She turned to look at him and motioned back over her shoulder at the field. “Extra point?”
He nodded over at Coach Rex, who was signaling that they line up for two.
Jess pulled off her helmet to get a better look at what was going on. Sure enough, Chris had the offense lined up for what Solomon Simpson announced was, “a real head scratcher.”
But Jess understood now.
Chris ran a play-action fake, dumped the ball off to Quentin, and easily got the two points, putting the Mexicans in the lead.
Kick-off was no big deal, since she’d discovered the first week into practice that, while she couldn’t miss a field goal attempt even if she tried, the rules of her miracle changed along with her objective. So when it came time to kick off after points, rather than sending the ball sailing through the uprights, her kicks managed to hang in the air just long enough so that by the time they dropped down inside the five, the Mexicans’ special teams was already in place to squash the kick returner if he was dumb enough to not call for a fair catch. On the whole, her ability was remarkable, but not necessarily miraculous on face value. She supposed giving Eugene footage of that was a small price to pay, comparatively.
But as she grabbed her helmet off the bench once again to head out onto the field, Coach Patterson grabbed her arm to stop her before hollering down the sideline, “Rivera! Don’t screw this up!”
Dennis Rivera, who had apparently given up hope of stepping foot on the field in a game, now that Jessica was around, gaped at Coach Patterson and pointed to himself, mouthing, Me?
As a reply, Patterson waved exasperatedly for Rivera to get on with it, and Jess set her helmet back down on the bench. Dennis botched the kick, sending it out of bounds at midfield, and Coach Patterson cursed and shook his head.
“You can send me in next time,” Jessica said, feeling guilty.
“Nope,” replied the special teams coach. “Ain’t gonna do it.”
Coach Rex stuck with this ballsy approach, and with the exception of one turnover on downs, it seemed to keep the Crusaders on their heels, confounding their coaches who couldn’t get a handle on the Mexicans’ unorthodox play calling.
By the fourth quarter, the Mexicans were up by seventeen points, but still they didn’t relent. Once Jess accepted that she wouldn’t be sent onto the field under any circumstance, she was even able to relax enough to enjoy the game.
The final second ticked off the clock with the Mexicans besting the Crusaders 45-24, and she ran up to Chris, catching him before the throngs of supporters began to swarm.
When she grabbed his arm, he turned to look at her and smiled. She leaned in so he could hear. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “Did you do something?” he shouted back. “I mean, did you, like, call in a favor with your Dad or something?”
“Nah, that was all you, Chris. Good game.”
She had one more person to thank before she headed to the locker room, and she caught him right after he shook hands with the head coach of the Crusaders.
“Coach!”
He turned and nodded acknowledgement, but his face gave away nothing.
“What’s up, McCloud?”
She waited till she was next to him to say, “Thanks. That was some stupid play calling, and I appreciate it.”
Coach Rex almost smiled. “Well, it paid off. My job is to do what’s best for the team, and that includes you, McCloud. I want being a part of this team to mean something for you, just like it does for the rest of ’em. We got your back.”
Oh crap, I’m gonna cry. The impulse struck suddenly. Football players aren’t supposed to cry!
She had to get out of there before she lost it.
The best part was that she could get out of there. She wasn’t the story tonight; Chris was. It was absolutely thrilling.
She headed into the locker room and changed before calling Greg to see where he’d ended up after the game. He usually waited for her outside of the gates, but with this big of a crowd, he might have found somewhere better and less chaotic.
She dialed his number.
“Hey Jess.”
“Hey Greg. Just wanted to see where you were, if you wanted to go grab a burger. I’m starving.”
“I’m actually home already. Sorry. Headed out right afterward.”
“Oh. Okay. You don’t want to meet up?”
“I’m just a little exhausted, and I need to practice my lines like a million more times before opening night next week.”
“Okay, fair enough.”
“We still on for tomorrow night?”
Oh right. She was scheduled to lose her virginity. “Yeah, of course.”
“Cool.”
“I’ll see you then. Sleep well.”
“You too,” he said. “And good job tonight. You were amazing as usual.”
It wasn’t until he hung up that the meaning of his words set in.
Greg hadn’t been at the game.
She left the locker room, her head swimming about why Greg would lie to her and what he could be doing if he wasn’t at the game, and almost bumped straight into Chris as he heading in the tunnel to change. He nodded to her. “Hey. Romeo, Quentin, and me are heading to Gordon’s for a burger after this. You want in?”
Jessica shook her head. “Not tonight. I’m crashing. I just want to get some sleep.”
Chris nodded. “A’right. Next time.”
She adjusted her bags—a backpack and a heavy football duffle—and remembered that Greg was supposed to be her ride home. So much for that.
She texted Miranda: You at the game?
And quickly Miranda texted back: No. Softball in Andrews. On bus home. What’s up?
Jess almost called to vent but decided against it, instead responding: Nothing. Talk later. She considered finding someone else to ask for a ride, then decided it might be worth the effort of walking home to not have to talk to anyone tonight. Greg’s lie had taken a great night and soured it. So she began the mile walk home in the dark and tried not to think about her plans for the following evening.
By the time her mother had dropped her off at Greg’s house on Saturday night, Jessica had decided two things. First, she was acting crazy because there was no indication that Greg was anything but loyal, despite having lied to her about being at the game; and second, she couldn’t blame him for skipping a game he had no interest in to watch her kick a guaranteed field goal here and there. She’d actually begun to feel bad for expecting him to be at the games. If she hadn’t asked him to be at all of them, he wouldn’t have had to lie. And really, he was probably just at home practicing lines. Greg was a nerd. He didn’t go to parties or anything like that, and she’d seen Sandra cheering for the duration of the game, so there was no chance of … Well, she decided not to think about it anymore.
She knocked on the door, and Greg answered.
Jess had omitted the detail about Greg’s parents being out of town for the night when she’d asked her mother to drop her off, but she didn’t think Destinee would care, and mentioning it would’ve been the quickest way to launch another alarmingly graphic sex talk. And the last thing she needed right now was to imagine her mother’s sex life when she was trying to initiate her own.
Greg answered the door, looking charming and manly in navy blue shorts and a plain white T-shirt. She was immediately glad she’d changed her mind last minute about wearing a dress.
The setting sun just above the horizon cast deep shadows on his face, making the angles of his jawline even more defined. The sight of him made her heart skip a beat. Had he ever looked so handsome? “Hey, come on in.”
She’d only been to Greg’s house once, and that was just for a minute. And his parents had been home. But she’d pleasured herself the night before and thought briefly about Greg as she did it, so she felt like she could handle this scenario all right.
This is fine. Everything’s fine. People do this every day.
Greg’s family lived in the more af
fluent neighborhood of Mooretown—by no means as affluent as the Wursts’ street, but still nicer than where Jessica lived. It seemed more established than the Wursts’ neighborhood. The junipers had much thicker trunks.
She followed him through the entryway then living room and kitchen until they found themselves in a cozy entertainment room. The walls were painted midnight blue, and a long L-shaped couch was parked in the corner across from a big-screen TV.
“Wow, this is awesome,” she said, and she meant it. She imagined watching nature shows on a TV that size, and immediately wished that she had the room to herself so that she could do so.
“I figured we could watch a movie,” Greg said.
“Yeah, for sure.”
“What do you like?”
She refrained from saying Jameson Fractal movies, though watching him work his magic might help her get in the mood, she supposed. Or it could just make Greg look ugly and boyish by comparison. “I’m not picky.”
He flopped back onto the overstuffed faux leather couch and grabbed the remote. “There’s some old Kenneth Branagh stuff on Netflix, if you’re up for it.”
She had no idea what that meant. “Yeah, sounds great.”
She made herself comfortable next to him, with his arm draped round her shoulders as he found the Kenneth Branagh and pressed play. Dang, this really was old.
“Branagh was one of the real modern Shakespearean greats. The world got a little less cultured the day he died.”
“Ah, yeah … totally.” Jess so didn’t care.
“Want to get high?”
“For sure.”
He leaned to the side and pulled a joint and lighter from his pocket. “This is supposed to be really good stuff, so take it easy.”
When he lit it and passed it to her, she took a long drag and then another. Her mind was made up. She was going to have sex with Greg tonight. Being high would make everything a little bit easier, she hoped.
It was right after Greg confidently announced the start of act two that Jess couldn’t wait any longer to get this started. Her nerves were about to get the best of her, even with the weed, and she knew if she didn’t start soon, she might not have the guts to go through with this after all. The first time was supposed to be the worst, right? She’d knock it out.
She moved to straddled Greg’s lap on the couch. That certainly got his attention.
“What’s this?” he asked, smiling.
She leaned down and kissed him, and things moved quickly from there.
Her shirt was off, so was his, and he was hovering over her as she lay on her back on the couch. He kissed along her neck, then began undoing her pants. Panic rose up inside her. This was happening. Her immediate thought was that she didn’t want this to be happening, but she quickly squashed that stupid idea. Of course she wanted this to be happening. She wanted to keep Greg around, and it was unreasonable of her to expect him to stay if they weren’t having sex.
She lifted her hips and let him pull off her pants. And it wasn’t until that moment that she considered, for the first time in her life, the pubic hair question. Sure, she’d noticed there was a general lack of it in pornography, but she’d never put two and two together and considered whether she should do away with it. Oh gosh, what if he was horrified? What if he told everyone?
No, Greg wouldn’t do that. He was her defender. But still, what if he was horrified and didn’t mention it to her? That would somehow be worse.
He positioned himself to kiss along her collarbone as one of his hands slipped into her panties. She was glad he couldn’t see her grimacing.
It occurred to her that she was lying stiffly, not moving at all. I should be doing something. But what? She couldn’t stop grimacing. Greg didn’t seem to be bothered by her hair situation, and he was touching her like she’d imagined last night, but this was definitely not as awesome as she’d hoped. A phrase from Mrs. Thomas drifted into her mind. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Did that apply here? It sure seemed like it.
Greg popped his head up to look at her, and she was forced to morph the grimace into a pleased grin, despite the clumsy things his fingers were doing to her.
“Please tell me you want to have sex.”
“Uhh …” Why wouldn’t the word yes come out of her mouth? “Yeah, see, I mean, I want to …”
Greg rolled off of her and stood up next to the couch. He grabbed his shirt and began putting it back on.
“Jesus Christ, Jess. What more do you need for it to be the right time?”
When she didn’t have an immediate response, he grabbed her purse off the coffee table and reached inside, pulling out a string of condoms and holding it up for her to see. “If you’re not having sex with me, why do you carry these around?”
She bolted upright on the couch. “What? How did you know about those?”
“Please, you carry them in your purse all the time. I can hear the wrappers crinkling when you reach in to grab something, and I saw them like three weeks ago. Now answer me. Why do you have these if we’re not having sex?”
Dang. This was not the way the night was supposed to go. She’d just have to be honest. “My mom gave those to me.”
“So your mom is okay with you having sex, but you aren’t? I have a hard time believing that, Jess.”
“If you met my mother, you wouldn’t.”
Greg threw the condoms back into her purse and tossed her purse onto the side table. “Then why don’t you ever let me meet her? No, that’s not the point. The point is that my girlfriend is carrying condoms around with her everywhere, and they’re not being used with me, so I have to wonder who they’re being used with.”
He stared, eyebrows raised, waiting for a response. It took Jess a moment to realize what he was implying. And then it clicked. “Wait, you think I’m having sex with someone else?”
He nodded slowly and exaggeratedly like she’d finally reached the most obvious conclusion in the world. “Chris, right?”
“What? No! I–I don’t even know what’s happening here. I’m not having sex with anyone!”
She was finally angry enough to stand up and start putting her clothes back on. “You know, I thought you would be understanding. But it turns out you’re just another jerk who wants me to be what you think I should be.” She zipped up her pants. “Maybe you screwed up when you dumped Sandra. I bet you could have put your dick anywhere you wanted with her.” Her mind flashed to some of the odd places she’d seen people put it in porn. Ugh. Yeah, Sandra would totally do that.
She grabbed her condom-stuffed purse and walked past Greg, pausing in the game room doorway to get in one last jab. “Maybe you should just find yourself some slut you don’t have to respect. Maybe she’ll be able to sit through your shitty Netflix movies.” She didn’t actually think the movie was shitty, but she knew it would eat at Greg to hear someone insult any incarnation of Shakespeare.
And she was right. His already self-righteous expression turned to one of blatant moral outrage, and she left him standing there, mouth gaping, as she walked out of the giant house.
It wasn’t until she was a few blocks down the street that she began to wonder if they’d just broken up. Then she began to wonder if she should call Destinee for a ride, because it was a long way to walk at night.
She couldn’t settle on an answer to the first question, but the second one was easy, and she dialed up her mom.
The old Nissan pulled up to the rendezvous point at the edge of Greg’s neighborhood fifteen minutes later. After the first five minutes of sitting there with nothing to do, Jess’s mind ached, so she busied herself with the condoms, first counting them (twenty-four), then opening one, rolling it onto one finger, rolling it onto two fingers, becoming curious, rolling it onto three fingers …
When Destinee pulled up, Jess hurriedly peeled the condom off her fist and tossed it into the grass, hoping to avoid that conversation with her mother. She stood, grabbed her bag, and walked over to
the car.
“Everything all right, baby?”
Jess set her bag on the floorboards and closed the passenger-side door. “Not really. I messed up everything with Greg.”
“What happened?”
Jess wanted to be mad at her mom for stuffing her purse full on condoms, but being mad at Destinee was always something Jess had a difficult time managing. It was about as satisfying as yelling at a puppy. And it wasn’t her mom’s fault that Greg was being a jerk. “I didn’t want to have sex with him, and he got mad.” There was no way Destinee would understand that bit about not wanting to have sex, so she tried to move on and quickly added, “He knew about the condoms in my purse and accused me of having sex with Chris.”
Centrifugal force from the car’s sudden U-turn slammed Jess against the door.
“Mom, no!”
“What? I’m just going to talk to him.”
Nope. “Just talking” wasn’t a thing Destinee McCloud did in situations like this. “Mom. Seriously. No.”
Destinee glanced over at Jess and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re old enough to fight your own battles now.” She pulled another U-turn and headed for home. “I’m proud of you, though.”
“Really?”
“Hell yeah, baby! You didn’t want to have sex with him, so you said no. That’s important. Listen, just because when I was your age I wanted to have sex with quite a few guys—and did—doesn’t mean that I lost my right to say no to the ones I didn’t like. Some of them would get mad as hell when I did and would accuse me of all kinds of things and call me all kinds of names.” She paused and seemed to consider her next words carefully. “Once I let a guy talk me into it. He knew all the buttons to push to make me feel guilty, and I figured, hey, I have sex with a lot of guys, so maybe if I just have sex with him once, it won’t be that bad and then it’ll be done and I can move on.
“That’s not how it ever works, Jess. Each time you have sex with someone when you don’t want to, you end up loving yourself a little bit less, and it takes ten times longer to get that love back than it took to lose it.”
And It Was Good (Jessica Christ Book 2) Page 12
