Field-Tripped

by Nicole Archer

  “Ow! My shoulder.”

  I release her hands.

  Bad move.

  She grabs my hair and rips.

  “Ow! Shit!” I pin her hands back down and grin. “Aw. You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

  Her body stills, and her warm, syrupy gaze melts into mine. She licks her lips and closes her eyes. “I hate you.”

  My mind goes blank, and I bend over and bite her bottom lip.

  She bites mine back.

  We tear into each other like wild animals. The taste of her sweet breath, the silkiness of her lips, our gnashing teeth and hungry moans—it turns me into a savage.

  Somehow, I get a hold of myself and let go of her arms.

  Another bad move.

  Once again, she grabs me, this time by the beard, and yanks.

  I bite her neck hard and suck the bruised skin.

  Then we’re at it again, slamming our mouths together.

  Outside, the sound of laughter drifts toward the lodge. I hop up and wipe my mouth.

  She pushes herself up, wincing in pain.

  My anger dissipates. “Let me help you.”

  “Leave me alone. Do what you did ten years ago, and just leave me the hell alone.”

  I fist my hair and shout at the ceiling. “What did you expect? You broke my fucking heart!”

  “You broke mine!”

  “You cheated on me!”

  “You left me!”

  My pulse bangs in my temples. “I didn’t leave you. I took some time off to think!”

  “You didn’t tell me when you’d be back!”

  “Five days! I was gone for five days, and you fucked someone else.”

  She turns away and whispers, “You left me.”

  At the worst possible moment, everyone bursts through the door. Orion’s team is carrying a fake Stanley cup full of beer.

  “We won!” yells the bodybuilder chick from the other team. “Joy scored the winning goal!”

  Charlie’s scowl snaps into a rubber band smile. “Awesome!”

  Alan runs to her side. “How’s your shoulder?”

  That’s my cue to leave. I stomp upstairs to my room and collapse on my bed.

  Snow-plumped clouds gather in the skylight overhead.

  I close my eyes and let the memory of our vicious kiss back in. A buried laugh escapes from my lungs.

  Holy shit! What just happened? And how soon can I make that happen again? And how the hell can I get out of Colorado before it happens again?

  When the madness wears off, the pain creeps in.

  I did leave her. Because I couldn’t face her. It took five days just to get up the courage to tell her I’d killed her whole family.

  But I never got the chance, because she’d already moved on.

  TEN

  Charlie Goes To The Prom

  Eli’s Mixtape: Modern English, “I Melt With You”

  May 2002

  IT DIDN’T SINK in that my high school boyfriend had dumped me until he didn’t show up to take me to the prom.

  He and I had an argument over a blow job. I refused to give him one.

  And there I was, all dressed up, waiting for him at the door, wearing makeup and heels.

  I looked like an idiot.

  Patrick and Elliott were home on break from their freshman year of college and witnessed the whole embarrassing thing.

  I stared down at my bright pink fingernails and laughed it off. “Guess I better change.”

  “I’ll take you,” Elliott had said. “Give me thirty minutes to get ready.”

  I argued with him for ten of those minutes. Imagine the boy you’ve been crushing on for years asks you to the prom, but does it out of pity. I wasn’t having it.

  “Chicken,” he said. “Just let me go get a goddamned suit.”

  My brother slapped his best friend’s back on the way out. “I owe you. I was about to take her myself. And that’s sick as hell, taking your sister to the prom.”

  True to his word, Elliott came back thirty minutes later, wearing a black suit, with a black shirt and a black tie and black Vans. He even bought me a corsage—a yellow orchid.

  I hugged him so tight I smashed the flower all over his suit. I still remember the way he smelled—like snow and pine and crushed orchids.

  He pinned it to my strap and rushed me out the door. “Let’s go dance our asses off.”

  You know that part in the movie, Grease? Where everyone on the dance floor opens up to let Sandy and Danny on? It happened just like that.

  Okay, I’m lying. No one gave a shit about us, but for me it was like a movie.

  The disco lights flashed stars on Elliott’s face and every song seemed like it was chosen just for us.

  I was wearing this ridiculous pink dress, and my hair was as big as Pike’s Peak, but I’d never felt so lovely, so womanly, so sexy.

  Elliott always made me feel that way. I’m five-ten and not the slightest bit girly. But tucked under his tall frame, I felt as delicate and graceful as that orchid.

  He gets me, I remember thinking at the time. He understands me.

  That’s what love’s really about. We’re all flawed. We’re all messy. We all have baggage. But when someone dives in and happily swims around in your sea of weird, and you want nothing more than to float around in that person’s pool of imperfections—that’s love. And that’s how I felt about him.

  We danced and laughed until my giant hair fell into limp waves. And when the song “I Melt With You” came on—the world really stopped, and I melted against him.

  We danced in a slow circle to that fast song, his hand curled around the nape of my neck, and as shockwaves ran down my core, I fretted for the end of the night when Elliott would turn back into my brother’s best friend.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

  And we ran.

  He drove us in his beat-up Jeep to Red Rocks and parked along the road. He took off his jacket and handed it to me.

  “It’s closed,” I told him.

  “We’re going up the side.”

  “I’m in heels.”

  “I’ll give you a piggy-back ride.” He opened my door and backed in. “Get on, Chicken.”

  I wrapped my arms and legs around him, and he lifted me up like I was light as a feather. He carried me to an outcropping on the side of the amphitheater then shimmied up the rocks and held out his hand.

  I scampered up the smooth face, and we climbed to the top and sat down.

  Below us, Denver’s lights twinkled. And just over the horizon, Orion glowed brightly. “That’s my favorite constellation,” I told him.

  He caressed my cheek. “You’re my favorite constellation.”

  I turned to him, my mouth probably gaping open.

  He lowered his lips just above mine. “Can I kiss you?”

  I love that he asked. But it was completely unnecessary. I grabbed his tie and yanked him closer. “Yes. Oh, God, yes. Please, kiss me.” Then I rammed my tongue down his throat.

  He pulled away for a moment and laughed, then took my face in his hands.

  “Oh, God,” I said. “You’re a face cupper.”

  “A face cupper?”

  “Never mind. Shut up and kiss me.”

  I still remember the feel of his lips against mine, and the way his tongue dipped inside my mouth, ever so gently.

  We made out until the birds started chirping and the sky turned pink, and until our lips were bruised and my face was raw.

  “I better get you home,” he murmured against my neck. “Your brother’s going to kick my ass.”

  On the way home, we held hands, and I thought, this is it. He’s finally my boyfriend.

  The minute we arrived, my brother stomped down the sidewalk and lit into Elliott. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Calm down, dude,” Elliott told him.

  “What did you do to my sister?”

  I shoved my brother. “He took me to the prom. Now get out of my way.�
�

  Elliott bowed to me and gave me a shy smile. “Goodnight, Chicken.”

  Tears gathered at the base of my throat, but I smiled back and waved. “I had an amazing time.”

  “Amazing time, doing what?” Patrick shouted. “And why is your face all red?”

  Elliott sighed and walked away, looking defeated.

  I didn’t see or hear from him again until I started college that fall.

  My brother was the reason he never called, but it still broke my heart.

  That didn’t stop me from going to the same college as them. My plan was to get him back.

  ELEVEN

  Charlie Plays Party Games

  ELLIOTT DIDN’T SHOW up for dinner. He’s gone. I just know it.

  I stroke the bite on my neck and make inarticulate conversation. Everything hurts, worse than it did before.

  When the dishes are cleared and Art instructs us to have a seat in the den, he finally arrives.

  I want to leap out of my seat and run to him. Instead, I glower and mope. I’m a teenaged girl again.

  Burt kicks back his recliner and folds his hands across his belly. “Well, well, nice of you to show up, Bearded Clam.”

  “Sorry, I fell asleep.” There are pillow marks on the side of his face.

  The urge to smooth the creases overwhelms me.

  “Dinner’s over, Sleeping Beauty,” Burt tells him. “You snooze you lose.”

  Elliott grips the armrest and nods to my godfather. Most men would’ve said something rude. Not him.

  Malcolm removes the corks from several bottles of wine and passes out glasses.

  Alan sits far too close to me. My muscles twitch like a cat’s back, repelling his touch.

  “Hey,” my COO whispers. “This is the first chance I’ve had to talk to you all day. Did you miss me?”

  I demolish my glass of wine in one gulp then push out a weak smile. “Sure.”

  Art taps his glass with a corkscrew, and the conversation dies. “Back when I was a boy at camp, we played icebreaker games to get to know each other. Thought it’d be fun if we did the same. Malcolm will hand out the questions. Read them out loud, and then give us your answers.”

  Malcolm sighs dramatically then tosses folded-up pieces of paper in everyone’s lap, muttering, “I never get a break around here.”

  I read my paper and slump down in my seat. “Oh, gawd.”

  Wang unfolds his and echoes my sentiment. “This blows.”

  Around the room, questions are silently read, and drinks are subsequently slammed.

  Art beams a wide, devious grin. “Who wants to go first?”

  No one raises a hand.

  “All right, I’ll choose.” He points to Alan.

  Alan reads his question. “If you could read anyone’s mind in the room, whose would it be?” He smiles right at me. “Charlotte’s. Although, I pretty much know what she’s thinking all the time.”

  I raise my glass and snap my fingers. “Malcolm? More wine?”

  He gives me an are-you-serious look. “Get it yourself.”

  While I’m topping off my glass, I consider pulling a French exit. That would look bad. Do I care?

  “Skip, you’re up next,” Art says.

  As quiet as a mouse, Skip reads his question.

  “What’s that?” Avery cups her ear. “Can’t hear you?”

  His eyes narrow to slits. “I said…name an achievement you’re proud of.” He mumbles something.

  Avery shouts like an old woman with hearing problems. “Speak up!”

  He pinches his forefinger and thumb across both eyelids. “Nothing,” he grumbles. “I’ve done nothing with my life.”

  Avery loses the self-satisfied smirk and turns her attention to the fire. The room is dead quiet.

  Art nods at me. “Charlotte?”

  I take forever to unfold my question. “If you could revisit one day from your past, which would it be?” I swallow and stare directly at Elliott. “Senior prom.”

  Take that, you jerk. The best night of my life was with you. And for that matter, the worst night of my life was with you, too.

  A shadow falls over him. He closes his eyes for a second then slowly opens them and stares out the window.

  Charlotte scores a point for the team!

  Christine goes on and on about how she was prom queen and won’t shut up.

  Art interrupts her and motions to Sabrina.

  She reads her question. “Like, if you could see anyone in the room naked, who would it be?” Unlike me, she doesn’t hesitate. “Eli.”

  The man of the hour closes his eyes again.

  What is he doing? Meditating? Jerk.

  “Haven’t you already seen St. James naked?” Avery asks.

  So it is true. They are together. I’m going to vomit.

  “How about you go next, sunshine,” Art says to Avery.

  “Pass,” she says.

  “Read the question, Adams, or you’re fired.” Skip means it, too.

  She reads it. “What’s the one thing you regret most?” She picks lint off her sweater. “I regret that Austin doesn’t have a dad. A real dad.”

  I’m not sure what her history is, but her answer seems to stun her coworkers into silence again.

  Eli ruffles her hair. “Dads aren’t everything, Ave. Mine was a joke.”

  Now it’s my turn to be stunned. There’s nothing wrong with Mr. St. James. He was a loving father, albeit a kinky one. At least he has a father.

  The wine burns a hole through my stomach. How much longer must this go on?

  “Who’s next?” Art says. “Jerry?”

  Jerry stands and spreads out like the meathead he is. “If you were in a plane crash with everyone in the room, who would you eat to survive?” He doesn’t even pause. “Easy. Avery.”

  Avery gasps. “What did you say?”

  He shrugs. “You’re the beefiest.”

  “You asshole.”

  I clasp my hands and beg. “Please, Art. Let’s move on to something else.”

  He cuts me off. “Nonsense, I’m having a blast. Duffy, you’re next.”

  My copywriter stands and recites his question. “If you could take back one thing you’ve said, what would it be?” He chuckles. “Told a fine lady at the grocery store the other day I was married. Been regretting that ever since.”

  No one laughs. Know why? Because this sucks.

  “You’re next, Wonder Kid,” Art says to Wang.

  “Describe your best quality.” Wang attempts to look sexy. “My bedroom skills.”

  “Ha!” Joy shouts.

  Are they sleeping together? How dare they! They better keep that on the down-low. If they cost me the merger, I’m going to…my mind goes blank. I’m too buzzed to come up with a threat. This strikes me as hilarious, and I blow out a severe case of snickers.

  I’m spilling wine all over myself and all over the couch, and I can’t stop.

  Alan slides his hand over to my thigh. “What’s so funny?”

  My laughter fades, and I pick his mitts off of me. “I don’t know.” There is nothing funny about this moment.

  Later, I find myself staring at Eli’s knee—the one he busted in the snowboard accident. The doctor was right; he doesn’t even have a limp.

  I tip up my gaze. He’s watching me. I smile and instantly regret it. I’m a nervous smiler. I smiled when the cops arrested me for that DUI.

  He doesn’t smile back.

  Jerk.

  Sam is called on. He reads his question. “Have you ever committed a crime? Yep,” he says matter-of-factly. “Several. Daily.”

  Skip uncrosses his leg and sits up. “Are you serious?”

  Sam shrugs. “Just being real.”

  “What sort of crime?” Joy sounds fantastically intrigued.

  “Now that, you’ll have to pry out of me.” Sam winks.

  “How about later tonight?” she says.

  I can’t take this anymore. “Are we done, yet? Good.” I w
histle to my dogs, slam my feet in my boots, and blast out the door.

  It’s snowing, just barely. Flakes land on my eyelashes, and I tilt my head back and open my mouth, letting them land on my tongue. Instead of feeling childlike, I feel old and ragged.

  If only there were a time machine in which I could zoom back to the past and fix everything. I sigh. It probably wouldn’t matter.

  The dogs do their business, and I watch the party through the window. I can’t go back in there. It’s torture.

  The hot tub on the lower deck is lit up. I let the dogs in, push off the heavy cover, and do a quick check over my shoulder before peeling off my clothes and stepping in.

  Thom Yorkie yaps at the door. A shape looms behind him, and Eli steps out.

  “Oh, no.” I wave a finger. “Go back inside. There’s only room for one in this hot tub.”

  “There’s room for twenty in that thing.” He steps closer. “How’s your shoulder?”

  I want to say, “What do you care?” but even as tipsy as I am, I can’t be that immature.

  Plus, my heart is pounding, and I secretly want him in the water with me.

  In one move, he yanks off his sweater then pushes down his pants and boxer briefs. Steam pours off his ripped body. He stands naked in the arctic temperatures as if it’s a balmy eighty-degrees.

  He has no idea how to be insecure.

  Gaze fused to mine, he steps in and lowers under the water.

  It surprises me that he still has my feather tattoos on one bicep. I thought for sure he’d cover that up. On the other arm, he has a sleeve with a lotus flower in the center. It’s as beautiful as his carved physique.

  I can’t stand it in here. It’s like he turned up the heat to scalding hot.

  We stare at each other, not saying a word. There’s a power play happening. The tension is crackling.

  “Are you doing this on purpose?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “Making me miserable?”

  “That wasn’t the plan.” He drapes his arms across the back of the tub. “But if you insist.”

  Ferocity swells inside me. I want to slap that smirk off his face. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  His cockiness astounds me. “I see you grew up to be a complete asshole.”