by Jc Emery
“It’s not the same,” I whine.
“Okay, real talk?” she asks. I nod my head. “I’m tired of hearing my son talking about having sex on every surface in this house. I don’t care how old he is—it’s not something a mother wants to hear.”
“How do you think I feel? It’s awful! I have to wipe down every surface before I touch it,” I gripe.
“You mean to tell me that you’ve learned how to clean? Well hell, guess it’s not such a tragedy after all. Besides, you’re escaping soon enough,” she says without any sympathy. “Plus, you don’t need me hovering over you all the time. You’re grown.”
“Congratulations, you’re the only person who doesn’t think I need supervision anymore.” My attitude sucks, I know. But I don’t really care. She basically abandoned me with my father. Who does that?
“You are just like your dad. If you two weren’t such a pain in my ass, I’d think it was funny. I love you, and I’m not exactly moving out just yet. But this is your dad and Holly’s house. They need time and space to be a couple, and I just don’t think Holly is ever going to think of it as hers as long as her boyfriend lives with his mom.”
I snort because Grandma has a great way of making Dad sound like a loser. I know I’m hard on him, but I can’t help myself.
“Can you tell Dad that I’m an adult, please?” I ask.
“Baby girl, I’d need to be twenty years younger to have enough time on this earth to convince him that you’re not still five years old. Doesn’t matter how beautiful you are or how mature you get. Your dad is always going to see his little pig-tailed, button-nose brat on her first day of kindergarten.”
“Well, that sucks,” I say. She’s trying to be nice, but I want some alone time with Jeremy, damn it, and she’s not freaking helping.
“No, baby. It’s one of the best things you could ever wish for in life. He’s nearing forty, but Sterling is and always will be my baby. I don’t care what anybody says. I’ll always remember the day he was born, his first day of school, and every other important milestone he’s had, and I’ll hold those close to my heart.”
“Lucky Dad,” I say with a biting tone. It’s great that she remembers all this shit about my dad, but I’m betting my mom doesn’t remember a damn thing about me. Not that she was there for any of my milestones, except my birth. I’m pretty sure she didn’t have the option to ditch out of that. Grandma wraps her arms around me and pulls me in. I let myself sink into her and take a deep breath so I don’t tear up.
“Missing your mom?” she asks. I shrug my shoulders, not wanting to answer that question. I have nothing to miss, but the idea of Grandma being less available is fucked up. It’s making me feel bad, which is why I don’t like talking about Layla. “You got screwed out of a mom, but my son got screwed out of a dad. We do the best we can with what we have, and maybe you don’t have Layla, but you do have someone damn special.”
“My grandma,” I say. I press my eyes into her button-up to dry the tears that are forming in my eyes.
“Nah, someone whose clothes you actually want to steal. You have Holly.”
“Yeah, I guess I do,” I say quietly.
“You might not understand this just yet, but a mother isn’t always the one who gives birth to you. She’s the one who fights for you even when you don’t want her to, and that woman has been fighting for you since before she even met your dad, and when he got in her way, she ran right over him.”
She’s right. I do have Holly. And Holly does fight for me. In everything. Truth be told, it wasn’t until recently that I realized how much Grandma’s been gone. She spends a few more minutes telling me how much she loves Holly, not just for Dad, but for me as well. I want to ask her if she’s seeing someone, but I figure I can always get it out of Holly later. She’s likely to be more truthful anyway.
When she’s gone, I slip back into my thoughts. If Grandma’s dating, that means everybody around here is getting some except for me. Even my freaking grandmother. People with gray hair and wrinkles should not have a better love life than I do. They really shouldn’t.
The last time Jeremy and I snuck away for a little while, we spent a few hours on Glass Beach just watching the water and talking about everything from his favorite superhero as a little boy to my favorite pastry. It’s sort of become our spot. Somewhere in there we started talking about the future, but that went to a place I don’t really want to go, so I changed the subject, and now I know more about Ryan’s relationship drama than I ever wanted to know—not that I wasn’t already aware of most of it. The future is a scary subject because there’s so much that I want in life, but the only thing I need is Jeremy. And I don’t know how to say that without everybody thinking I’m a foolish child who’s going to regret her choices. I’d much rather stick my head in the sand and let those pesky school deadlines pass so I can pretend I just missed the admissions cut-off as opposed to the truth—that I can’t imagine going to school so far away. Despite how attractive San Francisco once sounded, now it’s just too far away.
My fingers move swiftly over the touch screen of my phone as I try to conquer the second castle in Level-V of Candy Castle. I now regret gifting Diesel my extra two lives the game had given me when I hadn’t played in a while. I’m low on energy level, and I’ve made a series of ill-timed moves that have my character’s health in the red. My character in the game jumps too soon—due to no fault of my own—and misses the bridge I’m aiming for. A message comes on the screen telling me that I’m out of lives unless I want to buy more credits, so I decide to give up on the game for now. Damn it. I only gave Diesel those lives because he bitched that chicks think he’s a good listener and he can’t properly concentrate on the game when we’re all blabbing in his ears. I had a momentary feeling of guilt that ended with my being more generous than I actually am.
Now that I’m without the distraction of Candy Castle, I find myself immediately suffering from a bad case of boredom. My fingers twitch and my toes dance in search of purpose. There is nothing to do around this house, except for watching TV or sitting around and talking with the parental units. Neither of which is really all that appealing right now. If I had my way, I’d be lying next to Jeremy, wrapped his arms. Dad gets to live with his girlfriend, so it’s pretty fucked up that I can’t even have some alone time with my boyfriend. We’re both adults for crying out loud. Jeremy isn’t allowed in my room, and I’m certainly not allowed in his. Dad’s taken the “my house, my rules” thing and extended it beyond the laws of reason. It doesn’t matter to him one bit that Jeremy’s room is in Duke and Nic’s house. We’ve been pretty lucky so far with Nic. She may not actively lie to Duke about anything, but she certainly isn’t rushing to tell him the truth about all of our activities either. And even though Nic’s cool about our sneaking off into Jeremy’s room for a few minutes, it’s never enough. I just want some more alone time with him, and I don’t think that’s too much to ask.
I check the clock to find that it’s after eleven, which means that Dad and Holly are likely in their room. Having sex and the freedom to do whatever they want. Who knows if Grandma is even still in the house.
I pick my phone back up, open the messaging app, and start to type out a text to Jeremy. But then I stop.
I’m a legal fucking adult, and this level of strict supervision isn’t necessary. Dad certainly didn’t get this kind of supervision from Grandma, and even though I know very little about my mom’s family, I know she ran wild. There’s no reason I can’t clock a few more hours a week with my freaking boyfriend.
Frustration builds, and I find myself lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling while resenting every adult around me. It’s not fair. They all get to go out and do whatever they want, whenever they want, and in most cases whoever they want, but God forbid they extend the same courtesies to me.
So screw this crap.
I’m done being the perfect little girl who does most of what she’s told. Even though Jeremy has been really u
nderstanding with the boundaries so far, I’m getting sick of them. I just want to be able to make my own choices and be treated like the adult everybody tells me I am.
I want to have sex.
Jeremy has had sex, which he doesn’t really like to talk about. I’m not really up for hearing about it either, but the irritation of being unable to share that with him is driving me mad. I mean, I guess I know he enjoys it. Otherwise, why would he want to do it all the time? I just want to have that with him. We are so good together in every other way that I want this experience, too.
I’ve tried to figure things out on my own, for myself, but it’s hit or miss. Tracie told me that I could watch YouTube videos about it and that the internet has a wealth of information, but that just seems a little bit too pathetic. It’s bad enough to be terrified that I’m not going to be very good for anybody else, but knowing that I can’t even be good for myself makes me want to give up entirely. If I can’t manage to have sex with Jeremy soon, I’m going to just become asexual, if that’s even possible.
Grandma always says practice makes perfect, so I figure it only stands to reason that I should practice before Jeremy and I get so frustrated that we end up giving up on our relationship altogether. Not that I want to think he will dump me if we don’t have sex, but I’m not an idiot. He’s hot, and he could get it from just about anywhere, especially with that cut on his back. Unfortunately, I know that all too well.
Without thinking, I hop out of bed, shove my phone in my pocket, and grab my sweatshirt from the back of my door. A pair of flip flops rest a few feet over in front of my dresser. I shove them on my feet without even checking to see if I match and slowly open my bedroom door. I’m practiced enough that I make it down the stairs and through the living room and out the front door without triggering the alarm or making much noise. I’ve timed myself, and I’m now able to get from my bedroom to the front porch and reset the alarm in under forty-five seconds.
Shrill guitar riffs and a heavy drumbeat sound from the basement level where Dad’s room is, and I say a little thank-you to whoever is listening, because I know from experience that he can’t hear my Bug starting up when his music is that loud. My keys and my license are already in the pocket of my sweatshirt, thankfully. I didn’t even think about grabbing them on my way out, which could’ve turned out really bad. With a practiced ear, I listen to the sound coming from the basement level and wait until the chorus, which seems to be louder than the rest the song. Right when the chorus starts up, I slide into my unlocked Bug, fire the engine, and back down the driveway as quickly as I can without hitting anything. The first few times I tried to sneak out, it was not without disastrous results. I did everything slowly, with fear that I would get caught. But then I finally learned that faster is better, because at least if I get caught, I can get away first and have a chance at freedom. I’ve since had a much higher success rate.
Jeremy’s house is less than a five-minute drive, and there’s no traffic in a small, boring town like Fort Bragg. Soon enough, I’m pulling up to the yellow ranch house whose driveway plays host to two Harleys and a Toyota Corolla. The living room light is on, and through the front window, I can see the TV is on as well. I’m hoping Jeremy’s not in there, because there’s no way I’m going to the front door if Nic and Duke are awake. Nic would keep her mouth shut, but Duke would personally escort me back home. I used to like him, but he’s kind of a wet blanket these days.
I opt for parking in front of their neighbor’s house in order to avoid getting busted. My stomach flips uneasily with the worry that I might get caught, so I’m particularly quiet as I cross the front lawn and press my nose up to Jeremy’s bedroom window.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I wonder if ambushing him like this is a good idea. He could be with another girl. That would break my heart, and as much as I don’t want to believe it, I think a part of me is waiting for it to happen. Even Jim screws around on Aunt Ruby at times. I know Uncle Chief was hooking up with Chel on the regular before he died. Aunt Barbara knew about it, and she disliked it, but it was something she accepted. Until I met Holly, I’d never known a woman who had demanded exclusivity. Most just demand silence.
I can’t see much of anything through the shrouded window. There seems to be little movement in the room, if any. Holding in a deep breath, I check my nerves and tap the window just hard enough to make a distinct clicking sound against the glass. Anticipation builds in my gut, and my hands practically shake. I’m working myself up into a frenzy over a fear I don’t know I’ll ever be able to shake.
CHAPTER 20
March
13 months to Mancuso’s downfall
The aged forest-green curtains rustle from behind the glass and swoop to the side, revealing Jeremy’s tired face. He looks like he’s been put through the ringer, which motivates me to get through this glass barrier and wrap my arms around him that much faster. He blinks twice before smiling wide and working the window open with fast, knowledgeable movements.
“Hey,” he says as he slides the glass to the side and reaches an arm out. His fingers curl around the back of my head as he pulls me in for a kiss. I slide my lips over his and savor the calm that overtakes my entire body. This is right. This is us.
I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. I lift my arms up and pull him in closer, needing more. My tongue traces the inside curves of his bottom lip. He opens to me immediately and gives a low growling noise. It’s the same noise he makes when I know he wants to go further but restrains himself for my benefit. Pulling away slowly, I lick my lips and look into his hazy eyes. My heart practically thumps out of my chest, and my palms are sweaty when I place them on the window sill.
“Help me in,” I say. My foot finds purchase on the brick retaining wall that holds the budding yellow daisies that Duke had a few prospects plant for Nic. I’m careful not to disturb the flowers as Jeremy reaches out and helps guide me in the window and around the crap he has piling up on his bedroom floor. Once I’m inside with my feet firmly on the carpet, I snake my arms around his neck and grin up at him.
Jeremy’s wearing sweat pants and an aging Forsaken Custom Cycle T-Shirt. His hair is damp and slicked back from his face. He always looks good in my eyes, but right now he’s especially attractive. Maybe it’s because I’ve had a sort of epiphany since the last time I saw him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. His brows draw together, and a scowl forms on his face. I notice the beginnings of a nasty bruise on his temple that extends down to his cheekbone. With a light touch, I trace the slight discoloration of the bruise. I hate seeing him hurt, especially not knowing how it happened. I don’t ask because it’s club business, and I’d rather not be told that. He knows I only want to know if it has to do with Mindy’s rape. The rest is up to him whether or not he feels he needs to share.
“Nothing. I just wanted to be with you,” I say and let my fingers slide from the bruise on his face down the line of his jaw to his chin and then down his throat to the center of his chest. He’s silent and fully aware of my touch, but he doesn’t move. For weeks now, we’ve been dancing around the physical aspects of our relationship, sometimes careful, sometimes cautious of the limitations of privacy. Now that I’ve staged my breakout and I’m here, I just want him. No explanations, no talking—nothing. Just him and me, together in a way I don’t want to be with anyone else.
I step out of my sandals and then slowly unzip my hoodie. Jeremy watches me cautiously, like he’s not sure I’m really here in the room with him. The hoodie falls to the floor. My hands shake as I lift my shirt over my head to reveal my old and faded sports bra. It’s not what I expected I’d be wearing the first time I had sex, but that’s okay. It feels right with him. In fact, I can’t imagine it being right or better with anyone else.
Jeremy’s eyes widen just slightly before he regains his composure and purses his lips in appreciation. I give him a soft smile and slowly unbutton my jeans. They slide down my legs and collect a
t my feet. My thighs feel like Jell-O as I step out of them. My panties aren’t the newest in my collection either. So that kind of sucks, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
Following my lead, Jeremy reaches up over the back of his head and pulls his shirt off and lets it fall beside him. His sweats are next, leaving him in a pair of light gray boxers. Despite his experience, he seems as nervous as I am, which actually soothes my nerves some.
“Are you sure?” His voice is full of hope and restraint. I’ve barely nodded my head before he’s on me with one hand on my ass and the other tilting my head up to kiss him. Rubbing my thighs together and pressing myself even further into him, I relish in the feeling of his hard dick. Jeremy gets hard about as often as I assume any teenage boy does, but it’s something altogether different when I’m enticing him on purpose.
I reach up and press my lips against his. Our kiss soon evolves from something chaste that we manage to sneak in when Dad’s not looking to a wild frenzy of tongues and lips and even a clank of our teeth. We smile together through the kiss and slow our movements. Jeremy’s hands move up and down my nearly naked body, caressing my pliant flesh. I press into his warm skin and bask in his muscled frame. He’s always been well built, but the last several months of maintaining a rigorous weight-lifting routine is paying off big time. He reaches around and unhooks the wide clasp of my bra. Any other sports bra and I’d be awkwardly trying to shimmy out of it and likely elbowing him in the eye. A bundle of nervous anticipation, I hold my breath until my lungs strain for air, trying to be grateful for at least having chosen accessible, if not pretty, undergarments.
