by L. D. Davis
Wow, when I heard the term “hard” before, I didn’t know it was so literal.
I tried to shake my head of those thoughts and carefully attempted to extract myself from Emmet’s arms. He groaned and held me tighter and then rubbed that thing against my thigh. It made me anxious. I couldn’t fathom how girls at my age took the leap and lost their virginity when faced with the possibility of something that size and that hard going inside of them.
Goosebumps rose up and down my arms and my pulse was erratic. I squeezed my thighs together in an attempt to release some of the pressure I felt.
Oh, my god! I have to get out of this bed, I thought.
Feeling a bit panicky, I tried harder to get out of his impossibly tight embrace. Emmet shifted, yawned, and opened his eyes.
“What are you doing?” he questioned me and looked at me through droopy, sleepy eyes.
“Trying to get up,” I said with frustration.
“Why would you want to do that?” His smile was like a warm blanket clinging to my skin. Why would I want to leave the comfort of a warm, skin clinging blanket? That would be stupid. It was cold out there.
I shook my head. I needed to get away from Emmet so I could think clearly.
“So I can pee?” I asked instead of telling.
“You have to pay the toll if you want the gates to open.”
“Are you a troll?”
He laughed softly. “Do I look like a troll?”
My eyes traced over his face. No, he did not look like a troll. Definitely not.
“What’s the toll?” I asked instead of answering his question. “I’m sure I have some spare change in my jeans.”
“I don’t want your money,” he said. He was looking at my mouth.
My voice faltered as I looked at his mouth. “I don’t think I have any gold…or whatever trolls collect.”
“You know what the toll is,” he whispered, as his head dipped closer to mine. “So pay it.”
“But I thought we were just sleeping!” I blurted it out before his lips could touch mine.
“We slept. New agenda.”
I had no further opportunity to object because Emmet’s tongue was in my mouth and his lips were massaging my lips and I was kissing him back. I knew I shouldn’t have been kissing him in his bed, but I couldn’t make myself stop. Kissing Emmet was exactly how I always thought it should be like to kiss a boy, sweet and full of emotion. I felt connected to him on levels my young mind was yet to comprehend. The tether hummed with pleasure between us, as if it had a mind of its own and we made it happy when we connected like that.
When we first started kissing, Emmet was beside me. We shifted without me paying it any mind until I felt him on me. There.
I tried to gasp, but my mouth was getting consumed by Emmet’s mouth. I opened my eyes and saw my arms wrapped around his neck. When did that happen? He was on top of me. When did that happen? And he was hard against me, where no one had ever touched me before.
I started to pull away from the kiss. My hands were on his shoulders to push him away, but then he shifted again. My eyes closed reflexively and stars burst into light behind my eyelids. I moaned into Emmet’s mouth at the same time he moaned into mine. My arms were wrapped around him again, and I kissed him harder, or maybe he kissed me harder.
He rocked against me again, and I couldn’t help myself. I pushed my hips up against him. I needed to get rid of the pressure between my legs. He pushed back, and I shamelessly groaned and pulled his hair. I wrapped my legs around his waist and raised my hips off of the bed again to meet his next thrust. We moved against each other fluidly, in perfect synchronization.
I need to…I need to…I have to…
I clung to Emmet and tightened my legs around him. He pressed harder against me, and the pressure built and built and I felt like I was going to explode. I wondered if that was what it was like. Explosions? Would I explode into a thousand pieces and scatter into the universe? I didn’t care how many pieces I was in. I needed it. I needed him.
Someone banged on the door. Our lips separated with a soft, wet sound and our movements froze. We both looked towards the door.
“Emmet,” Sam’s voice said from the other side of the door.
Fear gripped my heart. If Sam caught me in Emmet’s bed especially with Emmet on top of me, she would have flipped out. It could have been a very scary situation.
“Yeah, Mom?” he said as he struggled to catch his breath.
I unraveled my legs from his waist and let my arms fall away from him, but he didn’t pull away. He was still pressed against me and caging me with his arms.
“Are you going to make me talk through the damn door?” Sam snapped.
Emmet hung his head and growled in frustration. He pecked me on the lips and got up, pulling me up with him. He opened the closet door, and I stepped inside. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. I grew up in that house. Sam was just as much a mother to me as my real mother, maybe more so, but I had to hide in the closet.
I covered my mouth to keep from laughing.
“What do you want?” Emmet asked Sam as I heard the door opening. He didn’t bother trying to hide his aggravation.
“Your daddy and I are going to Newport for an anniversary party. Did you forget?”
“No, I didn’t forget, Mom.”
“We’ll be back Monday morning. We’re dropping your sister off at Mayson’s on our way but you have to pick her up tomorrow night. Don’t forget.”
“Okay,” he said impatiently. “Anything else?”
“Why are you trying to get rid of me? Do you have a girl in here again?”
Again?
“Mom! There’s no one in here. What else do you want? I want to go back to bed.”
“No parties and no sex.”
I blushed and covered my mouth again, biting back nervous giggles.
“Can I party and have sex somewhere else?” Emmet asked dryly.
I heard Sam’s slap to his head. “Don’t be cheeky.”
“Anything else?” Emmet asked with little patience.
“Don’t forget to take care of the garage like your daddy told you.”
“Okay.”
“Hug your mama, child.”
I heard slight movement from the door, and I heard Emmy talking in the hallway.
“If Donya comes over tell her I took her boots.”
I put a hand on my hip. I saved up long and hard for those boots. My mom couldn’t afford things like Emmy’s parents, and though Fred and Sam treated me like their own, I tried not to take advantage. I would have never asked them for two hundred dollar boots. I was tempted to go out there and steal my boots back from Emmy and hit her with them.
The commotion in the hallway faded as Emmy and Sam went down the stairs. I heard Emmet out in the hall, probably standing at the top of the stairs as he spoke to them. A couple of minutes later the front door slammed and a few seconds after that Emmet’s door closed. I pushed out of the closet, tripped over the length of Emmet’s sweat pants, and nearly fell on my face. I pulled at the pants to uncover my feet.
“I can’t believe she took my boots,” I murmured.
I stood on one side of the rumpled bed and Emmet on the other. We looked at one another. I tried not to show how horrified I was by what almost happened in that rumpled bed. It scared me how far I let myself go. How much farther would I have gone? Would we have been joined in the most intimate way? The thought scared the crap out of me.
I tore my gaze away from Emmet and looked at my wet clothes hanging on the chair. I was lucky Sam didn’t venture further into the room and see them there. I was glad I kept a whole wardrobe in Em’s room.
I walked over to the chair and gathered up my wet clothes. I knelt down and picked up my wet sneakers. Emmet watched me with apprehension.
“What are you doing?” he asked hesitantly.
“I’m going to change into my own clothes and go home.”
He stepped in front of the
door. I stopped a couple of feet away.
“You are home,” he said.
“My other home.”
“I don’t want you to leave. Stay here. Spend the day with me, just the two of us.”
He looked so hopeful that it made my heart ache.
“I can’t,” I whispered.
“Why can’t you, Donya?”
I gestured to the bed. “That scares the shit out of me,” I admitted forcefully. I wasn’t sure if I should admit the next part, but I didn’t think Emmet would take advantage of my confession. “If your mom hadn’t come to the door, I’m not sure where I would have stopped—if I would have stopped.”
“I know you’re not ready to go all the way. I wouldn’t have—”
“Emmet!” I shouted his name in frustration. “You were no more in control than I was. You probably didn’t think you’d grind with me like that either.”
He let out an exasperated growl, put his hands on his hips and looked down at the floor for a moment. When he looked back up at me, I knew that I had been right. He hadn’t expected to kiss me, let alone push me towards my first ever orgasm.
“We’ll stay away from the bedroom,” he suggested.
“Well we both know that you have nothing against sofas,” I said and instantly regretted it. He looked hurt by my words. I didn’t mean to hurt him. “I’m sorry.”
He took in a breath. Some of the pain cleared from his face and once again he looked hopeful.
“I just want to spend the day with you,” he said softly.
I shook my head slowly. “I don’t trust myself, Emmet. Move away from the door so I can leave.”
He stared at me for a few long moments before he finally stepped aside and opened the door for me. I rushed past him and into Emmy’s room and locked the door behind me.
Even after I stripped out of Emmet’s clothes, I still smelled like him. I held my hair to my nose, inhaling deeply. It was driving me crazy. I had half the mind to run across the hall and get wrapped up in him again. Instead, I marched into Emmy’s bathroom and showered. I stayed in there a long time washing traces of Emmet off of my body.
When I got dressed, I carried my coat and wet clothes downstairs to the dryer. Emmet was in the kitchen cooking something as I passed through on my way to the laundry room.
“Can you at least stay for brunch?” Emmet asked when I returned to the kitchen.
My stomach rumbled.
“Okay,” I conceded.
“Have a seat.”
I sat down at the table. Emmet made an effort to talk about anything but us. While he cooked, he talked about college and possible law schools, and I talked about the colleges I was considering, even though I still had a few years yet.
“Breakfast is served,” he said dramatically, putting a plate before me. It was loaded with pancakes, eggs, fried potatoes, and toast. I laughed and clapped. He smiled fondly at me and winked. “Orange juice? Coffee?”
“Orange juice, please.”
He poured me a tall glass of OJ and got himself a cup of coffee before sitting down at the head of the table beside me. We dug into our food and ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, but the silence didn’t last. Neither did the comfort.
“What happens now?” Emmet asked me as he stabbed at his pancakes, but didn’t pick any up.
I looked at him cautiously. “What do you mean?”
“With us.”
I took a sip of my juice as I considered a response. He waited patiently. He had put his fork down and given up on eating, but he looked patient.
“I think…” I looked at him, and I felt his body on mine and felt his lips on mine. “I’m still not ready,” I whispered.
“You seemed ready a little while ago.” He didn’t say it with any menace. It was an observation.
“I lost control a little while ago, and I don’t want to be out of control,” I said apologetically. “I just want to be friends.”
I wanted more than friends, but that didn’t mean it was the right thing. The right thing was to move on and let him do the same.
“Donya, I lo—” I cut him off with my fingers on his lips before he could finish that thought.
“Don’t say it,” I begged. “Please don’t say it. I’m not ready for all of that, Emmet. Please.”
His eyes closed slowly, and I knew I had hurt him. I pulled my fingers away from his mouth and folded them in my lap.
“Be my friend,” I whispered.
His eyes opened. “I’ll always be your friend.”
We sat at the table in a pained silence until our food was cold and unappetizing.
Chapter Eight
I was on the boardwalk beside my best friend, eating cotton candy and being rebellious by riding my skateboard. Skateboard riding wasn’t permitted on the boardwalk, which just baffled me because people were allowed to ride bikes and roller skate. I pushed myself alongside Emmy slowly, enjoying the leisurely pace as we talked.
It was mid-June. School had ended only days before. We would be leaving for Louisiana in another week, but we were spending a few days at the shore first. Since my mother was beginning to find some level of normalcy, I was reluctant to leave her. With my dad gone, there wouldn’t be anyone at all to watch over her, but she insisted that I go. She got a job waitressing and said she would be working all summer, and that would keep her busy enough. It took her a whole week to convince me to go. Once my mind was made up, I looked forward to the summer down south, fishing with Fred and maybe Emmet and hanging out with Emmy’s myriads of relatives.
“I don’t want to live in Louisiana,” Emmy was saying to me. “I love going down there for visits, but I don’t want to set up shop and get all cozy like my brother and sisters. Besides, Mom will be moving back when I get out of college, and I don’t want to be near mom.”
“Don’t blame you there,” I said.
“Emmet thinks he’s definitely going to go back after college. I don’t understand how they all could just give up their lifelong friends up here and move down there.”
“Maybe you will change your mind when you’re older,” I said.
“No way. Besides, I need to be near you. Like always. My other half.” She grinned at me, and I grinned back. I loved that girl to death.
“I definitely will not be living in Louisiana when I am an adult,” I assured her. My dream of living there with a certain husband faded away months ago.
I had finished my cotton candy, and as we were passing a man operating an ice-cream cart, I stopped and got an ice-cream cone. I loved getting ice-cream at the beach. It seemed like the two went hand in hand at the Jersey Shore. You couldn’t walk on the boardwalk and not get ice-cream, or cotton candy, or fries, or pizza, or funnel cake. I knew I was going to be so fat by the time we got to Louisiana that I wouldn’t feel like doing anything. Emmy would have to roll me everywhere.
The ice-cream man had just rolled away when a man, a very nice looking man with dark hair stood in our path. He wore a Rolex around his tanned wrist. He was preppy in his khaki shorts, button up Ralph Lauren shirt, and expensive loafers. His hair looked like every other guy’s hair in the mid-nineties, like he had the same hair stylist as the guys from Beverly Hills, 90210.
He tipped his Cartier sunglasses so he could peer at us with his piercing brown eyes. Emmy and I stood there for a moment, looking at him, waiting for him to move.
“Hello. My name is Max,” he said in a fading Italian accent.
“So?” Emmy said.
He flashed a smile at her but brought his eyes back to me. I momentarily looked away from Max to my ice-cream cone and my hand. I watched vanilla ice-cream drip onto my wrist, already melting quickly in the early summer heat. I didn’t bother cleaning it up because more would drip and I’d spend more time cleaning myself than eating it.
“I promise you this is not a pickup line,” he said to me.
“What’s not a pickup line?” Emmy demanded fisting one hand on her hip. “That already sound
s like a pickup line.”
More ice-cream dripped down my wrist. I felt it sliding slowly down my arm. I ignored it and put the cold treat to my lips as I eyed Max. What did he want? Why was he looking at me like that? He was cute, but he had to have a good fifteen or twenty years on me. I was a little grossed out thinking that maybe he was trying to pick me up with a non-pickup-pickup-line.
“I work for a New York agency that represents models,” Max said to me. “Forgive me for saying so, but you are exquisite. Do you work as a model?”
“Exquisite?” Emmy and I said together and laughed.
“Donya,” Emmy said in a fake Italian accent. She took my free hand and looked up at me with well-overdone adoration. “My darling, you are exquisite. May I kiss your exquisite lips and touch your exquisite behind?”
I laughed at my friend’s stupidity. We cracked up while Max patiently waited for us to stop.
“Dude, that’s a great pickup line,” Emmy said, patting Max’s arm.
Max passed me a business card. It said Maximus Sobreno, Talent Representative. The address and phone number were out of New York. I wasn’t very impressed. Anyone could make business cards, and I told him as much as I tried to pass the card back to him.
“You are right to question my validity,” he said. “But before you disregard me entirely, do some research and find out for yourself whether or not I am as I say. I can change your life, beautiful girl. You may have potential.”
“Right, because ice-cream dripping down my arm is one of those modeling qualities,” I said.
He shrugged. “You look like a model posing as a carefree woman on the boardwalk eating ice-cream. It would have made a perfect shot, right down to your mode of transportation, but what caught my eye was when I saw you further back eating cotton candy. Something about it struck me.”
His eyes traveled leisurely over my body before he spoke again. “Don’t lose my card.”
He pushed his sunglasses back into place and walked away.
“That was weird,” Emmy said.
I nodded in agreement. I looked at the card for a little while longer and then pushed it into my back pocket. There was slight pressure in my chest that I instantly recognized. I looked up and met Emmet’s eyes as he walked over to us.