Candy Colored Sky

by Ginger Scott

  “I want you to see my room. You know, not through video chat or when you’re carrying me to bed drunk off my ass?” She laughs, blushing at the memory.

  “See your room,” I repeat her offer, as if I have to consider anything in this decision. I push my hands into my back pockets and glance up the stairs before taking a step toward her. “Sure, yeah. Let’s see what photocopy pictures of me are taped on your wall.”

  “Ha!” Her laugh is bold and loud as she climbs the stairs.

  “Wow, it wasn’t that funny. I mean, you could have a picture of me up there,” I say, my pulse picking up speed with every step.

  “I could. That is true,” she says, leading me toward her room. She pushes the door open and the first thing I see is a half-naked man flexing his abs in a poster on her wall. He’s the lead singer from some band I don’t recognize, but his image is massive.

  I point to it and squeeze the back of my neck with my other hand. “That’s not my best picture. I can’t believe they even decided to use that one for promos. Let me get you a better one,” I joke.

  She spins on her heels as she walks backward toward the center of her room. If I have won Eleanor’s heart in some way, I’m convinced it must be the way I make her laugh. It’s my best gift, and nobody makes a sound quite like her when she does.

  I lean against the edge of her door while she toes off her shoes and kicks them to the side. She lifts one leg and tugs her sock off, throwing it by the abandoned shoes, and as she pulls off the other, she glances up at me with a look that has me realizing we are home alone.

  “Where’s, um, Morgan,” I say, swallowing down a thousand-pound rock made of teenaged boy hormones.

  “My grandparents drove back today. They’re up north, near Woodstock. My parents and Morgan went with them. They knew I had cheer, though, so . . .”

  “So, it’s just you.” My voice cracks in the middle of this short sentence. It makes Eleanor smile on one side.

  “Well, I mean, you’re here,” she says, tossing the second sock off to the side.

  I lick my lips because, honestly, I think I might be drooling.

  “And that guy. He’s here,” I say, pointing to the poster man. My self-deprecating humor earns me another raspy laugh. I’m literally clawing at the denim of my back pockets while I try to meld against the wood of the door.

  Eleanor’s eyes flit to the open floor between us, then flutter their way up my body until our gazes lock. She tugs her hair free of the tie that’s been holding it up and shakes her head enough to let the waves cascade down her arms. Her flexibility is a wonder in and of itself as she reaches behind her back and tugs her uniform zipper down her spine slowly until both sides fall open and she’s left hugging the blue and gold material against her chest.

  “Jonah?”

  “Uh huh?” My mouth doesn’t move with the words; it just hangs open in awe.

  “Think you could close that?” She points to the door I’m attempting to fold in half with my weight.

  “Uhm.” I swallow again. Those knots form fast. “Sure,” I say, turning to push the door closed behind me. I turn back as she lets her shirt fall to the floor, leaving her in a sports bra and a very short skirt.

  Her eyes bore into mine, but I can’t not follow the trail her right hand makes down the front of her body to the side of her skirt where a single zipper holds it on her hips. She pinches the zipper between her thumb and index finger and pulls it down the length of her hip until the fabric falls down her thighs, her knees, her ankles.

  “Elle,” I say, trying to keep my head on straight in the face of pure temptation. I keep telling myself this is no different than seeing her in a swim suit, which I have before, several times. But I’m a liar because this . . . this is different.

  “I didn’t fight that guy just so you would . . .” I say my fear out loud, laying bare my reservation for giving in. I never want to be the guy who takes advantage of her.

  She steps close enough to touch her hand to my cheek and my eyes lift to meet hers.

  “Jonah, it wasn’t much of a fight,” she says, winking to take the edge off her joke. My shoulders shake with my uncomfortable laugh, but I do feel better about whatever is to come.

  “It was bigger than most. I heard he was in the UFC,” I mumble.

  “Shh.” She cuts me off, lifting up on her toes and pressing her lips to mine.

  One touch of her mouth strips away the rest of my reservations. My hands slide up her shoulders and neck, into her hair as I shift her head to the side so I can kiss her deeper. Her hands gather up the bottom of my sweatshirt and T-shirt underneath, and I lift my arms to help her pull them up and over my head. She trails her fingertips down my bare chest, a light scratch that she carries down to the button of my jeans. She undoes it easily and drags the zipper down just as I’ve backed her up to the edge of her bed, all fluffy and pink with pillows and blankets everywhere. She falls into the softness on her back while I push my jeans down my hips and awkwardly kick them off while trying to do the same thing with my shoes.

  “Damn it!” I say as her head falls back in laughter. I pull one leg up at a time to untangle my mess then move to crawl my way above her as she scoots back enough to make room for both of us.

  She lies back, caged between my arms as I nip at her neck and kiss my way down to the center of her chest, where the cotton hides her breasts. Arching her back with each kiss I leave behind, she drives me to keep going until my mouth breathes against her belly button and my thumbs flirt with the lace trim of her panties.

  “I want you, Jonah,” she says.

  My eyes shut and my hard-on flexes. I have no idea what I’m doing.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, glancing up at her, male hormones screaming at me to shut up.

  She bites her lip and nods.

  I keep my eyes on her and let my fingertips dive under the lace of her underwear, slowly pulling them down the curve of her hips as she lifts herself from the bed. Every new thing revealed ratchets my pulse to the point I think I might pass out. She’s completely naked on her bottom half as I sit back on my knees and brace myself for what comes next.

  “I have a . . . in my wallet. I mean, just so I’m always prepared. Not that it’s old. It’s new, I mean. Not that I bought it today.”

  Her teeth clamp down on her bottom lip as her laughing smile stretches the width of her face.

  “Get the condom, Jonah,” she finally says.

  I freeze for a beat and hold her stare, partly to make sure this is real, and also to help myself slow down.

  “Right.” I nod. I rush to my abandoned pants and dig out my wallet and the condom, tearing the packet open with my teeth while Eleanor sits up and pulls off her sports bra. I step out of my boxers and slip the condom on as she lies back again and raises her knees, my eyes glued to her exposed breasts.

  I slide up between her legs as they fall open to make room for me, and hold myself above her to stare into her wide-open, pools-of-green eyes. Her fingers stroke along my swollen cheekbone then move up the side of my face, into my hair. I lower myself enough to dust her lips with a timid kiss.

  “I’ve never . . .” I close my lips tight and pull in my brow, a little embarrassed to be admitting this.

  “It’s okay. Me, neither,” she says.

  I nod, shaking my head in tiny, staccato, scared-as-hell movements.

  “I trust you, Jonah. I want to do this with you,” she says.

  “Me, too,” I say, not giving a damn how weak it might make me seem. Nobody matters right now besides me and Eleanor. This is about us.

  “Are you ready?” I ask, shifting to align myself with her.

  She nods and then shuts her eyes as I push inside her a little. Her mouth falls open with a gasp, and her face looks pained. I shift back, but she clutches my sides.

  “No, don’t stop. I’m okay. I’m okay,” she says, eyes opening to meet mine.

  I study them intently as I move back into her, watching for any sign
that this needs to stop—that I need to stop. I ease into her further as she exhales, and when I don’t think I can go any farther, I pull back. The sensation of sliding in and out of her once is enough to knock my breath out completely.

  I pause before rocking my hips again, and this time Eleanor moves with me, her fingers clawing along my back to hold me close. I collapse against her, holding our bodies close while her mouth searches for mine, her teeth leaving small marks up the length of my neck until she grabs hold of my lip with her mouth.

  With every push into her, she exhales against my mouth, her pants turning to tiny cries that begin to exalt pleasure, building my confidence until I move in and out of her at a faster pace. The rush comes fast, and I think it’s too soon, but Eleanor’s thighs squeeze at my sides, her body bucking up to meet mine with each pulse until her head falls back, exposing the nape of her neck as she lets out a stuttered cry. I muffle my own moan against her bare neck, sucking enough to leave a tiny pink mark in my wake.

  I roll us to our side after we finish, my body exhausted and hers covered in a slight sheen of sweat. Rain pelts against her window, and all is right in the world.

  I should have gotten in a fight a long time ago.

  Twenty

  This is definitely a record number of football games for me. I wouldn’t have missed tonight’s game for the world, though. Actually, I couldn’t give a shit about the game; I’m here for half time.

  I’m here . . . for her.

  “So you and Elle, a serious thing now for real, huh?” Jake’s been good about not prying too much. I know it’s less about him respecting my privacy and more about respecting Eleanor.

  I lean forward before answering to check and make sure his friends aren’t listening to our conversation. They’re busy trading someone’s phone around to watch some guy light his pants on fire while passing gas. Right now I’m grateful for dumb videos like that.

  “We are, yeah. We’re pretty serious.” My stupid grin betrays me, and I’m sure Jake has read all he needs from my expression. He laughs a proud kind of chuckle and slaps the back of his hand against my leg.

  “You dog! Look at you!”

  I tighten my mouth and look up, practically under my eyelids. Heat from his attention to this topic creeps around my neck and down my back, squeezing my chest and stomach.

  “It’s not just that. It’s . . . it’s more than that,” I say, leveling him with a warning glare that there will be no more details.

  “You love her,” he says, and it takes me a few seconds to read how serious he is.

  I nod and look out to the track, to the girls lined up and reviewing their moves for the upcoming routine. Eleanor’s face is painted with concentration, her mouth counting out every move, her arms motioning what she’ll do.

  “Yeah, Jake. I love her,” I admit.

  I glance back to my right and meet what I can only categorize as a proud stare. I think maybe there’s a part of him that’s in love, too, but that’s a conversation for another time. It’s too loud out here to get into miracles, and Jake being completely owned by a girl, that’s a miracle. I think maybe Gemma is the only one capable.

  “You ask her to prom yet?” Jake can’t help but gloat over the fact that he won our bet. I was tempted to hide it from him, but I was too excited when Dale and I fired up the Bronco for real and took it for a spin. We spent another hour making sure everything was solid so I could drive us to the game.

  “Not yet. I think she’ll actually be kinda bummed you’re not streaking,” I joke.

  “Oh, I don’t need a bet to do that. Maybe that can be my gift to you two,” he says, standing at the announcement that the Badger Pride Cheer Squad was taking the field.

  I look up at him for a few seconds before joining him. I don’t think he’s kidding about running through the gym naked.

  Any questions I have get put on hold the minute the speakers crackle with the loud boom of cheer music. I’m half-tempted to force everyone to pay attention, but I’m quickly mesmerized by Eleanor and the genuine and confident red smile that stretches the expanse of her being.

  Kacey, the girl who was supposed to replace her is still in the routine, which I know was a big deal for Eleanor. She struggled with taking something away from the girl when she learned how hard she worked to learn the entire routine. Coach worked it out so Kacey has a part for the competition, and Eleanor said her tumbling is really strong so having her on the mat—whatever that means—will earn them more points.

  For two and a half minutes straight, these sixteen girls fly at each other while flipping, somehow never running into one another or dropping bodies on the ground as they toss them into the air. Eleanor is the star, though. She soars through the air, twisting while somehow holding her body completely straight, only to turn around and balance her weight on her heels which are held on either side by teammates as she moves into a perfect split. They come together to push her into a standing position and she leaps, tucking for a flip before her feet plant perfectly still in the grass. Jake and I both cup our mouths and shout as the music ends, his friends looking at us as if we’re love-struck tools. But I don’t give a rip.

  I’m not a single bit shy about my affection. I have no doubts about how Eleanor feels in return, either. I rush down the bleacher steps and hop over the edge, a drop that was a little farther than I thought, which causes me to trip over my feet when I land. None of that slows me, though, and I step up to the fence by the track with my fists up in the sky as Eleanor marches across the lanes to get to me.

  “Was that good?” She knows it is.

  “Fucking epic, Elle,” I answer, bringing my hands down as she holds herself up, gripping the top of the fence. I cup her face and kiss her in front of everyone who gives a damn to see. And she kisses me.

  “I have to finish the game,” she says as we part.

  I shrug.

  “But do you? Really?” Our team is being shut out, forty-one to zero so far. I can’t imagine two more quarters of this.

  Eleanor pats my cheek before walking backward to join Gemma and the others.

  “I do. Really,” she says. “But maybe I can get a ride home after the game? I hear you drove something special.”

  I nod, mentally putting us in my parents’ place from all those years ago.

  Unlike last week’s game, Eleanor does not bolt from the locker room in an attempt to break away and avoid people. Quite the opposite, she seems to be giving out autographs and talking to anyone who wants to praise her.

  Eleanor finally doles out her last hug and turns to face me from the other side of the parking lot. I’m leaning against my Bronco, doing my best Jake Ryan impression. It’s the one lesson my mom gave me about romance—when in doubt, go with Jake Ryan. I must have seen Sixteen Candles a dozen times with her over the last four years. I don’t get it; the guy seems like a bit of a dick to me, but Mom swears by him. And so I stand here, ankles crossed, hands in my pockets until I can’t take it anymore and have to meet Eleanor half way.

  “Sorry I took so long,” she says, bunching up her shoulders with guilt as we get closer.

  “So many fans,” I say, prompting her to roll her eyes.

  I came prepared today, and though I don’t own a Badger sweatshirt, Eleanor will look very nice in my Harvard Math Club hoodie. I hold it open at the bottom for her to crawl inside, and she slips her head and arms in quickly after dropping her gym bag to the ground. I pick that up to carry for her and grasp her hand at my side on our way back to the Bronco.

  Every bit of her and me feels right. She belongs at my side; her hand fits perfectly. It’s as though our arms are made to work in sync, the lengths lining up to meet at their ends, her fingers the perfect width for the spaces between mine. None of that can be a coincidence. It may sound corny to believe two people are made for each other, and I’m not normally naïve enough to believe in anything beyond the moment I’m in, but Eleanor makes me stretch the boundaries of what I think is possible. She
makes taking risks feel wise.

  “I’m in love with you,” I blurt out before the feeling passes.

  Her body pauses, dragging a step behind me as her hand tightens in mine. I still know this isn’t a mistake to say right now. Now is the perfect time to say these words. I turn to face her, her eyes wide but her mouth not bent in regret. I think there is a smile hiding in there.

  “I just had to say it. I, boy, oof.” I adjust the weight of her bag over my shoulder and run that hand through my hair, feeling the tension. I glance to the side for a beat and blow out a heavy breath before coming back to meet her perfect green eyes. That hint of a smile has grown.

  “I love you, to put it more clearly. I love you, Elle.” I’m too far gone to stop now.

  She inches closer to me, bringing my hand up to her mouth and kissing the back of my palm before rising on her toes and kissing my mouth.

  “I love you, too,” she whispers. My heart cracks open, releasing hundreds, maybe thousands of butterflies that bounce off the walls of my body and set my skin ablaze.

  “Yeah?” I laugh through a broad smile that pushes my cheeks up into my eyes.

  She nods, but I ask again. I think I have to convince myself I’m not dreaming. By the third time I decide that this is all real and that I am very much awake. I also decide that a cheap college sweatshirt is probably not enough to keep a girl in a super short cheer skirt warm, so I urge Eleanor to follow me back to the Bronco so we can fire it up and get the heat working as well as possible.

  “Did you catch my Jake Ryan? The car lean?” I ask when we get buckled up inside.

  Eleanor holds her hands out in front of the vents, then rubs them together to generate more heat.

  “Uh, sure. Who’s Jake Ryan?” She gives me a sideways look that I can’t read at first, but after a few seconds, I gather she’s serious. My mom is full of crap.

  “He’s nobody.” I smile, shaking my head. “Never mind.”

  Almost everyone at the game tonight is headed in the other direction, toward the Molinas’ house. It’s rare for them to have two parties in the same month, given how much work they have to do to clean up after each one, but it’s near the end of the year, so their parents are traveling even more than normal.