“No. I don’t think.” Is Russell fucking with me? He’s definitely fucking with me.
“Who do you see her with? She’s nice. She’s cute. I bet Danny thinks she’s got a nice rack.”
Joel starts to chuckle.
“Both of you knock it off before I beat your asses.”
“You can’t beat anyone’s ass. I saw you on the court tonight.” Russ takes a breath while nodding over at Jennifer and her friends. “So, when does this little girlfriend experiment of yours end so you can get laid and mellow out?”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s what’s got me so uptight lately. Why should I care who Jennifer Barkly hangs out with?
Shit. I bite down hard on my lip because I think I know.
“I’ll mellow out when I’m good and ready.” I don’t tell him that lately when I’m mellowing out in the shower it’s not Tess or Rachel I’m thinking about. Maybe it’s all those crazy thoughts about Jennifer that have me hitting a boiling point.
A slow song comes on, “Sea of Love” by the Honeydrippers, and the girls all give a collective sigh. Heather and Melissa come over and start pawing at Russell and Joel, but I can’t take my eyes off Jennifer. Something about the way the light hits her sets off that halo effect with her hair. She’s plucking at a curl, laughing, her head tilted as if she might actually be flirting with Danny, and he dives in for the kill by putting his hands on her back.
“That’s it.” I jet over and flip his arm up and insert myself between the two of them. Jennifer’s face elongates in disbelief before she sheds her sweet signature smile, and something about the music makes me want to wrap my arms around her and dance. But I don’t do it. “You want to go somewhere?”
* * *
Jennifer didn’t drive to the party, and for that I’m very freaking glad.
She agrees to come over and hang out for a while. We head upstairs through the dimly lit house. That’s one thing about having a home the size of a hotel—the lights are on in various areas at any given time for security purposes. That, and I think if we ever had a blackout, Jilly would go completely insane.
We head up to the living room just off my bedroom, and I turn on the TV.
“You’re not going to make me watch porn, are you?” Jennifer plops onto the couch, and a cloud of her perfume rises in her wake.
I take in a breath and hold it. I waited all night for this one breath.
“Nope.” I fall next to her and start flipping through the channels. “MTV?”
“Yes, please.” She curls up next to me, and our shoulders touch. The Bangles video, “Manic Monday,” is playing. “Oh, sorry.” She tries to scoot over a notch, and I gently tap her on the knee.
“I don’t bite.”
“You do bite. I’ve seen evidence of this myself.”
We share a short-lived laugh. “I’m sorry I’m such an asshole.” I pinch my eyes closed for a minute. I probably deserve Tess or Rachel—a lifetime of both.
“I don’t know what you’re apologizing about. I don’t think you’re an asshole. For sure, Jilly doesn’t think you’re an asshole.” She turns to face me fully, and I do the same. There’s something brewing in the air between us, something thick and real, and for the life of me I can’t figure out what’s happening.
“So the dance is coming up.” She shrugs as if it’s not a big deal.
“How are things going with you and what’s his face?” I can’t even bring myself to say Danny’s name. I think I might introduce my fist to his teeth the next time I see him.
“Great, I guess. How are things going with you and what are their faces?” She gives a sad giggle as she says it.
“Brilliant.” It comes out unenthused. Yesterday, Rachel fell to her knees, begging to gift me a blowjob, and, much to my throbbing body’s surprise, I shut her down on the spot. I reach over and give one of Jen’s crunchy curls a gentle tug before rolling it between my fingers on a loop. “Do you think you’ll have it narrowed down to one girl by next week?” I’m not sure why I asked other than to kill the silence.
“Um”—she swallows audibly, her long lashes lower as she traces my hand, but I don’t let go—“like, yeah. I’ll give you my answer before the dance is over. You know, I think it’d be romantic if you could slow dance with the girl that’s right for you.” Her voice grows small as she says it. “I think dancing is pretty romantic.”
“I don’t dance. I don’t romance.” It comes out robotic like the dry facts they are.
“You should.” Her hand rises to my face, and she brushes her fingers over my cheek. “If you really like a girl, you should make her feel like she’s special. That’s all romance is—just making a girl feel like there isn’t another person in the world you want to be with. It’s powerful.”
“Powerful.” My gaze locks onto hers, fusing us together so tight neither one of us seems to have the power to look away.
“I can teach you how to dance.” She nods at the TV as a slow song starts in. “Thompson Twins, ‘Hold Me Now.’ It’s one of my favorite songs ever.” Her lips quiver as if she’s about to cry, and something about her, the natural sweetness that drips from her makes me smile, a warm, deep, from the bottom of my soul kind of grin.
“Well, if it’s your favorite song ever, by all means.” I pick up her hand and bring us both to our feet. “Show me how it’s done.”
Jennifer’s face darkens a serious shade of crimson. “Um, like this.” She takes my arm and tries to hold it out, leaving me dangling like a scarecrow. “No, actually”—she laughs—“just hug me, and we’ll go from there.”
My arms find themselves around her waist, and I pull her in until her hips are conjoined with mine, albeit much lower. Her stomach lies over my crotch, and I feel her there. My body responds without an ounce of reservation.
Her eyes widen a moment. “And then you just move.” She sways her hips, and a groan comes from me.
The song fills the room with its ironic happy, yet sullen harmony, and Jennifer and I sway to the rhythm. Her eyes stay trained on mine as we move so slowly, so carefully through the night. It takes more effort than it would to move all of Glen Heights right into the ocean to keep my hands from riding up and down her back like I want to—to keep my lips from landing softly over hers. I’m ready to detonate, to take this girl with me. My body shakes at the thought of having her in that intimate way. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone as bad as I want Jennifer Barkly.
We dance until three, and as I drive her home, that same song plays over the radio, and we laugh.
“I guess that’s our song.” She glances up at her house as she opens her door, and the overhead lights kick on, letting in the iced breeze and a fluorescent reality all at once. If she had leaned in, her body asking for a kiss, I would have given it to her. I’m not sure I would know when to stop with her.
“I guess it is.”
We say goodnight, and I watch as she makes her way inside.
I drive back to that oversized lonely house of mine and hit the shower as soon as I walk through the door.
Nope, it’s not Tess or Rachel I’m thinking about.
Chapter Four
Hold Me Now
Jennifer
Dear Katie,
Sometimes, it’s hard to keep a commitment you’ve made. Like the time I told Jessie Fox I’d pick between Skank One and Skank Two? Actually, now that I’ve been hanging out with the two of them—three if you count Jessie—I don’t see a whole lot of skanking going on. From what I can tell, their three-way relationship is pretty platonic at this point—much to Tess’s and Rachel’s chagrin. I guess Jessie is serious about wanting just one girl. I guess it’s an improvement from his womanizing ways. I just wish that girl could be me. The other night, I offered to teach him how to dance. It was pure magic. When he was holding me in his arms and our eyes locked, I would have sworn that was what true love felt like. How could he not have felt that, too? Can these strong feelings I’m having truly be one-sided? BTW, thin
XOXO ~ Jen
Book I’m currently reading: Lucky by Jackie Collins (I’m not feeling so lucky. Maybe the book will rub off on me.)
Favorite song: Duran Duran’s, “Is There Something I Should Know?” (I’m beginning to wonder if everything I thought I knew about love was real.)
Bonus favorite song of the week because Jessie and I officially have a song! Thompson Twins, “Hold Me Now.” It was totally awesome having his arms wrapped tight around me. I wish he never let go.
* * *
An entire week traipses by with Tess and Rachel haunting me, following me around campus like lost little silicone puppies. Today, after picking Jilly up, we were supposed to head to Pizza Hut where Tess and Rachel threaten to tell me everything about the great time they had watching Jessie work out in gym, but Jilly has staunchly decided she wants to see my house.
“It’s not big,” I warn the three of them. Tess and Rachel are also from the Heights, and though I haven’t seen either of their houses from the inside, I’ve been dropping them off after our Jilly time on a regular basis. I have no idea how they actually arrive at Glen in the morning. For all I know, they have a limo give them curbside service.
We head inside, and the scent of garlic permeates the air. My entire body claps with embarrassment because it just so happens to be from last night’s pasta dinner Mom whipped up. Speaking of which, we find her in the kitchen with her hair in rollers, her jogging suit on.
“Well, well!” Her face brightens. “The gang’s all here!” Mom and I look pretty much the same. When I was little, my grandmother used to whisper that I was secretly her clone, and, to this day, I find that tidbit of science fiction just this side of creepy.
Tess steps close to Mom while her fingers glide the heart-shaped pendant across her silver chain in a swift sizzle. It’s an annoying habit she does all day long, and, honestly, I might disqualify her from the running, simply because that noise is bound to drive Jessie insane. I’d hate for him to turn against monogamy for the simple fact Tess demands to molest her jewelry twenty-four seven.
“Like ohmigod. I’m like totally trippin.’” Tess giggles, walking around my mom in a morbid circle as if my mother weren’t in the room at all. “You look just like her.”
“She’s got good genes.” Mom gives a quick wink.
Mentioning the fact I look like my mother seems rather benign in nature, but my body explodes in a vat of perspiration because it knows better. They might look innocent, with their high heels and matching baby doll socks with the frilly lace trim, their side ponytails each swinging in the opposite direction. If you pressed their heads together, they’d make perfect pigtails. But Tess and Rachel are wild cards. This seemingly pleasant conversation can go sideways in less than three seconds flat.
“So, who do we have here?” Mom claps with glee, awaiting a proper introduction.
Rachel is busy making faces at the kitchen in general as if the tiny space offended her. And, after seeing firsthand how exaggeratingly large those kitchens in the Heights are, it probably does.
I do a quick round of intros, saving the best for last. “And this is Jilly Fox. The girl I’m tutoring.” God, I almost said babysitting. Talk about going sideways. Jilly has a temper that can outgun either of Jessie’s part-time skanks.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all!” Mom beams as if she’s met British royalty. “Can I get any of you a quick snack? I have some leftover pasta, or we can do peanut butter and jelly.”
“Peanut butter and jelly!” Jilly hops around like she just won a carbohydrate-laden lottery. “And you cut the crusts off? My brother always forgets. Our cook abandoned us because her mom is about to kick the bucket. I haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.”
Mom’s eyes widen with surprise. I’ll have to work on social finesse and perhaps a little empathy with Jilly. She’s a good kid—a great kid. She’s just never had anyone to steer her in the right direction. God knows Tess and Rachel won’t be doing her any favors soon. God forbid she acts like them, both in and out of the bedroom. I’ll have to stay on after Jessie narrows his pickings down to one—or more to the point, Jilly and I do it for him. I can’t imagine how bad it’s going to suck watching him drool all over one of them, holding her hand, holding her body the way he was holding mine that night we danced—that perfect mouth of his covering their hideously frosted lips.
“I’m not hungry,” I say quickly.
Tess pulls her sleeve over her mouth. “Like I’m totally gonna barf just thinking about leftovers.”
“Like forget that.” Rachel looks green herself. “Someone get some serious ventilation in here. I’m gagging to fucking death. I like totally can’t breathe.”
Crap. My mother can tolerate many things, but expletives aren’t on the list.
“Why don’t we go up to my room?” I make a face at my mother in lieu of an apology for the rude gaggle of girls I’ve dragged into the house—sans Jilly, of course. I’ll have to bring Mom up to speed later. “Jilly, you can hang out here with my mom until you’re done.”
She takes the first bite of the sandwich my mother just whipped up and moans with delight. Mom has always been quick with the after-school snacks. It’s like she totally gets how ravenous you become after a day of dry lectures.
“Are you kidding?” Jilly’s eyes roll back into her head as she enjoys her crustless PB&J. “I’m never leaving this place. Keep these sandwiches coming, lady!” she barks, and, thankfully, Mom laughs while handing her a glass full of milk.
Tess and Rachel follow me out of the kitchen as I wave a hand out at the living room with its pink and blue checkered sofa, the solid oak entertainment unit, and matching end tables. I’m pretty proud of Mom’s decorating prowess. She has a ton of little wooden knickknacks laid out everywhere that she’s picked up at local craft fairs, which I think make the house look cute and cozy.
“So like this is the living room”—I say as we head on up and find Mark’s bedroom door wide open, exposing a chaotic cluster of what amounts to vomit—“that’s my brother’s room.” Embarrassing. Piles of old jeans sit by the door. Several pairs of boxers and old dirty socks lie strewn around like dying snakes. I can hear him in there strumming his guitar, so I reach in to shut the door.
“You have a brother?” Rachel’s boy toy radar hits the stratosphere as she peers inside.
“He’s no Jessie Fox.” I struggle to shut the door, but she and Tess barge right in. God, what if he’s naked? Not that he would be with the door open, but I don’t make it a practice to visit him regardless just in case.
“Well, well…” Mark executes a goofy grin while plucking off his reading glasses. Mark is smart. Some even say he’s cute, but he’s my brother, so I can’t comment on either. “Hello, ladies. Take a seat.” He wipes a bunch of cassette tapes off his bed with his bare foot. Classy.
“Ohmigod! Like who are you?” Tess sits at his side, looking up at him as if he were a rock star lying there shirtless with his red wannabe metal guitar. Actually, Mark does play, and he’s pretty good, but he just likes to mess around, nothing too serious.
“Mark Barkly.” He shakes both of their hands in turn as if this suddenly turned into a business meeting. Really? First and last name? He’s going to have to work on his opening. “Let’s get some mood music up in here.” He switches on his stereo, and Quiet Riot’s “Metal Health” pulses from the speakers, causing Tess and Rachel to squirm and howl as if they were at a concert.
“Uh, hello?” I step into their line of vision. “We were on our way to see my room, remember?”
“Like we totally took a detour.” Rachel leans so far into him her boobs nearly fall out of her tube top. “It’s like always nice to make new friends.”
“I’ll say.” Mark sheds his guitar and scoots toward Rachel’s boobs, to get a better look at the goods she’s hawking.
“We can do Mad Libs,” I offer to entice them out of my brother’s lair, but both Tess and Rachel glance up with a brief look of disgust for even mentioning the educational game.
“Like I am so sure.” Tess rolls her eyes at the quasi-literary prospect.
“Why don’t you go to your room and play, sis? I’ll take it from here. Shut the door on the way out, would you?” He doesn’t take his eyes off Rachel while Tess bounces precariously close to his lap, not to be left out of the fun.
Crap. Leave it to Mark to derail Jessie’s ticket out of male whoredom. Wait a minute. If Rachel and Tess are so enamored with my brother, that means they’re not really in love with Jessie. And if they’re really not in love with Jessie, that pretty much disqualifies the two of them.
“Okay then”—I take in a deep breath because this is the last chance to board the Jessie Express—“Anyone in love with Jessie Fox follow me. All others are welcome to linger on my brother’s bed. And don’t you worry. I will shut the door.” They think the garlic was bad? Wait until they get a load of the stink from those wadded up gym socks once I cut off their fresh supply of oxygen.
Before I can seal them to their doom, both Rachel and Tess evacuate the premises with matching looks of disdain. It’s clear they wouldn’t have minded some alone time with my big smelly bro. As much as I can’t understand why they’d even look in another direction, I guess they’re starved for affection.
“And this is my room,” I say, leading them into my baby blue, poster adorned, Cabbage Patch strewn bedroom. My stomach plummets as I wait for the inevitable putdowns. Together, they make a variety of gagging noises, and choking sounds as they take in my life-size Matt Dillon poster, my entire Rob Lowe montage on the back of my bathroom door. “The Flashdance poster I put up last spring in the corner was sort of a nod to the movie and a fashion inspiration,” I say in an effort to kill the silence. “I can’t tell you how many sweatshirts I hacked up trying to perfect that look.”
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