got it. Told you earlier I am trying to be better, and I can see when I let my asshole gene run dominant you will call me on my shit.”

  “You seem to think I am going to be around full-time, or at least long-term.”

  “Hoping.” I wink at her before I saunter in the house. Score one for me. I left that girl speechless. Thank fuck.

  Surprisingly the night progresses rather calmly. Lots of conversation, lots of drinking, against my better judgment, and more of her smoke breaks. I catch her watching me throughout the night, and I have to admit I like it. She and Kara have hit it off, laughing and cutting up. Krista is occupied in Chad’s room, and Paisley doesn’t blink an eye at that.

  “It doesn’t bother you that your friend drags you here and then leaves you for a quick fuck?” I broach the subject with her.

  “Um, if you call three hours quick, I feel sorry or elated for you girlfriend, and why should I care? You seem to forget I don’t have training wheels on my bicycle anymore . . . I graduated to a vehicle with an actual engine, and by law I am allowed to drive it. What Krista and Chad do is their business . . . neither are virgins, and it doesn’t concern me, so I don’t involve myself. Unless he hurts her, then I will involve myself, but you have to care to be hurt and she won’t allow herself to care . . . so I am not too worried. Why are you all up in their business?”

  “I just hope she doesn’t do this often to you, leaves you alone in strange places.” In fact, that makes my blood boil to think of her being put in dangerous situations.

  “Holy shit! Buy a clue you idiot. I am not alone, I am not frightened, and for the last time . . . I AM NOT A CHILD.”

  “Then maybe you need to quit shouting like one.” Probably not the smartest move on my part seeing the steam practically pouring out of her.

  “Maybe you need to worry about yourself. I don’t know why you have appointed yourself keeper of Paisley, but I promise you, I don’t need a keeper. But, if I do I will let all other applicants know the job is filled . . . by a fucking Neanderthal.”

  “Don’t say fuck; it isn’t attractive.”

  “Again, that is what you got out of that conversation? You are clueless, and your apparent obsession with me is getting old. Shit or get off the pot.” She threw down the gauntlet. I knew she was feeling the tension, attraction, and connection simmering all night, but I never thought she would challenge me to act on it.

  The entire time I inch my mouth closer to hers, I know it is wrong. The voice in the back of my head is telling me to stop, but damn if I do. I kiss her, not soft or sweet either. It is full of passion, branding, control, and fuck if it isn’t perfect from the moment my lips capture hers until the second I pull apart.

  “Is that what you had in mind?” I challenge her to tell me I am wrong. She doesn’t, but she does grab me by the front of my shirt and pull me back down to her. Our lips collide, our minds quiet, and we begin the dance of our hearts taking over. Perfection. Complete and utter perfection. I don’t question if this is right, how it will work, or where we go from here. I stay in this moment, and for the first time in a long time, I feel I am where I am supposed to be. The only word that comes to mind . . . consummation.

  She pulls away from me but doesn’t let go. I stare into her face, looking for any sign of regret. I see the opposite, her eyes mirror mine, and I let the tension leave my body and smile at her.

  “Wow,” she mutters.

  “I thought I had rendered you speechless.”

  “You wish,” she mutters before reclaiming my lips. I hate to do it, but I put the brakes on.

  “What is happening?”

  “I thought it was pretty obvious, but if you need an explanation I am wondering who the high school student should be.”

  “That, right there. How is this going to work?”

  She shrugs, “It may not, but don’t you want to at least find out?” I mull it over, but answer the only way I can.

  “Hell yes.” The smile I am rewarded with makes all the confusion and questions worth it. I would repeat those two words daily to see the happiness in her eyes.

  The night ends too soon with me walking her out to the car and kissing her goodnight. We may not have all the answers tonight, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. We make plans to see each other tomorrow, and I thank the heavens that it is summer break so she can keep her later curfew seven nights a week. Briefly I think how wrong this situation is, but I let that thought fade away when I feel her lips on mine once again.

  Chapter 5

  Paisley

  Love is a friendship set to music.

  Joseph Campbell

  I no sooner get the door shut and Krista is launching an inquisition on me. “Holy shit, Kris . . . give me a second. Let me call my mom and let her know we are going to be a few minutes late.”

  “Why? We will make it home in time.”

  “Because you are about to pull your ass over so I can have a cigarette.” We have one rule . . . we don’t smoke in our cars. No exceptions.

  “All hot and bothered are we, Pais?” she taunts me.

  “Whatever, bitch. You are the one who smells like sex.”

  “What does that even mean? Does sex have an odor?”

  “Yes, and it is spelled K-R-I-S-T-A!” We both howl with laughter, I call my mom and tell her I have to pee, and we are on the road so she lets me slide with a “No more than fifteen minutes late, Paisley,” warning.

  Krista pulls over into a parking lot, and I am out of the car with lighter and cigarette in hand. She doesn’t smoke . . . cigarettes. She is my little pothead. I will smoke occasionally, but not like her.

  “Spill it sista. How did you go from avoiding him like he had the bubonic plague to face raping him in the span of . . .?”

  “Five hours? Time slips away from you when you are on your back having monkey sex.”

  “No animals were involved, and don’t change the subject.”

  “I don’t know, Krista. I said something about shitting or getting off the pot, then it was on like Donkey Kong.”

  “You told him that? Girl, the way he has watched you every time you are around that was like waving the red flag in front of a bull. Explain to me why, Paisley?”

  “I can’t explain it. I don’t know how or why, I just know it felt right. He drives me crazy with his ass-holism, but he sets me on edge at the same time. How fucked up is that?”

  “Pretty fucked up.” She is serious and doesn’t seem to like the thoughts she is having. She hesitates and won’t meet my eyes. “Be careful.” Almost like she is warning me.

  “What? What do you know that I don’t, Kris?” Oh God, what if he has a wife back home waiting for him? I am a mistress. Wait, no don’t you have to have sex to be a mistress?

  “Calm down, Pais I’m just saying, be careful. You don’t have the experience he has, hell that I have. You aren’t jaded, or tarnished, and I don’t want that for you.”

  “It was a kiss. Or several. I didn’t pledge my undying love and take him to have and to hold.”

  “You aren’t a prude, but you aren’t a risk taker. You think everything through, whether you realize it or not. You don’t make out with random guys . . . you aren’t a normal teenager. So all I am saying is if you took that leap with him, there is a reason and no matter what that reason is, be careful.”

  “I don’t make out with random guys because no guy has shown an interest.” I clearly point out the obvious to her, in which she laughs at me. Full on laughing with tears running down her cheeks . . . and here comes the snorting. “Please share with the class, Krista, what is so funny?”

  She holds up her finger signaling for me to give her a minute, and I am about to put my foot so far up her ass she will speak Skecher. Finally, she is under control, until she sees me so pissed off and starts all over again. I light another cigarette and wait, yet again.

  “You honestly believe no guy is
interested in you? Have you seen a mirror? Paisley, you are fucking beautiful. You have this aura of not being interested, and they are scared to fucking death of you. Boys don’t like rejection. You are clueless.”

  “Are you done with the compliments? I don’t think I can take much more.”

  “Get in the car, and think about it.”

  “Is your description a nice way of calling me a closed-off bitch?”

  “Nope, if I thought you were a closed off bitch I would tell you. I just think you are above a lot of the petty high school stuff. Boys aren’t your thing, you have this calm about you . . . wise beyond your years is what your mom says. I don’t know how to explain it, but you don’t waste your time on things that don’t mean something to you. You care, too much sometimes, and that is why you think and rethink every decision. You are afraid to experience pain, hurt, and rejection . . . all normal things. But you refuse to put yourself in a situation you will have to confront those feelings, so you disengage. That is why I warned you to be careful. If you put yourself out there for Jake, it matters to you. Just how much or in what capacity is something only you can answer.”

  I mull over her answer and just can’t wrap my head around why I let my guard down and confronted this thing with Jake. “Hey Krista, don’t you ever miss just watching cartoons and eating ice cream until we puked. Things were so easy without hormones, boys, men, and the fucking Naval Academy all up in my grill.”

  “Oh my Paisley is growing up. Next thing you know I will be buying you a ‘Good-bye V Card’ cookie and sending you off to school on your own.”

  “Why are we friends again?” I am trying to come up with one good reason.

  “Because you love me.” Yep, that is the only reason I need.

  “I do.” We make it home only eight minutes late and go through our ritual of getting ready for bed, and then the dreaded Mom conversation happens. Every night like clockwork.

  “Don’t forget tomorrow is Sunday. Family dinner, no exceptions.” She reminds us, just like every other week.

  “We know, Lily.” She hates when I call her by her first name, but I love it. She just shakes her head at me.

  “Trouble maker.” She laughs at me.

  “Learned from the best.”

  “Did you girls have fun tonight?” Both Krista and I start giggling like we did when we glued my step dad’s beer to the refrigerator shelf last month. He never wanted a Budweiser so bad until he couldn’t get one.

  “Paisley kissed Jake.” And here comes her gift of gab.

  If looks could kill she would be dead. That may still be an option.

  My mom is trying to hide her snickering behind her hand, but discreet is not in her vocabulary. “Who is Jake?”

  “Chad’s friend. The one I told you about last night.” Shut up, Krista. Neither of them pays attention to me plotting their murder, and they continue with their conversation.

  “Is he cute?”

  “To die for. Yumalicious”

  “Is he nice?”

  “Not so much. She told him he had ass-holism syndrome.”

  “Oh, one of those. Most men don’t know better.” Seriously, I am sitting right fucking here. “Do you want to invite the boys over tomorrow for dinner?” Did she just call them boys?

  “Uh, probably not. Remember I told you they are older . . .” Ah, what’s wrong Krista? Your words aren’t flowing so much now with the thought of being busted.

  “Didn’t you say they were twenty, honey?” Oh, good one, Mom. Gain her trust with your false concern. I beg Krista telepathically not to fall for it.

  “They are twenty.” Hope my cell phone is charged because I will be calling 9-1-1 in just a second when my mother keels over from heart failure. Last night it didn’t seem like such a big deal to her, because it was a remote possibility. Now she is faced with it being a fact, and she is still trying to be the cool, hip mom.

  “I see. Well that isn’t terrible. You are eighteen and Paisley is sixteen going on twenty-five.” Did hell just freeze over? I think I may need the ambulance because clearly I am going insane thinking I heard what I just did.

  I can’t take it anymore. “Night-night. Conversation over. No guests for dinner, no kissing discussion, no discussion at all. Get out, going to bed now, and I want to pretend this whole tete a tete didn’t happen.”

  “Oh Paisley, calm down. It was a kiss.” My mother says, so clinically and matter of fact.

  “Yes, I know. I was there. So were my lips, and my tongue. Now I am done with this conversation.” I climb under the covers and flip over so my back is towards them. I would like to fall asleep thinking about Jake, but instead I am thinking of how my capabilities in picking friends is seriously lacking, and how I must have been stolen at birth because anyone can see this family and I don’t mesh. Mind your business, people.

  I hear the door shut and then Krista, in her sweet sing-song voice, “Night, Pais. Love you.”

  “Fuck you, Krista.”

  “You know they say never to go to bed mad.”

  “That is in marriage and relationships, and right now I am reconsidering the relationship we have.”

  “You love me.”

  “Like a dog loves fleas. Shut up, Krista. I love you, go to bed, and no more speaking tonight.” I hear her sigh and get comfortable and thankfully not another sound.

  I wake up not knowing how I feel about the events of last night. I really like kissing Jake, and I really like being around him, but what does that mean? I asked him last night if it was worth finding out, now it is time I use that advice on myself. Hurrying through the morning so we can get to the beach, I continuously tell myself it is because I want the sand, sun, and surf with a side of Jake’s lips. Having to tell myself he is secondary on my rush to get out of the house isn’t doing much to make myself believe it.

  “You aren’t going to put on make-up?”

  “No, mom, we are going to the beach.”

  “Aren’t you going to see this Jake-boy?”

  “Krista, come on. The faster you get out here the quicker I can clean your blood off the floor because I am about to gut you.” I grab my keys and walk outside.

  When Krista opens the door, I hear my mom yell, “Don’t forget about dinner tonight, and invite your friends.”

  Krista is looking at me biting her lip, not moving towards me. “Oh for fuck’s sake, get in the car, I am not going to kill you.”

  She beams at me, kisses me on the cheek as she jumps in my Jeep, and we continue on to the beach. As we get closer, my heart picks up speed and my palms are about to slip off the steering wheel because they are sweating so badly. I keep telling myself that it is no big deal. My head and my stomach aren’t agreeing.

  “Pais, breathe. Go with your gut.”

  “Well then we need to pull over and empty it because right now it is revolting every mile we go.”

  “You have it bad.” She almost sounds far away, and when I steal a quick glance at her, I can tell she is remembering. She has the telltale signs with her eyes staring but not focused and her eyes are watery. I let her remember in silence.

  She takes a deep breath, “I am almost jealous you are experiencing this. I miss it, that anxious yet calm feeling. The questions in your mind asking yourself if it was as good as you remember, what if he ignores you, but yet wanting to feel what you felt last night so bad you want to throw caution to the wind and speed to get to him faster. Enjoy it, Paisley. Revel in the feeling, you never know when it will be taken away.”

  Before I can comfort her with some sort of inadequate words, she flips the radio and ‘The Best Days of Your Life’ by Kellie Pickler comes blaring through, and we both sing as loud we can, and it is amazing how one song can have so many different meanings for each person. I don’t realize our mini-karaoke session is still going on and we are sitting in the driveway and Jake, Chad, Kara, and Toby are all on the deck watching and listening.

  When the song ends and I hear whistles and clapping, I
am mortified. I am about three seconds away from throwing this bitch in reverse when I glance up and see him. Smiling, laughing, and thoroughly amused.

  “Embrace it, Pais. Just go with it.” Krista whispers and hops out. I am still contemplating leaving, and she can find her own way home when I see him descending the steps. He comes to a stop right by my door and gazes at me.

  “You getting out or planning an encore?” I can’t look at him. I want to slide down and hope my seat swallows me. I immediately pull the ends of my hair into my mouth and feel my face on fire. I am beyond embarrassed. He pulls my hair out of my mouth, opens my door and tells me, “Don’t quit your day job, beautiful.” With those six words I let it go. I throw my head back and laugh and before I can get myself untangled from my seat he has pulled me out and against his chest.

  My nervousness is gone; this is as natural as breathing. I look up at him, and he bends down and grazes his lips against mine, “Was that so hard?”

  “What?” I missed something.

  “Giving me a proper hello. I’ve been waiting since last night to see you again.” I grab his face and pull him down. I slam my lips into his, no finesse whatsoever, he bites down on my bottom lip and our tongues barely touch, but it is enough to ignite me. Before I get carried away with an audience, I pull back.

  “Good Morning, Jake.”

  “I could get used to this.”

  “Me, too. That is what I am afraid of.”

  “One day at a time, beautiful.” I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. My new mantra is going to be one day at a time. “Come on, let’s get you to the beach.” He already knows that is my favorite place.

  “Can you play nice today?”

  “If I do, can I get a treat?”

  “All good things come to those who wait.” I grab my beach bag and run towards the sand. The day passes quickly and to my surprise no angry outbursts. He doesn’t play much volleyball, though, because he is too busy bitching about my swimwear. I about lose it when he asks me if my parents know what I wear at the beach.

  Krista interjects, “You were invited for family dinner, and you can ask them then.” Contemplating murder, yet again.