September Rain

by A.R. Rivera

6

  -Angel

  It was a blazing Saturday afternoon, a little over a month since that first night at the motel. I really was seventeen by then.

  Jake and I were lounging in the pick-up truck he'd borrowed from his mom. We were parked in a small patch of shade behind one of the few drive-thru burger stands in Carlisle. The small tree only shaded my half of the cab. The radio was tuned to a local rock station which played an eclectic mix of modern and classic. As I sat beside Jake on the bench seat of the Chevy, the speakers churned out Sebastian Bachs' aching screams about the tragedy of being eighteen.

  A gentle breeze floated through the windows, cooling the beads of moisture building on my neck and back. I had my feet up on the seat and my back against the door.

  Jakes' expression was raw. It had been that way since he surprised me with his pledge of love in the line of the drive-thru only a few minutes before. He was thoughtfully staring at his half-eaten burger peeking from the foil wrapping.

  In a way that always seemed so very Jake, he began speaking mid-thought. "I mean, you get it, right? I'm too young and I'm still four years older than you."

  "Three and a half," I disagreed.

  He locked his entrancing gaze on me. "It makes you way too young."

  "Does my age really bother you?"

  He shook his head. "Not as much as it should."

  "It doesn't bother me at all."

  "That's because you're the minor." He ran a hand through his much shorter hair. "There's every reason to go slow. So much I don't get about you and me. Still . . ."

  From his place in the sun-drenched driver seat, he watched as I sucked the frosty chocolate milkshake from a freshly dipped fry. He grinned when a melted droplet fell onto the spaghetti strap of my tank top. Reaching over, he wiped the mess with his thumb and put it to my lips. I took his fingertip in my mouth.

  "I should, at least, have something to offer you." He shook his head, smiling at my scandalous ways.

  "I can work for what I want. But there is serious misery in those three little words."

  "Misery?" Jakes' eyes darkened as he set his burger on the dashboard. He took my food next, placing my fries and sweating cup in the hot sun beside his. He leaned over my outstretched legs. "Just misery?"

  "Other stuff, too." I breathed, caught in his spell.

  "Like what?" He smoothed my feet over his lap and came closer.

  "Good stuff."

  "How good?" He asked, leaning and shifting to come at me head-on.

  "Extra-super-good and extremely fantastic."

  His knee came up onto the seat as he stretched, pressing his weight against my thigh and the vinyl bench. "I used four words, remember? 'I fucking love you.' Does that scare you?" His voice was husky, his eyes on my mouth.

  The radio's commercial break ended. Joan Jett and her Blackhearts began a wailing chant about hate and love as I adjusted myself, preparing to receive whatever Jake wanted to give and bit my lip. I wasn't sure I should say what I felt, but Jake was always very open with his feelings, and encouraged me to do the same.

  "Well, does it?" He whispered, sending my heart into double-time as he swooped through the small bit of space between us, pinning one of my raised knees against the seatback and the other against the dashboard. Jake occupied all the space in between.

  My breath caught. The burning sun had nothing on him.

  "I don't-" I stopped, swallowing a deep breath before starting again. "I can't believe how good it is to be with you. Jake, I don't care about what that means." I watched his beautiful face, trying to guess what he was thinking. The steamy air of his eyes never wavered, making me think his thoughts were as naughty as mine.

  I shook my head to clear it, still needing to answer his question. "Maybe that's irresponsible, but everything besides you and me feels secondary."

  "Us," he whispered, as if trying out the word. The smirk that followed gave me goose bumps.

  "And I-don't judge me, okay." I rolled my eyes, feeling pathetic and needy. "When I think about what's ahead, I get really worried about what might happen when Analog goes back on tour."

  Jakes soft eyes immediately hardened. "I'm not a cheater."

  "No, that's not it." I smiled, embracing the warmth of this admission, though Jake had never given me a reason to doubt his fidelity. "I'm worried . . ." I took his hand from the dashboard and set it over my hammering heart. "What if this-what we feel like-changes, if we're apart for too long?" If he met a girl who could create like him, understood music like he did, who could offer him things I couldn't, like stability and a family-it would break me.

  "My whole life, I've been shoved from one place to the next. Every single person that was supposed to love me didn't, but you, Jake, you say you do. As unbelievable as it feels, I believe you; but that makes me need you, Jake. And that terrifies me." It was only half true. I'd needed him from the moment he first kissed me, but could only now bring myself to admit it.

  After a moment of waiting for his response, I had to know. "It's the potential for misery. I wouldn't know how to go back. Do I sound as pathetic as I feel?"

  Jake answered by taking his hand from my heart and gripping the back of my head, pulling me closer to him. His heat shot fire through my veins. His teeth gently scraped my lips as he kissed them, and then pulled away. "I'd sooner forget my reflection in the mirror, how to play guitar, or the way my mother smells. The way I feel for you, Angel, it's part of me."

  My chest filled with flutters as his lashes brushed my cheek. Jake whispered in my ear, "There are millions of songs, baby. Sonnets. Monuments, even. It's a story as old as time. It's the inspiration for the greatest works ever produced by mankind." He leaned back minutely to look in my eyes. "They are all devoted to our cause. Because they know that you never let go, not when it's real. Love lives, like music. It's ageless and indelible."

  He closed his eyes, kissing me again, deeper than before. His hands moved down my back pressing my hips forward until they smashed his. The sundrenched seat burnt my legs, but I barely noticed.

  "What are you doing to me? I sound like a pussy." Jake chuckled into my mouth. "But I'm keeping you, anyway."

  When his tongue wrapped itself around mine, it was like two unstable chemicals meeting. Reacting. It was explosive. The heat rippled through me in waves, burning over every fear I had. Jakes' kisses could do that: chase away everything. Until there was only him. And me. Us.

  I fought when he pulled away.

  "I promise . . ." His lashes scraped my brow and I knew he was waiting for me to look at him. When I did, he cleared his throat. "I promise you, my angel, that no matter what-even if it breaks up the band-I won't go anywhere you don't want me to. If you really need me to stay, tell me. And I will."

  The electric air crackled as his fingertips grazed the skin of my throat. "More than anyone or anything, baby, I need you, too. I want you so bad."

  My lips skimmed along his jaw. "Take me, then."

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