by Danica Avet
Jolene
Is it wrong that I’m relieved to have everyone converge at Levi’s house? Because I am. I mean, I want to spend time with him. Just the two of us, but I’m so scared of messing things up with him the way I’ve done so many times before, that I need the buffer of our friends.
Including Kimber whom I’d had to drag out of our dorm. She wasn’t kicking and screaming, thank the lord, but she did pout and sulk and shoot me evil glares. But I’m determined to get that girl out of her shell whether she likes it or not. Of course that required me to tell Becca to leave the poor girl alone, but that hasn’t stopped the tiny fury from shooting daggers at Kimber with her eyes.
So we’re all just a great group of—mostly—happy, friendly people. Me, Levi, Becca, Cube, and Kimber all watching television together.
It’s my first time seeing the guys’ place and while it isn’t as bachelor-esque as I thought it would be, it’s obviously a man’s home. Or men’s home. There are no little touches to make it cozy. No decorations, no pictures. Just a big ole television, some battered sofas, an equally battered dining room table and chairs, and that’s about it.
Of course that’s the communal area. Levi gave me the grand tour before everyone showed up—except for Cube who lives with him and Kimber who settled on an armchair with a glare—and I had to fight the urge to start cleaning. He’s handsome and sweet; the best kisser I’ve ever had the pleasure to kiss, but he’s a complete slob. There were clothes strewn all over his room. His bed was unmade, the sheets and covers pulled every which way but right, and his textbooks were just dropped wherever. The only thing not covered up was the drum kit that he proudly said he’d saved for eight months to buy.
But I forgot about cleaning, forgot about the movie, and our friends when he backed me against the door and kissed me stupid. I forgot about everything until Becca knocked and told us to get our butts out where we could be properly chaperoned.
I think my friends are happy for me. Cautiously happy. For the most part. Nessie’s been as mean as a bear with a sore paw since the night Ivan rescued the drunk Natasha, but she won’t tell us what the problem is. Although I can guess. Becca and Lena, on the other hand, have been pleased with the slow progression of my relationship with Levi. Okay, so Becca gave me a huge box of condoms and told me to ride that pony until it dropped dead, but I’m pretty sure that means she’s happy.
I’m happy too. I am. I’m just terrified of ruining the easy friendship we have. Ironic, considering while we were becoming friends, all I wanted was for him to want to date me. Now that we are dating, I’m a nervous wreck. A nervous wreck wearing the one bra and panty set that’s meant for seduction, even though I’m not even sure I want to do it yet.
Well, my brain isn’t sure. My body is more than ready to go.
Curled up next to Levi as we watch Mr. Holland gain his students’ attention with rock ’n’ roll, I blush. The way he kisses me! It’s like lighting a match in a gas plant. But that’s all he’s tried to do and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I appreciate his restraint. I’ve been used too many times to really trust a boy when he starts making his moves. But on the other hand, I’ve never been hornier in my life.
Just being near him sets me on fire. And when he touches me?
I shiver, but Levi takes the movement as me being cold and wraps his arm around me without taking his eyes off the screen. Resting my head on his shoulder, I just enjoy the moment. But I still can’t shake off the feeling that all of this sweetness is going to sour somehow. I’ve never, not once, had good things remain good for long. Nearly every triumph or milestone I’ve met has been ruined in some way or another, with the exception of the jazz ensemble. This wouldn’t be any different.
Because nothing this good could be true. Either Levi will get tired of playing boyfriend—with no intimacies to compensate for his time—or I’ll ruin it by showing my low-class roots. Sure, he says it’s no big deal and maybe it isn’t right now, but it’ll come up and he’ll call me a whore, or leave me. I just know it.
The thought prompts me to sit up, putting a little space between us.
I feel him staring at me, but I don’t look. Levi’s very good at reading me, probably better than anyone else I’ve ever known. It’s because he pays attention to me. It’s both endearing and disconcerting. As though he wants to know everything about me, something I don’t think I’ll ever be able to share.
I’m going to make a mess of this. I know it.
Prompted by the panic rising in me, I get to my feet. Levi makes a move to follow me, but I shake my head at him and offer a pathetic smile. His face darkens, obviously not happy with me trying to scurry away, but to my relief he sits back down. He’s tense and his brows are all furrowed, but he concedes to my wishes for some alone time.
It’s just another way he shows he does care. He doesn’t force his wants and needs on me, giving me the space I need when I need it. That’s something I’ve never had before. Well, when anyone cared to be with me, that is. Josef wanted me when he wanted me and never mind about what I was doing or planned to do.
Shaking my head, I scoot out of the room, heading for the bathroom. I just need… I don’t know what, but I definitely need to be alone for it. I think. Ugh.
But I’m not given that option because before I can close the door, someone’s pushing it open again. Whirling around, I expect to see Levi standing there, but it’s Kimber of all people. The door closes with a soft snick.
I’m immediately wary because while Kimber and I have been getting along better, she’s still a girl with a lot of anger stuffed down deep inside. Yet instead of her laying into me, she leans against the door and stares at me.
“Did you need the bathroom?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything. I wouldn’t dare tell her, but her eyes kind of freak me out.
“No.”
O-kay then. I lean my hips against the sink, although I’m trying to figure out what I can use to protect myself in case she—
“You look at that Crash guy like I do chocolate cake,” she says abruptly.
“Um.”
“And he looks at you the same way.” She eyes me critically.
I frown at her. “You came in here to tell me that?”
“Not really. Well, sort of. You’re being stupid because if you think he thinks like one of those guys who used you and all, then you’re wrong.” She curls her lip. “You could probably fart the alphabet and he’d still think you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread. It’s kind of disgusting, but I guess you aren’t so bad.”
“Uh, thanks?”
“You helped Natasha last week,” she changes topics, making me frown. She sighs with a roll of her eyes. “You know, Natasha? She was drunk, someone tried to fuck her, and you helped her.”
“I remember. I just...didn’t realize you knew her.”
Kimber drops her gaze to her fingers, picking at the black polish with a nonchalance I can tell is forced. “She told me about it.” She peeks at me through her lashes, golden eyes gleaming. “I do have some friends, you know.” I feel my cheeks heat because I honestly thought she was completely antisocial. “Natasha told me how you helped her. I almost…” She trails off with a shake of her head. “I almost didn’t say anything, but you did something really fuckin’ nice. I mean, you could’ve just let her be raped out there because it wasn’t your business. People look at her and see a party girl, someone who ‘deserves’ whatever she gets because of how she dresses and drinks. But you didn’t. So.” She shrugs and folds her arms across her chest. “Just wanted to say thanks for helping her out when she needed it the most.”
I relax a smidge. “You’re welcome.”
And there we go staring at each other again. Awkward isn’t quite the word for it.
“How do you know Natasha?”
With all the shrugging this girl does, it’s a wonder she doesn’t need reconstructive surgery for her shoulders. “That’s our business, not yours. I just wanted to say th
ank you.” She nibbles on her lip a little. “And you should…” She shrugs. Again. “Give that Crash guy a chance. He might not be a complete dick like most band dudes are, so... You know. Just.” And another shrug. “Don’t be a complete idiot and throw something that might be good away because you’re so hung up on what a bunch of bitches thought about you.”
She turns to exit the bathroom, leaving me blinking at her as though someone hit me in the head. She followed me in here to tell me that? Why not tell me in our dorm room? Or on the drive over here? She’s so wei—
She pauses with her hand on the doorknob, facing away from me, but I hear her anyway. “You were right when you said that about being bitter and angry at everyone, or tryin’ to make friends,” she mumbles. “Natasha’s the closest thing I’ve had to a friend because she’s the only one who ever understood me.” That yellow gaze meets mine over her shoulder. “Until now.”
Well. My heart, all crazed and confused because of Levi, goes all gooey with something like affection for this porcupine of a girl. I feel like I did something good. Not for Natasha, but for Kimber. Like… I don’t know, like a fairy godmother or something. Stupid, but having her say I’m a friend of hers is like being given a gift you never expected.
Her eyes widen with a look of abject horror as a smile just as sappy as I feel, spreads across my face. “Now, wait a minute,” she says, fumbling for the door. “That doesn’t mean we’re like close friends or anything. We’re not gonna be braiding each other’s hair or painting each other’s nails. I just don’t want to- Stop grinning at me!”
But I can’t. “That’s so sweet.”
Kimber’s face screws up into an expression of such disgust, I want to laugh. “Fuck, you’re gonna try to hug me, I just know it,” she mutters, scrambling for the door.
I get to her first though, throwing my arms around her shoulders and giving her a big hug. “Of course I’ll be your friend,” I tell her, my voice all choppy from her struggling to get free. It’s like trying to give a cat a bath, but the warm and fuzzies in my heart won’t let me release her. “And I wouldn’t let you anywhere near me with fingernail polish because black isn’t my color, but I’d love to braid your hair and maybe give you a makeover.”
“Oh god,” Kimber whimpers, trying to get away.
Neither of us notice the door opening until it nearly whacks us in the head. When we look up, it’s to see Becca standing in the doorway, her squinty, slightly crazed gaze going from me to Kimber and back again.
“Where are we hiding her body?” she asks calmly, her right hand going to her pocket where I know she carries a little Swiss knife.
“We’re not killin’ or buryin’ her,” I tell my friend. I stop hugging Kimber, but only so I can put myself between her and Becca. “We’re going to be friends with her. No slapping, cutting, stabbing, shooting, or anything else you might come up with. We’re all going to be friends from now on.”
“What’s going on?” We glance down the hall to see Cube standing there, eyes wide. With all of us staring at him, he throws his hands in the air a little defensively. “Sorry! I just needed to use the bathroom, but y’all are...hanging out or something. I get it.”
Becca shoots Kimber another glare before turning to Cube. “Kimber was nasty to Jolene, so Jolene slapped her and now we’re all gonna be friends.”
His gaze drifts over the three of us, confusion evident in his brown eyes before he shakes his head. “Girls are so fuckin’ weird,” he mutters and turns away. “Y’all go back to...whatever it is. I’ll use the other bathroom.”
Becca watches him leave and shrugs. “Well, now that he’s gone, I think it’s time to talk about what’s really important,” she says with that look again. “Like when you’re going to let Crash pick your peaches.”
Lord help me.
Levi
After Mr. Holland’s Opus someone suggested we watch Immortal Beloved which then turned into us watching The Doors. The last one was my choice because Jolene never got my reference about Josef. That is until she saw the way Jim Morrison dressed and acted. She elbowed me a couple of times while snickering, which helped ease the weird awkwardness that developed between us when she left the room earlier.
“Y’all can sleep here,” I tell everyone as soon as we all decide it’s too fucking late to watch another movie. Cube checked out before we started the third movie, muttering something about calling his girlfriend and I haven’t seen him since. “The sofa pulls out.”
Becca claps her hands, squealing about a slumber party. Kimber looks like she’d rather die, but doesn’t refuse the invitation. They probably could’ve gone home, but I don’t like the idea of them driving this late. Besides, the way Jolene smiles at me for the offer makes me feel like a million bucks. So I grab them some spare blankets and pillows. We’ve had a lot of people crash at our house over the years, whether it was frat brothers after a party, or relatives who came to visit, so I’ve got the hospitality shit down pat.
“G’night,” I tell them without looking at my girl. She’ll probably want to crash with the other two.
But to my surprise, she steps up to me, her arm going around my waist. “Night, y’all,” she drawls.
Which is how I wind up walking Jolene down to my room. Where there’s a bed that we’ll both get in. The thought springs an instant boner, despite the strangeness of the evening. And I don’t mean having a movie marathon with her friends and my roommates.
No, I’m talking about how one second, Jolene was all snuggled up with me and the next she ran for the bathroom like she ate bad Tex-Mex, but I know that wasn’t her issue. It was something else because her expression when she looked back at me was haunted. Kimber and Becca followed and I guess they calmed her down, maybe gave her some girly advice or something because she came back and curled up against me again.
I held her, but my mind wasn’t on how well she fits to my body, or how soft and sweet she is. No, all I could think of was how I could convince her that whatever demons she has aren’t going to get in our way. I could tell her, of course, but I’ve always heard that actions speak louder than words. So I have to show her how much she means to me.
Which means the erection pressing against the fly of my jeans isn’t going to get any action tonight. Weirdly enough, despite my aching balls, I’m not disappointed at the thought. Between my shitty reputation with girls and the hints she’s dropped about the way guys have treated her in the past, we don’t need to rush into a physical relationship.
Who would’ve thought I’d give up sex—temporarily, of course—to concentrate on the sticky, confusing emotions that are part and parcel of a relationship? I can’t deny that it’s always on my mind. As in constantly, but I haven’t acted on it because I don’t think Jolene’s ready.
Yeah, I’m just as shocked, but as I open my bedroom door and let Jolene walk ahead of me, that’s exactly what I plan to do.
“I’ll grab you one of my shirts to sleep in,” I offer as I shut the door.
Damn, but I love the idea of her wearing something that belongs to me. A lot. Glancing around to see if I have any clean ones out, I belatedly realize I should’ve maybe cleaned, but my brain wasn’t on housekeeping. It was on spending time with Jolene. She doesn’t seem to have a problem with it though, so she probably doesn’t care. Spying a faded Rush T-shirt, I snag it off the floor and look up to hand it to her, only to lose my grip on it.
Because she’d taken off her blouse.
My dick fucking hurts. Holy. I mean, holy shit. I know Jolene’s beautiful, that she has a gorgeous body, but knowing it and seeing it are two different things completely. Because I could only imagine if the sun-kissed skin turns lighter beneath her clothes. I can only wonder if her belly is completely flat, or if it has a soft curve to it. It’s the latter, by the way. There are no rippling abs on this girl and I love it.
But we’re not having sex. No matter how much my cock wants to.
“Uh.”
I think I’m dr
ooling. Her bra is this lacy thing in red and black, the cups barely covering her nipples. Fuck. The dip of her waist is emphasized by the jeans hugging her hips.
Wait, no, I take that back, the jeans are sagging, sliding down long, lean legs.
When did she take off her socks and shoes?
Why the fuck does it matter when she stands up and pulls her scrunchy out of her hair, releasing all of that golden blonde hair?
“Um.”
This is every fantasy I’ve had over the last eight months. Jolene. In my room wearing nothing more than a few scraps of lace—my gaze dips to the tiny triangle of fabric covering her pussy and I bite back a whimper. God. This is what I’ve wanted for eight. Months.
And I can’t have it.
“Levi?” she says softly, taking a step towards me.
Even her feet are sexy. Pink polish coats the nails, making her skin look all creamy and soft. And fuck, am I really rhapsodizing over Jolene’s feet? Which are coming closer and closer.
“Wait,” I blurt, hands held out as though to ward her off. She stops abruptly, her breasts swaying in the cups. My dick gives a lurch, wanting out of my jeans. “Wait,” I repeat, my breath all ragged and harsh. “Just…”
She nods, her forehead wrinkled. “Wait. I got it.”
I lick my lips, my gaze taking another journey over all the soft skin bared to me. I don’t think any man over the age of fifteen would blame me for giving in to the temptation before me. But I don’t want to be just any man to Jolene. I want to be her man and that means I have to show her how much I value and respect her. Because I do. Corny? Yes. However, it’s the truth.
“I don’t want to have sex with you,” I tell her.
Her face pales and she lifts her arms to cover her chest, taking a shocked step back.
“Fuck, no, that’s not what I mean,” I stammer, reaching out and pulling her against me. I bury my nose in her hair and do my best to ignore my dick. “I want you. Fuck, I want you so much, I feel like I’m dyin’.” She smells amazing. I close my eyes and bask in the feel of her soft curves molding to me. “You’re...damn, Jolene, you’re everything I could want in a girl. Like you were made just for me. And I want to do this right.”