by S. Walden
“Yes. Are you?”
“Yes.”
There was a moment of contented silence. He moved his hand up and down her back feeling the softness of her skin. It tickled her slightly, and she squirmed.
“Do you want to do it again?” she asked quietly.
“Right now?!”
“No,” she laughed. “Later. In the future. Is it something you’d want to do with me again?”
“What kinda question is that?”
“An honest one,” she replied.
He rolled her onto her back and looked down at her. “Girl, I wanna do that with you all day, every day, ‘til the end of time.”
***
It was almost nine, and Emma knew that she needed to be home soon. She walked out of the bathroom dressed only in his hoodie. He was sitting up in bed wearing a pair of boxer shorts. The strong desire to do it again glowed in her. The hard part was over, she thought. She wanted to see what it felt like now.
Anton looked at her standing in the doorway. “You know you can’t wear that home. Yo’ mama and daddy go to pieces if they see you like that.”
She walked over to him with purpose, climbing on top of him and straddling his hips.
“Emma, you know you gotta go home,” he said as she kissed his neck.
“Oh shut up,” she said, and kissed his mouth hard.
She fumbled with his boxers until she found him, gripping him tightly in her hand. He was hard, but then he had been that way all evening.
“Emma—”
She ignored him, guiding him into her, sinking down on him slowly. He made no move to stop her, only groaning with delight. He forgot all about a condom.
She moved her hips tentatively at first, unsure of what she was supposed to be doing. She thought she was moving right; she could feel the soft shocks of electricity traveling up and down her legs and throughout her belly. He watched her face as she moved on him, taking for herself with no thought of what he wanted. He could see the pleasure of it in her eyes. He wanted to lose himself in them, thought that perhaps he already had, long ago, the first time he really looked at her.
He was vaguely aware of her hand down there, and realized suddenly that she was touching herself. He wanted to lift up the hoodie and watch, but she wouldn’t let him. So he contented himself with watching her eyes. They were getting darker, a stormy blue, and then she exploded quite suddenly without warning. She wanted to hide her face from him, but he held her so that she was forced to look at him. The storm waves danced in her eyes, crashing blues around her pupils, and he felt her body shudder over and over. There was no end to it until she cried out for release, and then he let go allowing her to bury her face in his shoulder, feeling her body tremble from the aftermath.
“Is that what you needed?” he asked gently after a time, stroking her back underneath of the hoodie. It was slick with sweat.
She nodded into his shoulder, and he laughed. He wanted to roll her over and take from her then, but he knew it wouldn’t be right. He had already taken so much. He had to keep reminding himself.
“I’ve got to go home,” Emma groaned into his shoulder. She sat up then and looked at him.
“That’s what I kept tryin’ to tell you,” Anton replied.
“Yeah, like you didn’t want me to climb on you just then and do that,” Emma said. She smirked.
“I could take it or leave it,” Anton replied, and she punched his arm. “Ow! You know I’m playin’ with you.”
She climbed off of his lap and dressed. He watched her the whole time aware of the unsettling feeling spreading throughout his chest making his heart rate increase to an uncomfortable, rapid rhythm. He realized that he had perhaps just complicated his life beyond what he could handle. His future with her was as uncertain as the present. No one knew about them. He couldn’t imagine what his friends would say. He failed to even think about where she was going to college. Why had he never bothered to ask? She could be going across the country for all he knew. And did he honestly think that her parents would be accepting of him? Sure, they were polite at dinner. They seemed to be okay with him, he thought, but only as a partner for a school project. He was sure they’d go ballistic if they learned he and she were together romantically. Suddenly, everything began changing, becoming more serious, dangerous even. He should have kept it at a mild flirtation, he thought panicking.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked.
“Yeah,” he lied. “I’m great.” And he forced a smile.
“Because you look like you’re thinking about something,” Emma went on. “Are you thinking this was all a huge mistake?”
“God no!” He jumped out of the bed and went to her.
What was he thinking, entertaining the idea that he had made a mistake being with her? Never, he thought. It would never be a mistake. And he voiced that to her as he held her possessively.
Later that night he actually prayed, kneeling beside the bed in reverence, his large hands folded in supplication. He prayed earnestly, prayed that he could be with her forever because he knew he could never love another woman.
CHAPTER 13
THURSDAY, APRIL 29
Dr. Thompson reminded his students for the fifth time that the class time he so generously provided them should be used for the sole purpose of working on their term papers. It appeared that most students actually were working, and that only a few were indifferent or distracted by the more important details of being a teenager.
Emma and Anton sat in a corner of the room by the windows talking in whispers.
“This is weird,” he said.
“I know.”
“I don’t know how we supposed to be actin’, you know?”
“I know.”
“I mean, are we supposed to be holdin’ hands or something?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, Emma? You ain’t helpin’ at all,” Anton said impatiently.
“I know,” Emma replied, putting her face in her hands. “I just don’t know, I don’t know!”
“Okay, take it easy,” Anton said softly. He looked around, but no one was paying any attention to them.
She took a deep breath and regained her composure.
“Let’s just not worry about it, okay?” Anton said.
He didn’t know what they were going to do, and suddenly the pressure of telling his friends about her seemed much scarier than the first time they had sex.
“Okay,” she said quietly. She knew it was no solution, but she had none. What would her friends think? What would they say to her?
They tried to resume work on their paper, but it was pointless. It was so frustrating, in fact, that Anton gave up and went back to his seat before class was over. Emma was grateful that he left her alone. She felt an explosive mixture of emotions inside of her threatening to detonate. She wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at the same time. It was miserable being trapped inside those emotions, but she could do nothing. She had to cope until she could find a way to deactivate the bomb.
She did not acknowledge him when she passed him out the door after the bell rang. She headed straight for her locker and began changing out her books. She thought he would follow her and want to talk some more, but he didn’t. She turned around to see him joking with his friends. It irritated her. She was a mess inside and he was laughing. How could he be so calm when she felt out of control? She thought that perhaps he was putting on a show, but he seemed genuinely at ease. How do guys do that, she wondered? Do they have limited emotions, or are they simply able to handle them better? Either way she felt the cards were dealt unfairly, and she sunk into sullenness behind her locker door.
She did not see much of Anton for the rest of the day. It was almost as if he weren’t at school. She usually saw him at the lockers between classes, but he showed only a few times and was always flanked by his friends. She watched him chat and laugh and rough house with them. They seemed very close, and her heart stiffened with envy. What was wrong with h
er, she thought? She felt herself transforming into that girl—the jealous girl who wants her boyfriend all to herself all of the time. And then she laughed derisively, hiding her head in her locker, thinking that she was a fool for even contemplating the idea that he was her boyfriend. They never said anything about that last night.
She knew her anger was unjustified. She wanted to be frustrated with him for his casual manner, but he was only doing what he normally did at school. She was the one who pushed him away with her behavior earlier in English class. Did she expect him to go running after her all day? And she couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t want anyone to know. Certainly not Morgan, she thought. At least not yet. If whatever it was they were doing blossomed into something more, she knew she would have to tell her. But it seemed easier to keep things as they were however confused it made her feel.
He came to her at the end of the day. She was walking to her car when he caught up with her.
“I gotta work today,” he said. “So I guess I won’t be seein’ you later.”
“Okay.”
“And I gotta work tomorrow night, too,” he added.
“Alright.”
“You okay?” he asked.
“Mmhmm.”
“Well, I don’t believe you, but I ain’t got time to go into it,” he said. “You still want me to come over on Saturday?”
“If you want.” She tried for indifference.
He chuckled. “A’ight then. I’ll call you.” And he hoofed it to the bus.
She couldn’t understand why he didn’t ask for a ride home. She would have gladly given it, and then she spotted one of his friends. He was hanging around the bus watching them, waiting for Anton. He slapped Anton on the arm when he approached and said something that made them both laugh. They disappeared onto the bus, and she stood watching as it pulled away.
Saturday, May 1
“I didn’t leave nothin’ in Dr. Thompson’s room that time,” Anton said watching her squeeze juice from a lemon into her water.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
They were sitting at the table in her back yard working on their project. She had gotten over her moodiness from the past few days the moment her doorbell rang. It was instantaneous; her emotions lifted and she was a different person as soon as he stood at her front door.
“Remember when this whole thing started and how you had to go complain to Dr. Thompson about me not bein’ serious enough for you?”
“Oh that,” she said. “What about it?”
“Well, I was walkin’ by the room and saw you in there. I knew what you was up to. I knew you was mad and tattlin’ on me,” Anton said.
He grabbed her water and took a long gulp.
“Hey! I did the work there! Next time you’re slicing and squeezing the lemons,” she said, watching him drain most of her glass. “And anyway, I wasn’t tattling.”
“Oh who you kiddin’? You was all up in that room whinin’ ‘cause you couldn’t get yo’ way,” Anton replied handing her the nearly-empty glass.
“Whatever.”
“So that’s why I went in and acted like I forgot somethin’. I didn’t want you to get yo’ way. I wanted to make sure we was still gonna be partners.”
Emma looked at him as he made the realization known.
“You liked me then?” she asked quietly.
“Yes.”
They were silent for a moment.
“And you don’t even know what that was like for me. All that waitin’ and hopin’ you was gonna like me or make a move or somethin’. I thought I was gonna die when you came back to my house Monday. It was so hard to play it cool, and I don’t know how I was able to do that after waitin’ so long.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wanted to grab you and kiss you as soon as you walked through my door. I knew what you was up to. Missin’ bracelet. Please, girl. I ain’t never seen you wear no bracelet.”
Emma grinned. “You made me pretend to look around for a bracelet and then when I finally found the courage to ask you to kiss me, you made me wait for it?!”
“Yep. That was so hard,” Anton replied.
“Hard? Hard for whom?!” she asked.
“Hard for me.”
“Oh, you’re impossible!” she cried throwing a lemon at his head. It bounced off his left temple and landed on the stone patio.
“Ow! That hurt!” he said, jumping from his chair and reaching across the table for her.
She evaded his grip and sprinted across the patio to the center of the lawn feeling him behind her. She dashed to the left and hid behind a bench swing. He was on the other side.
“Where you think you gonna go?” he asked.
She was breathing fast and thinking fast. Which way would she go? To the right and back towards the house to hide in her room? Or to the left deeper into the back yard to hide behind the rose bushes? Which way? She chose the left, and ran with all her might. She was almost there when she felt his arm come around her waist and pull her to the ground. She screamed and squirmed to get away, but she was no match for his strength. He had at least eighty pounds on her.
Anton pinned her arms overhead, deciding what to do with her.
“Okay, so you hit me with a lemon,” he said. “What’s a good payback?”
She squirmed and fought to release her hands. He had them clasped with his one.
“I could tickle you,” he said placing his free hand on her ribcage.
Her eyes went wide with fear.
“I could kiss you,” he said.
She nodded at that.
“But that ain’t no punishment,” he argued.
She fought a bit more before giving up completely.
“I do love kissing you, though,” he decided. “It’s no punishment really, but it’d still be somethin’ for me.”
He released her hands and cupped her face softly making sure to put most of his weight on his elbows.
“You so pretty,” he said tenderly staring into her eyes. He pressed his lips to hers feeling her body respond beneath him. He let his lips linger on hers before drawing away from her face to look down at her again.
“God, you so pretty,” he said as he felt her pull him towards her lips once more.
***
She was glowing and her friends saw it. They were sitting around Morgan’s room deciding what to do that night. Emma knew what she would rather be doing, but Anton had to work. It was probably a good thing, she thought. Space from him would remind her that she was still living in the real world. And she had friends who she deeply cared about. She did not want to turn into one of those girls who abandons her girlfriends for a guy, no matter how cute, she thought with a grin.
“Okay, spill it,” Sarah said, sitting on the floor painting her nails.
“Spill what?” Emma asked.
“What is up with you? You’ve been grinning all night,” Sarah replied.
“Have I? I didn’t notice,” Emma said, and went back to flipping through the pages of her magazine.
“Are you high?” Morgan asked. “And where can we get some?”
“Oh my God, Morgan! No, I’m not high! Can’t I smile and be happy?”
“Are you in love?” Aubrey asked.
Yes, she wanted to say. My God, yes! But she didn’t.
“Have you seen me with anyone?” Emma asked.
Aubrey and Sarah shrugged, but Morgan was not convinced. She decided to trap her into confessing.
“How’s your project going with Mr. Thug?” she asked brushing her hair in the mirror.
“You’re seriously calling him that?” Emma asked.
“Whatever. Tell us about your project,” Morgan replied. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.”
“It’s going fine. We’re almost finished with it,” she said. She hoped that her face wasn’t blushing.
“Does he actually work, or does he expect you to do everything?” Sarah asked.
�
�He works. I work. We both work.”
“Emma, I’m gonna be honest with you about something. And I don’t want to hear any shit from you, Morgan,” Aubrey began.
Aubrey, too, was on the bed with Emma flipping through fashion and gossip magazines. Morgan made a face at her.
“I think he’s cute,” Aubrey confessed.
Emma laughed.
“What? Yes, I know he’s black. But there’s just something about him. He’s like a nice bad boy, or at least that’s what I imagine. When he came into Calculus class that one day and apologized to you, I thought I was gonna die. So sweet!”
“I’m gonna throw up,” Morgan muttered.
“You know, Morgan, you haven’t got one romantic bone in your body,” Aubrey said.
“What happened in Calculus class?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, I never told you?” Aubrey said excitedly. She loved the opportunity to tell stories.
Emma forced herself to remain detached as she listened. She sensed that Morgan was on to her and wanted to squash her suspicions. She was not ready to tell her friends.
“So, he comes in after the bell already rang,” Aubrey began. “And Mrs. Hartsford was like, what are you doing in my class? And he was like, hold up, I just need to talk to her. And he pointed at Emma. Emma, what’s his name?”
“Anton.”
“Okay, so Anton points at Emma and she looks petrified. And the whole class is listening as he tells her he’s sorry for calling her a bitch,” Aubrey said.
“He called you a bitch?!” Sarah cried. She fanned her hands trying to dry her freshly-painted nails faster. “Where have I been?”
“It was a misunderstanding,” Emma said lamely.
“What does that mean?” Morgan asked. She had stopped brushing her hair and was looking Emma square in the face.
Emma didn’t want to explain, but she felt she had no choice.
“He was angry,” she began.
“Okay. So that gives him the right to call you a bitch?” Morgan asked.
“Will you let me finish?”
Morgan grunted which Emma took as an invitation to continue.
