by Shey Stahl
When Wyatt left, you caught me by the arm.
“You belong here, with me,” you said, sharing my breath, making me taste your words. “I’ll break his hand if I see it around your arm again.”
I knew you were serious.
“That was rude!” Jerking my arm away, I started walking in the other direction, determined to get away from you.
“Sophie!” You were relentless and looking at me with panic written on your face.
When you smiled, I shook my head, wondering why I was ever mad at you.
“I didn’t mean anything by it.” You were lying. I knew that. “I was just giving the kid a little scare.”
“Why did you act like that today? Jesus, sometimes I want to hate you for the stupid shit you do.” I remember being pretty amused with myself for my change in vocab since spending so much time with your family.
You looked taken aback by the question, like it was ridiculous for me to question you or stand up for myself.
Was it then? Was it in that moment that everything changed?
Your eyes were true, and it came as such a surprise, I controlled mine. “I didn’t invite him. I wouldn’t have done that.”
When you smiled again, your eyes focused on mine, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“Does your daddy know about Wyatt?” you asked. “I bet he does, doesn’t he?”
I nodded because yeah, my dad did know Wyatt and had since we were in the fifth grade. It still didn’t mean I was dating him though. Something you couldn’t seem to understand.
“Ah, I bet he’s proud of you, yes? Dating the perfect guy. Does he know you’re lying to him and with me right now?”
“He doesn’t know I even talk to you,” I admitted, knowing my dad would never approve of my hanging out with Bensen.
“That’s what I thought.” Your answer was clipped, just as I expected it to be. “Your old man would never give me a chance. He made up his mind before I even met him.” Your voice carried an underlining meaning only I understood.
As you walked up the driveway, I yelled, “You’re not making me like you any more!”
You laughed, walking away.
Smug bastard.
August 2005
We had about two weeks left before I was set to head home. The night was hot, my skin sticking to my sheets when I heard a familiar tap at my window. Lately, after the incident with Wyatt, this seemed to be our thing. When the days weren’t long enough and our time was secret, you found ways of getting me alone. Always looking, your glance became familiar. A quick touch under the deck, a kiss stolen in the back of your truck or late night conversations on the dock after the rest of the lake was asleep. I began to realize how I truly felt about you and how consuming the thoughts could be. When no one was looking, we were something indescribable, a precious gift, but neither of us had the guts to pull the bow loose.
When I thought about what Ivey had said about an orgasm, I wanted that. And then you snuck in my room again, and my thoughts immediately went there.
Really looking at you now, I saw your broad shoulders, wide chest, and flat stomach that narrowed at your waist. Running my fingertips over your shoulders, chest, and down your ribcage to your hips, you smirked. You knew I was attracted to you.
I knew you, even though some would say I didn’t because I didn’t have your fall or your winter or even your spring. But I knew the sound of your voice when you said sweet Sophie. I knew the sound you made when you kissed me, the soft groan combined with a whimper. I knew the bright blue to your eyes that shined so vividly under the Georgia sun, and the carefulness your strong hands had when holding mine.
I knew you like nobody else did, even Hadley. Just like you knew me.
You gripped the sheets beside my head, groaning into my neck. Coasting your nose along my throat, your skin scorched mine. “You’re so young, Sophie.”
I hated the words coming from your mouth, but your touch, I craved that, and you knew it.
Your skin felt too warm, burning mine with each pass, heartbeats dancing, feeling the life between each step.
Releasing the sheets, you touched my face as your lips pushed and pulled at my ear. Your heartbeat trembling, chattering, the beat smooth but too fast.
Kissing everywhere but my lips, the valley between my breasts became your resting place. Still covered with my dark tank top, your cheek pressed against them before gliding along the inside of my arms, lower, down to my bare legs. You kissed the inside of my knees, the length of my leg until you were at my center. We both shifted, breathing harder, because you were there, for the first time. You pushed my tank up my stomach, your fingers at the edge of my panties, deciding.
“Sweet, salty Sophie …” you whispered incoherently, trickling your fingers down my ribs, soft and gentle, teasing. I squirmed and you chuckled.
My legs were open; you were hovering over me, waiting for my response. “I … Bensen …” I whispered, searching for words and an answer.
“Shh …”
And then it happened, something I would never forget. You slid up my body, between my legs, hard, pushing against me with your lips on mine.
I cried out against your kiss, arching, needing, never before feeling this ache that intensified when you moved, thrusting against me. There was a heat between us, stronger than the night’s air, one that I hadn’t realized—hadn’t comprehended—until you moved again.
All I could focus on was getting you closer and making you move again. My answer was to squirm beneath you. The reaction caused you to move again, and my hands went to your sides, as I cried out.
You moved again, and my knees fell open to you.
Your tongue touched my bottom lip, and I drifted away on the sensations and the taste of your tongue as you kissed me heavily
I also wished Ivey was there, just so we could squeal and jump around over me having my own orgasm.
I’d never been kissed like that or touched in that way. And though your hips had stopped moving, that kiss was all I needed, tenderly worshiping every inch of me.
Did you worship Hadley like this? Or Stephanie, or whomever else I didn’t know about. The thought made me nauseas.
“Have you had sex yet, Sophie?”
A good part of me was apprehensive to answer the question because I feared how you’d respond. What would you ask after you found out I was a virgin? Would you want me to have sex with you?
The thoughts were making it hard to breathe, forget answering.
“No, I’m fifteen,” I answered eventually. “I don’t … that’s just …” I couldn’t even comprehend what exactly he was asking me. “What the hell kind of question is that?”
“What does that have to do with it?”
You had me there. Age didn’t matter, and I just inadvertently knocked my own innocence. “I’m not that girl.”
“No, you’re not, pretty girl.” You seemed satisfied with my answer, your kiss slowing. “You’re not like that.”
“I’ve never been in love.” I wasn’t sure why I said that because I knew enough to know that you didn’t need to be in love to have sex. You made me nervous, though, and I constantly found myself saying and doing things I never thought I would.
You studied me, considering your next question or move, maybe.
“You don’t have to be in love to have sex.”
I nodded, the tightness in my throat suffocating me.
“You gonna let me fuck you someday, Sophie?” It was a blunt question and caught me off-guard. But it also let me know that deep down, maybe that was all your feelings were. Superficial to the point where all you cared about was getting my jeans over my thighs and my boots on your shoulders.
“You have such a dirty mouth,” I said, pushing back on your shoulders. “Pretty eyes, sexy smile, but a dirty mouth.”
You flashed an easy-bright grin my way. Your language might’ve been foul, but in truth, I wouldn’t have had you any other way. I hated the feeling that drew me to you—
a familiar compulsion to just get lost with that dirty mouth of yours and the smile that teased, demanding attention. I knew I couldn’t.
I breathed out, long and slow, wanting so much to hide what I was feeling. I knew the type of guy you were. Everyone did. But then there you were, sweet-talking and lookin’ to get in my pants. Pants that had been loosened by that stupid smile and flirty words.
You raised an eyebrow at me. “You have a sweet mouth, pretty girl.”
You were almost eighteen. You’d be a senior in high school this year. That seemed old to me—too old to be around a fifteen-year-old girl for the summer. But then again, you were eighteen, and you knew things, things fifteen-year-old boys I knew didn’t know.
“I didn’t know you wanted to …” I said, answering your question from a moment ago.
“Yes, you did,” you whispered. “Touch me … there …” you ordered, quietly tucking your arms around me.
Your breath sped as you watched my hands glide down your forearms. You took a shuddering breath, closing your eyes when my hand slipped inside your jeans. It was the bravest, most unreal thing I had ever done. It was bigger than I imagined, smooth and hard. I wanted to squeal. And then I wanted to vomit. I was touching your penis.
“See …” You brought me closer when my hand fell away. “I do want you. In ways I shouldn’t.”
“What is this?” I asked, showing my age again. I imagined girls his age would just go with it. I imagined my sisters just going with it. But then there was me. I needed to know.
“Why does it have to be something with instructions?” you asked, totally serious. “Let it be what it is.”
“What is it?”
“Two kids from the South owning the night.”
“You sound like a country song.” I laughed against your shoulder. Our movements had stopped, and it seemed the moment had passed.
“There’s something more here than just a song. What we have is deeper.” There was so much truth to your words. “You know we do. No song could get this right.”
August 2005
“Your dad thinks you should be a construction worker like him?” I asked, waiting for Ivey to get her bathing suit on so we could take your uncle’s boat out.
You laughed, sharp and bitterly. “Not just any construction worker. He thinks I should take over Cole Construction. Grandpa handed it down to him, and he thinks I should be the next one since Brian didn’t.”
“What’s wrong with that?” My legs dipped over the edge of the dock, and I was watching the ripples they created in the water. “Wouldn’t you want to work with him?”
You were silent for a moment before you said, “That’s not me. Just because it’s his business, his dream, doesn’t mean it’s mine. I have my own life that doesn’t revolve around him and that stupid fucking business. It’s just a status for him. I don’t even think he likes building houses. It’s just the fact that he owns CC.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Play baseball.” You shrugged, trying to blow off the conversation.
“You’re really good.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m good or not, Sophie.” Your head dropped forward, your hands tugging at your hair. I wanted to grab your hands and wrap them around me, tell you and make you believe you could have anything you ever wanted despite what your dad wanted for you. “I’m never going to be able to play ball like I want. For one, I don’t have the grades to get into college, and two, I’m not good enough to play pro.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m not. It’s not me thinking I’m not good enough. It’s me facing reality. Sure I could probably hang with the boys in college, but I’ll never be what they are in the majors.”
“You’re right, you won’t sayin’ crap like that. You’re just setting yourself up for failure if you have a shit attitude like that.”
You laughed, raising your eyebrow at me. “Yeah, okay.”
You were bitter when it came to your dad, but even worse than that, you believed there was nothing out there that could be better for you. I hated that about you. I hated it because you did have the talent, but you just didn’t have the drive.
We were just about to get up and head for the boat, tired of waiting on Ivey, when Brady’s dog came loping down the dock and lunged into the water after a snake. I jumped back when I saw it, squealing.
“That fucking dog hates me,” you said, watching Buddy eye us with the snake in his mouth. “I don’t know why they call him Buddy either. He’s nobody’s buddy. I hope that snake bites him, too.”
“He’s not that bad.” I laughed, climbing onto your back. There was no way I was walking around with a snake near us. Behind us, I could see Ivey coming down the grass with Grayden and Austin so I climbed down. You knew why and stepped back. Though we weren’t really hiding anything from anyone, any relationship we had wasn’t public knowledge.
“Bullshit.” You snorted, waving the dog and his pet snake away. “He ate through the wall last night, and Brady tried to tell Dad a mouse did it. Kid needs to grow some balls. So he brought home a stray dog that turned out to be Cujo. Big deal.” You smiled, the cute kind, the one-sided smile that always melted my heart.
I suddenly felt bad for you because there was so much more to you than the side you let your dad see, but I saw it, and I knew Brady did, too.
“Your brother is sweet.” Brady was on Grayden’s back then, trying to take him down before they made it to the boat. He wasn’t strong enough and was instead thrown into the water. When he realized his stray Cujo had acquired a pet snake, he screamed like a little girl and ran from it.
You laughed. “If only he was as smart as he was sweet.”
“What do you mean?”
“When he was seven he thought if he ate dry rice and then drank boiling water it would cook in his stomach.” You laughed in disbelief as you shook your head.
“Was he planning on serving it or something?”
“Fuck if I know.” Watching Brady run around the yard trying to get the snake out of Buddy’s mouth, we both laughed. “He had third degree burns in his throat, though.”
After spending most of the day on the boat, my mom agreed to let me stay with Ivey that night, as I did most nights. That led to me sneaking down the hall to your room once Ivey was asleep, as I also did most nights.
In your room the lights were dimmed, warm like home and lit only by the moon. Wrapping your arms around mine, I was slowly lowered to your bed as you moved between my legs, your lips moving slowly over mine.
My skin felt toasted from the day, and when the air conditioner kicked on, swirling cool air with warm breath, it became a little easier to breathe around you.
Moving to your knees you hovered over me, your hands on the sides of my hips at the waistband of my cotton shorts. Your eyes were dark, full of feeling, skin warm as my hands slid to your bare chest pushing back slightly. It was then I felt your pulse, racing, your breathing just as heavy as mine.
“Are you okay?” I asked, sitting up to circle my hands around your neck.
Your entire frame was shaking—arms, legs, and chest. “No, I’m not.”
“What’s wrong?”
You tried to be gentle; your kiss, your touch, all hesitant but needing. You clearly needed something, but what you wouldn’t say. Your movements were harsh, never remaining in one spot for long. At my lips, my neck, my chest, and then moving back to my lips. With your grip tight, you were hard under your board shorts, pushing against me sometimes but never taking the leap to actually take my clothes off.
“Bensen,” I whispered, kissing the side of your face when your hips moved again.
You didn’t say anything, but you moved back, your eyes catching mine. “Do you think of me?”
My eyes squinted, watching the emotions on your face. “Yes.”
“I mean after the summer.” Your voice shook, never more vulnerable as you were right then. “Do you think of me then, like this
right now, when no one knows what we do … alone?”
“Yes. Always,” I answered, struggling to keep my voice even.
You swallowed and then pressed your lips to my forehead. “My pretty girl.”
August 2005
Ivey wanted to celebrate the end of summer so we had a small party knowing next summer might not be like this. Who knew if I would even be allowed to come next year?
You said you’d be there, promised even, but hadn’t showed up yet. Part of me thought you wouldn’t because of Wyatt being back in town, along with a few of my other friends from school, but … Hadley was in town, too, so I didn’t really feel bad about that. It was like a constant tug-of-war game with us. I gave you an inch and sometimes you’d take it and then drop the rope, and other times, you’d pull a foot. Just the other night I was with you, alone, getting to know you in ways I never thought I would, and now here we were, once again playing a game.
I was pissed at you for constantly making me feel like I was important and then having Hadley here, at our lake, like our time and this place meant nothing.
Despite my feelings about her, I kept my phone close, and after a few shots, I didn’t care that she was here and you were more than likely with her.
I shouldn’t have cared at all, but I shouldn’t have been drinking either. The entire summer had been filled with firsts for me, and tonight hadn’t been much different.
We were in the barn, wet and soppy from the earlier rain, mud and clay clung to our shoes. There was a large group of Ivey’s friends, plus Wyatt and Lance, sitting on the tailgate of Chase’s pickup. Chase was a kid who went to school with Ivey, but they weren’t exactly dating. At the time, she still had eyes for Austin.
Ivey was in my lap, her arms wrapped around my neck, telling me how good a friend I was. It was slow, sleepy talk, eyes drooping. From what I could tell from the coolers we had last year, Ivey was a mellow drunk, but she’d had too much this time. The music was loud, but not loud enough that conversation and laughter couldn’t be heard. A couple trucks showed up, but who made their way over I couldn’t tell you.
