The Secrets of Attraction

by Robin Constantine

  Jesse veered off the road, walking into a vast, grassy field bordered by a forest and looking over his shoulder to make sure I was following him.

  “Be careful where you step,” he said.

  “How can I even see anything?”

  “Oh, you’ll feel it when you step in a pile of something,” he said, chuckling. He looked up toward the sky and spun around, fanning out the blanket and letting it fall onto the field. “This will do.”

  “For what?”

  He knelt down, patted the space next to him. “Madison, have you been disappointed at all today?”

  I sighed, easing my way onto the blanket. It was cold. Correction: effing cold. But I was curious. I squatted till my butt hit the ground, ignoring the feeling of frostbite seeping through my PJ bottoms.

  “Now what?”

  He smiled, leaning back so he was flat on the blanket, hands folded on his chest. I did the same, sliding onto my back.

  “So you go out to a horse pasture when you play the guitar?” I asked.

  “Duh.”

  “Well?”

  “What are you feeling, right now?”

  “Freezing.”

  “Aside from that.”

  “I don’t know . . . that the sky is so pretty. We see more out here than where we live because of all the pollution and lights, but then that sort of bums me out because the pollution makes me feel so helpless.”

  “Okay, right. Nothing more?”

  I sighed. “It’s all so big and beautiful and blah, blah, blah.”

  He laughed. “The blah, blah, blah is what everyone is afraid to let in.”

  There it was, that letting-in phrase again. What was I afraid to let in? This?

  “I feel so small—like when I’m sitting here and looking up, I realize that nothing is ever still, those stars are constantly imploding and dying and new ones are born, and we’re on some spinning hunk of rock in the middle of a galaxy and when you look at it that way, hell, you realize how insignificant we really are, and it’s scary, but then you wonder, how can we be alone? It’s pure arrogance to think we’re all alone in the universe, and it’s a nice thought—the not being alone.

  “But then someone hurts you, or pushes you into a locker, or breaks your heart, and you realize how alone you are, and it blows. And it’s that uncertainty that makes us all batshit crazy, right? What does life mean? What if it means nothing? Well, when I’m playing, when I close my eyes, it’s like for a split second, just a sip of time, I understand stuff and I’m part of everything. And I know there’s something more—can physically feel connected to it, can feel it going through me. So that’s it, that’s where I go when it looks like I’m whispering. I know it sounds weird but I think everyone has something like that, you know? I think you have it when you draw. I saw it today in your eyes, when you showed me your version of that house. It was fucking brilliant.”

  Time stood still in that moment. Listening to Jesse talk, the intensity behind his words, the mystery of the night sky, even the cold—it all filled me. Jazz popped into my head, her sparkly, magical love glitter . . . a person cracking open. Jesse had always been open, with his smile, his foam art at Mugshot, when he played the guitar—I was the one cracking open into a whole other person.

  “Please, say something.”

  “I think the whispering thing is sexy,” I said.

  He was silent, but I felt the movement of his head on the blanket as he shifted in my direction.

  A star imploding, another one being born. I was cracking open, letting him in, I couldn’t stop it.

  “Jesse, I lied about the birthday thing, about not liking to celebrate. I think because it never lived up to what I thought it should be. That people tried too hard to have a good time or make sure I was happy. This is the birthday I never knew I wanted.”

  I turned toward Jesse, knowing when our eyes met that I would be a goner. My lips tingled at the thought of touching his, but a large shadow loomed over him. I sat bolt-upright, my hand covering my mouth in a silent scream.

  He shot up too. “What . . . oh, shit.”

  Jesse blocked my body with his, laying his hands down on either side of me. I peered over his shoulder, grabbing on to the hood of his sweatshirt.

  A massive buck stood about five feet away. Towering over us with long, spindly antlers sprouting treelike from its head. He pawed at the grass and grunted, white tendrils of breath coming from its snout. We sat frozen on the ground, waiting for something to happen.

  “Is he going to charge at us or something?” I had visions of being gored with those antlers, right through both of us. And I never kissed Jesse.

  “I don’t know,” he whispered.

  “Should we run for it?”

  “No, just stay still.” He sounded confident, but his heart was pounding as fast as mine. I could feel it through his sweatshirt.

  The buck grunted again and lifted its head, frozen a moment except for its ears, which pricked up, twitching. Glassy, dark eyes stared unblinking. I wasn’t sure how long we sat like that, but it felt like forever, until more shadows emerged. There were five to ten more deer, walking slowly across the field. Jesse laughed, low. I didn’t feel threatened anymore, just fascinated. They were beautiful, graceful without even trying. The buck stamped its foot once again before galloping off to join the others.

  “Well, that was interesting,” he said, letting out a ragged breath. He leaned back on his hands, legs out in front of him, feet moving back and forth releasing pent-up energy.

  My heart still throbbed from the rush. “You sat in front of me.”

  “I did,” he said, looking up at the sky. A smile crept across his face.

  “Very chivalrous.”

  He leaned toward me and nudged me with his shoulder.

  “You said I was sexy,” he said, straightening up, still looking at the sky.

  I wrapped my arms around my knees, hid my face, and laughed. “The whispering thing. I said that whispering thing was sexy.”

  He swept his fingers into my hair, raking past my ear to the nape of my neck. I shivered, resting my cheek against my knees so I could look at him.

  “You know where else I was when I played that song?”

  I shook my head.

  He kept his eyes on mine, moving closer. I straightened up, tilted my face toward his. The tip of his nose grazed mine. I closed my eyes, anticipating the kiss, but Jesse only nuzzled my face, his lips brushing my cheek. He kissed my neck, the hollow below my ear, and sent a flood of warmth through me, my skin electric.

  “Jess,” I whispered, lips trembling.

  He nipped my earlobe. “I was here.”

  Kissed my temple. “And here.”

  I grabbed a fistful of his sweatshirt, turning toward him. The leather jacket was suddenly awkward and bulky, squeaking as I moved. He hesitated, hands on either side of my face, our foreheads touching. Our eyes were open as our lips touched, lightly at first. Jesse closed his eyes, kissing me full on the mouth, his tongue coaxing my lips open, as we fell back side by side, onto the blanket, our legs tangling up together.

  Broody Barista could kiss.

  I unzipped the jacket, grabbed his hand, and brought it toward my waist.

  “Mmmmmm,” he moaned, moving his hand up my back and pulling me against him. We kissed that way for a while, shifting positions, dissolving into each other. The air nipped at the sliver of bare skin between my tee and PJ bottoms. Reality.

  “Jess,” I said between kisses, “I can’t feel my fingers.”

  He laughed and grabbed my icy hand, enfolded it in his. “Same here.”

  “Do you think . . . maybe,” I said, hesitating. What did I want? I wanted more of this, of him, but where? Could I really ask him back to my room? It felt odd.

  He looked toward the house. “No one’s awake, we could . . .”

  “Sneak into my room,” I said.

  He touched his forehead to mine.

  I continued. “Not to, you know . .
. just . . . There’s a door that can shut.”

  “Exactly,” he finished, kissing the now-frozen tip of my nose, my lips again.

  Jesse stood up first, held out a hand and pulled me to standing. He gathered the blanket and threw it around both our shoulders as we headed toward the house. It looked so far away. He stopped and pulled me in for another kiss, before we decided to run for it. Tromping up the stairs, I was dizzy at the thought of picking up where we’d left off. He opened the door. We were greeted by three little fur faces, panting and wagging their hello. Aunt Julia was in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove.

  “I couldn’t sleep. Anyone want cocoa? You guys look frozen.”

  Jess and I looked at each other and laughed.

  “That sounds great, Aunt Julia,” he said.

  EIGHTEEN

  JESSE

  THE SMELL OF COFFEE AND BACON NUDGED ME awake. And then a flash of last night—kissing Madison. Had it really happened? That five minutes—or five seconds—seemed like an eternity. Then, our night cut short.

  I could just hear Tanner. . . .

  Dude, cock-blocked by cocoa? Epic.

  Not that there would have been enough of anything going on to block, but the thought of being alone with Madison made a beat pump through my brain. When would that happen again? Last night had been perfect, like stars and planets aligned perfectly. Was it Fallingwater? The chocolate cake? My guitar playing? A magical combination of everything? God—the way she looked at me—being around her was a total rush.

  Charlie burst through his door.

  “C’mon, everyone’s awake. Breakfast!” He raced out of his room with more enthusiasm than anyone should be allowed to have in the morning. I grabbed a shirt and made a pit stop in the bathroom to gargle with a swig of mouthwash before heading out to the kitchen. Madison was up already, talking to Sara as they sat side by side at the table.

  Dead puppies, great whites, genital warts. Be cool, Jess.

  My smile was a force that could not be stopped.

  I grabbed a plate and sat across from Madison.

  Don’t stare.

  Her presence was a magnet pull. It took all my effort not to look at her because once I did, I knew I’d just start laughing or dropping silverware or losing control of my senses because all I wanted to do was swipe the breakfast dishes away and continue where we left off last night.

  “I taught my friend how to do a fishtail braid, so yes, your hair is perfect for that,” Madison said to Sara. “Hey, Jess, we have time before we go, right? I can fix Sara’s hair?”

  Her eyes planted on mine. Gone was that hungry look. Her face was so neutral, she could have been ordering a chai from me. As if we hadn’t swapped spit out in the pasture, or I hadn’t saved her from a mutant buck, or dazzled her with my guitar prowess. Nada.

  “Ah, yeah,” I said.

  “Great.” She dug into her plate of eggs. Something tickled my foot. I flinched and looked under the table, expecting to see one of the dogs. Madison’s socked foot slipped under the cuff of my jeans. Proof last night wasn’t a dream. I bit back a grin and reached for some bacon.

  After breakfast and showers and hair braiding, we said good-bye and started the long trek home. The farther away we got from my aunt’s house, the more unreal it all seemed, at least to me. Madison stared out the window, taking in the scenery as we drove. It was a good day for a drive—perfect, cloudless blue sky and open roads.

  When we hit the first two-lane road, I pulled into a gas station and shifted the car into park.

  “Jess, I think it’s closed.”

  I unhooked my seat belt and leaned toward her, my hand in her hair. She paused, before bringing her face toward mine. Our lips touched, soft, sweet. I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining last night’s starry sky, the perfection of that moment, of this one, of her. Her tongue teased mine as we kissed deeper. I could not get enough of her. I kissed the tip of her nose, her forehead, finally breaking away.

  “I wanted to do that all morning,” I said.

  She put her fingers to her lips and smiled. “Me too. Does it have to end? Can’t we just go back? Screw school.”

  “We could squat at Fallingwater. You could sketch.” I pulled the car back onto the road.

  “And you could entertain everyone with your guitar. Could you imagine? How freakin’ awesome would that be?” She hunkered down, propped her feet on the dash, and put her hand over mine, nudging her index finger underneath my pinkie on the eight-ball stick shift. I smiled.

  “Although, we couldn’t walk around naked or anything,” she said.

  I laughed. “Are you trying to make me drive off the road?”

  “Never.” She squeezed my hand.

  “We could just live in that guesthouse, have our own private pool.”

  “You were paying attention.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  I could have driven like that forever, just one long winding road, with Madison holding my hand. My mind kept interrupting, though—making me think. Questions I was afraid to ask because I knew they would wreck the mood, but I wanted to know the answers anyway. What were we doing? Could I kiss her again? Were we . . . together?

  Why ruin the moment with reality?

  Madison spoke first.

  “So why did you and Hannah break up?”

  Ah, so she had questions too.

  “Where’s my grape?”

  She smiled. “No grapes today. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

  I peeked over at her. She chewed her thumbnail and studied my face. Talking about Hannah didn’t bother me, but the dose of reality made it seem like Hannah was in the backseat, leaning forward, waiting to hear what I would say about her.

  “It’s cool. Ask away.”

  “How long were you together?”

  “Forever.”

  She shifted in the seat, taking her feet off the dash. “Hmm, that sounds like a long time.”

  “We live on the same block, so I don’t know, it has always sort of felt that way, but we weren’t together, together until the end of her freshman year.”

  I spilled more than I planned, but something about being behind the wheel, driving through the mountains, not looking her in the eyes, made it easier to talk.

  “What made you break up?”

  “You’d have to ask her.”

  “So you didn’t want to break up?”

  There was something in the tone of her voice that made me want to change the subject. The whispering, sexy, chivalrous guitar god was turning back into average-Joe barista in the noonday sun.

  “I, um . . . at the time, I guess no. I didn’t really expect it, I was sort of blindsided. They’re happy together—it hurt to see them like that at first, but now, it’s okay I guess. I mean, I don’t want to hang out with them or anything, but, you know, if I bump into them, I think I’ll be all right.”

  “Did you break up because of the drummer?”

  “At first I thought so, but it was more than that. We didn’t spend any time together. And then I was late for her birthday party. Sweet sixteen. Shitty thing to do, but at the time—”

  “Her birthday?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Ironic, no?”

  “Huh?”

  “Think about it. We just had this awesome time for my birthday. Maybe you’re trying to make up for that. Subconsciously or something?”

  “No. That’s ridiculous.” Wasn’t it?

  She laughed. “Chill, Jess, I’m just fooling around. Wielding my AP Psychology knowledge. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. Sorry.”

  “You didn’t hit a nerve.”

  She curled her feet underneath her and fiddled with the radio.

  “Man, do you think we can find a station without static?” She fiddled around until she hit upon what sounded like a pop station. Closed her eyes. End of conversation.

  Was it true? Had I just orchestrated this whole thing for Madison’s birthday bec
ause I was still somehow trying to make up for my mistake? No. No. The truth was, it never would have occurred to me to do something like that for Hannah, and that made me feel worse. My relationship with Hannah had been easy, I never had to work for any of it. She was pretty and easy to talk to and we had this history, but Madison challenged me. I’d wanted to surprise her, to do something that would really matter. I was over Hannah. Over us. And our breakup had nothing to do with Duncan and everything to do with me.

  We finally reached Madison’s house at dusk. I pulled into the spot in front of her house and killed the ignition. I’d been so confident after last night, and in the morning when I’d pulled over at the gas station, but in our everyday reality, the spell was broken. She made a move to get out.

  “Wait,” I said.

  “What’s up?”

  “What you said before—the whole subconscious thing—” She slumped back down into the seat. “Jess, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I was being a smartass. That’s sort of what I do, when things get too real.”

  “Real?”

  “The past twenty-four hours have been maybe some of the best of my life. It flew by, and the thing is—I never even thought about wanting to be anywhere else. Or with anyone else. It was nice.”

  She played with the string on my hoodie, pulled me close.

  “I like you, Madison. I didn’t do this to make up for anything. I did it for you. And I really hope we can do this again. Not this exactly, but do stuff. Together.”

  Maybe I was being too real, but I couldn’t help it.

  “Me too, Jesse,” she whispered, and put her lips to mine. “Walk me up?”

  “Yes.”

  NINETEEN

  MADISON

  JESSE SLUNG MY BAG OVER HIS SHOULDER AND WE walked up the stairs to my porch. Normally I climbed them two at a time, but I took it slow, feeling the railing under my fingertips, clinging to the last moments of our road trip, because once we said good-bye, Fallingwater would be in the past. A memory. I wasn’t ready for that. I hadn’t even given Jesse back his jacket. Maybe if I didn’t say anything, I could keep it overnight, wear it to school, keep the weekend alive even in a small way.