Echoes of Us

by S. H. Timmins

  YES! That’s not fair, though. I can’t expect him to have been saving himself for me when we hadn’t seen in each other in years and had no way of knowing if we ever would. I guess this is the point where I lay my insecurity on the table. “Your past doesn’t matter, no. It wouldn’t bother me so much if I wasn’t so inexperienced, I guess. If we’re dating, you’ll expect things to happen, and I don’t know how I will compare to what you’re used to.” No going back now.

  “Compare to what? Nothing and no one compares to you. It’s always been you. No matter who I was with, you’ve always been the one I dreamed of. I don’t have any expectations and I will not pressure you. As long as you’re mine, that’s all that matters to me and all I need.” His voice is gentle, and I hear the sincerity in it. I chance a look over at him as his eyes flick to mine from the road, filled with so much honesty and emotion.

  I feel like a bitch for making this such an issue. He’s right, it shouldn’t matter. “I’m yours, Cruz,” I tell him.

  “I hate asking this, but is it because you’ve never been with a guy?” His cheeks turn red and he dutifully keeps his eyes on the road.

  I feel my own cheeks heat in embarrassment. “Does that bother you?”

  “What? No!” His voice is high and loud. He clears his throat and lowers his voice to normal. “It doesn’t bother me. In fact, I like the idea of being your first in so many ways.” He gives me a crooked smile, but I can’t smile back. His words remind me too much of someone else who wants to claim my body first.

  Why is sleeping with a virgin like a trophy for men? It’s a useless piece of skin and adds nothing to the experience for anyone. It’s not something to be claimed or given away. I’ll be damned if anyone has that power over me.

  I look back out the window and hope it signals this conversation is over.

  Cruz is a smart guy and drives the rest of the way in silence.

  We arrive at his house and I look over at him with a raised eyebrow. “You wanted to show me your house again?”

  He chuckles. “No, smartass, I want to show you something inside the house.”

  The last time I was here, there were ugly truths and heartbreak. I don’t want it to color the way I view his home, so I really hope what he plans to show me will erase some of those negative feelings.

  We both make our way up to his front stairs and he opens the door with a key he digs out of his backpack. He holds it open for me like he did last time, and I enter first. It’s still the same clean but spartan house from when I was here before. Cruz dumps his backpack on the couch, then takes my hand and pulls me to the stairs that lead to the second floor. A case of nerves hit my stomach as his destination becomes clear.

  When we reach the top landing, he turns to the first door on the right and opens it, pulling me inside with him. Blue walls with grey trim greet me, and a single bed covered in a comforter of matching shades resting against the far wall. A small desk and dresser are the only other pieces of furniture in the room. It’s a small room but it suits him. Cruz never needed much to make him happy, and it seems that hasn’t changed. There’s a corkboard above the bed and my eyes are drawn there. I gasp and drop his hand, moving closer for a better view.

  Pictures from our childhood dominate the board, but there are several sketches among them, which is where my eyes focus - intricately drawn pictures on pieces of paper, pinned carefully over the surface. There’s one of our old fort that makes me smile and one of the back porch of my grandma’s old house. There are other sketches too, but the one I can’t stop staring at is a perfect replica of my eyes. I reach out a trembling finger and trace the image.

  Cruz approaches me and says, “Most of those were in a sketchbook I keep under my bed. I did this the other day after I came back from our time by the lake. I spent an embarrassing amount of time over the years drawing parts of your face and how I imagined them changing as you got older. It was a form of therapy for me when I was missing you and became a bit of an obsession. I hope you’re not upset. I wanted you to know that I never stopped thinking of you and what we meant to each other.”

  “Cruz, these are amazing. I remember you enjoyed drawing, but this is art. You’re incredibly talented. You captured my eyes perfectly.” I’m overwhelmed by his gesture and awed by his talent.

  “Actually, the eyes I did the night I got home from the party. I never did them justice before. Your eyes are the feature I remember the clearest but were the hardest for me to draw as I pictured them changing in my mind. The sketches of your grammy’s house and the fort, I did from pictures Dad had. I have a lot of pictures of us as kids, but I wanted something of us as we are now. There’s the one I wanted to show you when I brought you here. Can I show it to you?” He sounds so unsure of himself; I can’t help but turn and give him the smile he deserves.

  He bends down and reaches under his bed, standing back up with a worn sketchbook in his hand. He sits on the bed and pats the spot beside him. Careful not to seem too eager, I keep a sliver of space between us and wait patiently for him to show me. He flips through the book and I see several pages of beautiful images pass by in a blur, and I recognize myself in a few. It causes a wild fluttering in my chest and a warming sensation in my stomach. He stops at the last page, and my hand flies to my mouth. It’s an image of two hands clasped together over a set of railroad tracks.

  Our tracks. Our hands. Us.

  A sob tries to escape me, but I wrestle it back down. I lower my hand and look at Cruz with wide, wet eyes. He’s watching me expectantly and I need to tell him how much I love this drawing. “It’s beautiful. It’s so real. I can picture us there just like that.”

  He seems comforted by my reaction and his shoulders relax. “That’s a representation of our past, present, and future. We’ve lived on both sides of those tracks but belong to neither. Our future can lead us anywhere, just like those tracks, but I want us to follow it together. That’s how I see us, Jo; leaving our past behind and moving toward our future. Have you thought about where you want to go after you graduate?”

  As far away as I can get. “I haven’t applied anywhere yet, but I know I want to move away from here. You?”

  “Dad doesn’t want to hold me back and said I should apply wherever I want. He’d like for me to use my education to secure a better career path than him. He suggested business or economics, but that’s not what I want.” He looks down at his beloved sketchbook and I don’t have to guess at what he really wants. “I want to create and do something in the arts. There’s a huge demand for graphic artists and media related arts. I prefer to feel a pencil or charcoal in my fingers, but I can always do that for myself. What do you want? Any ideas what you want to take?”

  Not really, but I should at least sound decisive about something. “I was thinking about journalism or maybe doing freelance writing. I’ve always had a love for writing stories and my English teacher keeps telling me to pursue it. Do you know where you want to attend?” Maybe I can apply to the same one?

  “There’s a college just a few cities over that has a fantastic art department. That way I can still travel back here to see Dad.” He raises his eyebrows at me, waiting for my response.

  I was hoping to move to another state - as far from Victor as I could get. I know the college he’s talking about since it’s the same one Carla has applied to. I don’t want to be that close. “I was thinking about one farther away. I want to have the freedom to be independent and break free from this town.”

  His face falls, and he says, “Oh. I was hoping we could apply to the same school.”

  So was I, but I don’t know if I can remain that close. “Maybe there’s another college you can apply to with me that has a great art program too?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t want to be that far from Dad. I’m all he has now.” He gives me a look filled with such sadness that I feel my heart squeeze in sympathy. What he means is that with my mom gone, his dad has nothing left to hold on to.

  How c
an I be a bitch and try to convince him to leave in light of that? I can’t, so I place my hand on his and lace our fingers together. “He’s lucky to have you.”

  “No, I’m the lucky one. He took a baby that wasn’t his and raised him as his own, never once caring whose blood ran through my veins. It doesn’t matter to him that my sperm donor is a mystery guy and my mother was a raving bitch. I’m his in every way that counts, and he’s spent his life giving me everything. I can’t leave him, Jo.”

  Can I sacrifice my desire to be away from Victor, so I can be with the boy who completes me? Put that way, the decision isn’t that hard. “Then we’ll apply together.”

  His whole face lights up and he tosses the sketchbook off his lap so he can face me completely and hold both my hands. “Really? You’d give up going to a school farther away so we can be together?”

  I release one of his hands and reach up to place it on his cheek. “I’d be giving up nothing and gaining everything.”

  His pupils darken and he licks his lips. “Do you mean that?”

  I lean in closer to his face so I can feel the warmth of his breath against my lips. “I mean it.”

  All he says is, “Jo,” then his lips are on mine and nothing else matters.

  One of his hand threads through my hair and the other lands on my hip. My skin warms and heats where his hand rests. The kiss is gentle and sweet, but I need more. I lean in and press more firmly against his mouth while I nibble at his lower lip with my teeth. He makes a very masculine sound and grasps the back of my head for a deeper kiss and angles our lips for a better seal. My pulse quickens and my body tingles. The hand on my hip grips tighter and flexes against my curves. He’s so much bigger and stronger than me, but I don’t feel threatened by his size or intimidated. No, I feel delicate and feminine. My body tingles and my skin feels hot and tight. Parts of me throb while others ache.

  I’m not a prude. I know my body and what it’s capable of. I might be a virgin, but I know how to get myself off, and how it feels to touch myself in all the places I crave intimate contact. I know the mechanics of sex and have watched enough porn with Steph - while listening to her highly inappropriate commentary - that I know what to expect. Steph has also been kind enough to educate me on all the details of her own experiences. A hooker on her first night on the job couldn’t be better prepared. All I’m lacking is confidence and real-life experience.

  His tongue pushing urgently against mine brings me back to the moment and all my senses are firing again. Cruz lies back on the mattress and I throw my leg over his lap and straddle him with natural ease. His arousal digs against my ass and he moans into my mouth as I adjust my position. I push my hands through his hair and give an experimental wiggle against his abs, feeling my butt rub against his hardness.

  He moans again but breaks his lips away from our heated kiss. “Jo, you don’t have to do this. I’m sorry. I promised you we wouldn’t go fast. I got carried away.”

  “But what if I want to be right here, like this, with you?” I feel confused. Is it not good for him? His dick says it is.

  He shakes his head. “We have lots of time for this. We don’t have to rush anything. We can keep things light for now.”

  Now, I’m embarrassed. “Did I do something wrong?”

  His eyes widen and he chokes out, “God, no! You felt amazing. Too amazing. I want us to take our time and for you to know I’m willing to wait for things to move in this direction.”

  I crawl off his lap and he winces when I brush his crotch too hard when I do. I’m hurt by his refusal. If my v-card wasn’t sitting between us like a third wheel, he wouldn’t have stopped me, and he wouldn’t be acting so chivalrous. I stand from the bed and busy myself with smoothing down my skirt and blouse, so I don’t have to look at him.

  He notices my discomfort, though. One disadvantage of us knowing each other so well. He stands from the bed, discreetly adjusting himself, then leans down and takes my face in his hands. He kisses my lips softly and sighs into my mouth when he’s finished. “You’re worth waiting for. You’re worth everything.”

  My bruised ego is shoved aside by my expanding heart. How can I be upset when he says things like that? This boy knows all the ways to my heart - I handed him the map years ago.

  Crap Hitting Fans and Best Laid Plans

  The weeks fly past after that.

  Cruz and I have become closer as we spend more time together. It’s amazing how much I like the older version just as much as the younger one. More, if I’m being honest with myself. We’ve slipped into a routine where we can be free with each other at school, and no one blinks an eye at us. Tisha has avoided us, but she’s caused no other scenes. Steph and Carla have accepted Cruz into our inner circle and joke around with him. Carla took Dean’s number, and after a few weeks of flirting and texts, they’ve started dating. Dean doesn’t have any hard feelings, and Cruz is able to be in social settings with him now. I don’t think they’ll ever become buddies, but they’re civil, which is good enough for me. Byron has been rather chill about the whole scene with Cruz too - both at school and at home. Plus, true to his word, he hasn’t given Victor any opportunities to be alone with me. He’s been my personal guard dog. I’ve noticed the dangerous looks aimed my way, though. Victor’s aware I’m dating someone, but I’ve kept Cruz’s identity away from the man who would use it against me. I’ve been sure not to have Cruz drop me off or pick me up at the house if I suspect Victor is home, and I’ve only had him over a few times to watch movies on weekends Victor has been out of town. It’s been almost too easy.

  That should have been my clue.

  Cruz is walking me to the door after a date to the movies when I see the Lincoln parked outside the garage. Victor should be up North and not due back for several days. I debate how to get rid of Cruz in a hurry without raising his suspicions when the front door opens in front of us.

  Victor is still dressed in one of his suits, glowering at me, then turns his dark look on Cruz. His eyes slide back to mine and I see the moment he realizes he has the upper hand. He pastes on a charming smile and extends his hand to Cruz. “Forgive me, but I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Jolene’s father, Victor Mason. You must be the boyfriend, but I can’t say I’ve heard Jolene mention your name.”

  Asshole. He’s trying to make Cruz feel like he’s insignificant, or worse, that I’m ashamed to tell my stepfather about him. Cruz, bless him, doesn’t take the bait and smoothly puts his arm around my shoulders while shaking Victor’s hand. “Jolene’s been quiet about you as well. That’s just how she is.”

  Victor’s lips purse at the snub and he releases Cruz’s hand. “It would appear so. Can I invite you inside? Perhaps we can rectify this omission of Jolene’s.”

  I don’t miss the way Victor’s eyes narrow at me. Neither does Cruz because his arm tightens around me as he says to Victor, “There’s nothing to rectify, sir. My name’s Cruz Cameron. Jo and I were friends as kids, but she moved away. Now I’ve found her, I don’t plan on being apart from her again. And yes, I’m the boyfriend.”

  I don’t know whether to hug Cruz for politely putting Victor in his place or tell him to run before the devil gets his due.

  Victor’s nostrils flare slightly, but that’s the only sign of how pissed he is. He gives Cruz a speculative look I don’t like, then asks, “You said your last name’s Cameron? You’re Jake Cameron’s boy?”

  I don’t like this at all. My knees feel weak and I’m not even sure why. He shouldn’t know who Jake is unless he remembers the man my mom was dating when he yanked her away? This can’t be good.

  Cruz stiffens slightly beside me. “That’s correct, sir.”

  Victor glances back at me and I know he’s piecing it all together. “Why don’t you both come in? I need to speak with Jolene for a moment, but you’re more than welcome to wait in the family room. Shall I show you where that is, or are you familiar with my home?”

  Uh oh! He knows Cruz was here when he’s been
away. It’s clear in the way he’s eyeing Cruz for signs of deceit and lies. Cruz politely tells him he can find his way, then he leans over and kisses my cheek before walking past my stepfather with his back straight and his head high, not letting Victor intimidate him.

  I try to slide past Victor behind Cruz, but his hand slashes out, and he grabs my arm. “Not so fast, princess. You’ve been keeping secrets from me. I think it’s time we have a little chat, don’t you?”

  Maybe it’s Cruz’s presence in the house, or I’m borrowing some of his bravado, but I snap back, “You’re one to talk about secrets.”

  Victor’s smile is all teeth and malice. “You’re not even in the same league as me, little girl. Your secrets are laughable compared to mine. Just remember that I’ve built an empire on the ones I harbor. I play to win. Keeping secrets is paramount to making money in my world. One buys the other, and vice versa. You think I didn’t know about you sneaking around with a boy behind my back? Or having him inside my home? You forget who you’re dealing with. I will give you credit for hiding his identity from me, though. You must know more about your mother’s past than I originally thought. A mistake I won’t make again. Now, why don’t we take a walk to my office so I can explain to you what happens next.”