by Amy Sparling
Deadbeat
Amy Sparling
(2012)
* * *
Rating: ****
When seventeen-year-old Jeremy’s girlfriend agrees to do the deed, life can't possibly get better. And then the condom breaks.
He loves Elisa as much as a popular teenage athlete can love a girl, but he doesn't want to be a dad. Her parents want a marriage - his parents want an abortion, and Elisa and Jeremy's once-perfect relationship has been reduced to fights and drama.
With a college scholarship on the line and the whole high school mocking him, Jeremy makes a decision that may haunt him forever.
About the Author
Amy Sparling is a Texas native with a passion for young adult literature. In her free time she participates in semi-professional ghost hunting excursions, attends nerd conventions and watches entirely too much Fullmetal Alchemist. She's studying to become a high school teacher and lives near the beach with her daughter and two cats.
Deadbeat
Amy Sparling
Copyright © 2012 Amy Sparling
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First edition March 2012
Chapter 1
"Why do you kiss me like this if you're not going to have sex with me?" I ask, exhausted of the same making out after school routine. Elisa's eyes flicker and she looks away, ashamed.
Dammit.
I guess I shouldn't have said it like that, but it's too late now. I didn't mean to hurt her feelings, but it's just so damn frustrating. We make out every day until her Mom gets home, but that's just it. I'm so sick of second base. When will she let me get to third? Or at the very least – short stop.
"I'm sorry," she mumbles. Our legs and arms intertwine as we lay on the futon in her bedroom. She's lying on the inside, up against the corner. I lay on the outside, one arm under her head and the other on her hip. Her cat whines and scratches from outside her door. We've long since banned him from our time together, but he never gets the hint to go away. Elisa thinks it's mean to keep him out there but I think it's awkward to make out with a cat purring nearby, watching our every move. It's all sorts of wrong.
Of course the meowing and scratching on the door doesn't make it much better. I take Elisa's chin and force her to look at me. She gives me one of those smiles that look like a frown.
"You're mad at me," she whispers. I kiss her forehead because she likes that kind of thing; pull her to me even though we are already touching as much as psychically possible. "Lis, I told you we don't have to do it until you're ready."
She grips my arm tighter. "But you're mad, I can tell." I shake my head. "No, I'm not mad. We just can't make out this intensely anymore." I adjust myself through my jeans so she will get the hint.
"You're gross!" she says, pushing me away.
"It's not my fault, babe."
We sit up in an effort to cool ourselves off. I grab the remote off her nightstand and turn on her TV. A basketball game is on, so I flip to the sports channel to clear my mind of sex. She groans because she hates sports. She hates them so much that she hasn't even gone to my last three home games. I guess after six months of dating you get comfortable enough to quit making sacrifices for each other.
Of course, God forbid she gets comfortable enough to sleep with me. Ugh. I shake the thought from my mind and focus on the game. The Rockets are leading by thirty points, which kicks ass.
I throw my arm around her and kiss her hair. It smells like coconut. Her arms are crossed and she's staring out the window, either in a daze or deep in thought – I can never tell. But just in case she's sitting here steaming about me watching sports, I put the remote in her lap. "You can pick something to watch," I say with an innocent smile that means please don't be pissed at me.
She takes it and flips through the channel guide, pausing on each individual channel listing, even the stupid ones. She's definitely lost in thought.
"What's the deal?" I ask, chuckling and nudging to her arm. She shrugs, still not looking at me. I hate when she does this. The whole "get quiet, don't talk to me and force me to pry whatever stupid and trivial thing she's harboring over out of her" thing. "If you're going to act upset and not tell me why then I'm leaving," I say, moving to stand up. I don't actually stand because this fake threat works every time.
"No!" She grabs my arm. "Don't leave, please." Yep, works every time.
"Why are you suddenly sad?" I ask. "We just made out – you should be stoked." I pop my collar even though I'm just wearing a T-shirt. "I know I'm stoked."
Usually she laughs when I do stupid shit like that, but this time she doesn't. She just looks down at the buttons on the remote. The highlights in her hair have grown out an inch already and I wonder if it's really been that long since her birthday when I paid for the dye job. Grabbing her hand, I lift it to my lips and start kissing her head repeatedly like some kind of crazy kissing monster. Eventually, it gets a laugh out of her.
She pushes me away, fixes her now messy hair, and frowns. "I just feel really bad that you want sex so much and I keep denying you." Her bottom lip curls out, her little force of habit that always makes me feel bad.
I don't want a deep-ass emotional talk right now.
"Well then stop denying me," I say, making this exaggerated wink so she knows I'm kidding and won't tear into me for being insensitive. She cracks a tiny smile and I continue, "Look babe, it's not a big deal." Actually, it is a big deal because I'm the only guy on the team who's still a virgin but I lie anyway. "Whenever you're ready for sex, just tell me. But until then, it's fine."
"Really?" she asks, settling on a cooking show.
"Really."
We watch the Food Network until her mom gets home with a pizza. Her mom is kind of religious and doesn't allow us in Elisa's room alone. We end up spending a fun-filled family evening in the living room with her annoying little preteen sister. Sometimes I wonder why I put up with these things. But then her drunk dad – who everyone pretends isn't really a drunk – stumbles and falls flat on his face, making the afternoon worthwhile after all.
I'm expected to leave exactly at nine. When the dreaded time comes, Elisa and I stand in the doorway under the porch light in what turns into a ten-minute goodbye. Crickets chirp and cars zoom down her busy road. We hold each other and make out standing up, a fun little routine we do every time I visit her.
The little seductress bites my lip and I shudder, a tingle going from my lips down through my toes. I run my fingers under the back of her shirt, up her spine and bring them forward to just under her breast. She pulls me closer, tighter, to her body. I freeze, unable to move for fear of losing control and ripping off her clothes right here on the stone entryway to her house.
"I wish you didn't have to go," she whispers, since our faces are incredibly close.
"Me too, baby," I say. It's a strain to speak under all the built up sexual tension in my body.
We break loose from each other and I literally shake myself a bit to bring me back to reality. She looks so hot in the shallow glow streaming down through the dusty porch light. I lean down, kiss her forehead and tell her goodbye.
"Wait," she says a few seconds later. I stop walking and turn back to her. She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip.
"What is it?" I ask.
"This Friday," she says.
"What about it?"
She bites her lip and in the moonlight I can see her blush. "I'm ready."
Chapter 2
Friday. Seventy-two hours have never felt so far away. Mrs. Hernandez fills the whiteboa
rd with rules for diagramming sentences. Unlike all the other confused faces in the room, I actually paid attention when they taught us this shit last year, so I don't take any notes.
English is the only class I have with Elisa. We used to sit next to each other and it was the best part of my day. But ever since Mrs. Hernandez got fed up with us passing notes, she moved me way across the room. Now all I can see of my girlfriend is the sleeve of her hoody, pulled up over the hand that's resting on the back of her head.
She wasn't taking notes either – that's my girl. We are too smart for this place, and now I am seriously considering graduating a year early like she is planning to do. I stare at the back of her head, wishing she would look over at me. She doesn't move and may be sleeping for all I know. I wonder if she's thinking about Friday like I am.
Thinking about it is an understatement. Ever since last night, my entire being has been focused around this Friday. I didn't sleep more than five minutes at a time last night. And now, in the daytime I couldn't go more than five minutes without daydreaming about it. I kept going through cycles of giddy excitement that I was about to become a man. What's even better is that I'll lose my virginity to my first love. And it's only senior year - which solidifies the fact that I wouldn't have to go to college a loser. Of course, after the cycle of excitement recedes, a wave of fear and performance anxiety clouds my thoughts. It's a shitty way to snap back to reality. But at least we were both virgins. If our first time was bad, we wouldn't really know the difference.
Elisa yawns and changes positions at her desk. Now she rests her head on her other hand and looks at me. I wink when our eyes meet. She glances at the teacher who is still lecturing about God knows what, and then she puts a finger gun to her head. I smile. She pulls the thumb-trigger. Our eyes stay focused on each other and for a moment, no one else in the room exists. It's just us.
She flushes pink and looks down at her closed textbook. I wonder if we are thinking the same thing.
When I get home from school, my brother David's truck is in the driveway. Ever since he bought a house out of town, I haven't seen him much. This is great timing because Elisa has to baby-sit tonight so I wouldn't have seen her anyhow. I park in the grass so he can get out of the driveway later, and go inside eager for an afternoon of guy stuff to calm my raging libido.
My brother is sprawled out on the couch like he still lives here even though he moved out a year ago. Mom is busy in the kitchen cooking what smells like Italian food. She's not making a fancy dinner for my brother's visit. She just cooks fancy dinners every night. Dad works, Mom cooks, that's how my family does it. Some women like Elisa, thrive on independence and equality but I'm pretty sure my mother wouldn't have life any other way.
Mom takes her homemade garlic cheesy bread out of the oven and my mouth waters. Dad better get home soon so we can eat.
I join my brother on the couch, and punch him on the arm. "Hey, David."
"Sup, Germ," he says, calling me the stupid nickname he invented that has followed me throughout my life.
"What are you doing in town?" I ask.
"Mom didn't tell you?" he asks. I shake my head. "Duuude, I can't believe she didn't tell you. You remember Tamara Stone from down the street?" He's smiling from ear to ear now, completely forgetting about the game he was watching on TV.
"Yeah, what about her?" I definitely remember Tamara. She was hot as hell, the girl I used to dream about when we were growing up. Too bad she was David's age, not mine. She had gone off to college but came back home after graduating because she couldn't find a job. At least, that's what Mom had told me. I have never actually talked to Tamara.
David's grin is so blissful it's becoming annoying to look at him. Spit it out already, man.
"I started talking to her on Facebook," he says. "And we really hit it off. Turns out she's not as stuck up as she was in high school and of course, she likes the fact that I own a house and everything. We have a date tonight." He smacks his lips in excitement. For my brother, this is a huge deal. He was a science nerd in high school and hardly ever had girlfriends. After college, he started lifting weights and got a good paying job and now women are going after him like horny rabbits.
"I'm proud of you, man." We fist-bump and watch the game until Dad gets home.
Dinner is ridiculously delicious. And in a weird way, it reminds me of sex. Not that I have any creepy fetishes or anything. I mean at least I don't think I do. Mom made chicken parmesan for dinner tonight. It is the same meal she cooked eight months ago on the first night I brought Elisa home to meet my family. So with every bite, I am reminded of Elisa. And when I think of Elisa and I think of how we are finally going to have sex.
It is the best meal I have ever eaten.
After dinner, David uses my bathroom to primp himself for his date. I think about asking him for some sex tips but then wonder if his sex life is something worth bragging about. He's still a nerd at heart, after all. But still, no matter how little his experience may be, he has to have more knowledge than I do.
I lean against the bathroom doorframe, watching him spray himself with my new can of Axe and fluff his hair with his fingers. He should have done all of this at his house. "Think you're gonna score with her tonight?" I ask.
"Shit, I doubt it." He smirks at me from the mirror. Fluffs his hair some more.
"Speaking of scoring," I say. "Do you have any tips for me? Sex type stuff?" My stomach flips over and suddenly its way more awkward asking him about sex than I had originally imagined.
"Sex tips?" he asks all casual-like as if we talk about this every day.
"Yeah, you know – for beginners."
"Are you still dating Elisa?" he asks. I nod.
"And y'all haven't done it yet? Shit." He pulls open my bathroom drawer where I keep Tic Tacs and gum, takes a piece and crams it in his mouth.
"Shut up," I whine. "We're doing it soon, so no need to rag on me."
"Sweet." His phone beeps. He takes it out of his pocket and reads a text message. The enamored look on his face tells me it's probably from Tamara. He punches in a quick reply and walks past me into the hallway. Turning back, he says, "I don't have any tips for you, Germ. Except-uh, the obvious one." Then he leans in and whispers so as not to be overheard by our parents, "Wear protection."
With a wink, he leaves me standing in the hallway, my back against the wall. Quietly, I bash my head against the wall. Dammit. I could punch something. Condoms? How had I forgotten I'd need condoms?
Chapter 3
There is no way in hell I am going to buy a box of condoms. This is an incredibly small town and the chances are too high that I would run into a little old lady from church, or one of my nosy cousins who would rat me out in a heartbeat just to become Grandma's favorite. I lay in bed, face smashed into my pillow. And even though I can't stand lying this way, breathing hot air through the fabric, I have to focus. I try to think of a plan.
My brother could have been a resource, but he had said he wasn't coming back tonight and wouldn't be in town until Saturday – a day too late for my big night with Elisa. I thought about texting him on his date and asking him to drop off one for me later tonight. But the more I consider it, the more I realize he probably wouldn't save my ass like that. He'd want to laugh and see me suffer the walk of shame to the cash register to buy my own. David was no longer an option then.
I roll over and stare at the ceiling, arms crossed behind my head. It's only nine-thirty – way too early for bed – but I have nothing better to do but lay here. Elisa's overprotective mom doesn't allow her to get phone calls after nine, so that's out.
I take off my shirt and pajama pants, and crawl back under the sheets in my boxers. I'm not tired, but all I can think about is sex and having a perma-hard-on is not something I'm prepared to deal with all night. Turning on my TV, I lower the volume so it's just a blur of noise that will lull me to sleep. Closing my eyes, I drift off a few minutes later. Every muscle is relaxed, my hard-on is gone and I
'm floating in a peaceful half-sleep, half-conscious state.
And then I jolt awake. My heart's beating so fast it may explode through my chest.
I need a condom. How am I going to get one? Think, Jeremy. Mom and Dad might have condoms tucked away in a sock drawer or something, but the sheer grossness factor of that is enough to ensure that I never go sneaking around in their room. Mentally, I make a list of the few close friends I have, hoping to think of someone I can ask for one. I nix the virgins, guys I know aren't having sex, and the two friends I have who are lucky enough to have girlfriends on birth control pills. That leaves Blake. He's one of the only seniors who can grow a full beard and he's with a different girl every weekend. I bet he's loaded with condoms. I'll ask him tomorrow. Closing my eyes, thinking of Elisa's beautiful smile, and sleep finally comes.
Blake isn't in school on Wednesday. Or Thursday. At lunch, I sit next to Elisa like I always do, only today I'm not hungry. I only have a day left to find a condom or be forced to physically walk into a store and buy some. I honestly don't think I am brave enough to do that. My fingers drum nervously around my Coke can. Elisa watches me drumming the can. Then her eyes flicker to my foot tapping on the floor. "You okay?" she asks. I quit the tapping and drumming. With a grin meant to fake her out, I say, "Of course, love." She raises an eyebrow. "Then why aren't you eating?"
"Stomach cramps," I say, and it comes out more like a question because even I don't believe it. I'm a shitty liar. Elisa scoots her chair closer to mine, and rests her chin on my shoulder. She glances around. Lunch table clique is absorbed in their own conversations and not watching us. She whispers, "Is this about tomorrow? Are you nervous?"