“Wow. The sensei has very little faith in his young grasshopper.”
“No.” I shake the idea away. “I have to do this right with you. Turn up the heat slowly.” It comes out lower than a whisper, and a part of me wonders if I wanted her to hear it.
“It’s too late for that.”
“Everything only gets better from here, I promise.” I help adjust the pillow until we’re both partially sitting up with Jennifer locked in my arms. An old rerun of The Munsters plays in the background, but I can’t seem to pay attention. “I think we should do this in steps.” Words I never thought would leave my lips. I’ve slept with girls right after hello on more than one occasion. But there’s no part of me that wants to take Jennifer down that path.
“Steps.” She nods and gives an audible swallow. Her fingers bounce down my chest slowly as if transfixed by it, even if I am still fully clothed. “How about we leap ahead just one extra step tonight?” She glides her hand up my shirt, and I suck a mean breath in as soon as her skin hits mine.
“Just one,” I whisper as her warmth radiates through me like a thunderbolt. “I have a confession to make. I’ve never felt anything as intense as that kiss”—I press my hand over hers—“as this right here.”
“That’s because you’re essentially a virgin again. Tess and Rachel said you haven’t got laid since October.” I can’t tell if she’s teasing or not, but nevertheless, she’s stating facts.
A dull laugh thumps from me. “I’ll plead the fifth.”
Jennifer gives that wry smile that’s been making me insane from the beginning. Beauty and brains—Jennifer has them both. I don’t think a fiercer combination exists.
“So tell me all about it. The sexual adventures of the formidable Jessie Fox.”
My cheek flexes as I try to digest what she might mean by formidable. I don’t think there’s anything scary about me. “What do you want to know? I’ll lay it all out for you, no pun intended.”
A dry laugh sputters from her. “I like puns. Feel free to keep them coming.” She covers her mouth with her fingers at her own unintentional pun.
“You’re a dirty, dirty girl, Jen.” I give a sly wink because there’s nothing further from the truth.
“Start from the beginning, Fox. This student wants to see your credentials.” She winces. “By the way, I’ve totally seen your handiwork over the years. It’s pretty apparent you can burst blood vessels with the best of them.”
Now it’s me wincing. “All right, this is how it all started.” I tell her about the girls in kindergarten, and she loses it, holding up a hand as if calling time before wiping away her tears.
“What’s so funny?”
“Kindergarten! That’s like right out of the womb.” She bites down on her lip, her face glowing with color and heat. “I get it, though. It doesn’t surprise me at all that girls have been attracted to you since utero.”
A groan evicts from me. “Now that’s pretty bad. Okay, fast forward to about fifth grade, I land my first kiss. A sixth grader by the name of Henrietta comes up and smacks me one right on the lips.”
“Henrietta Jameson? The eye patch girl?”
“That’s the one.” The eye patch was due to the fact she had corrective surgery in eighth grade to fix a lazy eye. Up until I met Jennifer, Henrietta was the nicest girl I’d ever met.
“She graduated last year as the valedictorian of her class. So far I’m impressed with the caliber which kick-started your infamous kissing career. Tell me more.” Her fingers scratch over my chest, and I try to hold back the groan. Every move she makes, just having her in my bed is making me insane in all sorts of inappropriate ways. My dick very much insists I say to hell with the rules. We probably should have stayed out in the living room. Heck, we could have slept on the sofas. What was I thinking bringing her back here? It’s like some kneejerk reaction with me. But I’m glad she’s here. I’m glad we’ve drawn a hard line in the sand, dictating how far this goes tonight. This is exactly what I needed—Jennifer and her boundaries.
“About seventh grade, I had kissed enough girls to know a trick or two. One of them asked me to give her a hickey and—since one is good, two is better—the rest is a rather bruised history.”
“Ah!” She leans in close with that mischievous grin, looking up at me with those long lashes, and I’m ready to lose it. “So that’s how the infamous hickey necklace came to be. It was driven by greed.”
“I’ll be the first to admit I’m greedy. And, hickey necklace, huh?” I grimace at the thought. “Never heard that one before.”
She breaks out into a cold, loud laugh. “You’re kidding, right? It’s practically a legend you’ve helped sponsor. I’m getting one, by the way.”
Now it’s me barking out a laugh before softening and running a finger over her neck, so soft and sweet I can hardly wait for my next bite. “We’ll get there. I’m pretty sure I was a vampire in my last life. Your neck makes me want to drool.”
“Wow.” She shakes her head at me. “In a sick way, you just put the cherry on this whole night.” Jennifer clears her throat as her eyes rake over the length of my body, hot as coals. “So—anything else I should know about?”
Her fingers glide down to the button on my jeans, and I clasp my hand over hers as if to slow her down. What the hell am I doing? I’ve never slowed a girl down in my life.
“You are wild,” I whisper without the proper enthusiasm. There’s something about Jen that brings out the serious side of me, a side that I’ve virtually ignored since the moment I was born.
“And you have quickly acclimated to being mild.” She wrinkles her nose before glancing down at my crotch. “I’m dying to know—is it true? Do guys name their package?”
“What?” We share a laugh as her hand bounces back to my chest. It feels good like this with Jennifer in my arms, her warm body over mine just chillin’ out, talking. I don’t think I’ve said any decent words to a girl in bed before—certainly not anything worthy of a sentence. “I don’t have a name for my package. Do you have a name for yours?”
“What? No!” She swats me. “I just—I read it in a book, and I thought maybe that’s what guys did.”
“A book, huh? I’ll let that one slide since it was essentially a work of fiction. What’s this dude call his package?”
“Looking for ideas?” she teases.
“Doubtful—but since I’m opening up to new things, maybe.”
“Ralph.”
“Ralph.” It hurts just to say it. “No can do. I’ve got a guy named Ralph on the team. He’d knife me if he knew I named my dick after him.”
“Then we’ll have to be original.” Her eyes dance with a fire in them. She wants to laugh, I can tell, but she’s wisely holding back.
“All right, let’s hear it. I can feel it coming a mile away.”
“There you go being punny again.” She rests her chin on my chest a moment. “How about something a little more symbolic for the sake of branding, like Lightning Bolt the Barbarian. Once you get thrown into circulation again, the girls will be on their knees begging to check out your barbarian ways.”
“I like it. It sort of has a Saturday morning cartoon appeal.”
“God knows I’m all about my Saturday morning cartoons.” She makes a face as if she’s ashamed of this on some level.
“So am I. We’ll hit the tube together in the morning. I’ll make us each a bowl of cereal.”
“I saw that giant box of Honeycomb. You’d better put it in mixing bowls.”
We share a laugh. “You’ve got a date.”
“And you’ve a name.” Her eyes dart back down to my crotch.
I nod into this. “I’m good with Lightning Bolt the Barbarian. But I’m not sure about the other girls. What if I decide I like this monogamy thing?” My gut wrenches because deep down I’m already sold.
Her lashes lower, creating exaggeratingly long shadows streaking across her cheeks. “Then I guess you’ll have one lucky girlfriend.�
�
A moment of silence trickles by. “If my package gets to sound like a superhero, I think yours should, too. What’s it going to be?” I give her side a soft pinch, and she bucks with a laugh.
“First, I don’t think you should ever refer to a girl’s special parts as a ‘package.’ It’s a crime against humanity. But for the sake of our experiment—I named yours, turnabout is fair play.”
“Okay, how about Lenore?”
“Le—what?” She sits up and swats me with a pillow. “That’s a far cry from a superhero.”
“Let me explain,” I say as I take another swat to the head. “Put down your weapon.” She tosses the pillow back and lies over it, looking up at me with those dinner plates for eyes. I could be happy just looking into Jennifer Barkly’s enormous lily pad green eyes all night long. “It’s from The Raven—Edgar Allen Poe. He called out to some chick, and no one knows why. Maybe it’s because that’s what he named her package.”
Her mouth opens as she gasps, and before I know it, I’m being pummeled again.
“Okay, okay, I give. Uncle.” I laugh, snapping the pillow away. “That proves that I read, though.”
“I never doubted your literary skills. But it’s like a definite no to Lenore. I respect Poe too much to go there.”
“True, Edgar is my dude.” I think on it a minute. “Okay, I got one. How about Genie?”
“As in you dream of Genie?”
“Exactly.”
“Hmm, not necessarily a superhero, but I like the idea of living in a well-furnished lamp and dressing like a sexy belly dancer.”
I close my eyes a moment, imagining just that.
“Wipe that perverted grin off your face.” She’s back at it with the pillow smacking.
“You put it there.” I grab my own pillow and gently tap her over the shoulder. “In fact, I think Genie is perfect for you because you’re about to make all this barbarian’s dreams come true.”
She lands her pillow to the side a moment, her chest expanding with her every next breath, her cheeks are peaked, and I memorize her this way. Jennifer is sexy, hot with or without the belly-dancing garb on. With someone like Jen, a simple smile is all she needs to get any guy worked up past the point of no return.
“I don’t think we should be discussing any dreams the barbarian in you might be having.” She scoots in until her shoulder is nestled on my chest. “I think we should get back to first base.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Her mouth crashes to mine as we press deeper into the pillows with her tiny body over mine, her tongue melting in my mouth as if she were slowly becoming a part of me.
Something in me knows that we are definitely way past the point of no return.
Chapter Six
Addicted to Love
Jennifer
Dear Katie,
Things have escalated! I have so much to tell you I really have no clue where to begin. Okay, first, I never in a million years planned on hooking Jessie up with either Tess or Rachel. As far as I’m concerned, those airhead ho-bags can kiss my shiny white ass. Jessie is way out of their league, and I’m not talking about looks (although that totally qualifies as well). I’m talking about hearts. Tess and Rachel are cruel and judgmental. Like seriously? They’ve never deserved Jessie right from the beginning, and for sure not now that he’s willing to try monogamy on for size. Anyway, enough about those skanks. Jessie chose me. Yes, you read that right. It’s me he’s chosen to live out the rest of his Glen Heights High days with as the faux girlfriend by his side. He promised he’d be my wild if I would be his mild. That phrase is so dorky and sweet I want to print it out and frame it over my bed. (nerd alert.) It’s total code for pretending to go around just to scam off each other. Anyway, I went over to his house after the dance and spent the night. Almost everything happened. Well, we kissed, like intense, toe-curling, body- aching, throat-groaning, the deep end of insanity kisses. Jessie Fox is perfection, and from now until graduation, he’s officially my perfection.
Dreams do come true, if only for a season.
XOXO ~ Jen
Book I’m currently reading: The Book of Love: Poems and Famous Quotes (Strangely enough, Jessie is reading it, too. He actually quoted from The Raven. I’ll spare you the hormonal details. Just know that little bit of literary madness landed inappropriate parts of me the nickname Genie.)
Favorite song: Duran Duran’s, “New Moon on Monday” (Heck, everything feels new!)
* * *
Right before one in the afternoon, both Melissa and Heather head over to my house. I got home about an hour ago and told them to get here asap. I know they’re dying to hear what happened after Jessie and I left the dance. As soon as I hear Heather’s Gonorrhea Ghia rumble to a stop, I head out of my room to greet them.
Mark runs into me at the top of the stairs, heading up with a giant tray of food, and it reminds me of last night, that tower of sandwiches Jessie and I never made our way through. The sound of laughter and a female’s voice emanates from his bedroom.
“Who the heck is that?” I go to open his door, and he cuts me off at the pass.
“A friend,” he says it stern. Mark and I share the same green eyes, same broad European face as my mother calls it. “Before you ask, yes, she spent the night.”
“Like seriously? Ew! I wasn’t going to ask. Barf me out.” He’s totally deflated my Jessie balloon just thinking about the debauchery that went on in there last night.
“Don’t say a word.” He glances downstairs, where Mom sings a brief hello to Melissa and Heather. “I’m the one that got your message last night and deleted it.” A look of disgust sweeps across his face as if I just made him eat a barbequed rat. “Really?” He shakes his head. “Talk about ew.”
“Why would you delete it? Mom is going to ask a million questions now. You know I can’t lie to her face.”
“Or apparently to her answering machine.” More giggling ensues from behind his closed door. It sounds as if the airhead is using his phone. “Relax. I told Mom you were at a friend’s—couldn’t remember which one, and she said it was probably Heather. So there you go. You’re welcome.” He starts to head into his bedroom and steps back a moment. “Who is this dude, anyway?”
My entire body catches fire. I’m so embarrassed I want to fall into an endless ditch.
“Never mind.” He sweeps a disgruntled gaze over me. “Do us both a favor and don’t let that happen again. Or I’m going to have to find out who it is and kill him.”
He disappears into his room, and I make a beeline to save my two best friends from my mother and her impending interrogation.
Melissa and Heather zip up the stairs before I have the chance to go down, and we’re locked and sealed in my bedroom in three seconds flat. The two of them sit at the end of my bed with their jaws rooted into the carpet.
“So?” Heather’s eyes bulge past the point of no return. “Spill it, sister. This had better be good.”
“Oh, it will be,” Melissa chirps, crossing her legs Indian style. “I died for you when Jessie said he chose you. I couldn’t stop talking about it all night. Joel grew seriously concerned about my obsession with the two of you. So, where’d you go?”
Heather leans in. “The overlook?”
“Friendships?” Melissa motions for me to say something quick.
“His house.” I pull the pillow over my face a moment and squeal unnaturally. “We were alone.” I come up for air. “His dad was away on business, and his little sister was at a slumber party. So I spent the night.” I shrug it off like it’s no big deal.
“You what?” they demand in unison.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a very big deal.” Gone is the smile Melissa had plastered just a moment ago, replaced with a look of sheer horror. “You didn’t do anything, did you?”
“God”—Heather slaps her chest like she’s having a heart attack—“did you lose your virginity?”
My m
outh opens to say something, but the words get jumbled in my throat. “What are you guys freaking out over? Like we had a good time. I swear, it wasn’t anything too crazy. Just be happy for me.” I hug my pillow as if it were Jessie himself, that goofy grin bobbing to my face.
“Jennifer?” Melissa reaches over and snakes the pillow from me. “Where exactly did you sleep?”
Heather nods. “That house is huge and creepy. Did you get your own wing?”
“Why would I sleep in my own wing when I had a perfectly good bed in Jessie’s room?” I pick up my copy of VC Andrews’ Heaven and duck behind the cover.
Heather wastes no time in plucking the book away.
“Holy shit,” Melissa says it breathless as if the very thought knocked the wind out of her. “Jennifer, did you do things with him?”
I stare at my two best friends, baffled by their lack of enthusiasm and deep level of concern over nothing.
“We did some kissing.” It feels morally wrong to downgrade what we shared as something as simple as a kiss. Jessie and I grafted our souls over one another last night. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the things we did, the things we said last night, for as long as I live. I’m sort of hoping he won’t either, although it did make me wonder if that was just a typical Friday night for him.
“And what else?” Heather gives me the stink eye as if she’s onto me.
“I don’t know. I’m not an expert. Does everything have a name?” When I was in ninth grade, Dawn Kettler and Debbie Pavic sat on either side of me. Both of them had already gone all the way, so I had to sit through many quasi-sign language laden sexual conversations with Debbie inserting her finger in her fist in all kinds of twisted ways asking Dawn if she had accomplished that position. Of course, Dawn would always give a curt nod, yes. I hated not understanding what they were discussing, but, at the same time, I was glad I wasn’t Dawn or Debbie. Both of their boyfriends ended up dumping them before summer and went on to insert their who knows what into someone else’s who knows where.
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