The Girl I Was Before

by Ginger Scott

  And I don’t want to think about any of that right now because boots and dresses and Paige’s ass in my hands is all I can fucking think about!

  “Where’s the damn picnic basket?” My voice comes out in a yell as I slam the last two cupboard doors closed. My mother is laughing at me. “What?”

  “You. What in the world has you so wound? And why do you need the picnic basket?” she asks, finally standing from the stool where she’s been watching me for the last twenty minutes, amused. It’s almost ten at night, and Leah’s been in bed for more than an hour.

  “I just…need it,” I say. I sound like a teenager.

  “Relax,” she says, pushing my arms down to my side, pulling them away from my neck that I’m rubbing obsessively. I might be a little stressed.

  She reaches below the sink, moving a bucket out of the way, and slides out an orange, plastic cooler. It’s not a basket. It’s not even close to a basket.

  “Is this all we’ve got?” I ask.

  “Honey, this is all we ever had,” she laughs.

  “No…we had a basket. I swear we did,” I say, looking where she just looked. There’s only cleaning supplies left.

  “You must remember it differently. Things seem better when you’re younger,” she says, and I flash to that night with Beth, then look at the cooler. It feels familiar.

  “It’s fine,” I say, opening the cooler and rinsing out the debris that’s collected in it.

  “Are we taking a trip?” she asks, sliding back on her stool. It’s like her perch, where she can look down at me—it’s how she sees when I’m lying, I swear.

  “No. I’m taking Paige on a picnic,” I say, rushing through the pantry, grabbing bread for sandwiches, looking for anything else. I drop the bag of bread on the ground and two slices slide out. Swearing under my breath, I pick them up and toss them in the trash. The only pieces left are the heels—who makes sandwiches out of heels? I toss the bag on the counter and look back to the pantry, for crackers or anything else. My mom’s hand slides on mine as I’m fumbling the peanut-butter jar, halting me. I look up at her.

  “Let me,” she smiles. “You go put something nice on.”

  I stare at her with a blank face, trying to read her, wondering what her motive is, but she just pats my hand twice and starts spreading peanut butter on the last good piece of bread, cutting crust and blowing crumbs into the sink.

  “Thank you,” I say, looking down at my shirt that…damn, does have a stain on it. I run up the stairs and toss out whatever’s clean in my bottom drawer, pulling together a dark pair of jeans and the black sweater I wore the last time I went on a date. Everything looks new—like I just went out and bought it, like I’m trying too hard. I am trying hard!

  I’m staring at my reflection, second-guessing myself, when Paige’s door opens. She pauses across from me, her light still on behind her. It’s the same dress, same boots—I’m sure she’s done something to her hair, or maybe it’s just the jacket slung over her arm. Whatever she’s spent the last two hours doing, she’s somehow more beautiful, yet exactly the same.

  “I like the sweater,” she says, her lip tucked in her teeth.

  Good. Settled. Sweater and jeans it is.

  “You ready?” I ask, giving her my arm at the steps. I guide her down, and just the simple squeeze of her arm linked through mine is enough to remind me how she felt two hours earlier. My mom is no longer downstairs, just the packed cooler, a rolled up blanket, and an extra jacket—which catches Paige’s eye.

  “Did your mom leave this?” she asks.

  “I might have gotten a little…help,” I say. Paige swallows, and her face flushes for some reason.

  “I didn’t think your mom really cared for me,” she says as her eyes drift back to the blanket, her finger running along the fringe on the edge.

  “Why would you think that?” I ask, pulling her chin to me, her gaze following a fraction behind.

  Paige shrugs, and looks down to her feet.

  “My mom is just a little protective. And I haven’t really…well I don’t…date?” My words come out unsure, maybe embarrassed. The last time I dated someone my mom knew about, I was in high school—and that resulted in Leah.

  “Look,” I say, pulling her hand into mine, running my fingers through hers. God, I love the way they look together. “My mom wouldn’t let you live here if she didn’t like you. You saw how she was tonight, playing hostess to Cee Cee…or Chandra. My mom hates her, and I don’t think she’s very subtle about it. And you have to understand…she and Leah have been the only women in my life for about five years—at least, that she knows of.”

  “And I don’t need to know about any others either,” Paige interrupts, pulling the blanket into her other arm and flashing me what I now recognize as her jealous smile, her cheeks blushing. She’s given me that smile before, and I love that she has. She’s actually jealous that I’ve dated—both sweet and ridiculous at the same time. I lift the cooler and carry it in both arms out the door, Paige following behind me. We both walk to the car silently, and the nervous sensation of everything makes me smile like a schoolboy about to meet up with the popular girl in the tree house for a first kiss. Only we’ve already kissed. Which, of course, makes me about a million times more freaked out. I take the blanket from Paige, and tuck it in the back seat along with the cooler, opening the door for her and waiting while she climbs in so I can watch her skirt slide up her leg. I’m not even discreet about it.

  “Damn,” I say when it does. She looks at her leg then up to me, and smiles, leaving her skirt in place—just where I like it. I pull the collar of my sweater up into my teeth and bite as I close the door. She giggles, probably because she thinks I’m playing, but with the rush she just sent through me with one glimpse of her bare skin, I may have just chewed a hole through the threads of my shirt.

  I climb into my side, and in my overzealous hurry to get to the park—I squeal the tires while backing out of the driveway.

  “Sorry,” I say through gritted teeth. I need to calm down. I glance at her, and I can see she’s smiling at me, at how nervous I am. At least I can make her smile.

  We drive through campus and then out of town about fifteen miles until we get to a small forest preserve area. They rent boats here. I should bring her back again during the day. But tonight wasn’t really about boats. The lot is empty—which is what I had hoped for—but suddenly, now that I’m putting the car in park, and the dim lights are all that’s illuminating the walkway to the playground and the hill of grass, the fact that we are completely alone has my sweater choking me, and my body burning up. That was the plan, though. Stars, romance, privacy—I need to remember how to do this. Did I ever really know how to do this?

  When I unbuckle my seatbelt, I glance at Paige, and notice her fingers are obsessively rubbing the rough edges along her seatbelt, her teeth clamped down on her lip, her eyes not blinking as she gazes out the window. She’s nervous too.

  I get out of the car and walk around to her side, but I take the route around the back so I can jump in the air a few times, jog my legs, and stretch my neck. I’m searching for courage.

  “What was that?” she asks.

  Shit. I never thought she’d open her own damn door.

  “Oh, I was…” For a moment, I consider lying, saying I’m cold. But it’s balmy out tonight. “That’s a really pretty dress.” I decide to go with honesty, or at least the icing on my honest cake. I couldn’t very well say I’ve spent fifteen miles imagining my hand running up the leg you flashed me back in the driveway.

  “Thank you, Houston,” she smiles, and I swear she’s blushing again. I could spend the entire night complimenting her. But I can do that at home. Tonight, I need to find my inner Romeo.

  “So, where’s this slide?” she asks, her hand on her hip. She thinks I made the slide up—which I totally would have, if I had to, just to get her to come. But the truth is, this park happens to be Leah’s favorite, and the slide is actually p
retty fantastic.

  “Right this way, Miss Owens,” I say, giving her my arm, leaving the picnic supplies in the back seat and taking her jacket in my other hand, anxious to see this new spark in her eyes. She looks down as she steps into me, our arms crossing, goosebumps coming to the surface on her skin. How is it possible that this girl is affected by me?

  We walk through the picnic tables and ramadas along the winding path until we get to a large wood-chipped area filled with swings and jungle gyms.

  “You weren’t kidding. This must be Leah’s favorite place in the world,” Paige says, looking around at the various metal and wooden play structures. I love that she’s thinking of Leah right now.

  “It is,” I say, watching her face as she takes it all in. “She might get a little upset, though, when she finds out you’ve taken over her slide,” I say, tilting my head to the left, encouraging her to turn around. She looks up to the start of the winding slide, a series of red and blue tubes that link and wind together for five turns. It’s almost impossible to make it all the way down without having to scoot yourself through the last turn. Leah’s secret is a running start—and she slides on her belly. Something tells me that’s not Paige’s style.

  “How do you even get up there?” she asks, a light in her eyes as she looks up. I was worried she would think this was silly, but she’s actually excited by the challenge. That girl, the one she talks about, the one she’s been searching for—she is so close to the surface I can taste it.

  “You climb,” I say, leading the way, hoping like hell she’s following. I don’t turn around to check, instead, setting her jacket on the ground by the entrance and grabbing a bar and starting my ascent up the three platforms to the start of the slide. I catch a glimpse of her behind me somewhere in the middle of my climb, and I start to take the steps and bars faster, looping my body over and under each obstacle.

  “Houston Orr you are not going down that slide first. Not if you brought me here,” she shouts. It’s funny how competitive she is over this all of a sudden, and it’s adorable, too. She said my entire name, and it was like she’s known me for years—the syllables so comfortable falling from her lips.

  “You are going to have to earn it, woman,” I tease, pulling and climbing. It’s dark near the top, so I slow down a little to make sure I’m gripping the right bars. Paige doesn’t break at all, and she gains on me, her hands at my feet for the last few steps. I get to the bridge before her, and I can hear her heavy boots pounding on the wobbling wood and metal, so I stop and lift my body up with my arms on both railings, then bring my feet down with force to really make the bridge shake. It trips Paige up, and it also pisses her off.

  “You were that kid on the playground, weren’t you? Oh, that’s it,” she says, standing facing me on the opposite side of the bridge. In two swift motions, she reaches for each foot and pulls her boots from her feet, tossing them over the side into the woodchips below. I watch them fall into the darkness.

  “You better remember where you threw those, ‘cause I’m not helping your ass find them,” I joke.

  “You better start running, because my twin’s fast as hell, and I got some of those genes,” she says, darting in my direction, holding the skirt of her dress in her hand. As dark as it is out, the smile on her face is unmistakable. It’s also incredibly distracting, and before I can get my feet moving, she’s equal with me, pushing and shoving against me as we work our way up the last few steps to the top of the slide.

  “Houston, don’t you dare!” she shouts through the most beautiful fit of laughter. My arms are on the bars to swing my feet down the slide, and her hands are fighting to loosen my grip. This stupid game, this small moment, has brought more happiness than I can remember in years.

  Without letting her pass, I spin quickly so my back is against the tunnel entry to the slide. My hands find her cheeks, and I bring her mouth to mine without giving either of us a chance to think, to breathe. I kiss her two stories up, under a perfectly clear Oklahoma sky, on a slide made for those who think kissing is gross. It’s the best kiss of my life. Her lips are just as needy as mine, her hands finding my chest, gripping my sweater as she lifts to the tops of her bare toes to reach more of me.

  The softness of her tongue sweeps against mine, making me moan against her mouth. My hands react, one cradling the back of her head while the other finds the small of her back, pulling her closer to me. Her hands do the same, fighting for something to grab, any part of me to touch. I want to stand up here forever, doing this. But then there’s the thought of more than this, and fuck…

  Needing air, I lean my forehead into hers, our lips coming apart as we both inhale as if waking up from being put under. This close, I can see all of her, the moonlight reflecting off the white lace of her dress, the cream of her skin almost glowing like an angel, her golden hair blowing loosely behind her in the breeze. I honestly never believed I would be so lucky to find someone who made me feel again, let alone who made me feel more.

  “I used to steal your order tickets, and then I’d wait for you to show up. And when I knew you were coming, I’d get nervous,” I confess, thinking back to the beginning of the year, to the time when she was just the pretty girl who came into the store. I shut my eyes when I catch her smiling. “I’m super lame. Ahhhh, I can’t believe I told you that.”

  “I used to order sandwiches, then throw them away, because I don’t eat sandwiches,” she says. I crack open one eyelid to see the right side of her lip raise while her eyelashes flutter as she looks down at our feet. “Every time I did it, I told myself that I wouldn’t do it again. But then I’d miss you…”

  My hands cup her face, and I let my thumbs caress her cheeks, my eyes loving the way she looks when she’s honest, when she’s humbled.

  “That’s terribly wasteful,” I joke. She lets out a breathy laugh as her palm slaps against my chest. I catch it and hold it there; I like how it feels, and I want her to feel my heart pick up with every second we stand here together. “Casey would be so mad at you. Don’t ever let him know you did that; he lives for my sandwiches,” I keep joking. She rolls her eyes, but pauses when they meet mine.

  Beautiful.

  I let my lungs fill, and she does the same. We just stand there and look at each other, two paths that missed their mark and somehow ended up connected. We both turn when we hear the sound of a train’s whistle in the distance, I think both worried that someone was coming into our sanctuary. We’re not ready to give up being alone. I watch her for a few long seconds before she turns back to look at me, and I can tell she knows I’m watching. It’s like I can see her think.

  “Last one down buys lunch at Nate’s game tomorrow,” she says urgently, then in a flash, she pulls herself down into the darkness of the tunneled slide. I follow quickly, my ears filled with her laughter and the hissing sound of our bodies rubbing along the hard plastic of the winding slide. We’re both pushing with our hands, and I laugh because there’s literally no way for me to pass her. I don’t even know why she’s rushing. I’m rushing, because all I want in the world is to touch her again. I’m racing to it.

  Her body slows near the end, and as I exit the tunnel, I push one final time, bringing my legs to a straddle around her body at the end of the slide, my arms quickly enveloping her and bringing her into me. She’s still laughing, but when my hands find the bare tops of her thighs, she silences immediately, a sharp breath escaping her as her head falls back into my chest. In her race down the slide, her dress has risen up completely, the material pooled around her waist, and my hands couldn’t help but find home on her skin.

  “I’m…I’m sorry,” I say, my touch frozen against her while we both sit, our bodies tangled on the flat landing of the slide, my mouth at her ear. I should probably move and let her get up. I’m not sure why I can’t, but I. Just. Can’t. Please, Paige—you’re going to have to lead on this one.

  Her chest rises and falls. My chest rises and falls. And soon we’re in sync, a ragged
rhythm that is making my hands feel tingling sensations, urges to claw their way up her body, to touch more than this. But I don’t dare until she says so.

  “Houston,” she breathes. I shut my eyes and beg for her not to ask to go home. We’ll just have a picnic. I’ll leap out from my spot and give her my hand, help her with her dress. I’ll find her damn boots in the dark, sift through wood chips for an hour, until the sun comes up if I have to, just please don’t ask to go home, Paige.

  She doesn’t say anything more as the seconds keep ticking by. I keep mentally begging, until I feel her hair tickle my chin as it slips to the side, along her back, along the bareness of her neck. It’s moving. She’s moving. She’s leaning her head to the side, her change in position long and subtle as her hand comes up to sweep the rest of her hair out of the way, her body leaning more into mine, her neck exposed.

  I’m about to kiss her neck, and yeah, I’ve kissed her mouth, so this shouldn’t be a big deal. But this feels like a very big deal. I’m Dracula, and she is letting me have her, giving me a taste, knowing I won’t be able to stop. This is definitely submission. She’s submitting, right? My lips barely brush that part of her neck that dips into her shoulder, even this slight touch makes me want to bite and taste her more. But I’m careful; I’m slow.

  “Paige,” I whisper, a mimic of how she said my name a minute before. She sighs when I speak, and I smile. I kiss more, letting the full weight of my mouth caress her skin. This time, she moans.

  My hands act on their own, palms sliding up the tops of her legs until I reach the gathered material around the bend of her waist and grip it tightly, my mind consumed with the vision of what it would look like if I just ripped this damn dress off. I flex my fingers against her and feel the brush of her panties along the tips. The sensation makes my breath falter, so I return my focus to her neck, letting my tongue have its wish as I taste my way up her shoulder to her ear, tucking the delicate lobe between my teeth, letting my tongue run over the harsh metal and rock of her earring.