Just Visiting

by Dahlia Adler

  I roll Jamie onto his back and wrench myself away, rising up onto my knees and yanking my sweatshirt over my head. I’m about to bend back down to kiss him again when he places a palm flat on my chest and stops me. “What—?”

  He grabs around in the grass for his glasses. “I told you,” he says, locating them and slipping them on. “I can’t see a damn thing without them, and if you think I’m missing this, you’re crazy.” He whistles softly. “Dammit, you are drive-to-Mexico hot.”

  “You think so?”

  His hand skims my skin, then the leopard-print satin of my bra, and he sits up so we’re chest-to-chest, nearly mouth-to-mouth. “Yeah, I think so,” he breathes before kissing me again. We stay like that for a while, making out, his hands roaming all over the newly bared territory for a while before he unhooks my bra and then it begins all over again. Finally, the cold air on my bare skin becomes so unbearable that I shiver.

  “Oh, shit.” Jamie pulls back. “Sorry, you must be freezing. I’m an idiot.” He slides off his jacket and slips it over my shoulders. “Do you wanna go back?”

  I shake my head. “Not unless you do. The jacket’s good, thanks.”

  He nods and kisses me again, first my lips, then my neck, and then he continues southward. I close my eyes and lean back, bracing myself on my elbows, giving him access to whatever he wants. I feel good. Really good. There isn’t a single person in my life who would approve of what I’m doing right now, and knowing that I’m acting in no one’s interest but mine is the biggest turn-on of all.

  I relax back fully onto the grass, taking Jamie with me. I don’t know if it’s him or being at a college or what, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this horny. I’m always the one putting the brakes on things, and even at Southeastern, Mark—who was pretty hot—only got over the shirt, but right now, all I want to do is push forward, do more, feel more. I pick my knees up just enough to make my miniskirt swish down around my hips, baring my black bikini underwear to the matching night sky. Jamie’s hands are inching toward my waistband, and I know he’ll notice in a matter of moments.

  It takes longer than I want it to, but I force myself to stay patient. Finally, his fingertips brush where the seam of cotton fabric meets my hip and he looks down, obviously surprised to have encountered skin. He sits up and coughs. “I pictured you as more of a matchy-matchy girl.”

  “You pictured me in my underwear?” I reply sweetly.

  “Can you blame me?” His hands are lingering on the waistband, his fingertips gently brushing the fabric, and I’m not sure what more encouragement he needs from me to get rid of the damn things. Finally, he hooks an index finger in and pulls the tiniest bit before glancing at my face, obviously giving me time to stop him.

  I drop my head back and arch my hips up in consent. I feel him hesitate for a couple more seconds, and then he slowly pulls them down my legs with my cooperation before lying down next to me. I’ve never done anything in that area before, and at the touch of his finger, gentle and experimental as it parts me, I wonder if he’s as new to it as I am.

  It doesn’t take long before his hesitancy disappears, and I’m pretty grateful there’s no one around for miles because no one needs to hear the sounds coming out of my mouth or see me writhing around on the grass. The sensations building in my body are from another world, they must be, and I’m sure I can’t take it anymore and I open my eyes and tell Jamie to stop.

  He smiles. “I will if you want, but you’re not done yet.” Even though he’s kept his smug tone out of it for once, I hate that he knows this better than I do, but I give up my little bit of control and nod for him to continue, because I know he’s right and my body is building to something, I just don’t know what, only that he’s moving faster now, and it’s getting harder to breathe, and my skin feels like it’s lighting up, and—

  My entire body explodes. Just…shatters, completely. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt and it radiates out in waves that wrack every limb and muscle. “Tia Maria,” I whisper as I come down from the high, and Jamie kisses me gently in response.

  “What the hell does that mean?” he murmurs against my lips. “Can’t you just say ‘holy shit’ like a normal person?”

  “I don’t swear.” I sound as sleepy as I suddenly feel.

  “You mentioned that. It’s actually kind of cute.”

  “Cute” isn’t really what I want to hear from someone who’s still looking at me while I’m basically naked. I brush my arms through the grass until I come in contact with cotton fabric and then motion for Jamie to give me the space to pull my underwear back on and yank my skirt back down.

  We’re both silent for a while, then Jamie hands me my sweatshirt, and I give him back his jacket. I know this is where I’m supposed to reciprocate but I’m not really sure how many firsts I wanna have tonight, and I’m also not in the mood to have him realize that I don’t know what I’m doing. Feeling like the uneducated one in college is getting really old.

  He doesn’t ask, anyway, and somehow or other we end up lying side by side, looking up at the stars in silence. Eventually, he breaks it. “Would you have gone to Mexico, if I would’ve driven you?”

  I smile at the thought of showing up on Abuelita’s doorstep with Asian Jewish Jerky Jamie in tow. “Would you have driven to Mexico, if I would’ve gone?”

  “I’m just trying to figure out who you are,” he says, as if I’m some sort of great mystery, some riddle to be solved.

  “Join the club,” I reply, because maybe I am.

  “Do you think you’ll come here? For college?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe. It’s got a lot that I want. You?”

  “Probably not. The Computer Science department’s not that great. I’m applying early to MIT. We’ll see.”

  MIT? Just when I thought I couldn’t feel dumber. “So why’d you even bother coming to visit?”

  “Dev said it’d be fun. He wanted to come and convinced Max and me to come with. He was right.” We haven’t been touching until now, but at that, Jamie’s pinky grazes mine, as if to say, You were the fun part, in case you didn’t catch on.

  “So is Dev coming here?” His name still makes me bristle. I’ve been able to push everything with him and Reagan out of my head for a while, but now it’s all back, full force.

  “Nah, he’s pretty set on KU. I was surprised he even wanted to check out Barnaby, but he went to Southeastern a few weeks ago and had a good time, so…”

  Finally, I feel like the smart one again. “Put the pieces together faster, Jamie.”

  He’s quiet for a moment, and then I hear, “Oh, shit. We’re here because of your friend, aren’t we?”

  “Oh, yes you are. Tell me again how great a guy your friend is again?”

  “I swear he’s not like that. He’s not even actually dating Sara. But everyone in the world thinks they should be—including her—and it’s fucked him up for getting with other girls. Plus, she’s also Indian, which makes his parents happy.”

  “Do they have something against him getting with a white girl?”

  “Nah, I don’t think so. It’s just a bonus. Your parents care if you get with someone who’s not Hispanic?”

  “They’re both Mexican, but I don’t think they care if I date guys who are. Not that I’m in the habit of bringing anyone home, but my brother’s dated pretty much every race under the sun. They don’t blink. What about your parents?”

  “They don’t care who I date so much as who I marry. I know they want me to marry Jewish, but otherwise, they’re pretty chill. I think they have this perpetual guilt about turning me into a Jew who doesn’t look like any other Jews.”

  For the first time in a long while, I turn onto my side and actually look at him—his spiky black hair, the dark, narrow eyes behind his glasses. The way people treated me for being Mexican in Arizona sucked. It kinda sucks in Charytan too. But at least I fit in with my family. I can’t imagine what it must be like to identify as two different minorities and
be alone in doing it.

  “Does it suck for you?” I ask.

  “It did. It gets better the older I get, mostly because I’ve learned not to give a shit. It used to drive me crazy when people said stupid things like, ‘Asian and Jewish? Dude, you must be psycho smart!’ But the truth is, yeah, I am, so fuck it. I’ll own it.”

  I can’t remember the last time I’ve envied someone this much. Without even realizing what I’m doing, I prop myself up on an elbow and reach out to place a palm flat on his chest, right over his heart, as if it’ll allow me to absorb his courage or something. He looks up at me, surprise on his face, and he says, “Does it suck for you? Being Mexican?”

  The word “yes” hovers on my lips, but I can’t push it out. I don’t care that I don’t have a thousand friends, or that no neighbors come by to borrow sugar, or that Reagan’s mom keeps an eagle eye on me whenever I’m at her house. Nothing that sucks right now has anything to do with my ethnicity and everything to do with me. I’m the one holding myself back right now. None of the rest matters anymore.

  “It used to,” I say instead. “I guess it doesn’t really anymore. Not because ‘I own it’ or anything. It just sort of is.”

  It feels like a weak response, especially after his badass declaration, but he doesn’t seem to care. He reaches up to cup my cheek in his hand and brings me down for a kiss. It’s warmer and softer than the others, and it feels… pitying. I pull back almost immediately.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” I say immediately. It’s not like I can bust out with, “I feel like your kiss was judging me for being a weak nobody.” He’s been sweet enough, which I can tell is a stretch for him, but now I just want to go home. It was fun for a while, but now I’m right back where I started, hyperaware of the fact that I have no idea what I want in life. “It’s late.”

  “Did I do something?”

  Yes. “No.”

  He sighs. “You know it’s obvious you’re lying, right?”

  His tone sounds so familiar, and with a flash, I’m back at the vending machine at the motel near Southeastern, watching Dev rake a hand through his hair as he blurts out his frustrations about Reagan. It strikes me just how much I sound like her right now, working extra hard not to open up. I love Reagan, but I don’t want to be like that. I take a deep breath and try to pick my words so I don’t sound like an idiot.

  “I just…feel kinda lost these days. Every day, something new pulls me in a different direction, and I don’t even know what I want. My brother’s out there traveling and sometimes that seems like the greatest thing on Earth, and I think maybe I should do that too, see the world. But then I go to different colleges, and I have a great time there too, and I think how awesome it would be to join a sorority and go to frat parties all the time and meet new people every day. And then there’s a great fashion design program at our local community college, and sometimes I think all I want to do is stay at home a little longer and do that—stay with my family and work really closely with a cool mentor. It’s just so hard to figure out what I want, you know? Especially because everyone wants something different for me, and Reagan and I have always said we’d do this college thing together, but what if what’s right for her isn’t right for me? I mean, we’re really different people, and maybe that means we should do different things, but I also can’t imagine not being with her next year.”

  I’m out of breath by the time I finish. It felt so good to get the words out that it takes me a minute to notice the totally disgusted look on Jamie’s face.

  “That’s your issue?” he says as if I’ve just declared that I don’t know what I want for breakfast tomorrow. “You don’t know if you’d rather party in another country or at college? Or maybe you just wanna fuck education and go to community college? Or you’ll just do whatever your best friend tells you to do?”

  It feels like he’s just reached out and slapped me across the face. I want to jump up but his cruelty has frozen me into place. The only part of me that still seems to be in working order are my tear ducts, and the feeling of the cold air on my newly wet cheeks finally jolts me into action. Of course, I don’t jump up and demand he take me home like I should. Instead, I simply turn away from him and curl into a fetal position.

  “Oh, don’t—” He stops and sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be an asshole. I can’t help it sometimes.”

  It’s a lousy apology, but at least hearing it helps put my brain in working order. “Take me back to my room.”

  “Tori…” I feel his warm hand on my shoulder, and I shrug it off.

  “Trust me,” I say, shifting into a sitting-up position before rising to my feet. “This isn’t ending any way but with you taking me back to my room right now.”

  He stops arguing, and we get into the car for a silent ride back to the motel, broken only by the soothing British accent of the woman speaking directions from his GPS. I don’t say a word to Jamie before hopping out of the car and slamming the door behind me, but he waits until I’m safely inside before peeling out of the parking lot anyway.

  Only after I hear the screeching of his tires do I lock myself in the bathroom and cry.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  REAGAN

  I’m surprised at how well I slept, all things considered, but the second I wake up, last night worms its way back into my brain with a vengeance. How is it possible to feel such a strong connection with somebody but miss the most vital piece of information about him?

  It’s all in your head, a voice that sounds suspiciously, frustratingly like Fitz’s fills my brain. Stop trying to replace me, Babe. It’s not gonna happen.

  “Shut up,” I mutter under my breath as I lather up with a trial-size bottle of Johnson’s baby shampoo. The smell is homey and comforting, and I wish I could use up the entire bottle, but with the amount of money I’m wasting on these stupid trips, I can’t afford to take liberties with other stuff. At least breakfast this morning is free, and no matter how badly I want to avoid Dev, there’s no way I’m letting him screw me out of complimentary waffles for a second time.

  Besides, I can’t help hoping that he’ll have some sort of explanation that’ll sweep me off my feet, or at least something that will make me feel like less of a complete moron. I could’ve sworn all the signs were there, that there was actual electricity, but maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see, feeling what I wanted to feel.

  Maybe I am just trying to replace what I once had.

  There’s a loud knock on the door; Vic’s awake. “You almost done?”

  “Yeah, just a minute,” I call back. I finish rinsing, shut off the water, flip my hair to dry it with a towel, and then wrap the towel around myself. “You can come in.”

  She looks like total crap when she does. I’ve never seen such dark circles under her eyes, her face is creased with lines from her pillow, and her hair’s a mess. It looks like I’m not the only one who had a rough night. “Trouble sleeping?”

  “Uh huh.” She examines herself in the mirror and her mouth twists sourly. She grabs her toothbrush and squeezes on a huge blob of toothpaste.

  I step out of the shower and take a closer look at the back of her head. Is that…grass? “Did you go out again last night after I went to sleep?”

  “Ah eh oo a no.”

  “Uh, pardon?”

  She spits and rinses. “I left you a note. On your bag.”

  “Oh, I didn’t see it. Where’d you go? Did you take my car?”

  “Nope.” I watch her poke and prod at her face. “Jamie picked me up.”

  “Jamie? Dev’s Jamie?”

  “If that’s what we’re calling him now.” She turns on the faucet and splashes water on her face. “Are you done with the shower?”

  Do I have wax buildup in my ears or something? “Why on Earth would you go out with Jamie? I didn’t think you guys were even friendly.”

  “We’re not,” she says flatly. “I just wanted to get out, and now I don’t r
eally wanna talk about it. So is the shower free for use or what?”

  Vic’s not a morning person, but I’ve never seen her quite this pissed off before 9:00 a.m. I open my mouth to press her again, and then I remember all the times she’s obviously wanted to push me on the Fitz issue and kept quiet, and I just say, “Yeah, sure,” and walk out.

  I know Vic, and something is definitely up. If Jamie hurt her, I will disembowel him. I thought nerdy boys were supposed to be safe, but these guys are proving to be anything but.

  These waffles had better be worth it.

  Our plan is to avoid the boys entirely, but the second we walk in, both Dev and Jamie straighten up. I wonder how long they’ve been watching the door. If they were hoping to avoid our notice, they chose lousy seats, so I can only imagine we’ve both got conversations in store. I feel a little cheated that I still have no idea what happened between Vic and Jamie, but then Dev gets up and walks over and thoughts of anything else slip out of my mind completely.

  “Can we talk?” he asks, keeping his voice low. His thick black hair is even messier than usual and I hope it’s a sign of a lousy night’s sleep. I feel just a little bit triumphant that I somehow slept like a baby.

  I plaster a smile on my face. I planned for exactly this moment the entire time we were getting ready this morning, and came to the realization that there’s just no point. Even if he had a magically wonderful response to why he kept it a secret, what difference would it make? He’s going to KU; I’m not. It’s time to move on. “Nothing to talk about. Message received. Sorry I got the wrong idea. How are the waffles?”

  “Reagan—”

  “Dave,” I say firmly, and am slightly gratified when he winces. “I really don’t want to talk about it. No hard feelings, or whatever.”

  I forge past him, but he clasps my forearm with surprising strength when I try to pass. I freeze, and he seems to realize how tightly he’s gripping my arm because he suddenly drops it as if it’s on fire and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Please.”