by Cassie Mae
Jolie spins me around to face her, a sponge full of base already in her hand. She pushes me on the edge of Sierra’s bed and dabs the cold liquid on my forehead, cheeks, chin, and nose. I close my eyes and just let her at it.
“I wonder if he’s a first date kisser,” she says in my face. Her breath smells like the chocolate protein bar she had for lunch. Sierra and I wanted to force feed her the extra slice of pizza we got for her, but she wouldn’t touch it in that cafeteria.
“I sure hope not.” I cringe. The nerves just tripled in my stomach making my face feel warm. “I don’t think I could handle that tonight.”
“Why not?” Sierra asks from her joined bathroom.
I shrug and get a light tap on the shoulder from Jolie to not move a muscle because eye liner is next. “I think it’s too soon for that. I don’t even know the guy.”
“But he’s hot.” Jolie laughs.
“And he seems totally into you,” Sierra adds.
“If things go well and you get to know him, why not?”
They may have a point, but my stomach isn’t settling at all. If he goes in for a kiss I’m not sure what I’ll do. At least it won’t be my first kiss ever. I’d really be freaking out right now. Still, I doubt it will be as comfortable and smooth as my kiss with Adam. Great, now all I can think about is that.
“Well, what do you think?” Sierra prods, and my brain has to rewind a bit.
“Probably not tonight.”
Jolie seems disappointed, but satisfied for now with that answer. Sierra hops on the bed behind me and works on my hair seriously trying to hide how she really feels about it, but I can tell she’s a little too happy that I won’t be locking lips with Jay. Wonder what that’s about.
I twist my fingers, itching for my sketchbook, and pop my gum. After bubble five or six, Jolie sighs and sticks her hand out for me to spit it out. What the hell are Jay and I going to talk about? I don’t talk much period, and he always seems so fumbly around me. I don’t get that at all because a guy that hot should be oozing ego…or is that just a stereotype?
The doorbell rings as Sierra is spraying the top of my head with her Herbal Essences hairspray. I think I’ve used hairspray maybe twice my whole life. But it smells good and when I examine myself in the mirror, I gotta give props to my friends for making me look better than I probably ever have. The dress is still a little much, but oh well.
“Totally cute!” Sierra squeals as she runs from the room to get the door. I bolt after her because I don’t want to do that embarrassing walk down the stairs to your date as he watches every move you make and all you can do is pray you don’t fall flat on your nose.
“Wait! Your shoes!” Jolie screams after me, and I bet we all sound like a stampede, and Jay is waiting on the porch wondering what will greet him when Sierra opens the door.
I get to the bottom landing and turn so Jolie can toss me my ballet flats. Or her ballet flats to be more precise. I don’t think I’m wearing a single thing I own.
Bending over at the waist, foot resting on the bottom stair, I tug on the left shoe, and hop over to my right, but in my haste, I tumble face first into the steps just as Sierra lets Jay through the door.
I think my underwear is showing. Sierra gasps behind me because I’m sure she had no idea what position I was in, and Jolie ducks and hides into the bathroom upstairs. Oh, thanks guys!
As fast as I can, I tug my dress down and spin around to Jay’s bugged out eyes and Sierra’s flamed face. What does she have to be embarrassed about? She didn’t flash anyone.
“Um, I’m ready.” I force a smile and take a step toward him, only to remember I only have one shoe on.
He gives me a delicious half smile and reaches around me to my flat. His nose does this cute little wrinkle when he says, “I think you may want this.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I take it from his hand, and Sierra audibly “awww’s” at us. I almost reach over and smack her, but she dives around the corner and comes back with this super skinny purse I’d never use. She pushes the strap over my head and hugs me like she’s my mom and I’m going to Prom. Maybe having him pick me up in my trailer would’ve been less embarrassing.
“There’s lip-gloss and touch up in there,” she whispers. I nod, but if I can, I’m going to “accidentally” leave it in his car.
I stuff my foot in my shoe, holding onto Jay’s shoulder so I don’t nosedive into anything again, and then give him a wide smile. I’m not sure if it’s real or not yet.
“Okay… now I’m ready.”
***
Jay looks like a rock-star. Not like, metaphorically, but an actual rock-star. His leather jacket has got to be real. Genuine cow over there. His T-shirt is tight and snug, but not so tight that it looks like it’s two sizes too small. He should wear white all the time, because he looks good. Totally crisp, clean… like a Tide commercial. I also want to touch his pants, because they look like they aren’t made out of denim, but they look like jeans. What are those things? It doesn’t matter, because they are doing wonders for his rear.
“This is really one of your favorite spots?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at the carwash I told him to go to. “I’m not sure if they have good food.”
His smile is more comfortable now. I don’t know if he’s in a different element when he’s actually on dates, but he hasn’t fumbled once.
Still hasn’t made me any less nervous though.
I feel like he’s getting to peek into a part of me I don’t let many people see. My favorite places are weird, but I have reasons for them. Like the carwash. It’s been two years since we’ve owned a car. I’ve gotten some toned legs walking everywhere, and Levi takes me on his moped sometimes, but it’s sort of weird to straddle your brother. Mom takes the bus when she has a job for the day so the only time I go to the carwash is… well, never. It’s been a while, anyway. I know Adam would take me, but he hand washes the Geo.
But I can’t tell Jay all of this. We’ve known each other like forty-five seconds. I can’t plop the “poor kid” stuff on him. That’s why I had him pick me up at Sierra’s.
“I don’t really have a favorite place to eat,” I lie. I totally have a favorite place to eat out, but I’m letting him pick because he’s paying. “But I thought… never mind, it’s stupid. We can go.”
“I don’t want to go. Tell me. Is my car really that dirty?” he jokes, and I laugh. I see his point. I could probably lick the side mirror on his black BMW and not catch a thing.
“No. I just… really like the carwash.” It comes out on a mumble, and it takes a few seconds for him to respond.
“Okay.” He grins and puts the car in drive. “Should I get the ultimate wash so it lasts longer?”
“That’s twelve bucks.”
“Um, yeah?” He gives me this look like he has no idea how expensive that is. I want to shake my head and tell him never mind again. Soap is like a dollar at the store and water is free. We don’t have to waste his money on something stupid like this.
But he pulls up to the window and gives the guy his card. He stuffs it back in his wallet and leans up to sneak it in that back pocket of his pants that look like jeans. Suddenly all I care about is watching his butt.
He pulls up to the machine and puts the car in neutral when the guy tells him to. The car lurches a little bit, making my arm knock into his. Hot prickles shoot through my skin, and before I can jerk back, he interlocks his fingers with mine.
Okay, so we’re holding hands. I guess that’s okay. But I don’t look at him afraid he’ll see the confusion on my face and pull back. So I watch as the car moves into the scrubbers and enjoy the pounding sounds of the jetted soapy water hitting the windows.
“I know this probably isn’t the time for it,” he says a little louder than normal so I can hear him over the wash. “But have you ever seen the Final Destination movies?”
I pop my gum and shake my head, still watching the sprayers smack the front windshield. A real smile glues on my lip
s as the suds run down the glass. I miss having a car. I miss a lot of material things, which makes me sound super shallow, but I don’t care. I miss our car.
“Well, do you know the premise?”
Oh right, he was talking about something. “Sort of. Is that the one where they all die one by one after some guy has a vision or something?”
“Yeah, sort of like that. In one of ‘em, there’s this girl who gets stuck in a carwash.”
I raise my eyebrow at him, wondering if he’s purposely trying to freak me out. Good luck, buddy. I thrive on scary movies—whenever I get to see them.
“Does she get beaten to a bloody pulp by one of the scrubbers?” I ask, pointing out the window as the blue mops beat the sides of the car. “Those things look mighty deadly.”
Jay’s laugh, like his real laugh, is so guttural and manly, it sort of makes my heart do a funky pitter patter I don’t expect.
“Actually, her sunroof gets stuck open, and a bunch of water dumps into her car.”
“Well, crawl out the sunroof. Problem solved.”
His fingers squeeze mine, and I’d completely forgotten we were holding hands. I’m also leaning over the center console totally out of my control.
But he’s leaning into me, too.
“The sunroof got stuck to only about this much.” He pinches his fingers together with his free hand.
“So, did death get her?”
He smirks, and the sun bursts through the windshield making us both squint and move away from each other. I suddenly have to catch my breath.
“I think we’ll have to watch it together, and you can find out yourself.”
The outside worker takes a towel and wipes off the speckles of water the air dryer didn’t get.
“Thanks,” I say to my knees because I’m finding it hard to look at Jay without it getting really hot in the car. “I haven’t been through one of those in forever.”
“Favorite place number one, down.” He lets go of my fingers to move the car in drive. “Now, I’m hungry. Please tell me a favorite place with food.”
I twist my fingers, wondering where he could take me that’s cheap… but when I look at him in his leather jacket, I think, what the heck? If he can afford it, I want to go someplace I’d never be able to go.
I gesture to my dress. “Anywhere without a drive-thru.”
He chuckles and nods, then reaches across the center console for my hand again. I thought tonight would be awkward and weird, but I’m actually enjoying myself.
The squeeze of my hand tells me he is, too.
Chapter 7
I wonder if guys like the taste of lip-gloss.
“Do you need a jacket?” Jay asks, and before I can answer he’s slipping his warm, smells-like-guy jacket over my shoulders. I slide my arms in the sleeves and wrap in its warmth, grateful I have something to cover the major rock tits I’ve got going on from the chill in the air.
“Thanks, Jay.”
The corner of his mouth picks up, and he takes my hand again as we make our way to the bridge. We’re at the base of the canyon a few miles from my neighborhood, and like a crazy person I said I wanted to look at the snow melting into the river up here. My legs feel like they’ve turned into blue popsicles.
“It’s cool up here.”
“Yeah.” I refuse to let my teeth chatter. Maybe I should tell him to get back in the car.
“Hey Brea?”
“Hmm?”
He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, and he shivers a bit. He’s rocking some perky nipples now too. Definitely time to get back in the car.
“I know this is stupid to ask, but…”
His voice cuts off, and his eyes jet to mine. I take a real ballsy step toward him so we can use our body heat a little bit.
“You want to go back to the car?” I ask. “Because I’m okay with that.”
He rubs his arm with his free hand and gives my palm a squeeze. “Please. I’m not normally one to wuss out, but damn it’s cold.”
His car isn’t all that warm either, but at least I can’t see my breath in front of me when we climb in. He cranks up the heat, turns the radio on, but keeps us parked. I get nervous bubbles in my throat and wish I had my sketchbook on me to let those nerves out.
Not sure what to say or do, I grab Sierra’s purse and whip her lip-gloss out. Might as well do something with my lips if I’m not going to talk.
“Brea?”
I turn to look at Jay, lip-gloss applicator pressing into the corner of my lip. I get exactly zero warning before he leans in and kisses my half open, makeup covered mouth.
If this were my very first kiss ever, I’d be beyond pissed for the way he just dove in. I mean, give a girl a second to at least put her lipstick away. His hand moves up my neck, and I figure now is probably a good time to put the applicator down.
Once that’s out of the way, I try to fall into a rhythm with the way his mouth moves, but I’m still in shock I think. And my lips are so slimy it feels super weird. He doesn’t seem to think it’s weird though because his hands are pulling me closer, his lips moving in a way that he doesn’t want to stop anytime soon, and there’s these tiny breaths he keeps pushing into my mouth that are probably the only sexy thing about this kiss—other than the cute guy behind it.
After what seems way too long for a first kiss between practical strangers, he pulls away. I sit there with my lip-gloss still resting open in my hands wondering if I should continue applying since I can see it all over his face, or if I should cap it and tell him to take me back to Sierra’s. I’m not mad, it was just… weird.
“Sorry, I was going to ask you if I could do that on the bridge. I couldn’t stop myself anymore.” His brow wrinkles as he settles into his seat behind the wheel. “Shit, I should’ve asked, huh?”
His first fumble of the night. I actually like it when he fumbles.
I let out a tiny laugh and shake my head as I put away the lip-gloss. “How about next time you warn me so I’m not trying to put on makeup and kiss you at the same time.”
He slaps his forehead and that makes me really laugh. Like belly laugh, laugh.
“Okay, okay…” His smile should be on a billboard somewhere. “Is it okay if I kiss you goodnight when I drop you off?”
I tap my chin and drag out my answer. “One kiss per date,” I say, because I don’t think I can handle him kissing me while Sierra and Jolie watch from the window. “You used your one already.”
“Next date?”
“Maybe.”
He laughs and starts the engine. I buckle up and as soon as my fingers are free, he grabs them.
“I’m still okay to do this though, right?”
Even though I’m not sure how I feel about Jay, I nod and rest my head on his shoulder as he drives me back to Sierra’s. I can’t help but notice how my lips don’t tingle like they did after my first kiss. Maybe they just got used to it.
***
I don’t have a computer at home, and a lot of school stuff requires online research. The library on Saturday morning is quiet at first, but then the kids come in around ten o’clock making it a lot harder to concentrate.
I push in the earbuds I got at All-a-Buck, hoping they stay in my ears long enough for me to hear music this time. Ms. Weber set up a practice quiz on the school site today for the chapter test next week. Everything in me is completely calm until I click on the quiz link and the multiple choice bubbles light up the screen.
Question One: What country sponsored Christopher Columbus’ voyage to the Americas?
France
Spain
Portugal
England
It’s Spain. I know it is. But as I look at the other answers, maybe… maybe not? Was it Spain? Or was it England? Definitely not Portugal. Crap, was it France?
I skip that question and move to the next.
Question Two: The coming of Columbus and other Europeans to the Americas brought many changes, some of them positive and
others negative. What affected the native population of North America most severely?
Disease
Aggression
Trade
Enslavement
Disease. No wait… enslavement. No…
Shit.
The computer screen starts to blur, and my breathing picks up. I close my eyes and blow out a few breaths, internally telling myself to calm down. I know this stuff. I do. I remember Ms. Weber said something about ninety-five percent of natives died from European diseases. The answer is disease. But when I open my eyes to the other possible choices, my mind starts wondering if I remember things right. Maybe it wasn’t disease. Maybe it was enslavement. Over ninety-five percent of the native population was forced into slavery. No… that’s not right.
Is it?
I look at the timer at the top of the screen. I started this quiz ten minutes ago, and I still have yet to answer a single question. Without thinking anymore, I click through the questions without even reading them, randomly pressing answers and when I’m done the screen flashes a four out of ten correct.
Spain was the first answer. Disease was the second. Why the hell do I do this to myself? I know this stuff.
I hate tests.
Popping my gum a few times, I slink back in my seat and log off the school site. My fist curls around my library bag, and I pick a spot by the window to read some paranormal romance books I grabbed from the young adult section. The first one I pop open is about a werewolf girl who falls for a normal Joe, but turns out he’s this shape-shifter or something… and there’s this other alpha male werewolf that wants her… I sigh as I get to the first kissing scene of the book. It’s all Pop-rocks and fireworks, beautiful and sexy that turns amazingly hot. Soon the characters are groping each other on the floor, but they have to stop themselves before he shifts and ends up biting her face off.