Journey to the Unknown

by Jacqueline Francis

  Maybe this was the Fate people spoke so fondly of. Maybe it was their destiny to go on this journey together.

  November, 12

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Jasmin only managed to drag herself out of bed at ten in the morning. She skipped her workout and was ready to meet the ladies by eleven. Mandy gave her a disappointed look when she noticed the sweatpants again, but they were already late so she didn’t ask her to change. Kevin, the buzz-kill, opted out again, so she spent the entire day touring Vegas with the girls.

  She also met Trevor and Dean. Seeing Trevor and Mandy together, Jasmin could easily understand how Mandy had been blind-sided by the faux illusion of The One. They were perfect together. Dean, as Sandy described, was very yummy. Thick black hair and smoldering brown eyes, he was an incredibly sexy hunk of a man.

  They chose to do the bus tour, hopping on and off at different stops to explore. They went to the Hard Rock Hotel, Treasure Island, the Hawaiian Marketplace and stopped for lunch at the Fatburger Bar. It was non-stop action. Her feet were still aching from the night before, but she didn’t let that dull her enthusiasm. And after she and Sandy got a tattoo together, she was even more hyped, not at all deterred by the pain. The rest of them were a very close-knit group of friends, however, she still felt like she’d bonded with them (tattoos were always a great way to bond). She didn’t feel out of place once.

  Maybe that was also because Dean decided to take it upon himself to be her personal tour guide. He was a great guy, sweet and very funny. Quite refreshing after all the grumpiness she’d been exposed to in the last few days. He was so laid back about life, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He was respectful and charming, constantly making her laugh, the type of person that others were automatically drawn to. But despite all of the qualities that made him undeniably attractive, he seemed to lack that…tingle factor.

  Being with him was sort of mellow. He didn’t make her heart race with anticipation. He didn’t needle her with rude, sarcastic comments. He didn’t make her tingle every time he touched her. And he touched her a lot. His hand was on her back as they walked through the stores, his fingers caressed her shoulder as they sat on the bus. He was a very touchy guy. It didn’t make her feel uncomfortable, but that was the problem. It didn’t make her feel anything. She realized that it wasn’t inexperience that made her body react like that to a guy. It was Kevin.

  She spent the entire day with them and they went to another wild party that night. Still hesitant to wear the black dress, she settled on a pair of jeans and a baby doll top that flared down to mid-thigh. As the night went on, Dean’s advances became more than just light touching. He tried to kiss her a few times. After his third attempt, she decided that if she felt even the slightest tingle, she would let him be her first real kiss.

  It never happened.

  November, 13

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Kevin stared at the whirling drum in front of him, watching his clothes tumble behind the glass with every turn. They’d decided to do laundry today, a slow-paced close to a very busy day. Yesterday he’d been all by himself. He didn’t want to socialize with people he didn’t know and chose to stay at the hotel the whole day. However, there was only so much solitude he could bear. It gave him too much time to think and his thoughts always went back to one night.

  Eventually, he’d put an end to his self-inflicted suffering and gone down to the hotel pool. Swimming had always been a calming escape for him. Genetically, he wasn’t built for football or basketball. Team sports in general were not for him. The solitude of swimming was what held appeal. He’d been on the swim team in high school, even won a few medals. There had been some inclination to pursue it further in college, but when his study schedule became too demanding, it tapered down to a mere hobby.

  Now it was just a way to clear his head, and yesterday he’d done laps for three hours, allowing the water to soothe him. It worked…but only for those three hours.

  Today was a lot better, because Jasmin never really gave him any time to think. He sort of missed her over the last two days (sort of). They went to the amusement park and despite his constant protests, she made him go on every ride with her. Entertainment for kids rather than young adults and, just like the Leonardo museum, it seemed to appeal to her more than drinking and partying.

  She’d gone out for an early dinner with the Andys to say goodbye and that was her last bit of Vegas madness. Now they were sitting all alone at the laundromat, watching their clothes swirl and tumble.

  Well, at least he was. She couldn’t shut up about the party she went to last night.

  “And the dancefloor was massive. There was this black marble across the whole thing. Sleek and beautiful, just not great if you’re wearing heels and you’re a little drunk. They were playing all this feel-good music. Black-eyed Peas and Bruno Mars. And the DJ did a whole set from the eighties. He played that Grease medley and—”

  He turned to his right to look at her. “If I wanted to know, I would have come.”

  She ignored him, as usual, and carried on. “And I know all the moves for Grease Lightning. I watched that movie a thousand times. I know I’ve only been to one party, so maybe I shouldn’t compare, but Rachel’s party was nothing compared to that. That’s a bit unfair to say, ’cause Rachel obviously didn’t have the awesomeness of Vegas, but even the music wasn’t that great. And I’m not dissing her party, it’s just…I didn’t know parties could be like that. I’m sure it wasn’t because of the alcohol…though that did make it more fun.”

  “Wait. Just hang on,” he said, lifting a finger to silence her. “I have something for you.” Shifting his hips forward a bit, he reached into the pocket of his jeans. He took out what he needed, then grabbed her hand and placed the contents of his pocket into her small palm. “There.”

  She looked confused, glancing between him and her empty hand. “Uh…what’s this?”

  “It’s all the fucks I give.”

  “Ewww!” She immediately flung her hand, tossing his fucks over her shoulder. “That’s gross!” She rubbed her hand down his arm, smearing the remaining residue over his sweater. “You can’t go around putting shit like that in peoples’ hands, Kevin. It’s unsanitary.”

  He tried, he really tried to keep a straight face, but a laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it. She was so odd and the aftermath of their fallout a few days ago told him that there was a sensitive soul beneath her exterior of indifference, yet she didn’t really take anything he said seriously. He had an abrupt way of speaking; it was the way he was, but she got him.

  When Perry first introduced him to Shandré, she’d hated him because she couldn’t understand his abrasive sarcasm. It took almost six months before she warmed up to him. His ex-girlfriends had been the same, though it never lasted six months for them to get to that point of understanding. But Jasmin just got him. He wasn’t sure if he liked that or not, but it made their relationship less volatile.

  And now that harsh words were no longer an option, he mentally made peace with the fact that they’d reached a point where there was nothing he could do to shut her up.

  Except…

  Except maybe kissing her. That worked well for a few hours. That, however, was a dumb idea and he wasn’t going to try using that tactic again. Kissing her was supposed to be a joke, a joke mixed with a healthy dose of curiosity. If he had to be honest with himself, it was more curiosity. Her lips begged to be tasted and he’d wanted to know what it was like. It was just supposed to shock her a little, but the joke was on him. As soon as his mouth touched hers, it stopped being funny. Now every time he was around her, it was all he could think about. Those full, thick lips between his teeth, against his tongue. They were made to be sucked on. Soft enough to be kissed all day and fleshy enough to withstand any type of abuse inflicted by a ravenous mouth…his mouth. And every now and then he had visions about them wrapped around his…

  He stopped that thought right there. T
he last thing he wanted was a hard-on in the middle of an empty laundromat. He needed to get that shit out of his head. His life was already complicated and he could do without having more complications. He didn’t want anything, fling or otherwise, with anyone. Especially not Jasmin. She was all issues, and he didn’t want to be one of them. He’d gotten a taste of those plump lips and that would just have to do.

  “You’re cute when you laugh,” she said offhandedly, “but getting back to my original point, I can now tick off number one from my list. I have tried a mind-altering substance.”

  He would probably regret asking, but he was intrigued to know. “What list?”

  “I made a list of objectives for this trip and so far I’ve ticked off three.”

  “Can I see this list?”

  Nervousness twitched across her face, but she reached over and grabbed her knapsack off the floor. She took out a folded piece of paper and handed it to him with an instruction. “Don’t laugh at me, okay?”

  He nodded and unfolded the paper. It may have been a tactic to distract herself from impending embarrassment, but she moved her hand to his hair, twirling the short strands around her finger as he began reading. “Okay, number one: Try a mind-altering substance.” There was tick next to that one and he moved on. “Number two: Get a tattoo.” There was a tick next to that one as well and he glanced over at her. “You got a tattoo?”

  She nodded.

  “Where?”

  “It’s…it’s uh…in a special place. I’m not gonna tell you.”

  She was generally open about everything, so he respected the fact that she wanted to keep it a secret and didn’t question it further. He pulled her hand away from his hair and brought it down onto his shoulder, keeping his hand over hers so she would stop touching him. It felt oddly intimate, just sitting there holding her hand, but he brushed it off and made his way down the list. “Number three: Have some sex.” He looked over at her again. “Just some?”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to go overboard and turn into a slut.”

  He cringed a little. That word really rubbed him the wrong way. Some guys at school used to call Claire that behind her back and it bothered him to no end. If he’d been the type to resort to violence, he definitely would have thrown punches for that. “I’m going to be brutally honest with you.”

  “I don’t know you to be any other way.”

  “Firstly, let’s just address the term slut.” Assuming that she got the hint to stop touching him, he let go of her hand before he continued. “It’s extremely derogatory and if a woman chooses to sleep with a hundred guys instead of one, that’s her choice and she shouldn’t be labelled for it. So if you want to experiment…responsibly and go butt-wild, that wouldn’t make you a slut. And don’t ever let a guy tell you otherwise.”

  That speech, just like the kiss, was going to backfire at some point. He could feel it, because even as he said the words, the thought of some guy putting his hands on her was fucking with his head a bit. He couldn’t understand it. He wasn’t even attracted to her…at least not in the traditional sense. Taking heed of what Mandy had said, he put it down as protectiveness and moved on.

  “And secondly…” He paused, wondering if he should take the conversation in that direction. “Aren’t you…a virgin?”

  The question didn’t even strike her as inappropriate and she answered like he’d just asked how she liked her coffee. “Not really…I can do the splits and that sort of ripped my hymen, so technically I lost my virginity stretched out between two chairs.”

  He shut his eyes, trying to rid himself of the images, but they were mercilessly burning themselves into his brain. How could she tell him that, yet her tattoo was a secret? “I don’t…I don’t know why I asked that…I regret it. Forget I said anything.”

  “Oh. If you’re asking…in a sexual sense…then yes, I’m still a virgin.”

  “So…you think you can go out, meet some stranger, and just have sex with him?”

  A nonchalant shrug was what he got in return. “Yeah. It’s not like I want my first time to be special or anything. Sex is mechanical. It’s just a biological thing two people do, which apparently makes them feel good. It’s like eating or jogging. It’s momentary and satisfying and simultaneously fulfills a basic human need, but once it’s over, you move on with life.”

  His mind toyed with the challenge of proving her wrong, but he swiftly nipped that in the bud. “You don’t know anything. Sex is not like jogging. Letting someone you barely know into your personal space is not easy. It requires some level of trust and patience to learn another person’s body. And then to get naked with that person…” It was strange that he actually sounded like the sentimental one between the two of them. “I’m calling bullshit, Jasmin. You were freaking out for wearing a dress, where you were still fully covered, mind you. I don’t think you have it in you to have a one-night stand.”

  “I’m new at this,” she responded, still unfazed. “I’m not comfortable yet, but I’ll get there. I just have to put myself out there a bit more and be willing to…experiment. Who knows what would have happened if I just kissed Dean yesterday?”

  He froze, his fists clenching without him even realizing it. This was a strange feeling and it didn’t feel at all like protectiveness. “Who’s Dean?”

  “He’s Mandy’s future brother-in-law. He’s actually a really nice guy…and super cute. Not as hot as you, but he’s definitely nice to look at. A bit touchy-feely, though. He tried to kiss me a couple times, but…”

  Kevin stopped listening. This feeling that wasn’t protectiveness was intensifying with every word. “What’s next?” he asked, cutting her off as he glanced at the paper again. “Number four: Do something scary. Why is there a tick next to this one?”

  She smiled. “I picked up Larry the Lumberjack, remember?”

  “Okay. Number five: Make lots of friends.” He tried to hold back a sneer. “This one is even dumber than number three.”

  Her eyebrows creased as she glared at him. “Why are you being such an asshole?”

  “There is more of a chance of you having fifty one-night stands between here and Georgia than you making one real friend.” He noticed that small twitch of her face, the brain-drain twitch. What he’d said hurt her feelings. She took it like he said no one would want to be her friend, because…issues, but that’s not how he meant it. “Jasmin, a friend isn’t someone who likes your photos on Instagram or shares you posts on Facebook. Friends aren’t people who take you out for a good time and get you drunk. A friend…a real friend is someone who knows what mood you’re in by the way you say hello…and he doesn’t care if you’re in a bad mood on one day because he knows he’s gonna be there the next. A friend will tell his momma to make you chicken soup when you’re sick, then spend the whole the day in your room playing video games so you don’t have to be alone. A friend will give you his last Oreo just to make you feel better. That’s a real friend…and I guarantee you won’t find that in any of the random people you’re gonna meet on this road trip.”

  She stared at him, pensive and apprehensive. “Who is he? Your friend? He sounds like a great guy.”

  Kevin gritted his teeth and cast his eyes to the floor. With just a few words he’d given too much away. “It’s hypothetical,” he answered softly. “I don’t have any friends.”

  He went quiet, allowing the weight of his last sentence to settle on his shoulders, the overwhelming burden of guilt. He didn’t have any friends, not anymore. He was alive and well and on his way to Florida to fulfill a dream that wasn’t his. Placing his hand on his chest, he felt the dog-tag chain beneath his sweater. It was a constant reminder of what he’d lost. What took fifteen years to build was destroyed in a split second.

  Her hand, which was still resting on his shoulder, moved up and gently stroked the fine stubble on his face. She didn’t say anything, but he could feel her eyes on him. He let himself enjoy that silent comfort for a few moments, even though he had no inte
ntion of telling her why he needed it. He just closed his eyes and took it all in. Her soft hand on his cheek. Her sweet strawberry scent.

  But eventually it was time to come back to reality and he pulled her hand off his face, placing it back on her lap.

  She waited…and waited for him to open up and when he didn’t, she sighed. “You’re grouchy again.” Reaching into her knapsack, she took out her cell phone. “Let’s see if we can cheer you up.”

  He didn’t want to be cheered up; he wanted to drown in the melancholy. She scrolled through her playlist and then the beat of Chris Brown and Nicki Minaj’s Love More filled the laundromat.

  “Okay.” She stood up and moved in front of him. “Before I start, I just want you to know that people would pay good money to see a show like this in Vegas, and you’re getting it for free, Son, so you better be grateful.”

  He could already feel himself softening. “I’m not sure if I feel privileged or…scared.”

  “You should be very scared, ’cause this is gonna come at you at a level of sexy you’ve never experienced before.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  She started dancing and it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen. Enthusiasm didn’t make up for lack of coordination. She did a booty pop, which was too stiff to actually pop and it was so wrong on so many levels.

  “Is that…is that a twerk?” he asked, genuinely confused. “It looks like it’s trying to be a twerk. Like if Miley Cyrus had to mate with…a zombie, their love-child would twerk like that.”