September Rain

by A.R. Rivera

5

  -Angel

  When I woke up, I was the only person in the room. Avery was gone. I found a note she left on my pillow, saying she'd walked the eight blocks back to the club to get her moms car. After peeking through the bathroom door that had been left slightly ajar, I determined Jake was in the shower. Andrew and Max were out somewhere, too.

  I was wondering if I had time for my own shower when the motel phone rang. I hesitated, but then answered, in case it was important. It was Avery. She said some jerk-wad had slashed two tires on her moms' car. She was already with the tow-truck driver on her way to get them replaced and said I needed to take a bus back because I'd get home faster.

  The foster family I was staying with had been out of town that weekend. Their natural daughter and I were told to stay put. The daughter took off with her boyfriend and I took the lack of supervision as a sign that I was meant to see Analog Controller. But the only way I was getting away with sneaking off was if I got back before my guardians did.

  Since Avery was stuck at the tire shop for the next few hours, I planned to take a Greyhound back to Eager, the slightly larger neighboring township that had a transit system. From there, I'd walk the last couple of miles into Carlisle. But when Jake got out of the shower and I explained my plan, he was not having it.

  His coppery brown hair was hanging damp over his forehead when I followed him out to the corridor for a smoke. His hair shimmered in the new daylight, casting hues like fallen leaves. I examined each color; the sparkle of reds and browns with just the slightest tinge of golden blond. It was just then that I realized I had never seen him in the daytime. He was so much more beautiful in the natural light.

  "You want me to drop you off at a bus station? That's stupid. We're going to the same place." He pulled my ear lobe with his index finger and thumb, taking my attention away from his hair. "Besides aren't you too young to travel alone, Minor?"

  He grinned darkly at my shocked expression, throwing up his hand. I gasped when I saw my student ID-the one that was supposed to be tucked safely inside my wallet-between his sneaky fingers. "You're a junior. So that makes you, what-sixteen, seventeen?"

  I snatched it away from him with a righteous offense I didn't deserve. "You were snooping? And I just turned seventeen."

  Jake's dark smirk grew. "Yes. I'm a snoop. And you are a liar."

  I sighed, hating the turn our conversation had taken. "Why? And I will be seventeen next month. Honest."

  Jake shook his head. "Because I'm nosey and I don't like being lied to."

  "Well, I don't like people going through my stuff." I felt my chest constrict and closed my eyes. I never should have said it was my birthday, I knew that, but he had no right going through my things. "If you want to know something about me, maybe you should ask."

  "I did." He stepped closer, unfolding his hands to set on my shoulders. As he looked into my eyes, his beautiful bluish-hazel confections with flecks of gold in the center reflected the color he was wearing. Black. "Promise not to lie to me anymore and I'll let it go. And maybe even ask you out."

  I scoffed. "You want to ask me out?"

  "Maybe. Maybe this kind of thing doesn't happen to me every day."

  "And you're asking me out?" I needed clarification. He had me in knots. He was mad. And he wanted . . . what?

  "Maybe I want to ask you to the movies or out to dinner. Maybe just over to my house. But only if you promise not to lie to me anymore."

  I shouldn't have hesitated. What he was asking was not so terrible. But I lied a lot back then. I had to. It was how I got what I needed, the way I covered my ass when I forgot stuff or found myself suddenly in a room I didn't remember walking into.

  Just then, Max and Andrew-who'd come back at some point during our talk-came out of the motel room and walked in between us. Jake stepped back and thumped Max on the head as he shoved passed. "You're driving, asshole."

  Andrew winked at me as he called shotgun.

  Once the path between us was clear again, Jake stepped back in, picking up our conversation. "Look, you're taking the ride whether or not you make the promise. But I need to know," Jake pressed a finger against my cheek, turning my face, making me look at him. "What else are you trying to hide?"

  I froze, staring into the Atlantic depth of his eyes, unable to find words.

  "Well?"

  The blaring burst of a horn broke his spell.

  "Come on."

  Taking my hand, Jake led me to the side of the van. We had to cram ourselves in between stacked amps and drums. But we both fit in the limited space that was a little more snug than the night before since the guys duffle bags were now crammed in there, too. We were about halfway back near the sliding side door with our feet down in the well of the step.

  Jake set his arm around me and pulled me closer. Pressing my hair back from my face, he set his palm against my cheek. "Would it help if I told you that I don't care about whatever it is that you think is so bad? You don't need to hide from me."

  I kept staring. His face was so close and lovely, his presence so strong beside me. I had his undivided attention and was smashed up against him and still didn't feel close enough.

  "Angel. If it's what I think it is, it won't change my mind."

  I wasn't sure what he was saying and still couldn't form a response. There was so much he didn't know about me and I was afraid to tell him. I settled for placing my hands in between our laps and staring into his hypnotic eyes, hoping to find courage.

  Still cupping my cheek, Jake leaned closer. I thought he was going to kiss me and felt heat bloom in my chest.

  "Last night wasn't your first time, was it?"

  The petals of my desire wilted. "What?"

  "You know, a guy can tell. And you didn't have to pretend. I'm not one of those assholes that's gonna judge you. Just be who you are."

  I was mortified. And totally confused. My neck suddenly felt very hot. "Wait. What are you saying?"

  Jake dipped his head, speaking so low I could barely hear. "Lack of pain . . . and or hymen?"

  My cheeks blazed in a chagrin fueled inferno. I smothered my face in my palms. "Oh god. I knew it. Now you think I'm a slut."

  "Did you hear anything I just said? Because if you did, you would know that's fucking ridiculous."

  "You think I do this all the time." I wanted to disappear.

  "No. I don't. Even if you did, that's none of my business. What the hell? Angel, I like you, why would I think that?"

  I had to take a deep breath and let his words sink in. Look him in the face and search his eyes. He didn't seem to be angry and I sensed no sarcasm. But his opening the discussion on something so personal with such a casual manner, it was painful.

  But it wasn't his fault. All Jake knew was I had already lied about my age. I knew he needed truth and he didn't trust me to give it to him. And that bothered me, but more than my nonsensical irritation, I wanted to give Jake what he wanted. Even though I feared, once I told him he wouldn't want me anymore.

  "Well, you're right about one thing, Jake." I took a deep breath and exhaled, imagining the small breeze from my mouth was pushing him away, like dry leaves in the wind. "You are nosey. You want the truth? Fine. Here it is: I've had a royally screwed up life. I'm busted in every way you can imagine and probably a few that you can't. I'm sorry for trying to shield you from that. Truth is my hymen was broken when I was five years-old."

  His eyes widened. My words had him in recoil. I could see the theories and scenarios playing across his concerned face.

  "I was in a car accident. It killed my mother and I almost died, too. In case you're still curious, I might never have kids because of it." I shut my eyes tight to keep from seeing his reaction. "I don't have a family and I can't make one. I have been in foster homes, living with people that either steadily ignore me or beat the shit out of me, for the past eleven years. I don't talk to anyone about my life. Not even to the doctors who ask about the bruises." I
was nearly panting, my body rigid with the suffocating feeling that accompanied any topic involving my mother.

  The blood drained from his face. "Is all that true?"

  I almost rolled my eyes.

  "I'm sorry."

  "Whatever."

  "Not 'whatever.' Angel, look at me." He took my chin and made me obey. "We all have parts of ourselves that we don't like to share. I understand that. I just forgot it for a minute. I really am sorry."

  I shrugged, deflated. "Not your fault."

  He pulled me back under his arm. "I upset you. I didn't mean to."

  I relaxed into his hold, stuffing my face into the crook of his neck. "Please don't ask me about it."

  "I won't."

  Breathing in his scent, I decided to make the most of my last few hours with him. I was going to stay like that-nose flush against him, feeling the freedom, listening to the hum of the road under the vans' tires and the punk music burbling through the speakers-for as long as I could.

  "Would you be interested in being the girlfriend of an asshole like me?"

  I went rigid again and pulled away to look at him. He was so beautiful, with his wide-eyed expression and soft smile. "Why, Jake? Why would you want that?"

  "Is it so tough to believe I like talking to you? And I started writing your song months ago. Did I tell you that?" Jakes brow was scrunched, but his eyes held amusement. "Besides, you're so damn hot. That alone is reason enough, right?"

  I waited, watching him. I enjoyed being coveted, but even I knew that was nothing to build a relationship on and that was something I didn't know I wanted, because I wouldn't let myself think it, until Jake touched me and kissed me in that greedy way he had; as if he were starving for something only I possessed. And looking at him in that moment, recalling the feeling of him the night before, I knew I needed something true and lasting from him. I needed him. I needed him to say that he needed me. So I waited, hoping.

  His affirmation was barely audible over the music from the radio. "Come on, Angel. It's not like we just met. We've been talking after every show for the better part of two years. Do you think I do that with everyone?"

  He looked deep into my eyes. "Well, I don't. I like you. More than I should. I like how sensitive and attuned you are to me. I like that you understand how important my music is. You don't assume anything or talk too much shit. And you're really sweet. Thoughtful." His eyes were soft as he grinned down at me. "But above all of that, I love the way you look at me, and the way it feels when I do something that makes you smile. How it makes me feel . . ." His palm rested against my face, gently sliding down to my mouth, "when I touch you."

  The heat coming off of his confession charged the air between us. Our mouths were mere millimeters apart. Every other part of my body was flush against his-my shoulders and both arms, my side, my hip, and the whole length of my leg. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to taste those delicious lips to see if they were as sweet as my memory told me they were.

  "You do?" My heart leapt inside my chest when the edges of his lips curved sweetly up.

  "I'm a sucker for laying it all out like this, but yes. Very much," Jake said. "The only thing holding me back was I thought maybe you were too young. I was right about that."

  I cringed at the reminder of my lie. "It's only three years."

  "It's closer to four. So I need to be able to trust you-especially if we're going to keep doing what we did last night." He smirked, and the arm that was slipped behind me reached down my back and into the tops of my jeans. I felt his fingertips tug at the lace of my panties and blushed furiously.

  "So? You promise?"

  "I promise. I won't hide anything."

  "Good, Liar." He closed the gap between us, sending beautiful shivers through me.