by Unknown
He’s using all his weapons against me. He must know what it does to me.
“Yeah,” I croak back, unable to look at him.
Dan sighs, “Never mind.” He slides past me, his body rubbing against mine, lighting it up.
I take the moment to watch his back muscles through his thin shirt, and his jeans that are loose-fitting but show enough to drive me crazy.
I go back to Sam’s room, closing the door behind me.
She’s on her bed, playing with her lips, eyes glazed over, off in another world, a small smile tugging on the corners of her mouth.
I jump on her bed, making us both bounce, “What was that?!”
She falls back, arms spread wide, “I don’t know, but I want it to happen a billion more times!”
“What did he whisper to you before you mauled each other?”
Sam sits back up with a big goofy grin on her face, “That he wasn’t sorry.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, but it was how he said it. Like consequences be damned.” She gets lost for a moment while looking up at the popcorn ceiling, “I think I’m in trouble.”
I think she is too.
“Remember Bryce from last summer?”
Of course I do. Sam was obsessed. He was a player. You can imagine how well that played out.
“Remember what he did to me?”
“Made you into the girl you swore you’d never turn into?” I joke. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Kissing Tag blows Bryce out of the water. Like,” she lets her hands move out from her head and makes an explosive noise. “Who would have thought? It’s Tag, you know? He’s a jerk.”
He really wasn’t, but I’ve never argued her on this.
“Anyway,” she slaps my thigh before hopping off the bed. “I’m ready to party!”
“Be careful,” I warn.
She gives me a wink, “When am I not?”
Now that’s a loaded question.
She wiggles her brows at me, “All I can say is, Tag better be ready!”
Chapter 2
The party is bumping with music, bodies crammed into what little space the house has to offer.
I do what I always do: I eagerly grab my sketchbook from my personal drawer in Sam’s dresser, as well as my favorite pencil. I have a few filled ones stacked to the side. I smile at them and gently touch their covers. Every single one was a gift from Danny. I remember the first one I received like it was yesterday. It’s one of my most treasured memories.
It was on the first birthday I knew Sam and the boys, which happened to be on a Friday that year…
I don’t tell anyone it’s my birthday, not even Sam. My birthdays are never anything real exciting to me; it’s only special because my mom lets me deicide what we make for dinner and what dessert we have, but otherwise my birthdays are like any other day. My siblings and I don’t get presents, as my parents don’t want us to value possessions, only family and God. I don’t mind; I never really have anything I want anyway.
I don’t make it to the Shepard’s until after dinner, but at least I get to be with them. It’s been stormy and rainy all day and the boys for once don’t feel like partying. They get a bunch of junk food and some movies instead. We’re all lounging around, huddled under blankets, sharing popcorn, laughing at funny parts, cringing at grotesque parts. It’s without a doubt my favorite birthday.
Sam and I are on the couch (the boys always let us take it). I’m in the middle, between Sam and Danny. This happens every time we watch a movie, and every time I can hardly concentrate. All my attention is on how close Danny is and it makes me hyper-aware of every movement he makes: reaching for his drink, a twitch of his hand, his laughter that vibrates my cushion, his knee that occasionally brushes mine…everything.
I’m cross-legged with a blanket tucked around my legs and pulled up to my chin, trying not to freeze. They have a heater, but this old home has poor insulation, so it only keeps it from freezing us all to death.
The twins are arguing over a blanket even though they both have their own. Sam has decided she wants Tag’s, so she’s reached over to the recliner he’s in to pluck it right off of his lap.
“Hey!” Tag shouts, trying to tug it back.
“I’m cold!” Sam exclaims like that justifies her stealing his.
“Tough titties!”He yanks harder. She pouts, sticking out her lower lip. He sighs as he throws it on her and gets up, “Fine, but you have to share.”
Tag has us scooch down, bringing my side right up against Danny’s as the two of them huddle under the blanket together. Tag wraps an arm around Sam and we all continue watching the movie. It’s Fifth Element, one of our groups’ favorite movies, but at the moment I can’t breathe. I’m freaking out that Danny might be able to hear how fast my heart’s racing. Which is silly, because he never really pays attention to me. Half of the time I don’t even think he’s aware I’m here.
“You guys think Mary is like Leeloo?” Maddox points out. Mary is their nickname for me, short for Virgin Mary. I hate when they use it, but one day Price had called me that and it stuck. Danny and Sam (and I guess North too, but that’s only because he rarely says anything) are the only ones who don’t use the nickname. I’m not ashamed of being a virgin, I’m really not. I’m actually glad I am. I see how easily these guys go through women, and I believe sex should actually mean something. I want it to matter every time I do it. I have no desire to be a notch on someone’s belt. Even if they’re as hot as Danny, which to me, no one ever is.
Jerry gives a half-grin, his eyes squinty and bloodshot, and I think it would have been a smile if he wasn’t so high, “Yup.”
Tripp tilts his head to the side, “I don’t see it. Milla Jovovich is hot as shit.”
Price shakes his head in disagreement, always ready to take the opposing side to his brother, “I totally see it. Innocent as fuck and shit. Member when Hannah first started hanging out? She didn’t even know what a fucking Slurpee was!”
They all laugh and I turn beet red, but thankfully it’s hidden by the dark room.
Danny throws his bottle of Pepsi at the back of Price’s head, “Shut the fuck up man, I’m trying to watch the movie.”
Price’s comment doesn’t bother me because I’m nothing like the girl in the movie, but I’m naïve like her. Not so much anymore, but I was.
Price throws the Pepsi back at Danny, “Jesus. Mary always gets your flowered panties in a twist.”
“They’ve got hearts, not flowers,” Danny defends like he’s insulted.
They smirk and go back to the movie. Danny pulls up my side of the blanket, sending in a blast of cold air before he tucks it around him.
Now it’s just the two of us smooshed tightly together under one blanket. His arm rests next to mine, and it’s all I can concentrate on for the rest of the movie.
Yup, definitely the best birthday ever.
After the movie, everyone clears out to their own place.
Sam and I are about to hop in her bed, but before I do I go back out to the living room to grab the blanket I had been using, partly because I want the extra warmth, but mostly because I know it will still be carrying Danny’s scent.
Danny’s coming out of his room and he stops me, “Come here a minute.”
I feel frozen in place, but luckily for me, my feet move on their own accord.
His room is smaller than Sam’s room, his bed taking up most of the space. He has a dresser with clothes spilling out as well as strewn all over the floor, and band posters covering the walls.
He throws something on the bed in front of me, “Happy birthday.”
I stand in shock, staring down at what he has plopped in front of me.
It’s a sketch pad. A real sketch pad. Most of the time I just draw on whatever scraps of paper I can find, which means it’s mostly used envelopes.
I reach out my hand and gently touch it like it’s something delicate.
I look up at him. He’s leaning
against his dresser with his arms crossed, watching me with this intense expression he sometimes gets.
“Thank you,” I whisper, emotions building inside me.
“It’s nothing,” he dismisses.
It is though. He has no idea how much it means to me. “How did you know it was my birthday?”
He acts casual, like it’s no big deal, “The first day we met. Sam asked you your birthday.”
I can’t believe he remembered.
“I just thought you needed something good to draw on,” Dan adds. “I saw it at an art store and so I got it for you.”
“You were in an art store?” The idea is funny to me and I smile at him.
He shrugs, giving no further explanation.
I pick it up and hug it to my body, “I love it.”
He smiles at me and it feels like I took a hit to the gut. His smiles always kill me.
“Good.”
I smile wider at the memory, shutting the drawer. Every birthday Dan gets me another one, and every birthday it’s just as special.
I place the hundred dollar bill between some pages, not sure what I’m supposed to do with it. I need to find a way to give it back. Danny works too hard for his money to just be giving it away.
I weave my way through the crowd of partiers, keeping my pad close to me, not wanting anybody to spill on it. I go all the way to the backyard, to my spot that is hidden in the darkness. There’s a table and a few chairs, and I take the one with my back to the house. I bend my knees so I can place my sketch pad on my thighs.
As soon as my pencil hits the blank page, I begin sketching an idea that’s been playing out in my head all week. I start with the shirt first. I love to design clothes, keeping the modesty I was raised with but adding flair to be more fashionable and comfortable. They’re clothes I dream about wearing now if I were allowed.
From my spot, whenever people are in the kitchen their voices trail out and I can always hear the conversation. First I hear Tripp and Price talking about a redhead they hope will show up and how last time she gave them both head in the bathroom.
“I’d be careful.” I instantly recognize Sam’s voice. “That itch on your groin isn’t from sweating in the heat.”
“Thank you nurse, I’ll have to have you check it out later. We might need an oral exam just to be sure,” Price responds back, sounding pleased at what he must assume is a cleaver response.
“When I’m in the mood for a Little Smokies I’ll let you know.”
I hear Maddox laughing, “Oh, burn!”
I smile and shake my head down at my sketch. Their immaturity always has me laughing.
“Idiots,” a voice grumbles as a chair scrapes the concrete.
I try to act casual as my insides go haywire. I would know that voice anywhere, and besides that he’s the only one who ever comes over here when I’m sketching. Everybody else leaves me alone.
I don’t look up. It’s what we do. I sketch while Dan smokes. As if on cue, I hear the lighter spark and his inhale.
He openly watches me. It only lasts the duration of his smoke, but in those moments the world seems to go quiet. I’ve never asked why he comes out here or why he watches me, and he’s never offered me anything that would suggest a reason.
He puts his smoke out in the ashtray next to him. “Whatcha working on?” He leans over, getting too close for my comfort. With everybody else I squeeze it tightly to my chest, too shy and embarrassed to show them, but I can’t say no to Danny so I angle it enough to show him.
He gives a wide smile, “That would look great on you.”
I blush and my body cranks up the heat. He always complements my work, but I can’t tell if he means it or he’s just being nice. The only thing with Danny is that he’s always straightforward and I don’t see why this would be any different.
“Thanks,” I say, moving it back on my lap to continue. He keeps watching me and it’s got my stomach doing swirls and dips.
“We’ve got a new client,” Danny informs me, breaking the silence once again. “She’s a real pain in my ass. Was hoping you could help me out?”
Danny started his own landscaping business as soon as he graduated high school. He had already been working for a man since he was twelve so he knew the ins and outs of the business. Occasionally they get a client who’s really picky with a design idea and Danny, as it’s mainly his job, has no clue how to design what they want, so he started asking me for help.
I flip the page so I can start on a fresh sheet. He takes that as his cue and begins describing the lush greenery, the waterfall, and the overall feel the woman wants, and as he talks I draw what I picture in my head. When he’s done he gives me a few minutes to finish.
I bite my lip as I stare at my work. I think I’ve got a pretty good idea for it and I explain before I turn it around, “It sounded to me like she wants the rainforest in her backyard.”
“Bingo!” He says, snatching the pad from my hands, his eyes roaming all over the page as he inspects it. He rips it out, “I owe you one.”
I shrug and then remember the hundred dollar bill, so I pull it out from between the pages of my sketchbook and slide it over to him.
He doesn’t touch it, eyeing it suspiciously, “What’s this for?”
I go back to sketching, “I can’t take your money.” Especially considering there’s no reason for me to even have it.
He slides it back my way, “Sure you can. Besides, you just helped me earn way more than this.”
I glide it back.
His face gets hard and he leans over the table, lifting the bill and tucking it back into my pad of paper, “Take the money. Go buy some fabric or something. Make these sketches real and finally open your damn Etsy shop.”
Dan’s been harping on me to open an Etsy shop for years, but I can’t get to my mom’s sewing machine without her noticing. She would never allow me to make something other than an outfit my father had preapproved.
He walks away and I sigh.
I allow my thoughts to drift to the idea of my own shop, where I’m able to create and sell my own clothes. It’s nothing more than a dream, but it’s a wonderful one.
Eventually, when I’m yawning too much and I can’t keep my eyes open, I head back inside. The party is still going strong, and as I close the door to Sam’s room I see Danny leading a girl into his room. A girl with skimpy clothes, red painted lips, and sleek hair. The complete opposite of me.
It crushes my heart and I crash from the high that sketching usually brings me. I climb into Sam’s bed and pray to God he’ll finally help me get over Daniel Shepard.
Chapter 3
As I ride my bike to Sam’s from Mrs. Fraser’s, I take my time and enjoy the first day of this summer that isn’t swelteringly hot.
When I arrive, Dan is coming out of the house. I hop off my bike as he nods towards his Shepard Landscaping truck, “We’re playing ball today. Get in.”
I should’ve known. Any time the weather is halfway decent they’re outside playing baseball.
Dan helps lift my bike into the bed of the truck so I can ride it home later.
Once inside, he throws some clothes on my lap as he backs out of the driveway.
This isn’t the first time I’ve had to change in his truck, but that doesn’t stop me from being mortified to do it next to him.
First I take the shorts, which are obviously a pair of Sam’s, and slip them on under my jean skirt. I have a hard time getting the tiny leg openings over my Keds and I have to awkwardly tug, trying not to topple over as we drive. Then I shimmy my skirt off. There’s no top because I always wear one of Dan’s white tank tops underneath my clothes, so I just unbutton my blouse and remove it. All of this is with a seat belt on, which adds to the difficulty, but I’ve mastered it over the years. Next, I undo my braid and pile it into a mop on my head. I finish the look off with a fat pair of sunglasses. It’s not my first choice in attire, but whenever I leave their house with them I have to try and
“disguise” myself in case someone I know from Church sees me (which, thankfully, has yet to happen).
The shorts ride up my thighs practically to the crotch. I repeatedly try to pull them down, cursing Sam and her skimpy clothes.
Dan takes a backroad that guides us through numerous potholes.
“Townview would have been quicker and less bumpy,” I point out after we hit a pothole so hard my head almost hits the ceiling and by breasts ache from the impact.
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and smirks, “I know.”
The next one has me almost reaching for my breasts to protect them, but instead I let out a grunt.
We arrive at the field at the same time Sam and Tag do. The other boys are already throwing around the ball.
Dan adjusts his cap as he turns his head with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, “You might want to check your top.”
I look down to find it has fallen down so low that my cleavage is on full display.
I gasp in horror, covering them with my arms as I try to slyly pull the top back up.
He laughs as he gives me a wink and gets out of the truck.
Sam is waiting for me with her arms crossed, “My dumbass brother took you on Canyon Road, didn’t he?”
I flush a bright red, “How’d you know?”
“He looked far too pleased with himself. Tag always gets that same look when he takes me on that fucking road. Jerks.”
She’s still in her dance clothes of short spandex shorts and a sports bra. She doesn’t try to cover up, not caring what people think about her.
I’m envious of her confidence as I tug on the back of my shorts to make sure they aren’t revealing my bottom.
We take our usual spot, under a tree where it will keep us cool while we watch the boys play. Sometimes Sam joins them, but today she sprawls out on her stomach, propped up by her elbows to see.
Jerry’s on-and-off-again girlfriend for the past few years, Amanda, is here too.
We greet each other.
I like her. She doesn’t say much (like me) but she’s never been rude to me or Sam like all the other girls usually are. Plus, she dyes her hair purple, and that alone makes her cool in my book.
