The Girl

by K Larsen

  “What was that?” I ask.

  Dallas sticks his tongue out as he focuses on a task. “What?” he asks.

  “Um, the Ava thing. Is this a date?” He’s got a tiny tube of superglue out and is using it to secure a quarter to the concrete patio. He stops what he’s doing to look at me.

  “I’d like it to be.” His eyes don’t leave mine. They’re intense and determined.

  I fiddle with my skirt. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” he asks with a laugh.

  “Yes, is that what you want to hear? Yes, oh dreamy Dallas, I would like this to be a date too.”

  “That does make my ego feel much better. I like the ‘oh dreamy’ part a lot.”

  I smack his arm playfully. “Why do you have superglue on you?”

  He shrugs. “Work. I was fixing a part earlier and tucked it in my pocket.”

  “Okay, what are you doing?” The way his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth when he concentrates cracks me up.

  “I’m gluing this quarter to the ground.”

  “I see that. The question is why?” I ask, amused.

  “To drive someone in this household bat shit crazy when they try to pick it up.”

  He caps the superglue, stands up and tucks it back in his pocket.

  “I didn’t really want to be friends in the first place,” he says.

  “You didn’t?” I blink at him, confused.

  He pulls me to my feet. Someone opens the sliding doors and music pours out from the house. The moon shines on the pool water in the most spectacular way. He pulls me nearly flush against him.

  My heart starts beating out of time and my hands begin to shake. I swallow thickly, lust-laden, marveling at the way body chemistry changes in a moment. He leans in closer. I can't breathe, it's like my lungs are stuck. Like my throat forgot its function.

  “Breathe Charlotte,” he whispers, nearly against my mouth. “Give me your lips.”

  A rush of air leaves me. Music blares around us, but the sound of my blood whooshes in my ears. He licks his lips. He’s doing some kind of eye juju, his face mere centimeters from mine. His breath mixing with my own. That cinnamon smell filling my nostrils. My feverish heart wants to escape my rib cage. It tries to beat a hole through the bones as his lips move painfully slowly toward mine. It’s going to happen, my first kiss, with Dallas.

  And just like that we're connected. Four lips. Warm and supple, moving together. No, strike that, it's more of a dance. A slow dance. My heart pounds against my rib cage, dying to get free. A knot low in my belly bursts into flames as his hands tangle in my hair, keeping me sealed to him. It feels magical. Perfect. It makes my knees feel like jelly. He pulls away slowly. I inhale a ragged breath and sway like a pine tree in the wind from a kiss so deep it made me dizzy.

  “Lip gloss?” Dallas asks, after licking his lips. This one is sticky sweet and smells of root beer. I lick my lips too and nod. He leans in and kisses me again. My arms snake around his neck, his around my waist. The entire universe has bowed to my will. That’s how great kissing Dallas feels. Everything tightens. Instinct has me clawing at him, trying to wrap myself around him, like a boa constrictor, to claim him, to keep this thing, this feeling alive and raging.

  He chuckles against my mouth. “Slow down, Charlotte, I’m not going anywhere.”

  His lips kiss my cheekbones, jawline and neck, and a groan slips from somewhere deep inside me that’s been locked away until this moment.

  His hands begin to wander, and instantly I become self-conscious despite it feeling incredible. I step back, hands up, breathing hard.

  “Yeah,” he says, “we should slow things down.”

  “I’m a virgin. Actually, I’m an everything virgin.” My hands cover my mouth in horror. “Oh my God, why am I saying all this?”

  For a moment Dallas looks shocked, but it quickly shifts to amusement.

  “Even the kiss?” he asks, sitting us on a lounge chair together.

  I nod. And blush, I think my face must look the same shade as the plastic cup on the ground next to me.

  “I’m fucking honored. Was it good? I mean, we can’t give you a do-over on the first, first kiss but if you have any complaints, I can try again to make it better for you.”

  “Oh my God, shut up,” I cry out, and bury my face in his chest.

  “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “It was fabulous,” I say into his shirt. He rests his chin on the top of my head and leans us backward.

  “The stars are gorgeous tonight, you should really enjoy them,” he says, while running his fingers through my hair.

  “I think I need a stiff drink.”

  Dallas’s chest heaves with laughter but he manages to hand me my cup, of which, I drain the contents.

  “You’re beautiful, Charlotte. You have no reason to be embarrassed or insecure. Everyone has to have a first kiss.”

  Dallas hands me his cup and tells me to enjoy it. So I do. Everything about the night is epic. I keep fingering my lips in awe of what they just experienced.

  “Let’s get out of here. Just get in a car and leave.”

  “And do what?” I ask. I drink more.

  "We'll stagger back to the car after midnight. We’ll go to the beach. Window shop through little downtown main streets."

  “No curfews.”

  “No homework,” I sigh.

  “We’ll only eat gas station variety foods.” Dallas pushes a hair from my cheek behind my ear.

  Grinning I shift so I’m on my side to see his face. "Sleep arm-in-arm in the backseat."

  “Sing along to every song on the radio,” he proclaims.

  “Skinny dip in the ocean,” I laugh out.

  “Sleep under the stars.” He makes a goofy face at me.

  “Be alive and free!” I shout into the night air.

  “We’ll get tattoos!” At that, I wince, which makes Dallas laugh hard.

  “There’s only one catch,” I say, “neither of us has a car.”

  Dallas gives me a mischievous grin. “My life has reached its pinnacle, Ray’s letting me fix up an old beater for myself.”

  “Damn, don’t screw it up,” I laugh.

  “We could you know, we could really have an adventure.”

  “It is an epic daydream,” I say, and stare at the bottom of my empty cup. My eyes cross and I feel like I’m moving side to side slightly. Is this being drunk?

  “I’m thirsty.” The words come out bold like a statement.

  “I think it’s time for water. Let me get some.” He takes my cup, kisses my forehead and grins at me. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “Okay!”

  He shoots me a look like he knows something that I don’t. Like he’s been buzzed before or something.

  “Under no circumstance are you allowed to leave that chair.”

  “Aye, aye Captain.” I salute him.

  “I liked ‘oh dreamy’ better,” he shouts over his shoulder as he heads in.

  I lean back in the lounge and stare at the sky. It’s a clear night. The stars remind me of the mountain. Of him. I sit up, my head a little fuzzy, and realize I have to pee. Badly. Dallas told me not to leave the chair and for some reason I feel like I have to obey. I've had too many cups of this wine I can't pronounce. This school is full of super-rich kids with nothing to do. Joyrides in Daddy's Mercedes. Too many white lies and white lines. Nothing but fake people. The help doesn't care. They just walk by, heads down. Parents aren't around to supervise. It's chaos. All I know is that Dallas Baribeau kissed me. I knew I was a goner when his eyes locked with mine right before he kissed me. Like a match to gasoline, we were an explosion waiting to happen. My cheeks ache from smiling so hard. Nothing can ruin this moment. Nothing. I look around for him, but he’s nowhere in sight. I grab the cushion from the lounge chair, hug it to me and head for the bathroom. He said don’t leave my spot, but he can’t be mad if I take my spot with me, right?

  Relieving my bladder never fel
t so good. I’m still hugging the lounge chair cushion as I twist my way through more people than actually go to our school. I’m getting funny looks as I go. Usually people don’t bother looking my way at all. An uncomfortable awareness takes root in my belly until I realize it’s the cushion, and a small giggle bubbles up and out of me at what a moron I must look like. I notice my shoe is untied once I clear the sliding doors to the pool, and stop to tie it.

  "Let me break this down for you. If you wanna be influential here, you need to be ruthless," Mike Badger spits out. I crane my neck to see who he’s talking to.

  "Let me break this down for you. Nobody cares about you. You're not influential. You're popular; there's a difference," Dallas says. He’s holding two cups halfway between me and where he left me.

  “Dude, chicks are into you. If you want to capitalize on that, you need to ditch that broken bitch. She’s dead weight.”

  My stomach plummets, making me feel queasy. Dallas squeezes one of the cups so hard it cracks and folds in on itself in his hand. Mike throws his hands in the air and backs up a step.

  “If you’re into damaged by all means, proceed, but I’m telling you she’s a lost cause.”

  I stand up, lounge cushion still clutched to me. Dallas’s head snaps toward me. Mike’s gaze follows suit. Tears are already streaming down my face as I drop the cushion. I tell him not to follow me, and run through the house out the front door with my shoe still untied.

  I run all the way to Deb’s, a twenty-four-hour diner, straight into the bathroom, and I cry.

  Dallas busts through the women’s bathroom door and corners me, chest heaving, sweat beading along his forehead.

  “Go away,” I cry out, and cover my face with my hands.

  “Mike’s a dick.”

  “It doesn’t make him wrong,” I say, an air of hysteria in my voice.

  "Dammit Charlotte, you were made to shine under the stars. Don’t you get that? Everyone sees it. They’re all jealous. Of you. Mike wants you for himself and Ava has been flirting with me all year. Obviously that was just a ploy to rile us. So they could get what they want."

  “He’s right though,” I sob.

  “He’s not. And it’s high school. And I’m done in a week. What do I care about my high school reputation at this point? I’m never going to see any of them again. Charlotte,” he coos. He crouches down and lifts my chin with his index finger until we’re looking into each other’s eyes. “You’re the one I want. Fuck the rest of them.”

  Sniffling, I crane my head forward to kiss him, but he moves his head away.

  “You’re drunk.” His statement offends me, but only because he’s right and I don’t like being wrong.

  “So?”

  “So, it doesn’t feel right with you being drunk and upset.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and pout. Dallas laughs.

  “Come on, Princess, let’s get some coffee and dessert. I can’t bring you home like this.” He sticks his hand out, which I take, and helps me to my feet.

  I catch the porch light flickering on and off from the corner of my eye. Dallas does too as he pulls his lips away from mine. His arms are wrapped around me. The weight of them, the feel of them, makes my heart race and my cheeks flush.

  “I think that’s our cue.” His voice a deep rasp. I rest my forehead on his chest. When he kisses the top of my head, I swear my heart bursts.

  I watch him go. I stand on the porch like a love-sick fool, memorizing the way his body moves when he walks, the casual glances he throws back at me on his way to the car, the self-effacing fist bump he and the steering wheel have when he thinks I can’t see him pulling away.

  Eve is standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, between the kitchen and the living room when I drop my wristlet on the table.

  She looks like she’s up to no good.

  “Just friends, huh?”

  I scrunch up my nose at her. “We were. I swear.”

  “And now?” She grins and uncrosses her arms.

  “Now we’re… more,” I say.

  “Uh huh,” she says curtly. “Lotte and Dallas, sitting in a tree,” she starts singing.

  In the moment, I love Eve and hate her in equal measure.

  9

  Charlotte

  It's Tuesday night and I'm at study group for the chemistry final, but I can't focus. Dallas shows up wearing black jeans and a black tee shirt that shows off his sinew, and I'm left daydreaming about when he kissed me at Mike's party last weekend. Sixteen is a conundrum. I have opinions I want to be heard. I am more than simply flesh and bone, but my strength dissipates whenever I’m near Dallas. Instead of strong, I feel weak-kneed. Instead of confident, I become submissive. Instead of calm and collected, a wildfire burns in my veins. He treats me like he’s beholden to me though I’ve done nothing to earn it. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, things I like.

  He walks right to me and kisses my forehead before pulling out a chair and sitting down. Nothing has ever seemed so easy before. So natural.

  “Almost done?” he asks, and nudges my shoulder. His hand sneaks into mine. I give him a squeeze. I have the impulse to touch my fingers to his neck, to feel the pulse, the blood flowing—the juice that is keeping him alive—but I stopped that tick long ago, and suppress the urge.

  Dallas is taking me to the movie in the park tonight.

  “Yeah. There’s only so much my brain can take in one day.”

  “I’m with you there, babe.”

  I shoot him a pointed look. “Have you studied at all for the final?” my voice rises in frustration.

  He shrugs and says, “Like I said, I don’t see the point in chemistry.”

  I bite my tongue because there isn’t anything new I can say about the topic of his grades and the importance of improving them. Without the necessity of getting into a college, there’s no drive for him to strive for honor roll in high school. He just needs to graduate.

  “I know that look. Don’t worry so much about me.” He pulls my bag from my arms and slings it over his shoulder, ever the gentleman, and escorts me out of the library.

  We’re lying on an old blanket Dallas brought, away from most of the crowd watching Casablanca on a screen strung up between two trees. Well, I’m staring at the sky. The audio is horrible and I can’t get into the movie. Dallas toys with my fingers. His skin grazing mine, moving over my knuckles and fingers in dizzying patterns. I can’t see the stars through the cloud cover tonight but there’s enough of a breeze to watch the clouds move.

  My eyes are heavy and our spot is comfortable. Dallas laughs at something in the movie as a light wind blows over me. He’s got my legs over his lap now, massaging my calves and feet. I close my eyes to just feel.

  “Hey, Charlotte, babe.” My arm hurts. I wish he’d let go of it. I didn’t do anything.

  A sense of hopelessness consumes me. She got away, but I am still here. Without Nora, there is no chance for me now. Holden has not spoken to me in three days. The silence and the cold are unbearable. I have reread my books. Stared for endless hours out the windows and scavenged bites to eat all while he broods and plots and keeps me in the dark. His eyes have vanished and been replaced by black gaping holes that cut through me when they appear.

  “Wake up.” The voice is a stark contrast to the black holes and gaping mouth I see. And the noise. I wiggle. “City, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

  My eyes snap open, my chest heaving wildly. Memory of my dream pulses against me. I clutch his forearm. Dallas pulls me against his chest and whispers that everything is okay. It takes long moments for me to clear the fog from my brain and fully understand where I am.

  “What were you dreaming about?” he asks.

  “I’m with Holden. It’s during the time it was just me and him. No Eve, no Nora.” I choke on the words, take a breath, try again. “It’s winter and we’re both cold and hungry. His fingers press hard into my skin as if they might tunnel through my flesh to meet
each other. I keep my jaw clamped, but a whimper sneaks out anyway. And he yells at me.”

  “What does he say?”

  “He doesn’t. His mouth opens, and there’s a loud noise and then I woke up.”

  “Weird,” he breathes.

  “Yeah.”

  Dallas rubs slow, rhythmic circles on my back. “I have nightmares too.” I feel the warm pluck of connection between his heart and mine. My heart hiccups in my chest. I pull away and crack my neck.

  “About what?” I ask.

  “Mostly about my mom or her shitty boyfriends that liked to drink too much, yell too much and hit too much. But sometimes about things that don’t sound scary.”

  I fix my hair which feels like it’s a rat’s nest, knotted from sleep.

  “How do you mean?” I lay my head on his lap and he gives me a nostalgic smile, looking like he’s stepped out of himself and gone somewhere else.

  “I lived off a jar of peanut butter for two weeks. I had a spoonful for breakfast and a spoonful for dinner.” His voice is low.

  “You dream about that?”

  “No,” he cuts me off. “I dream about forgetting to hide it when I leave for school. Being starving by the time I get home, but when I walk in the door, she’s eating it. She doesn’t talk. She just stares at me, eating spoonful after spoonful of peanut butter, and I know that it’s over. That she understands that without the peanut butter I starve to death.”

  “So, the dream is the suggestion that your mother is killing you—on purpose?” I ask.

  “Honestly, when you’re so hungry that your stomach is a constant knot of pain and cramps, seeing food and not being able to have it is terrifying. It’s torture. She was torturing me. No love. No motherly endearment. A junkie being selfish at the expense of a child.”

  I squeeze his hand. “I’m so sorry you had to live like that.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Dallas shrugs. “Whatever.”

  “What if she comes back for you?” I ask.

  “Who?” He looks down at me.

  “Your mom.”

  “She won’t. She’s probably overdosed in someone’s basement, rotting slowly.”