Falling into Us

by Jasinda Wilder

“Can’t you ignore it?”

  She shook her head. “That’d only be worse. ” She breathed deep with her eyes closed, then answered it. “Hello? No, I’m—oh. I—I—I…yes, Father. I’m sorry. I’ll be home right away. ” She hung up and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “What’s up?”

  “He knows I left with you. ”

  “How? What’d you tell him when you left?”

  “That I was going out with Nell. I was going to call her and let her know to cover for me, but when I got in, I saw you and forgot. He figured it out somehow. I don’t know. This is bad. ”

  “What’s going to happen?” I took her hand and laced our fingers together, ignoring the twinge when her fingers brushed my split knuckles.

  “I don’t know. Trouble. ” She visibly retreated into herself, so I just held her hand as I exited the freeway and re-entered going back the other way.

  We’d gone farther than I’d realized, and it was a good half hour before we even hit the exit for our end of town. I pulled into a McDonalds parking lot, told Becca to sit tight while I ran in and cleaned up. Half a roll of paper towel later, my face was clean, my nose bent but no longer bleeding, my cheek split wide and ugly. I pulled the truck across the road into CVS, grabbed some Band-aids, and stuck one over the cut on my cheek. I had a spare jersey in my backpack, so I tossed out my bloody T-shirt and slipped the jersey on, not missing how Becca’s eyes were riveted to my chest and abs while I had my shirt off.

  When we got to Becca’s neighborhood, I didn’t stop at the entrance like usual.

  “Where are you going?” She sounded puzzled.

  I shrugged. “He knows, so why bother hiding?”

  I pulled into her driveway and got out with her. I wasn’t about to let her face trouble alone, not when it was brought on by me. She kept glancing at me sideways as we approached her front door, as if waiting for me to bolt. She didn’t realize that no matter how bad her dad was, he couldn’t possibly be scarier than mine. I waited at the door while she opened it, then followed her in.

  “You don’t have to do this, Jason,” she whispered to me as we crossed the threshold.

  “Yes, I do. ”

  Her father was a big man, barrel-chested with a bit of a belly, mostly silver hair slicked back, and small, dark, hard eyes. “Who are you? Why are you in my home?”

  I stepped forward and held out my hand. “I’m Jason Dorsey. I’m Becca’s boyfriend. ”

  He took my hand automatically, shook it firmly, then dropped it when I said the last part. “The hell you are. My daughter will not have a boyfriend. You leave now. ” His eyes burned into me. He was clearly used to intimidating people, and he didn’t like that it didn’t work on me. “You are the nuisance who has been distracting my daughter from her studies, coercing her to sneak out at night. She will not be seeing you anymore. ”

  “Maybe if you gave her a bit of freedom over her own life, she wouldn’t have to sneak out, you ever think of that? I’d be perfectly willing to tell you exactly where we are and what we’re doing, sir. With all due respect, I’m not a bad influence. I like your daughter a lot, Mr. de Rosa. The only reason she ever snuck out was because you wouldn’t let her leave the house otherwise. ” He opened his mouth to argue, but I spoke over him. “I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job as a parent, sir, but I can tell you this much, that the harder you try to control every little thing Becca does, the more she’ll rebel. Give her some freedom, and she won’t have to break the rules. ”

  He glared at me, clearly infuriated. “I am her father. I will decide. You are no one. ”

  Becca touched my arm. “Jason, I appreciate what you’re doing, but please, let it go. ”

  Mr. de Rosa took a step closer to me. “You leave now. You will not be seeing my daughter again. Never. ”

  Becca stepped between us and stared up at her dad. “Father, please. He’s right. We’re not doing anything wrong. I’m still studying, still getting good grades. Give us a chance. ”

  Her mother, who had till this point been sitting silently at the dining room table, stood up and crossed the room to stand next to her husband. I saw a lot of Becca in her, with curly black hair framing an older version of Becca’s facial features. She spoke quietly in a foreign language that I belatedly realized was Arabic. Becca was clearly following the discussion as her father replied in the same language, arguing heatedly, frustrated. At some point during his argument, Becca’s father switched to Italian, and when her mother responded, it was in that language. I even caught a few words of English scattered throughout. It was dizzying to listen to.

  After a few minutes of back and forth between her parents, Mr. de Rosa turned his gaze back to Becca and me. “This goes against my better judgement, but your mother has prevailed upon me to give you a chance to prove your responsibility. Both of you. ” He fixed his gaze on me. “I don’t like you, Mr. Dorsey. You seem like a rough character, and I’m not convinced you’re not a bad influence on my daughter. ”

  “Well,” I began, choosing my words carefully, “I’m sure we can agree that Becca is a good influence on me. But I’m not a bad kid. I have a straight-A average, and I’m first string on the football team. I don’t drink and I don’t smoke. ”

  “What happened to your face?”

  I swallowed and then focused on believing the lie I was about to feed him. “A game of pick-up football with my buddies. A tackle went wrong, and I caught a forehead to the face. ”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re sure it wasn’t a fight?”

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  I nodded. “I’m sure. Coach is very strict about that stuff. I’d be benched for half the season if I got suspended for fighting. ” Which was true, just not applicable to my situation. “If you get in trouble with the office, you’re benched. If your grades drop below a C average, you’re benched. I’m hoping for college scholarships on both football and grades. ”

  Her father nodded, seeming to be satisfied. “I will allow you one chance with my daughter. If she’s late, once, if she fails to check in at the predetermined time, or if she is not where she says she is, then it is over. Do you understand me, Mr. Dorsey?”

  I nodded, tamping down the triumphant feeling. “Yes, sir. I do. ”

  He hesitated, then shook my hand again. “What position do you play on the football team?”

  “Wide receiver,” I said. “I currently hold the district record for most receptions in a single game, as well as the most receiving yards in a season. ”

  He seemed suitably impressed. Glad to know those records were good for something at least.

  “What is Becca’s curfew?” I asked.

  “Ten—” Mrs. de Rosa interrupted him with a single word, and he suppressed a sigh of irritation. “Fine, eleven on the weekdays. Midnight on the weekends. But if her grades slip—”

  “They won’t, Father, I promise. ” Becca bounced slightly on her toes, happiness bubbling over but still contained. “Can we go back out, then?”

  “Where?”

  “Out for a drive, maybe stop and get some milkshakes,” I suggested.

  “Do you have any points on your record?” he demanded.

  I shook my head. “No, sir. No points, no accidents. I own my truck, actually. ” I wasn’t sure why that was relevant, but I wanted to impress him. Stupid, maybe, but if I couldn’t get my own father’s approval, I sure as hell would try to get everyone else’s.

  He nodded, then waved a hand in dismissal. “Fine. Go. It’s 9 p. m. now, so you have two hours. ”

  I took Becca’s hand, and we walked as calmly to my truck as we could. I backed out carefully, feeling Mr. de Rosa’s scrutiny. It wasn’t until we were back out on the main road that Becca cut loose with an excited squeal that startled me into laughter.

  She unbuckled and slid across the bench to press up next to me, clinging to my arm and burying her face into my shoulder as she
laughed excitedly. “How did you do that?” she asked, her eyes bright and happier than I’d ever seen them.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think it’d work, but I figured it was worth a shot to try and face him directly. Most men respect directness. ”

  She kissed my jaw, and I was finding it hard to focus on the road. Then she kissed my cheek and over, closer to the corner of my lips, and I had to grip the steering wheel and pretend I wasn’t suddenly aflame. She didn’t stop, though. She kissed my chin, the line of my jaw once again, my neck. Holy hell. My heart was pounding out of my chest, and I hoped to god she wouldn’t look down and see how affected I was by her lips against my skin.

  Eventually, I had to pull away from her. “Beck, I can’t drive when you do that. ”

  “Then pull over and kiss me. ”

  God, that certainly didn’t help my condition. I had no choice but to obey. I found an empty parking lot, a park deep in a neighborhood. Swings sat still in the darkness, bathed in the faint yellow-white glow of a single streetlight. A merry-go-round, rusted and tilted to one side, a play structure casting long shadows, a chain link fence, and a distant baseball diamond and soccer field.

  I barely had the truck in park when she unbuckled my seatbelt and pulled me into a hot, wet kiss. I wrapped my arms around her, pulled her closer, felt my heart ratchet into a frantic patter at the wondrous crush of her br**sts against my chest, her knee sliding between my thighs as she lifted up to deepen the kiss. I felt my breathing catch as her fingers curled behind my head, caressing the hairline on the back of my neck, holding me close, as if I’d try to pull away.

  I rested my hands on her hips and couldn’t believe she’d let me touch her like this. Yet she wiggled her hips as if begging for more, so I risked taking more liberties, and slid my hands around to cup her ass. Oh, god, surely she could feel how crazy that made me. I didn’t know where this was going, but I liked it. It also scared me, because I felt consumed by her, taken over by the need for her. Hormones raged, but it wasn’t just hormones. Intellectually, I knew what came next, but I refused to think about that directly. I just knew I couldn’t stop kissing her, couldn’t stop touching her.

  And then her fingers drifted up under the hem of my shirt and touched my bare stomach. Lord. Oh, god. I let my hand slide up her back and touched bare skin at the small of her spine. So soft, so warm. I caressed up farther, to her bra strap, each shoulder, stealing touches.

  She was giving them to me, though, right? So they weren’t stolen.

  My shirt was up around my diaphragm and her hands were splayed on my chest as she sat on my knees, her back to the windshield. Slowly, so slowly, I lifted her shirt up a bit, revealing more of her dark skin. She traced my chest, the lines of my abs, watching my eyes and staring at my body. The look in her eyes matched what I felt in myself.

  Then a hint of pink peeked out from the bottom edge of her shirt and my breath was stopped in my lungs, but she didn’t halt my hands as they kept lifting her shirt. Skin, a glorious expanse of breast barely contained in a pink bra. Oh, shit. I was so hard I could explode with a thought. I needed to adjust myself, but didn’t dare. Her eyes were on me, full of daring, fear, nerves.

  “God…damn Becca. ” I could barely get the words out. “You are…so hot. So sexy. ”

  “So are you. ” She brushed a thumb over my lips, eyes on mine from inches away.

  I pressed my palms flat against her ribs, just beneath her bra. It was a question, a silent request. She released a pent-up breath and then nodded, a pair of frightened, excited jerks of her chin. I slid my hands up, cupped the weight of her br**sts, pink cotton soft against my palms, and then I felt the hardened bumps at the center of the bra fabric against the heel of my hands and I knew what those were, and I was amazed that this was happening, that she was letting me do this.

  Oh, god. Oh, shit. So perfect. Up, up, and up my hands slid to the slope of her br**sts, skin on skin now, and I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t need to because she was kissing me and giving me her own breath, exploring my chest and my sides and down to the waist of my jeans.

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  And then she was off me suddenly, sliding to the opposite end of the truck against the door. “God, Jason. We have to s-s-slo-slow down. This is going too f-f-f-fast. ” She tugged her shirt down to cover herself, her breathing ragged.

  I rubbed my face with my hand, unable to stop a hiss when my thumb bumped my nose. “Becca, I—I’m sorry. I guess I got carried away. I’m sorry. ”

  She came closer once more. “No, we did. It was me, too. I wasn’t just letting you touch me, I wanted you to. I wanted to touch you. B-bb-bbb-but…” She sucked in a deep breath and visibly composed herself. “We have to slow down. We’re only sixteen. We’ve only been dating for, like, three dates. ”

  “I know, I know. You’re right. ” I felt responsible, even though she admitted she was as much at fault for getting carried away as me. “I should be the one to slow us down. ”

  She laughed at that. “Um, you’re a guy?”

  I glared at her. “So that makes me unable to control myself?”

  She giggled again. “No, no. Just, guys aren’t usually the ones to think about slowing down. The opposite, if I’ve heard right. ” Her expression shifted into seriousness. “Have you…have you ever been with anyone else before?”

  I wasn’t sure exactly what she was asking. “I’ve never dated anyone before. ”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I mmmm-meant. ” She didn’t exactly stutter the last word, more just drew out the initial sound before getting control once again. “I meant, have you been with anyone?”

  I just stared at her. “No, Becca. When I kissed you in the parking lot at school, that was my first kiss. ”

  She seemed relieved for some reason. “Mine, too. ”

  “And no, I haven’t done anything else with anyone. Everything with you is a first for me. ”

  “Me, too. ” She glanced at me with her head ducked down. “Are you mad at me for asking?”

  “No, just surprised. I guess I assumed you knew I’d never done anything with anyone before. ”

  She shrugged. “You just…you kiss me like you know what you’re doing. I just wondered. ”

  I felt a thrill at her words. “So you like how I kiss you?”

  She gave a look of utter disbelief. “Well…yeah. I…I love the way you kiss me. It makes me crazy. I never want to stop kissing you. ”

  “That’s how I feel, too,” I said. “We should go get milkshakes before I kiss you again, and then we’ll both get carried away. ”

  She grinned at me, equal parts shy, joyful, and frustrated. I knew exactly how she felt. We were in unexplored territory for both of us. We didn’t know what we were doing, just that we liked it. We knew sort of where it would go eventually if we didn’t stop it, and that was a big, scary line in the sand that I know I’d thought about, daydreamed about, but never imagined would be a worry this soon. A worry? That wasn’t the right word. I knew I wanted it, of course I did, but it was scary. I drove us to Big Boy for milkshakes, lost in thought. Usually I felt a lot older than my sixteen years, and I knew Becca felt the same way. But in that moment, wondering about how to handle a physical relationship with Becca, I suddenly felt very young and immature indeed.

  I had her home at five minutes to eleven.

  SIX: Lines in the Sand

  Becca

  December

  Father had loosened up a bit with me since October. Ben had straightened up a bit, started going to the local community college and seemed to be getting in less trouble. He wasn’t on meds like he should be, but his mood swings seemed to be more in control, which meant less tension in the house for everyone. Jason had started coming over after practice, and we’d study in my room together, as often as not in silence except for music. We both had expectations to manage, but as long as we kept my door ope
n, Father seemed not to mind Jason being over. For Jason, I knew it was a huge relief to not have to go home until late. He never spoke of his father again, and if he was still getting hit, he never showed it. He’d wince at times when I hugged him, but he wouldn’t let me see his torso, and he always claimed it was from football. That excuse worked less well after football season had ended, but I recognized his silent plea for me to let it go, so I did.

  After we’d finished our homework, my parents would call us down for dinner. Mom seemed to see something in Jason, as if he needed mothering, and she always made sure he ate with us. She never discussed it with me, but I recognized it. For his part, Jason was always thankful, always respectful, and never took dinner with my family for granted. He always insisted on helping clear the table and did the dishes with me most nights. That impressed the hell out of Father, for some reason.

  Then, after homework and after dinner, we’d hop in Jason’s truck and cruise the roads, sometimes just driving, other times going to the hill, and there we’d kiss until we reached that line in the sand where we both knew we had to stop. For me, that line was when my hands started to roam, when I began to need his hands on my skin, closer and closer. When I felt that need, I’d pull away, and Jason would let me. Sometimes he’d be the one to stop us, but usually it was me.

  I went shopping with Nell for Winter Formal on a Saturday afternoon while Jason and Kyle did the same, and we had plans to meet as a foursome for a double date after shopping. We shared a changing room and stuffed ourselves into gowns, vetoing dress after dress, usually without even bothering to zip up the back.

  Nell was the first one to bring up the subject of our boyfriends, thankfully, since I’d been trying to work out a way to ask my questions. “So you and Jason have been dating for what, three months?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Since September. October was when it became official or whatever. ”

  She gave me sly grin, her strawberry blonde hair cascading in front of her face as she bent to step into a forest-green sheath dress. “So…how far have you and Jason gone?”

  “How far?” I pretended not to know what she meant.

  She smacked me on the shoulder. “You know what I mean. I’ve seen you kissing in his truck after school. So spill. How far have you gone?”

  “Like, in terms of bases?” I asked.

  Nell snorted, a surprisingly ungraceful sound from her. “Ohmigod, Becca, that’s such a stupid way to measure it. Just tell me. ”

  I shrugged. “We just kiss. That’s all. We’ve…” I trailed off as I squirmed into a strapless blue dress with a scoop neck, but the squirm was as much discomfort with the conversation as it was to fit myself into the tight dress. “We’ve t-t-touched each other a little. Over our clothes. But that’s where we’ve stopped. ”

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  “So far. ” Nell tugged the top of the bodice of my dress up, and then zipped it for me as I stuffed my br**sts further down. “Has he touched your boobs? Bare, I mean?”