by Stacy M Wray
He breaks the hold of our hands and slides his down the length of my arm. Small goose bumps appear on my skin in its wake. That same hand then dips to my thigh. Only, now, his hand drags up, taking the length of my skirt with it, his eyes never leaving mine.
I may be drunk, but I’m not that drunk. My hand grabs his wrist and stops any further movement. His eyebrows raise in question. “What do you want, Harper?” His lips turn into an apologetic grin.
I’m surprised when his words are soft, almost gentle. Not someone who wants to take this too far.
Releasing a huge sigh, I tell him, “I just want you to kiss me.”
His eyes immediately drop down to my lips. The opposite hand of the one I’m still holding raises, his fingers gliding over them. “God, your lips…” Before he can finish his sentence, his mouth is on mine, sweeping his tongue inside. Nibbling, sinking deeper. His body presses against mine to get closer while his hands wrap around my neck. I can feel his erection against my lower belly, just like the times that Reed kissed me.
Reed. Reed. Reed. Get out of my head. I’m enjoying this. One of Justin’s hands slips to my backside, pulling me closer to him. I allow it, since I like feeling him against me. The kiss is still going strong, causing my knees to buckle.
When the hand that was still on my neck slides down to caress my breast, I allow that, too, remembering how great it felt that night with Reed. Stop it! A small groan can be heard, and I think it came from Justin and not me.
I feel him pull away, panting as he looks up to the sky. When his eyes meet mine again, he asks, “You sure kissing is all you want to do?”
Without hesitation, I nod my head. He drops both hands and steps back. “Not sure I can continue with just kissing, so this ends here.” He’s not mad, just being honest. And I appreciate it so much.
I don’t want him to think I’m a tease. “Justin, I’m sorry. I –”
Holding both hands up, palms out, he clarifies, “Hey. Your mind. Your body. You call the shots. It’s just that my body wants to get off – we aren’t even on the same page. Time to walk away.”
This makes me smile. “You’re a great guy, you know that, Justin?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not that great. I just live with two feminists. I get it.”
Taking my hand, he adjusts himself and leads us back to the swarm of teenagers. Anna and Leslie have rejoined Erica and Vincent. I can tell by their faces that they’re wondering where I went. I stop, letting Justin know he doesn’t need to walk me back to my friends. Kissing him on the cheek, I tell him, “You’re one class act.”
I turn and walk away, giddy about the fact that I got my kiss. Also, I’m feeling a little crappy about the fact that Justin will probably kiss someone else tonight – someone who just might be on the same page. But that’s his right.
When I get back to the truck, I reach for the bottle of tequila and take another drink. My friends watch me in fascination. “I’m having so much fun,” I tell them.
Two hours later, I’m not having so much fun. I’ve puked twice and can barely keep my eyes open. I feel like I’m under-water. Muffled voices around me are saying, “How much has she had?” and “Why didn’t you pay attention?”
Next thing I remember is someone saying, “I’m so sorry, Harper. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to be grounded the whole summer.” I vaguely feel my head hit something hard and see lights in front of me, then they disappear. I think I hear tires squealing, but I’m not sure. Could just be all in my pounding head.
I feel like I could die.
Chapter Fourteen
Reed
June 2011
The sound of a car door slamming and tires howling on asphalt jerks me awake immediately. For a moment, I think I’m still in Chicago. Looking around, the faint light coming from the moon seeps into my room. My mind now recalls that I’m on the farm.
But those sounds? Was I dreaming? Throwing both legs out of bed, I slide them into the jeans that were laying in a heap on the floor and open my door, standing still to listen. Nothing but crickets and other bugs chattering away.
Stepping outside, I walk further until Harper’s house comes into view. I squint, noticing a blob of light blue and black against her white house, partially illuminated by the front porch light. My throat constricts and my heart races while I run across Mr. H’s front yard, across the street, and down Harper’s driveway. Small pebbles dig into the bottom of my bare feet. Upon reaching the blob, I see that it’s Harper, and I can’t believe my fucking eyes. What the hell is going on?
Kneeling beside her, I grab her shoulders, bringing her to an upright position as I gently shake her. “Harper! Wake up.” Nothing. God, she smells like a distillery. “Harper!” I shout louder. This gets me a moan.
When I find out who dumped her here, I’m going to kill them. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees, I hoist her up and carry her back to my room. No way am I about to let her dad see her like this.
Her head flops back and it scares the shit out of me. I talk to her all the way there. “Wake up, Harper. Can you hear me? It’s Reed. Wake the hell up!”
When I reach just outside my room, I decide what I hope is wise. Setting her back on the ground, I turn her head to the side, pry her mouth open, then stick my finger down her throat. She retches immediately, also waking her up. Holding back her hair, I clutch a shoulder, so she doesn’t fall forward into her own vomit. She’s a complete mess, but at least she’s expelling the alcohol she’s consumed. When she reaches the dry heaves, she begins to cry. Wiping her mouth with her shirt, she finally realizes someone has ahold of her. Turning, our eyes lock. Hers go wide, then she buries her face in her hands and cries harder.
I hear a muffled “Go away, Reed. Just leave me alone.” Every word is slurred except for my name.
“Not gonna happen,” I spit out. “Who took you home, Harper, huh? Who just dumped you against your house?”
She shakes her head, not answering me. She raises her arm and makes a pathetic attempt at movement. “Go away.” Her arm must seem as heavy as sandbags because it drops to the ground as soon as she attempts to raise it. I almost laugh, but then remind myself there’s nothing even remotely funny about any of this.
“You done puking?” No response. Her head remains between her hands, refusing to look at me.
“Do you think you can walk, Harper?” I only hear her sniff. Nothing else. I stand. “Alright then.” I lean over and pick her up again. Her feeble attempts to fight me off are almost laughable. I cross the threshold and lay her on my bed. Sliding my trash can to one side, I reach into the small refrigerator that Mr. H added and fetch her a water. Removing the cap, I get her to sit up a little, taking a drink. “Trust me, you’re going to want to wash down that crap you just puked.” I only allow her a couple of sips, knowing it will just come back up again if I give her more.
I wedge myself beside her, practically pulling her into my lap. Her head falls on my shoulder. “What have you done to yourself, Harper?” I say into her hair. What happened to her? What happened to the sweet, happy Harper I knew from last summer? That Harper would have never done something like this, would she?
She stirs. Then, mumbles, “He kissed me…wiped you away.”
My body stiffens at the mention of a he. Swallowing my anger, I probe for more. “Did he bring you home?” I shake her a little. “Who are you talking about?”
“I just…wanted…a kiss.” She sighs as if releasing those five words were a monumental task.
Reigning it in, my voice is low and deliberate. “Did he hurt you, Harper?” My breathing halts, waiting for her answer.
“Felt good…felt…really good.”
My whole body freezes. What in the hell is she talking about? Did she have sex with someone? The mere thought makes me want to vomit. I decide I don’t want to know any more. I hold on tighter, swiping my hand along the side of her face, pushing her tangled, sweaty hair out of the wa
y. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, now.”
“Hate you…”
Her words deliver a punch to my gut, even though she’s mumbling in a drunken stupor. I think I’m starting to get the picture. I’ll still kill him if he had sex with a drunk girl and dropped her off like a piece of trash.
I attempt my breathing exercises for my anger. I don’t want Harper to pick up on it, three sheets to the wind or not.
The last thing I remember before finally dozing off is picturing myself beating the crap out of a faceless douchebag.
I wake up with a stiff neck, stiff arms, and stiff…well, that’s a given. Harper feels like a ragdoll in my arms, and I slide out from under her and lay her down, her head now against the pillow.
Shaking my arms out, I walk to the door and peer outside. All is quiet. Grabbing my phone, I see it’s only six-twenty. But I want to get Harper home before Mr. H steps outside, especially before her dad wakes up.
I leave the door open, needing to air out my room. That beautiful girl does not match the smell coming from her, that’s for sure.
Walking into my tiny bathroom, I pop the cap off the ibuprofen bottle and shake out a couple of pills. When I walk back out, I notice her bloodshot green eyes watching me, and I can’t help but smile. “Morning, sunshine.” I sit on the mattress, causing it to dip by her head. She winces at the movement. I chuckle, knowing damn well she’ll be hurting today.
I hold out my hand and she slowly sits up, her face a mask of confusion. She scoops up the tiny orangey-brown pills. I offer her the water bottle from earlier, and she takes it and swallows a few drinks. “Not too much. You’ll be lucky to keep those pills down after what I witnessed.”
She frowns. “How did I get here?”
My eyebrows lift high. “You don’t remember anything?”
Her eyes close, and she slowly shakes her head.
I watch the shame appear on her face and it makes me uncomfortable. Sighing heavily, I say, “Why don’t you start with the last memory you do have?”
She lays back down, her left arm draping across her eyes. Laying completely still, I wonder if she’s willing her memory to come back to her.
“Harper?”
“What?”
“I found you outside your house dumped like a sack of garbage. You have any idea who brought you home last night?”
Her face pales, leaving her a pasty gray shade. I almost wonder if she’s about to puke again.
“What were you doing at my house?” she whispers.
I turn so I can look at her, her arm now resting on her forehead. “I heard car doors and tires peeling out of your driveway. Not the norm at your house, if I remember correctly.”
Her face remains blank.
I try a different approach. “Okay, who picked you up last night?” Please, don’t say a guy.
“My friends. Erica was driving.”
My tense body relaxes. “So, you went to a party, I take it?”
She nods slowly. “It was just an open field. Everyone met there.”
I dread asking my next question. “Did some douche ply you with alcohol?”
She thinks about this for a minute before answering, “Nope. That was all me.”
The concern must show on my face, but she only shrugs.
I sigh. “You do this a lot now, Harper?” I’m not judging her. I’m in no position to do so. I’m just trying to figure out where she’s coming from. She seemed so innocent last summer. I know shit can happen. People change. But it bothers me she drank so much.
“What? Drink?” I nod. She turns her head, now staring up at the ceiling. “Last night was the first time.”
Well, that’s a relief.
“So, last night was just a case of you not knowing what you could handle?”
She’s quiet for a minute. “Yeah. That’s exactly what it was.”
The room blankets in a comfortable silence. The slight humming from my mini-fridge is the only thing I hear, and I focus on it.
“I’m pretty sure my friends brought me home. I remember Leslie’s voice saying she was sorry.”
I don’t know if it’s relief that it wasn’t a guy or anger that she has those kinds of friends that takes ahold of me – both are battling it out in my head. Releasing a cleansing breath, I say, “Jesus, Harper. What kind of friends do you have? You could have choked on your own vomit. Died of alcohol poisoning. Who knows what could have happened?”
A tear slips down the side of her face. I want to catch it with my thumb, but I don’t. “Yeah, well, I’m fine. I didn’t choke, and I didn’t die.” She’s quiet again before adding, “Although, I feel like I did.”
Pushing herself up, she slowly leans against the wall, the flat pillow now wedged behind her back. “I have to get home before my dad wakes up.” She glances at me. “What time is it?”
“It’s still early – you’re fine.” I stand up, my eyes drifting to her face. She’s an absolute mess. Her hair puffs at the crown of her head, flat on one side and ratty on the other. Her blotchy face screams “rough night,” traces of black hovering beneath her eyes. Seeming self-conscious under my gaze, she rubs her eyes with her middle fingers, only worsening the situation. And those luscious lips hide beneath the dry, cracked skin encasing her mouth, reminding me that she needs hydration. I tip my chin towards the bottle of water nestled between her outstretched legs. “You’re gonna need lots of water today.” She nods once, the plastic crunching in around her grip as she tilts the bottle back, swallowing small sips.
“Come on.” I hold my hand out. “I’ll walk you home.”
Eyeing my hand, she waves hers, dismissing me. “I can get myself home.” She slides her legs to the side of the mattress, pushing herself up gently. Before she walks through the already opened door, she turns slightly. “Um, thanks.”
I can’t tell if the change in her mood is caused by embarrassment or something else. Deciding to let it slide, I smile when I say, “Been there many times, Harper. It happens to the best of us.”
One side of her mouth tips slightly before she turns and leaves.
I give her a few minutes, then follow her, catching sight of her entering through the side garage door. A sigh of relief escapes me as I walk back to my room, flopping back on my bed, still exhausted. A montage runs through my head of last night’s events, Harper’s cryptic clues haunting me as I try to understand what it meant.
He kissed me…wiped you away. What does that even mean?
I’m too wired to fall back asleep. Instead, my mind flits back to those beautiful lips of hers. Even passed out drunk, those lips were like a beacon, forcing my mind back to last summer, when I got to taste them for the first time. Sweet. Irresistible. Sexy. Goddamn those lips. I predict that they’ll be the death of me this summer. It’s like dangling a hit in front of a meth head – absolutely fucking addicting.
Once again, the turmoil of feelings I have for Harper wrestle inside my head. I know I can’t go there.
I wish like hell I could.
Chapter Fifteen
Harper
July 9-15, 2011
Aries Horoscope: Romance may take a serious dip around the 12th, especially if you are paired to Sagittarius, Libra, Cancer, or other Rams. Your sense of adventure is high this week but take heed in the fact that not everyone wants to go along for the ride. Loyalty remains steadfast in everything you touch. However, don’t let anyone walk all over you.
Folding the newspaper in half, I slide it across the table as I lift my coffee mug to my mouth. My eyes roll in a dramatic fashion. Romance took a serious dip a long time ago.
But I gave up on that.
Sort of.
The weeks since Reed has been back at the farm have been uneventful. Last summer, I loved the newness. The intrigue. The challenge. This summer? Honestly, I’m just trying to keep it real. Shoving the hurt and the frustration aside, I’ve spent most of the time accepting the fact that Reed and I are destined to simply be friends
. It’s not what I want, but it’s become clear that I don’t have a say in this. I can’t make someone return my flirty banter or remember how the world melted away when our lips came together. Nor can I force someone to notice when I wear my favorite cut-offs, my legs appearing to go on for miles.
Okay, I’ve caught him noticing. But he doesn’t do a damn thing about it. Every time I see that look in his eyes, he manages to find something to do on the complete other side of the farm.
So, I give up. Maybe, he has someone back home that he’s not told me about. Maybe, that attraction from last summer waned over the winter, melting along with the mounds of snow that were dumped all the way up through the end of March.
I refuse to chase. Pride has me stuffing my attraction for him so deep down that I won’t be able to reach it if need be.
I’ve been attempting to keep myself busy, but after the night I puked my guts up in front of Reed, I’ve found myself avoiding my so-called friends. I know I’m responsible for my own actions. But after mulling over what Reed insinuated, regarding the way they just left me in front of my house, I’ve decided to forego any invitations from them – especially, ones that involve field parties.
That night scared me. Only, not until the day after.
So, I concentrate on working each day, watching my bank account grow weekly. I know it’s up to me. My dad and I finally had the talk – the one where he had to apologetically admit he dropped the ball when it came to my continuing education. I remember the whole time he delivered a long list of excuses, my mind kept wandering back to the story I cherish, To Kill a Mockingbird. Atticus Finch made a point to remain positive in every situation possible, always sweeping the bad away and keeping a calm head. “It’s not time to worry yet,” he would say, reassuring Scout. But, that day, my mind just kept chanting, it’s definitely time to worry.
But I don’t let that stop me. I will go to college. I don’t know when, but I will attend, and I will graduate. And I’m going to be the best damned lawyer that ever came out of Indiana.
