I glance at my feet and wiggle my toes. "Trying to get in the Christmas spirit." I laugh as everything in me dies a thousand mortified deaths.
"I like the look." Matt smiles and I forget my name. All I know is he is the hottest thing I've ever seen.
"Dude, we're going to Carissa's for some refreshments." Elvis lumbers over, his arm still wrapped tightly around his girlfriend, almost like she's holding him up. He looks at me and then my shoes. "What's up with the slippers? Gift from your girlfriend?"
I fumble. Of course, he would know about the Facebook page. He might be a stoner but he's not blind. Heat rises in my cheeks and I struggle with what to say.
"Girlfriend, huh?" Matt says and smiles his crooked grin at me. "I didn't think you could get hotter, but apparently I'm wrong."
"I don't have a girlfriend," I blurt out, and cup both my burning cheeks with my hands. Did he just say I was hot?
Matt winks and then turns to Elvis and Carissa. "I'll pass, but thanks for the invite."
"You could do it with a girl," Elvis says to his girlfriend under his arm. "I'd totally be into that." Carissa shakes her head and drags Elvis-Cash-Kurt-Cobain out of the storage room.
Matt turns to me. "So what did you think of my playing?"
I stammer. "Magical." It's the only word, other than SEX, that comes to mind. A magical tour of all things Matt. I swear I could feel his soul in every note.
"If you're not taking those awesome slippers anywhere else tonight, want to grab a coffee?" he asks.
I nod. I'm speechless, an overwhelming happy feeling flooding my veins. Thank God I left my parents' lame party.
"Let's get out of here," he smiles.
We walk out the back door of Vinyl Tap and into the alley. Cold wind shoots between the buildings, sending my shoulders into instant convulsions.
"Where's your coat?" Matt asks.
"I kind of forgot it."
He smiles and wraps his navy blue fleece around the two of us. His arm hugs my shoulder as he pulls me close into his side. He smells like autumn, fresh leaves and clean air. I take a breath and drink it in. Holy hell. I might faint.
"So did you really like it or are you just being nice?" Matt asks into my ear.
My face turns up toward his, his breath warming my nose. "I really liked it," I say. I want to say so much more. That I'm done being nice just because I'm supposed to. That I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff with wind whipping my hair all over the place and I'm ready to jump into the abyss no matter what's down there. "You looked amazing. I mean, sounded amazing."
Damn it. Freudian word flub. I'm losing it.
"You look amazing, too." Matt smiles and I melt clear to the cold, snowy pavement. Every time I wear this gold dress, I'll remember tonight. Not the bad Christmas party and Sarah's mean words, but Matt and the way he played the guitar and how I wanted to know his hands inside and out and have them know me.
We walk for a few more seconds in silence, the crunch of our footsteps the only noise, before he turns to me. "Are you sure you don't have a girlfriend? Because I don't want to piss anybody off."
"No girlfriend." I make an X over my heart and smile at him.
A weird expression crosses his face, like two things in his head are battling each other and he can't decide which one wins.
"Can I be honest with you?" Matt asks. I stare into his eyes, mine getting wide at the thought of what he wants to confess. "You make me feel good, but I'm not good at being careful."
"You make me feel good, too." I lean into his side more. My mind somersaults in euphoria just saying the words.
"But maybe this is a bad idea."
"What's a bad idea?" I ask.
"Remember last year when you told me that sometimes it isn't about solving the math problem, it's about the process? That even if the answer is wrong, at least I attempted to work it out and it just went all screwy at some point."
"Sure," I say, totally thrown.
"I'm confused," he says.
"Okay." I shrug my shoulders. Me too. I'm lost in the land of math and I want to be lost in the land of Matt.
"I like you, Marty," he says, wiping a few strands of hair from my forehead. Shivers climb up and down my spine in crazy, sexy waves. He reaches for my wrist, his fingers thumbing the black bracelet. "You still have it."
I nod, unable to speak.
"Maybe if I..." He takes hold of my hand and presses it to his lips. My breath catches in my throat. Oh God. Oh God! My insides scream. "Maybe we could ..."
His face leans down toward mine and I close my eyes. This is it. This. Is. It. It's like waiting for the first firework to go off. I'm scared of the noise, but I can't wait to see the colors. And then his lips fall on mine. YYYEEEELLLLLPPPPP!!!!! A thousand times over and over and over. They're soft and sweet as they move with mine. I try to keep my hands from shaking, but when he wraps his arms around my back like he did when we danced, and his coat falls to the ground, my knees rattle together. It's like the sun that lives in my soul is exploding into a million pieces of light and I'm on fire. And it's better than any thought I've ever had, better than any movie scene I've ever watched, better than any moment of my living and breathing seventeen years on this planet.
His hands travel up my back to my neck and tangle in my hair. But the second I think he might go a step further, he pulls back, his lips inches from mine. "Shit," he whispers. Pause. I want his lips back on mine. Pause. I want to do it again. Pause. I can't wait to tell Lil. "This is trouble."
"What's wrong?" I ask, my voice coming out breathless.
"You make me do and say things I shouldn't."
DOUBLE YELP! I go back at him, running my fingers through his hair and groping his chest and back. I taste his tongue and lips until our mouths are so mixed up, I don't know who is leading and who's following. I don't even know my name anymore. It's all been replaced by his lips on mine and our tongues touching and his fingertips on my cheeks and then my collarbone and then back into my hair. I'm on the verge of letting it all go. It's like the caged animal inside of me has been set free and now I can't control it. I want every single piece of him.
"Look, Marty, I like you," Matt says, out of breath.
"I like you, too." I pull down on his neck and kiss him again.
"I better go." He drops his arms from around my body and grabs his coat off the ground. "Keep the slippers. They're sexy." He looks at me, his green eyes wicked and sweet at the same time. My arms want to reach out and grab him, to never let go, but I hold them down tight at my side. Matt leaves me alone outside of the record store, his breath still in the cold night air that travels up my legs and around my dress, chilling my bones to the core.
Everything moments ago was hot and sweaty and delicious.
Another gust of arctic wind blows down the alley, scorching my burning cheeks like ice on fire. My phone buzzes with a text message and I jump.
Mom: Get home right now young lady.
I stare at the phone. My mind spins with thoughts of Matt pressed against me, his tongue on my lips and neck and ears. And his body, disappearing into the blackness of the night.
***
All the guests have left when I pull into the driveway, but every light is on. I park behind my dad's Audi and cut the ignition. Let's get this over with, I say to myself.
My parents are cleaning the kitchen when I walk in. My mom is rinsing dishes and handing them to my dad to load the dishwasher, their movements synched like a well-oiled machine. I hang my keys on the key hook and they turn around.
"Well, that was quite a display," my mom says, smacking the Santa towel over her shoulder.
"It wasn't a display," I say.
My mom shakes her head and grabs the edge of the sink. "Where did you go?"
I stare at them, tight-lipped, the smell of Matt still on my dress.
"Did you go to Lil's?" my dad asks as he pours detergent into the dishwasher and starts it. At least he used the right name. I still don't ans
wer.
"Are you a lesbian, Marty?" my mom finally asks when too much silence has passed between us.
"What?" I bark.
"I just can't wrap my head around a daughter of mine defying my very explicit rules."
I run my hands over my lips, lips that were just kissing the hottest guy in school. Lips that want to do it again and again and again.
"I'm going to bed." I turn and head for the stairs.
"You're grounded for a month," my mom says as she turns back to the sink. "Leave your phone on the counter."
I stop in my tracks, my fists clenching around the one thing I don't want to give up. Taking a deep breath, I smack the phone down and step my way up the stairs as lightly as I can.
Once in my room, I slam my bedroom door so hard specks of pink paint chip off the wall and land on my white carpet.
***
When I was younger
I wanted a boy to kiss me
So I knew I was pretty.
When I was older
I wanted a boy to kiss me
Because my body begged
To know the life caught
In another person's soul.
After I was kissed,
I wanted to go back
To before
When I wondered
What it would feel like
To be kissed.
CHAPTER 14
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
I'm grounded for a month. A month! No phone unless I'm at school. Don't text me.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Grounded? What'd you do? Get sloppy drunk at the X-Mas party and take ur bra off?
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Yelled at my mom and left the stupid party. Told Sarah to fuck off. Went to Vinyl Tap and made out with Matt. :)
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Shit, Polly. Maybe I should've come to the party. I would've liked 2 c that. Not the making out w/ Matt part. No offense. :) U didn't let him... strum ur guitar, did u?
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
LOL!! NO! I did NOT let him strum my guitar... but I might. :)
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
With u in the slammer, there go my New Year's Eve plans. Maggie will be bummed. I'll c u next year, Pollyanna.
PS- Matt doesn't deserve ur guitar strings.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
HAPPY NEW YEAR! *throws confetti* I'll c u at school.
PS- U R a Juliet, whether u like it or not. :)
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Hi Matt!
I wanted to wish you a Happy New Year! It was great 2 c u the other night. I'm grounded for a month, but it was worth it. :) Maybe when I'm released we can hang out again?
–Marty
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Have I told u I think it's cute u use email? Very vintage, just how I like it. Sorry to hear ur locked up for the month. I was thinking about you 2day. I miss ur slippers.
–Matt
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
It's OK. What were you thinking about?
PS- I'm wearing the slippers right now.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
How I want to marry someone just like u 1 day.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Did u just ask me to marry u over email?
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Maybe I did. In 10 yrs will u marry me?
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
I don't know if I can wait 10 yrs.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Don't wait. I'm a mess.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
I like ur mess.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Hey, I saw u down the hall earlier and wanted to say hi. Hi. I'm still thinking about u. R u thinking about me? Maybe we could run away together and I'll play my guitar and u can sing and we'll make money street performing.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Where would we go?
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
New York? LA? Paris? U pick.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Tokyo.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
When u get married, I'm going to watch from the back of the church and think it could've been me. U'd look nice in a white dress. As long as u wear ur slippers. :)
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
I thought we were getting married in 10 years? :)
Matt never responds.
So I write this:
Rapture captured,
A black music note,
Disguised in blonde hair,
And caked in love,
But words filled with air,
Float in the sky,
Only to be popped,
By thorns of substance.
I live out my sentence tucked away in my room, writing for hours and hours. I grumble when I go downstairs for dinner so my parents think their master plan has worked, but really I feel freer than ever. I spend time with Lil at school and email with Matt and nobody seems to care. The people around us become quiet, like the new year has brought a new beginning and even though I'm banished to my pink room, I'm calm.
On my last day of grounding, I decide to go into our basement storage room and clean out my bin of spring clothes to give to charity. Something inside tells me that by the time the weather gets warm, I won't have any use for the clothes I wore last year. I pull out dress after dress and stack them in the giveaway pile. The one I wore for my yearbook photo. The Spring Fling knee-length lavender frock I bought with Sarah. Pink and purple and red and green. So many colors and yet the girl who wore them didn't see the world that way. Now, everything's a rainbow. When I'm done, all that's left of my old clothes are a few of my favorite mod-style dresses and the show t-shirt I got for Guys and Dolls. I stuff the giveaway clothes into a black garbage bag and smile at the bonus points I'll get for doing something my mom usually has to nag me about for weeks every spring.
When I place the near-empty bin back on the stack, my eye catches a brown box pushed into the farthest corner of the storage closet. The handwriting on the top is a thousand memories rolled into perfect cursive; it makes my stomach drop to my knees. My grandma. "Robert's Memory Box". Anxious, like a piece of her might be locked in this musty dark corner of our storage room, I push aside the bins in my way and tear it open. Inside is every school photograph of my dad from high school, a jersey from his basketball days, his Minster High School diploma. Even a spelling bee trophy. My grandma kept it all.
I rummage around, putting together the pieces of my dad's younger life. A life I wasn't part of, a life in which he played sports and went to dances and sat in a desk day in and day out. When he was like me, maybe, lost or confused. Before fixing braces and cavities became his passion.
At the bottom of the box, I find a stack of black and white photos. Each one is a different scenic shot. A cornfield in the middle of summer. A barren tree. An empty railroad track that trails into the distance until it meshes together with the sky. I flip over the p
hoto and see my grandma's handwriting on the back. "Robert's Senior Photography Class". The railroad photo even has a note from my grandma: this one's my favorite.
Playing Nice Page 15
