“Derek, I have something to tell you.” I slowly reached for his hand and took it into mine. “I… I…”
Several emotions flooded over me – sadness, love, but fear was the most prominent. I choked back the tears and looked in his eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes stared back at me, waiting for me to continue. Did I even deserve to be with him? He’s so amazing, and I’m so… me.
I dropped his hand and stood with my back facing him. Out of all the emotions I was feeling, regret wasn’t one of them and I didn’t want it to be. I may only get one shot at this, I thought. I have to make it count.
I returned to his side and took his hand in mine once more. “I like you.”
“I mean, like, like you,” I clarified. “I guess I always have.”
This is normally the part in the love story where the girl and the boy experience that epic kiss. The one you wait the entire movie to see, and when it happens you can’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
But I wasn’t ready for it. This time I felt the vomit actually rise up my throat. I rushed out and just barely made it to the toilet in the hallway bathroom. Remnants of old pasta leftovers with decrepit tomato sauce from a cafeteria lunch littered the sides of the bowl. I heaved four more times, totally emptying my stomach.
At the sink, I dared to look in the mirror. My hands shook ever so slightly, but the nausea began to dissipate. I splashed some cool water on my face, brushed my teeth, and ran a comb through my hair, to try to feel normal again. It helped a little.
I closed my eyes. Can’t chicken out now, I thought. Derek Van Der Creek is in my bedroom. Waiting for me. Wanting me.
Perhaps the last part was more wishful thinking, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that he was still there at my house. That made me feel better. I shook off the last remnants of sickness and emerged from the bathroom with a single purpose: To kiss Derek Van Der Creek.
I snuck back into my room and as demurely as I could, positioned myself next to Derek on the bed. His back rested against the headboard, the picture of calm. His perfect lips were slightly parted.
I licked my lips involuntarily, imagining how it would feel to kiss him. What it would taste like. How completely amazing the experience would be.
I bit my lip, hesitant to attempt a kiss. After all, this would be my first kiss. It had to be special.
Music! The perfect love song playing in the background is exactly what this needs. I hopped off the bed and ran over to my desk. My Apple resumed out of sleep mode and I scanned my playlist. Something romantic but not too sappy. There wasn’t a soul on the planet that could mistake me for a girlie girl, so Katy Perry was out. I found a classic I was sure Derek would appreciate: Possum Kingdom by The Toadies. I cranked up the volume and smiled.
With the perfect mood music in place, I was finally ready. I climbed on Derek’s lap, so that his steady gaze focused on me. In his eyes I found an exquisite peace, something so flawless and natural and undisturbed, like a secret garden only I knew about. I leaned in slowly, watching his lips, waiting in delicious anticipation.
Then the familiar chirp of the security alarm sounded, indicating someone entered through the front door. My mother!
I jumped off Derek and flew out of the room, taking care to shut the door behind me.
“Mother,” I said, and took a deep breath before continuing. “What are you doing home so early?”
She stood in the foyer, rummaging through mail. Her gorgeous red curls were pinned back in an elaborate updo. The business suit she wore was a classic style but feminine. It was hard to believe I was her daughter. In fact, most people didn’t believe it. I reasoned I must have gotten the ugly genes from my father’s side. He was gone before I was born and I’d never even seen a picture of him.
“How was your day, my dear?” she asked, a sour expression on her face, as though the pile of junk mail offended her.
“Oh, it…it was fine.” My mother wasn’t very involved in my life and probably wouldn’t care about the boy in my room. But still, it was a conversation I’d rather avoid. “How was your day?”
“Same craziness, every single day. Why can’t people just get along with each other? Play nice?” She said this and yet given her profession, I was fairly certain “playing nice” wasn’t part of the job description. My mother was not only a lawyer, but a divorce lawyer. And a highly sought after divorce lawyer, for her tenaciousness in the courtroom.
“Got a case I need to work on tonight,” she said, finally looking up at me. Her head tilted ever so slightly. “You okay?”
Oh no, do I look as nervous as I feel? “I’m fine,” I answered, with as much confidence as I could muster.
“You have a friend over?” There was a twinge of hope in her voice that I found utterly distasteful.
It was a simple question. Not an accusation or reason to launch into full panic mode. I felt little beads of sweat forming on my brow. How does she know?
Then it came to me - Derek’s car. “Oh you mean the car? Yeah I saw that on my way in. Must be one of the neighbors.”
She half-smiled, clearly disappointed. “Must be.” With the mail properly sorted, she grabbed her laptop bag and headed up the massive staircase, towards her office.
I let out a deep sigh of relief. I was safe.
Practically skipping back to my room, I opened the door and found Derek had slumped over. It must’ve happened when I rushed off, I thought.
I carefully positioned him upright, and taking his head into my hands, I pulled him closer and kissed him. His hair was so soft. Running my fingers through it was the most divine feeling, every bit as delightful as I imagined it would be. I felt so alive, so free and all I wanted was more. Slipping my tongue into his mouth, I imagined him kissing me back.
His tongue was immobile and dry from his lips being parted for so long. But none of that mattered. He was here with me now. And I kissed Derek Van Der Creek!
I rested my forehead against his. I felt a sort of connection between us, something pure and everlasting. So much more than a crush. It was love without fear of rejection. Perfect, docile true love. Something he would never have with Jenn or any of the other bimbos that flocked around him. I gave him immortal youth, in the form of a fruit cocktail with one extra special ingredient.
Derek Van Der Creek is mine. Forever and ever.
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—ABOUT THE AUTHOR—
Kat Stiles is an author and voracious reader of incredible indie fiction. She has a fun blog where she talks about books, horror movies, writing, and anything else she finds interesting. Her debut novel Connected is about teenagers, super powers, first love, and serial killers. Check out her website at www.katstiles.com for more information and to learn all about her twisted little mind.
SECOND CHANCES
Jackson Dean Chase
Life is about losing things. The people you love, the things you cherish. We’re trained not to think about it like that, to always look on the bright side. But what if there isn’t any? What if life is just one long series of disappointments, and we lose more of ourselves each day until there’s nothing left? That’s what my mom told me before she died . . . I admit that’s a pretty morbid way of thinking, so I don’t do it all the time. In fact, I even forget her words every once in a while and let myself experience all the normal things a girl should. That’s when the problems start.
My sophomore year at Mill Haven High hadn’t been great—far from it—so I kind of set up myself up with the idea summer vacation would be better. I’d make an effort, a real effort, to put myself out there. And why not? Without the pressures of school, I ought to be able to have some fun, shouldn’t I? But that was me forgetting Mom’s words again. Wishing life could be different than it is because good times never last. People expect too much, I guess. A
nd worse than that, they expect different things. That’s when things get really messed up, and there are no second chances.
Everything had been pretty normal until the Fourth of July; that’s when I went to the party at Kevin Warren’s house. Crazy Kevin, the party king. His parents were rich and didn’t care what he did, as long as he did it in a big way. Somehow—and maybe it was because I got a little drunk and a lot crazy—I managed to hook up with Mac Green, who was going to be a senior and was already one of the most popular guys in school.
I was pretty, but not very popular. I kept to myself a lot, nose to the books, and a lot of people didn’t get that. Especially not guys. Like a girl who looked like me couldn’t not be into beer pong and going to Lookout Ridge. The Ridge was the main make-out spot for my school. It was a lonely, tree-lined hill five miles outside of town with a spectacular view. Only no one went there for the view. Well, not that one. It was pretty hard to appreciate from the backseat of Mac’s car, which is where I was now.
Somehow, I’d let him talk me into going for a drive, “to watch the fireworks” he said, and a few beers and a few miles later, we were on top of Lookout Ridge and Mac was on top of me. It was a hot summer night full of promise, full of danger. We smelled like sweat, like beer, like animals.
Mac was pressuring me to go all the way, but I told him I wasn’t ready. Not for that. I mean, tonight was our first date, so how could we be sure it was love?
“Oh, it’s love,” Mac whispered. “Trust me.” And the way he was kissing and holding me it seemed real enough.
My own body wanted to believe it. My mind tried every trick it had to convince me Mac really did love me, that there was something honest and special behind those dreamy blue eyes of his, but instead all I could focus on was what might be hiding under his words. Something every girl fears. I stopped his hand from roaming up my thigh. “Look, I want to, Mac. I really do, but I don’t want to rush the way I feel about you . . . about us.”
“It’s not rushing,” Mac said. “Not when you’ve already made me wait this long.”
It had only been a couple hours. How was making Mac wait a few more weeks too long when I’d dated my first boyfriend, Josh Miller, for six months without ever doing it? After all, Josh had been willing to wait, just not forever. The last time I’d turned him down, I’d lost him to Connie Clark. Connie hadn’t let him wait, not even one date. And he’d been stuck like glue to her ever since. But Josh wasn’t Mac, not even close. Mac was a jock, and rich, and hella cute, not some brainy poor guy who could make me laugh. He was out of my league.
So how long was too long?
Maybe there was something wrong with me, not him. Maybe I was being stupid and immature, but I was scared. Scared of losing him if I gave in, scared of losing him if I didn’t. My mother always told me a girl’s first time should be special, and you only have one chance to get it right . . .
Mom had been dead a year now from cancer, and I felt it was dishonoring her memory to give my virginity away if I wasn’t a hundred percent sure it was true love. That was another one of the things she’d drilled into my head before she died. What if Dad found out? It would kill him. He’d already been through so much, how could I do that to him?
I suppose a lot of girls in my situation would have been willing to do it, to make sure they had that hold over Mac, and hope everything would turn out good in the end. But I couldn’t. Not yet. And when I told him—when I had to do more than tell him to get him off me—Mac just looked at me like I was from Mars. Apologizing didn’t help, it only seemed to make him madder.
“Wow,” he said as I adjusted my clothes. “You really blew it! You really did. I mean, what the hell? I wasted my Fourth on you, and this is the thanks I get?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Mac, don’t be like that! I want us to work, I do. I’m just not ready to be with you that way. I need a little more time. Just a little, OK?”
“Any more time and summer will be over,” Mac said. “Maybe you don’t get it because you’re only sixteen, but this is my last summer before graduation. I can’t afford to waste it.”
“Waste it? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means,” he said, “you’re frigid. Guess I should have listened to the rumors.”
My jaw dropped. “Rumors? What rumors?”
“Let’s just say Josh told Connie a few things about you and Connie told some people, and well, the whole school’s saying you’re frigid. That your legs are frozen shut.”
“I’m not frigid! I’m just not ready. There’s a difference, you know.”
Mac shrugged. “Not to me. Not to any guy I know.”
“Well, if I’m so cold, why would you go out with me?”
“Because of the way you acted at Kevin’s party. You seemed plenty ready then. That’s how I figured a guy like me could warm you up. Let’s face it: Josh isn’t God’s gift to women.”
“Oh, and I suppose you are?”
“I never had any complaints.” He got out of the backseat.
I got out on the other side. An owl hooted. It was dark—past eleven in the middle of nowhere. Miles and miles of backroads and thick forest surrounded us. No lights. No civilization. Just the Ridge.
“Look, “ Mac said, “The night’s still young. I got better places to be, so I hope you don’t mind walking home.”
“What? You can’t just leave me here!”
But that’s exactly what he did. He left me standing there on Lookout Ridge, with a five mile walk home down a dirt road. From a few miles away, fireworks lit up the sky, but not enough to see by. I had to use my cellphone screen to light the way, and it was a good thing it had a full charge or I probably would have wandered off a cliff and died.
Part of me wanted to.
I fought back the tears I knew were coming. It was a losing battle, but I held out as long as I could. What made breaking up with Mac even worse was that part of me was relieved it was over, was glad to be alone. That meant I wouldn’t have to go all the way and risk everything and all that meant. Hell, maybe I really was frigid! But at least this way, I’d still have my reputation intact, and like virginity, once a girl loses that, it’s gone forever. No second chances.
The fireworks stopped. I missed the noise, the bursts of frantic color telling me I wasn’t alone. The show in town had been over for almost an hour, so this had to be some rednecks setting them off. Maybe I could find their house and bum a ride back to town. I kept hoping they’d send up some more rockets so I could figure out where their house was, but they must have run out. Now the woods closed in, and with it the silence. But not for long.
Crunch.
Something was moving in the bushes behind me. I whirled and brought my cellphone up to try and catch what it was, but the light didn’t go far. Not into that thick undergrowth. I figured it was an animal and moved on, but then I heard the noise again.
“Hello?” I called. “Is somebody there?” Too late, I realized that was about the stupidest thing I could have done. Like, straight out of a horror movie stupid! A maniac would never answer back, and by the sound of my voice, he’d know for sure I was a teen girl all alone. Just in case he wasn’t sure already. Which he probably was, since he was stalking me.
The bushes stopped moving.
I began walking faster, breathing harder, and at least three different curse words kept popping in and out of my head. Sometimes they were cursing Mac, sometimes me, and sometimes whatever the hell was behind me.
Maybe I should call 911?
The noise came again, crunching louder through the underbrush. Whatever it was, it had decided to keep pace with me. That was enough to get the adrenaline flowing. I ran, but as every girl knows, it’s impossible to run in heels—maybe that’s why men invented them.
I clicked the power button on my phone. The screen went dead. Everything got blindingly dark after that, but I kept going for another thirty seconds or so. If it was a guy back there and not some wild animal, he’d have a
harder time finding me without my cell phone to guide him. I veered off the dirt road into the bushes, losing my purse to a gnarled branch in the process. About ten feet in, I hid behind a tree and pressed my back against it. I began working my shoes off as quickly and quietly as I could.
Whatever was following me was definitely close now. It passed within twenty feet, close enough I could tell it was walking on two legs. That meant it wasn’t an animal. It was a guy, some kind of psycho, but I couldn’t pick out anymore detail than that. No way to identify him in a police lineup. But he hadn’t really done anything yet. Except scare the hell out of me.
Maybe that’s all he wanted.
Yeah, right! You never heard about “serial scarers,” only serial killers. Or rapists. Or both.
Whatever he was, I wasn’t about to give him a chance to do more than freak me out. Not if I could help it. And frankly, after fighting off Mac, I wouldn’t mind kicking this guy’s ass if push came to shove. I clutched one shoe like a weapon. Maybe I could gouge him in the eye with my heel.
My cell was in my other hand. Calling for help now—if I could even get a signal—would only light me up like a Christmas tree. No, I’d have to get out of this on my own. I began to hyperventilate at the thought of being trapped in the woods all night. Just me and the psycho playing cat and mouse.
Control your breathing, I told myself. Slow and easy. Not too loud.
The psycho stopped moving. Had he heard me? I held my breath, but then my heart hammered so loud I knew I couldn’t hold it long. My body was betraying me again. Like in the car with Mac, only this time, it wasn’t just my virginity at stake. It was my life!
I let out a tiny gasp—at least, I hoped it was tiny—and gulped air. That seemed to make my body happy, but my brain was screaming.
The man laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound, more like a ghoulish chuckle. He was doubling back toward me. I couldn’t stay where I was, and I couldn’t move. The forest was four walls of wood and the walls were closing in fast.
That Moment When: An Anthology of Young Adult Fiction Page 57