Contradictions

by Tiffany King

  “Here,” Chris said, handing me the fish he had just won.

  “You don’t want him?” I peered through the glass bowl at the big-eyed goldfish.

  “Are you kidding? Mom would kill me if I brought home another pet. Besides, Baxter would try to eat him.”

  “True story.” Baxter had followed Chris home from school when he was in first grade. With two dogs and a cat already at home, our parents had been adamant that Baxter would have to go. We hung multiple flyers around town, but no one stepped forward to claim the orange marmalade cat with his squished-in face. Mom and Dad finally admitted defeat and agreed to let Baxter stay. I felt like we’d been played when innocent-looking Baxter turned out to be part demon.

  From the beginning, he loved Chris, but seemed to take great pleasure in tormenting the rest of us, including our two dogs. He was a sneaky bastard that would jump out at your feet when you walked by or dive-bomb you from shelves when you least expected it. The other pets in our house didn’t stand a chance with him around. He was always stealing Bailey’s and Troy’s dog beds. Both were too chicken to challenge him, and would instead look at us with sad eyes until we forced Baxter from their beds. With Chris, Baxter was a completely different animal, playing the role of the sweet, innocent, purring kitty that would follow him around. The rest of us agreed that when Baxter died he wouldn’t be chasing birds across golden clouds in kitty heaven. He would be roasting chickens in the fiery pits of hell.

  “Maybe if we’re lucky, Baxter would drown trying to get him out,” I teased. I was sure that cat was Satan incarnate, but he was still part of the family.

  “Not funny,” Chris said, looking appalled. “You just don’t know him like I do,” he added, turning away from me. “Hey, Trent, did you get the new Batman game for Xbox?”

  “The day it came out. I’ve already done the side missions to unlock Robin.”

  I tuned them out as soon as they started talking about different bat suits or something like that. I didn’t speak gamer, so pretty much everything they said went over my head.

  Eventually, my brother and his friends left when a group of girls snagged their attention. A crowd had gathered around the small stage in the middle of the town square where Mayor Fedderman had revealed who he had chosen for his costume this year.

  “OMG. That might be the scariest sight I have ever seen,” I proclaimed as we watched the mayor strutting around the stage, lip-syncing to “Poker Face” by Lady Gaga.

  “Well, he nailed the makeup,” Trent commented. “Is it weird that I’m turned on? I mean, I kinda have a thing for Lady Gaga.”

  “Hey, if that’s what you’re into, I can introduce you to Destiny from my apartment building. I’m sure you two would have a lot in common.”

  “Is she hotter than Mayor Fedderman?”

  “You mean, is he hotter than Mayor Fedderman,” I corrected him.

  “Ooohhh, now I see—I think I’ll stick with you,” Trent answered, nudging my arm with his elbow.

  “Gee, I’m so flattered. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

  “Let’s go,” Trent laughed, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “I better quit now before you start doubting how I feel about you.”

  Trent and I decided to head over to the gym where the annual Halloween dance was being held. “My brother really seems to like you. I didn’t know you two knew each other that well.”

  “He’s a cool kid. I helped him with his Xbox over the summer. He was freaked-out when he thought the drive had crashed, but I got it fixed for him,” he explained as he held the gym door open for me.

  “Of course you did. What can’t you fix? You’ve reached god status if you were able to save his most prized possession.”

  The heat of the gym greeted us as we shed our jackets for the first time that evening. I’d forgotten about my costume until Trent stopped midsentence. “What’s wrong?” I asked, feigning innocence.

  “I’ve been waiting to see this all night,” he said, letting his eyes slide down my frame.

  I was always a bit self-conscious about my body. The costume had me slightly stressed that my hips were too curvy for the low-slung bottoms or that my chest was a little too ample in the skimpy top. The look of desire in his eyes, though, made it clear he was quite pleased with the way the gold outfit fit me. “You saw me in it earlier,” I teased, dragging him toward the dance floor, where a slow song was playing.

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it again,” he answered, sliding his arms around my bare waist and locking them behind the small of my back.

  “That works for me,” I murmured, lacing my arms around his neck. He pulled me closer and I leaned my head into the crook of his shoulder. Our heights were very compatible, almost like they’d been specifically designed for activities that involved closeness. We swayed slowly back and forth to the music. This kind of dancing was foreign to me. I was used to thumping music, urging me to dance harder and faster. If sweat wasn’t dripping off me, it wasn’t dancing. That was my motto up until now.

  Even when the music changed and everyone around us moved to the loud rhythmic beat, we remained in each other’s arms, oblivious to everyone but ourselves. We were in our own separate bubble.

  19.

  The next day, Trent and I spent the entire time holed up in my parents’ basement watching all the Star Wars movies back-to-back. Being in a dark basement with only the light of the TV seemed like the perfect excuse for us to pick up from where we’d left off in the forest the night before.

  Unfortunately, my family derailed my plans. Watching movies snuggled together under a throw blanket wasn’t nearly as fun since we were chaperoned pretty much the entire day. It was like they were taking turns babysitting us, which made copping a feel or stealing a kiss nearly impossible. I tried glaring at Chris when he joined us, but he ignored me and made himself comfortable on the other half of the sectional. Trent watched each movie with a boyish enthusiasm, like it was the first time he’d ever seen them. I came to the conclusion that I was the only horndog in the room. We paused long enough to eat dinner with Mom and Dad before heading back downstairs to continue our marathon. Much to my dismay, Chris followed us back downstairs. I couldn’t help wondering if this was part of the revenge he’d threatened the night before. Eventually, I gave up hope of being alone with Trent and settled in to watching the movies.

  Somewhere during the fifth movie, Chris headed up to his room to go to bed, finally leaving Trent and me alone. Too bad I was close to dozing off with my head on Trent’s shoulder. Fooling around was the furthest thing from my mind until I felt his hand, which had been sitting on the sofa between us, move slowly to my knee. The simple gesture was enough to wake me completely, like I’d been zapped by a Taser.

  I waited with bated breath for him to continue, but his hand remained stuck to my knee with no promise of movement. I wanted to reach under the blanket and guide it up my thigh, but I decided to let him take the lead this time. After several agonizing minutes, his hand slowly began to caress my knee. Every minute or so, his fingers would drift a fraction up my leg. My head was still on his shoulder, but my breath was coming in short gasps. Not since I was a teenager had a simple hand on my leg felt so enticing. I couldn’t remember a time I’d been so turned on, and he wasn’t even touching one of the important spots.

  I chanced a look up at his face to see that he appeared to be watching the movie as intensely as he had been all day. I would have thought he was unaffected by the moment if not for the hard set of his jaw. Unable to fight temptation, I pressed my lips to the underside of his chin. His fingers gripped my leg, and I watched with satisfaction as he swallowed hard. I ran my tongue lightly along his jawline until my mouth found the lobe of his ear. I gave it a gentle tug with my teeth. This time it was his breathing that became labored. My hand moved to the hem of his shirt, sliding underneath as I continued tickling his ear with my tongue.

  Darth Vader no longer stood a chance. Trent’s e
yes clashed with mine, filled with barely suppressed lust. The dampness between my legs matched my desire as his hand boldly moved to my thigh. I twisted around so I was sprawled across his lap, giving us both full access to explore.

  I lifted his shirt, observing the lean muscles I’d witnessed before when he stood in his bath towel. He watched with fascination as I licked my finger before gently painting his nipple, making it harden instantly. I moved my mouth to his chest, showing each side the proper amount of attention.

  His groan of approval rumbled through his body, encouraging me to continue. I sucked hard on his nipple as his hand tangled in my hair, pulling me closer.

  “Damn, that feels incredible,” he moaned.

  “You can’t be too loud.” I shooshed him. It was hot as hell that he was enjoying himself, but I didn’t want someone walking in before we could finish.

  “Sorry,” he apologized. I sat up from his chest as his hand moved the rest of the way up my thigh. He looked directly into my eyes, holding my stare while he moved his fingers underneath my shorts to the part of me that was practically drenched with need. My hips instinctively lifted slightly, urging him to touch me more.

  My orgasm came out of nowhere, thundering through me like a roller coaster. If we hadn’t been in my parents’ basement, I would have screamed with pleasure. His tongue plunged deeper in my mouth as I came apart in his arms, and he continued to stroke me until I rode out the wave. I shuddered in his arms in a state of shock that I’d come so quickly and with clothes on. I was no stranger to orgasms, but while I dated Jackson, they had been few and far between, and usually took a lot of work to get me there. Jackson was such an asshole, claiming the effort to get me there was too much work.

  Lying in Trent’s arms, I didn’t know if I should be embarrassed or if I should thank him. I knew I wanted to return the favor. Trailing my hand down his chest, I dipped my fingers into the waistband of his jeans. He surprised me by capturing my hand and bringing it up to his mouth. He placed a hot kiss against my palm as I looked up at him, confused.

  “You don’t like that?” For a moment, I thought maybe he wasn’t turned on by what had happened, but shifting slightly, I could feel him pressed hard against my side.

  He chuckled at my words. “Trust me when I tell you that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Then why won’t you let me touch you?” I tugged on my hand so I could finish my exploration.

  “Because, tonight wasn’t about that,” he said, firmly holding my hand. “Tonight was about you.”

  “That doesn’t sound fair. Why can’t it be about both of us?”

  He laced his fingers through mine before dropping a kiss on my knuckles. “Because I’ve been dreaming for years about the moment I finally make you mine. When we do everything, it won’t be in your parents’ basement.”

  I wanted to argue more, but the thumping above our heads reminded me we weren’t alone.

  “Are you sure? I could easily slide under the blanket and . . .”

  He placed a finger against my lips. “Soon we’ll be all alone and I can do everything I’ve always fantasized about.”

  “Hmmmm, so you’re admitting that you’ve had fantasies about me?”

  He looked at me balefully. “I might be ashamed to tell you some of the things I fantasized about with you.”

  “That’s something I’d like to hear sometime,” I purred, as a fresh wave of heat percolated inside me. The idea that he had thought of me intimately was intoxicating.

  “On that note, I better head out,” he said, giving me one last kiss that was filled with promise and made me wish we were anywhere but my parents’ house. I would have liked nothing more than to spend the night wrapped in his arms and making his fantasies a reality.

  After he left, I straightened up the rec room before heading up to my bedroom. I changed into my pajamas, never bothering to turn on the light. This room was as familiar to me as the back of my hand. Crawling into my bed, I reflected on everything that had changed in the last two days. I had fallen for Trent, no doubt about it now. The ache in my heart after he left was proof of that. I had vowed not to get serious with anyone after Jackson. At least not until after I graduated, but somehow Trent had managed to weasel his way into my heart.

  I fell asleep still wanting him. My dreams were filled with vivid pictures of what we would do when we were finally alone.

  I woke the next morning to my own version of a wet dream. Feeling inadequately satisfied from the images that had tantalized me all night, I jumped in the shower, hoping to tamp down some of the heat that was simmering through me.

  The shower seemed to help a little. I was able to focus on something other than sex when I caught the smell of frying bacon and Mom’s famous apple spice pancakes.

  20.

  I found both Mom and Dad in the kitchen after I followed my nose to the source of the intoxicating aroma.

  “Morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?” Mom asked, flipping a row of pancakes on the griddle.

  I flushed slightly. I couldn’t imagine what she would think if she were privy to my dreams. “I did,” I answered. “It’s always kind of nice to sleep in my old room. Plus, it was peaceful without Derek’s snoring,” I added, opening the cabinet to pull out a coffee mug.

  Dad looked up from his Sunday paper. “He’s still staying with you two?”

  I nodded, filling my cup to the brim. “He’ll probably be with us until graduation. The new roommates he got stuck with this year are total douchecanoes.”

  “Language, Tressa,” Mom chastised me, looking pointedly at Chris, who had just entered the kitchen.

  Chris smirked. “Mom, I hear a whole lot worse than that at school. You know I’m in high school, right?” He winked at Dad and me.

  “What you hear at school and what we say in this house are two different things,” she said, pointing the spatula at him for emphasis. “Besides, do either of you even know what a douchecanoe is?”

  “I don’t think that matters. It just sounds like a good insult,” I teased. “Don’t act innocent, Mom. We’ve all heard you drop your share of f-bombs over the years.”

  We all laughed when she looked scandalized at my accusation as she placed a platter stacked high with pancakes and bacon on the table.

  “She’s got you there, dear,” Dad said, giving her a peck on the cheek before grabbing the pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice off the counter. He placed it on the table before sliding Mom’s chair out so she could sit down. I smiled watching their interaction. Dad was old-school when it came to treating a woman right. I loved that after twenty-five years of marriage he still held the door open for her and brought her flowers every Friday. She always claimed they were a waste of money, but all of us had witnessed her love for them over the years.

  “I do not drop f-bombs,” she defended herself as Dad slid her chair up to the table.

  Chris and I both snorted loudly. Mom was a lady in most senses of the word. She took care of her appearance when she was going out. It would be a cold day in hell before she would pass gas in front of anyone. That one we teased her about, telling her that holding it in was not good for her system. She was polite to a fault and was the most loyal friend anyone could ever ask for. All that being said, it was common knowledge that she had a trucker’s mouth when she was frustrated.

  “What?” she said innocently as she loaded up her plate.

  “Need I remind you of the blender episode last year?” I added helpfully, taking a bite of my crisp bacon.

  Chris and Dad both cracked up at the memory. Chris had made the mistake of attempting to make a smoothie, but the doofus forgot to put the lid on the blender before he turned it on. His mixture of strawberries, bananas, and yogurt splattered everywhere. It covered the floor and dripped from cabinet doors. He even managed to reach the ceiling. Mom cursed like there was no tomorrow as she took in the mess that covered her usually pristine kitchen. We’d all pitched in cleaning up the mess, teas
ing her about her outburst the entire time. She’d claimed I’d gotten my mouth from hanging out with Fran, but this was a prime example that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

  “That was a special circumstance,” she defended herself, patting the corner of her mouth with her napkin before cracking a smile.

  The conversation after that switched to my grandma, who was in the hospital with pneumonia. She and Grandpa had retired to Florida a couple years ago. Her prognosis was good, but it didn’t take the worry from Mom’s eyes as she talked. She knew the mild temperatures in Florida were better for both of them, but she missed having them close by. We all did.

  “Maybe you and Dad should go see them over the holidays. You guys haven’t been down there since they moved. Grandma probably won’t be able to make the trip up here this year,” I pointed out. “I’ll be on break, so I can come home to babysit the squirt here.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” Chris replied, looking insulted.

  “Don’t get your Underoos in a bunch. There’s no way Mom and Dad would have let me stay home by myself when I was your age,” I said, ducking when he threw a piece of bacon at me.

  “We can’t leave you guys during Christmas,” Mom scoffed, like it was a ridiculous statement.

  “I’m talking about you guys leaving the day after Christmas. Chris doesn’t go back to school until early January, and I don’t have to be back at MSC until like a week after that. You guys can fly down on the twenty-sixth and spend a couple weeks in sunny Florida while we freeze our asses off here.”

  Mom chastised me for swearing, but looked intrigued at my suggestion. Dad piped in, pointing out that they hadn’t taken a vacation alone together in years. He told her they could even drive down to the Keys for a few days. With endorsements from all three of us, Mom eventually ran out of objections.

  My parents were still discussing the trip when Trent arrived to take me back to school an hour later. Dad carried my bag out to Trent’s car while I gave Mom and Chris a hug good-bye. I promised I’d see them later in the month for Thanksgiving. Chris tried to give me a wet willy before I left, but he was an amateur. I deflected it easily and gave him one of my own. I laughed as he grimaced, and told him to stay out of trouble while I was gone.