I knew the way to Darcy's place as if it were my own. She and I had been thick as thieves from fourth grade until our sophomore year in high school. When I met Amy, I realized that true friendship didn't have to be defined by how intimidating and cruel your best friend could be. I escaped Darcy the way a newly released prisoner speed-walks away from the front gate. Friends one day, strangers the next.
By senior year, the most contact I had with her was an occasional hello, or as a guest at one of her parties. The dirty looks she sent my way told me how she felt about me leaving her, but she was too proud to ever have an honest sit-down and ask me what had gone wrong. I suspected she didn’t really want to hear the truth, anyway, so I’d left well enough alone.
Tonight we were early, by my standards—the party had been in full swing for about an hour—thus I was pretty sure it was going to be a disaster. Darcy was adept at sniffing out weakness better than a bloodhound at a crime scene. I never knew what she was going to say, and having known her for most of my life, she had some dirt on me. Whether it was my awkward seventh grade school pic or an embarrassing story, Darcy had a habit of cataloguing shit about people in her head, in case she ever needed it. And there I was with legendary, gorgeous Truman Miller. We were so new. Surely Darcy would exploit that fact, especially when she clearly hated me. God, I hated feeling vulnerable around her, again.
I'd tried to avoid the party, but Amy and Leo and a bunch of other friends were going to be there, and I was learning Tru never turned down free booze. So, I caved. Darcy would flirt mercilessly with him, if only because he was with me and that had been her M.O. for most of our friendship. Every muscle in my body was on high alert.
Tru parked and walked us through the front door into pandemonium. Bodies were everywhere, empty bottles, loud music, the smell of weed and cigarettes, the faintest hint of vomit...in other words, your standard party. We grabbed beers and headed to the back deck after weaving our way through the crowd. Amy was already there with her new boyfriend, Dirk, her long legs draped over his as they cuddled on a bench and whispered to each other.
I hugged Amy hello and chatted with her while Tru, Leo, and one of their bandmates talked about their next gig. Tru let go of my hand only to pull me onto his lap as soon he sat down on a nearby bench, his fingers resting possessively on my inner thigh while he continued talking to his friends. I couldn't contain my glee as I snuggled into him, grinning like an idiot. Ever since we'd kissed for the first time, he couldn't keep his hands off of me, though we had yet to do the deed.
I was in a torturous indecisive purgatory about having sex with him. On one hand I wanted it, badly. Every kiss, touch, caress from him lit me up. My craving for him was a physical ache. When we weren't together, he was all I thought about. When we were, I wanted only for him to do exactly as he was doing—to never miss a chance to touch me.
However, I couldn't risk sex with Tru because there was something wrong with me, down there. Granted, my only experience had been a disastrous de-virginizing by my one and only boyfriend senior year. It had hurt, so much that all he'd been able to do was nudge his dick inside of me before it felt like my entire pussy was lit by the fires of Hell. I'd panicked at the sensation of being ripped in two and called a halt to the whole thing. I'd spotted for a few days and then...nothing. No rivers of blood that wouldn't stop. No inability to sit for fear of the pain. Except for the new knowledge I'd acquired about having an impenetrable pussy, everything went back to normal. He'd acted like we were fine, and so had I until a week later. We'd made out on his parents' couch for an hour. With his hands wandering and my panic rising, I couldn't risk confirming the truth, so I'd called it quits right then with some lame excuse about how, with college coming up, I didn't think it was realistic to try to stay together.
Whatever was wrong with my vagina, one thing was certain, I was too tight. The pain of my first experience told me no dick was going to fit in there. My boyfriend had been average, according to every dick pic I could find on the internet. Truman and I had fooled around enough for me to figure he was bigger, and he was going to discover we weren't a good fit, right before he dumped me like yesterday's garbage.
Putting off sex was my best option. My plan wouldn't last forever, though. Our makeout sessions were becoming increasingly hot and heavy. I was getting good at everything that wasn't sex, and Tru seemed ecstatic about all of it. I just wanted to keep my dream boyfriend for a little while longer.
Darcy sauntered out onto the back deck where we were all sitting. As I watched her wobble on her stilettos, I breathed a small sigh of relief. She was clever, sober. When she was drunk, not so much. She paused when she spotted us, listing slightly to the side as her eyes raked over the sight of me on Tru's lap, his hand between my thighs, my arm draped around his shoulders. Her lips pursed together in disgust, or disbelief, I couldn't tell.
Her physical beauty still shocked me. She had been the definition of an ugly duckling when we'd met in fourth grade, bad hair, glasses, braces, a bit chubby, and an entitled attitude. Now, she had attention from any guy she wanted for a short period of time until one of two things happened—either he got in her pants and dumped her when he'd had enough of her shit, or he got tired of her games and gave up trying to get in her pants altogether. Either way, the outcome was always the same. She loved attention, but the attention she got was short-term, and she was bitter as all hell that she couldn't seem to make it stick.
Any guy with half a brain steered clear. But there were a lot of guys who didn't have even half a brain, apparently, because she saw more action than a 7-11 during a Slurpee sale.
"Hey, Truman."
Tru's hand twitched at my hip. "Hey, Darcy."
"So, are you guys, like, a couple or something? Because I gotta say," her gaze slid to mine, smooth as an eel and just as ugly, "you could do a lot better than the girl who shit her pants during softball practice in fourth grade." Her cackle was straight out of the darkest fairy tale.
Yep. Right on target. I shook my head and turned to Truman, wide-eyed, but not surprised. Still, I couldn't hide my embarrassment. That day was burned in my memory. I'd come down with the flu and it had taken effect in a sudden and very inconvenient way. Darcy was the only one who knew why I'd had to leave practice so quickly. She'd kept my secret, until now.
That was Darcy fucking Schmidt. Beautiful and evil, so much that the second part was like a cloud of black dust, obscuring the first everywhere she went. In my eyes, her beautiful face had long since morphed into something closer to that of a demon. So, I'd expected as much from her. The diarrhea-softball story wasn't what'd had me freaked, though I would've paid cash money to erase that particular image of me from Tru's mind.
It was her question about whether Tru and I were "together" or not. We hadn't really made it official. A sudden panic zipped through my body at the thought he would pass off what we had as nothing right in front of Darcy. I'd have to sit there, watch and pretend, again, that I was unaffected while her expression would transform into satisfied glee. I tensed, ready to bolt.
Tru's voice was steady, condescending. "You're a real charmer, there, Darcy. A good, loyal friend. I can see why you two spend so much time together." His deep voice dripped with sarcasm. I felt his hand at my hip again, where he gave me a gentle squeeze while he leveled a narrowed gaze on my former best friend. "She's sitting on my fuckin' lap, I spend as much time with her as she'll let me, and in a minute I'm going to have my tongue in her mouth. So, yeah, I'd say we're together. What's it to you?"
Darcy's sneer melted right off her face as her eyes widened. People didn't talk to her like that. What Tru said was crude. Brutal.
I thought it was awesome.
She stood in stunned silence for a moment before she feigned delight at seeing someone, her mouth dropping open in the most fake expression of surprise I'd ever seen. Soon after, she walked away on wobbly legs, ready, I was sure, to make their life miserable for a few minutes.
Amy, Dirk, Leo
and a few others in the vicinity burst out laughing as I turned to Tru and fulfilled his promise, kissing him like he'd just saved my life. In a way, he had.
***
An hour later, I came out of the bathroom to find Tru waiting for me. The rec room in the basement had been out of the way, with a bathroom tucked in the corner. I'd known it wouldn't have a line and, even better, wouldn't smell like puke. Tru's eyes darkened with that familiar look of desire—one I was getting used to seeing—as I walked toward him.
"Hey, you OK?" I reached for his hand, intertwining my smaller fingers with his thick, rough ones.
He'd been quiet for a while upstairs, and I didn't yet know him well enough to gauge whether it was the booze or something bothering him.
"Yeah, babe. I'm good."
I smiled at the endearment as I pressed myself against him, moving my fingers up to brush against the rough bristles of his crew cut. His hand went straight for my ass as he pulled me to him before his lips found mine. He kissed me, long, wet, deep. By the end I was practically crawling up his body, little whimpers and moans escaping my throat at his wandering hands and skilled tongue. The man made me crazy with his mouth.
He broke off the kiss, trailing his lips over my jaw and down my neck before simply holding me. His erection pressed against my belly, but he didn't try to push things any further. I was touched by the sweet intimacy of his embrace. He wasn't acting like a horny teenager, though at nineteen that's kinda what he was.
I angled my torso back and looked at him, smiling as I let my eyes glide all over his face. I breathed in his smoky, soapy essence and sighed. I wanted to memorize the moment. Tru made me feel like I was precious and unique like no one ever had.
"Jesus, you're killing me Jessa." His tone was so raw it took my breath away.
My smile faded. "I'm sorry. I know we haven't, um, you know, and you probably—"
He halted my words with another kiss, this one chaste and short. "I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the way you look at me."
I forgot my embarrassment as I wrestled with the meaning of his words.
He dipped his forehead until it was touching mine and closed his eyes. "You look at me like I'm a goddamned hero or something. I've never had anyone look at me like you do."
"That's because I think you are the shit, Truman Miller."
I framed his face with my hands, wanting him to believe he was worthy of what I was giving him, a little afraid he'd never get there. "If I make you feel half as good as you make me feel, then it counts as a win in my book. This moment, right now? I've never been happier."
He pulled me in again for a hug. After a while he said, "You want to lay down or something?"
I arched an eyebrow at him. I loved touching Tru and letting his hands wander all over my body, but Darcy's house was the last place I wanted to get naked.
His grin was earnest. "I'm not ready to drive home yet. I had too much to drink. But I don't want to go back upstairs to the party, either. I want to be next to you, hold you for a little while. Can we do that?"
Gone was the casual, charming façade. I kissed him quickly. "You are irresistibly sweet." We walked to the daybed in the corner where I folded myself into him after he'd settled against the cushions.
We both sighed, lying together, breathing but not talking. It wasn't long before Tru's hands began roaming, though, and I squirmed with need, still terrified of letting him go too far but unable to resist his mouth. Soon we were making out again, tongues, limbs, and hands exploring. He pulled away and groaned before reaching down and adjusting himself.
I bit my lip. "Should we stop? I feel bad for you." It wasn't the first time I'd seen the physical discomfort hours of messing around had caused.
He chuckled. "It's my own damn fault. I can't seem to keep my hands off you. I'm gonna have a wicked case of blue balls, but it's worth it."
"Blue balls? Like, your balls actually turn blue?"
He looked at me as if I were an alien, his mouth opening in surprise. "You've never heard of blue balls? Christ. What am I going to do with you? I feel like I'm corrupting you or something."
His tone was almost irritated, though he threaded his hand through my long hair, pulling my head down to lay on his chest. I could feel the vibrations as he spoke. "It means I'm going to be really sore later because shit gets built up and there's been no release."
My hand slid down his chest to his hard abs before coming to a stop on the button of his jeans. "Do you want me to, um, you know, get you off?"
"Hell. No." He put his large palm over my fingers. "Sweetheart, I want your hands on me so bad I don't know if I'll be able to walk once we get off this bed, but I do not want you to jack me off at Darcy fucking Schmidt's house. Jesus, she'd probably collect my DNA, make up some fucked up story about me assaulting her, and have me arrested."
The laugh that exploded from my belly surprised me.
Tru joined in a moment later, smiling against my mouth as he pressed his lips to mine. "Besides, the first time we're together, I want you naked and I want to be alone, not at a fucking party with a bunch of losers where anyone could walk in at any time. I want it to be just us. No one else."
The rush of pure desire through my body made me shudder, my inhibitions about sex forgotten for the moment. "Just us. I like that."
I smiled as he slid his body over mine for another long kiss, complete with lots of groping, but no DNA was left behind.
***
"Honey, I'm home!"
Truman's deep voice boomed through the foyer of the Gunter’s house, where I'd taken on the lucrative job of housesitting for the past week. When they returned, I'd move on to the Swanson’s for a couple of weeks and then the Thompson’s before transitioning to college and dorm life in late August with a pocket full of cash.
"Hi baby. Happy Friday." I launched myself into his arms, wrapping my legs around his hips and kissing him like I hadn't just seen him that morning. He tasted of iced tea and smoke, with only the faintest hint of the scent of pine two-by-fours he'd likely spent most of the day cutting down to size. When he ended the kiss, his smile was huge, his teeth even whiter against tanned, dirty skin.
"Now, that's the way I like to be greeted." He kissed me again, before setting me and his bag of tools down. "Let me shower, babe. I'm filthy. Fucking bitch of a day."
His expression sagged for just a moment before he turned, busying himself with taking his boots off and leaving them next to the door. It was high season in the world of construction, so Tru worked for twelve or more hours almost every day as he moved from job to job with his dad and uncle.
I followed him to the master bath because, though we hadn't had sex yet, I'd seen him naked, and I liked that. A lot. His smirk was boyish and sultry at once as he stripped, his awareness of my eyes on him an obvious pleasure. While he rinsed off in the shower, we chatted about my day. I never asked him about his. I'd learned it was a losing battle to get him to relive the hours he spent at the mercy of two men who did nothing but criticize and belittle him.
I was happy to distract him, but I didn't have much to report. I had no job, no responsibilities, and was being paid to live at other peoples' houses as I waited for college to start in two months. I spent most days reading, listening to music, sunbathing, and fantasizing about Tru. That last part was something I'd kept to myself.
Four weeks since our first kiss, and we hadn't done more than make out and sleep together. But touching his body and feeling him curled around me as I drifted off to sleep every night left me hungry for more. I was still convinced something was fundamentally wrong with me, but if something were going to go wrong, at least it would be with Tru. I wanted him to be part of me, in that way, even if it broke us.
After Tru's shower we grabbed some takeout and beer and brought it back to the house. It was Friday, my favorite night of the week. Tru's band had the occasional gig, but those were always on Saturdays. Watching him drumming, shirtless, was no hardship, but the qui
et nights we spent together on the couch were what I loved most.
After his last bite, Tru reclined against the cushions, pulling me with him until my head landed on his chest, my forehead pressed into the crook of his neck. His sigh was one of contentment as he drew lazy circles on my shoulder. I pressed against his warm, hard body, inhaled his soapy scent, and made a decision.
"What do you want to watch, darlin'?" He jabbed at the buttons on the remote, sound bytes and scenes from TV shows passing by quickly on the screen.
I took a deep breath. "Nothing."
He chuckled. "You leavin' it up to me means you're gonna get a bunch of car chases and guns."
I threaded my hand under the hem of his T-shirt, skimming my nails along the area above the waistband of his jeans. He stopped breathing. Stopped moving altogether.
I tilted my head up and looked him boldly in the eye, even as I felt the heat in my cheeks.
"You sure?" His voice cracked, but his eyes darkened from milk chocolate to espresso as raw need revealed itself.
I grinned, reveling in the tension of anticipation between us. "Should I assume the kind of action you want isn't going to come in the form of a movie tonight?"
His response was to dive toward me, pushing me back onto the cushions until his body spanned the length of mine, his erection already hard against my thigh. He plunged his tongue between my teeth when I gasped, tasting every part of my mouth, sucking at my lips and grunting as he went deeper.
My hands had a will of their own, seeking the edge of his jeans, diving underneath to find a fistful of naked, rounded ass, and squeezing. Tru's was epic, right down to the matching dimples on each cheek. Working construction might've been a disaster for his mental health, but it had done amazing things to his body.
I Fell In: A mostly true story about lust, redemption, and true love. Page 5
