He wanted to see her. To see his ring on her finger, but she had to work on Sunday—a job at Wendy’s that she’d had since she was sixteen—and he had to work right after class on Monday, so it wasn’t until Tuesday that he’d see Tara again. Until he could know that feeling of contentment that came from seeing your ring on a girl’s finger, a girl who’s telling the world, “Sorry, I’m taken.”
She usually checked mail when she first got to school. Too impatient to wait to see her in class, he met her at the mailboxes. She had her back to him when he first saw her, and it dawned on him that she might not be wearing the ring.
“How’s the ring fit?” he asked anyway, coming up behind her to nuzzle her neck.
She squirmed, which pushed her backside against his groin. Then she turned and held out her left hand, proudly displaying the large gold engraved setting with the purple stone in the center on a ring finger that was a quarter of the ring’s size. The band, which he knew was gold, was covered in the pink yarn she’d wound around it. And around it. And around it.
“It fits great,” she said, waving the finger that held the ring with that wad of yarn so big it inched down to her hand. “I love it.”
He loved it, too, seeing his ring there on her finger. He also loved her, but it was too soon to admit that to her. They were just college kids exploring outside of high school, and he didn’t want to seem too pushy and scare her away.
“I have something for you, too,” she said then. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a much smaller gold ring—this one with a green stone in it. “Will you wear it?” she asked, handing him her class ring.
Hell yes, he’d wear it.
“Yeah,” he said, taking the ring and putting it on his pinky before grabbing her hand and walking with her into the student union. If he had his way they’d stay there all day, sitting around and drinking Pepsi.
He wanted everyone to see them together, to see that they were going steady. Hands off, guys, Tara was his.
They were together every second they could be, which wasn’t nearly enough. Tim’s job status changed at the end of October, requiring him to work at the deli of his hometown grocery store from 5:00 pm until 9:00 pm, five nights a week, which meant that he had to rush home every day after class. He worked on Saturdays, too, from 6:00 am until 2:00 pm. The only part of the job he liked was the tapioca pudding he occasionally helped himself to while filling the containers at night. But that pudding wasn’t nearly as hard to resist as Tara was. She was working, too, a few evenings a week and usually at least one weekend day for at least eight hours.
Geology class was the highlight of the week because he got to sit next to Tara for an hour, hold her hand.
He called her the first Friday night in November. He’d just come in from work and so had she.
“I can’t talk long,” he told her. He wasn’t supposed to be talking to her at all, but he’d had to hear her voice. “Mom got the phone bill today. There was six dollars in long-distance charges to Huber Heights.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Was she mad?”
Hell, yeah, she’d been mad. Six dollars was a week’s worth of groceries. “Not too bad.”
“Do you have to pay her back?”
“Nah. But I can’t run up any more bills.”
He wanted to tell her he loved her. And that he missed her. Instead, they talked for another minute or so and said goodbye.
Their time together was more valuable than ever after the no-call rule. Tara was off work the second Saturday night in November, and they’d made plans to go see a movie. The plans were a mutually agreed upon attempt to be out around other people. To slow down the intensity of their physical relationship. Or at least, when Tara had said she thought it was a good idea, he’d agreed to go along with the idea because she wanted it that way. The last thing he wanted was to slow down the intensity of anything—most particularly their physical relationship.
Tim picked her up, wondering how long the movie was going to last, calculating how much time he’d have alone with her afterward. She answered her door, and when he saw her in those jeans and his favorite blue sweater, he felt a jab clear through him. He meant to smile and say hello, and he leaned forward and kissed her instead.
Her folks were out for the night, but Scott, her little brother, was there. Tara called out that she was leaving and they were off.
“The movie’s at eight. You want something to eat first?” he asked, holding her hand as he drove, taking her hand with him when he had to use his hand to shift. She was so far away over there. Maybe bucket seats hadn’t been such a great idea.
“I’m not that hungry,” she said now. “But I’ll have a little something if you are.”
He wasn’t hungry at all. Not for food.
“That leaves us an hour to kill before the movie. Anything you want to do?”
“No.” She looked at him and smiled. “I missed you,” she said. Her eyes went straight to his groin, and he started to grow.
“You want to go back to my place?”
“Is your mom home?”
“No. Neither is Jeff. They’re both out for the evening.”
“So we’d be alone?”
“Yeah.”
“And miss the movie?”
“Unless you want to go. We can still do that, if you’d rather.” They’d said they were going. He’d take her if that’s what she wanted to do.
“But then we wouldn’t be able to go to your house.”
“That’s okay . . . ” It wasn’t. He was burning for her. It had been two days since they’d seen each other and that had been at school. But for her . . .
“No it’s not. I want to go to your house.”
His house on Maple Street was the only place they’d ever been completely alone.
They were on fire for each other. There was just no sense fighting it.
When they got to his house, Tim thought about the last time they’d been there, the night of the Halloween party. His mother had come home, and he and Tara had had to stop what they were doing. He didn’t want a repeat.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he said. There was a spare bedroom up there. It was way more secluded than his room in the middle of the house.
She didn’t ask why they were going upstairs, or what was up there, or what they’d do there. She just held his hand as he led her. She didn’t say a word as he walked her into the room that was seldom used, shut the door behind them and headed toward the one piece of furniture inside. A bed.
“Come here, Babe,” he said, lying down on the bed and holding his arms out to her. With her arms reaching for him, she did as he asked, settling down on top of him. She lowered her head to his, and he started to come alive again.
It felt like it had been a year since he’d had her tongue in his mouth. He kissed her lips and then, rolling her over, kissed his way down her neck, stopping to leave his mark before moving further down, kissing the bit of her chest that the V-neck of her sweater allowed him access to.
“Mmm,” she groaned, and he was hard enough to burst already. He straddled one of her legs, and she moved against him, the friction almost more than he could bear.
And he hadn’t even gotten under her sweater yet.
But he did. He pulled the sweater up, letting him see her bra in the glow coming in the window from the streetlight outside. The bra was white. And he loved seeing it. Who’d have thought a bra would be as much of a turn-on as what was underneath it?
Running his hand along her stomach, he traced the edges of her bra, watching his hand touch her. And then he pushed his fingers up under the fabric. Tonight that wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted her bra off.
He reached behind her and fumbled for a minute or two because his fingers were shaky, but she was patient and he finally got the hooks undone. He didn’t immediately lift the material free from her breasts. He looked for her instead, finding her expressive blue eyes in the near darkness.
“Yeah.” Her voice sounded a little odd, but she smiled at him. “I want to feel you . . . touch me.”
It was all the invitation he needed. Practically salivating to see, to feel, Tim pushed her bra up under her sweater. He’d seen her nipples before, touched them, but he’d never had his mouth there. He lowered his mouth slowly, giving her time to stop him, but his lips met her breast without a hitch. He didn’t suckle. He sure thought about it, though. He kissed her there. A lot.
And tonight, he couldn’t stop. She was his. Wearing his ring. He hardly got to see her anymore. He had to do more and see more and touch more.
He reached for the button on her jeans. Slid it free. And then took down her zipper.
She wasn’t stopping him. He was going to take off her pants. And then his. But he kissed her first. Her tongue darted in and out of his mouth, mimicking the act he needed.
He pushed her pants down enough, maybe an inch or two, to allow him easy access with his hand. Sliding inside her underwear, his fingers caressed her, touching her girl parts like he had on Halloween night. She moaned and moved and then that wasn’t enough anymore either. And so he opened her and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he slid his fingers up inside her opening. She was wet and hot and perfect, and he was there. Inside her.
“Mmmm.” Her moan made him wild, and he started to move his fingers slowly in and out of her, unable to think beyond her wetness on his fingers.
Tara’s was the only body he’d ever been inside, and he couldn’t get enough of her secrets. Not ever, not in a million lifetimes.
With his free hand on her breast and his fingers still inside her, he raised his head and looked her in the eye. “Let’s make love.”
Tara’s eyes widened and closed, and the world stopped dead.
When she spoke, he didn’t recognize her voice. “I will do anything you want, except that. I have to be married to do that.”
She sounded like she was going to cry, and he pulled his fingers out of her.
“Come on,” he pleaded, with his penis urging him on. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”
She shook her head. “I have to be a virgin when I get married, Tim.”
Something had changed. And it wasn’t him. She was serious. So serious she wasn’t there with him, feeling the passion.
“Okay, Babe. It’s okay. I won’t pressure you.”
“Promise me you won’t ask me that again. I can’t do that without marriage.”
Looked like they were done in that room. “I’m sorry, babe,” he said. “I didn’t mean to push you or offend you. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
She tried to sit up, and he moved, letting her go.
She fixed her bra, righted her sweater. He adjusted his jeans, getting smaller by the second. She wasn’t looking at him.
What the hell. He hadn’t meant to upset her. And didn’t want the night to just end. They still had a few hours they could spend together.
“You want to go get something to eat?”
“That sounds good.”
At least she wasn’t demanding that he take her home.
He got them to the only fast-food place in town before she could change her mind, ordering four tacos and a burrito.
Comfort food to take away the awkwardness that had fallen between them.
They ate in the car, still not saying much and, too soon, the food was gone.
Tara just sat there, and he had no idea what to say to her. He’d apologized. He’d promised never to ask again.
Not knowing what else to do, he put the car in gear and headed out to the country. He was driving toward the highway the back way, in the direction of Huber Heights, but got only as far as a deserted cove on a curve of road in the middle of nowhere before he pulled off.
Without saying a word, he leaned over the console and kissed Tara.
“I just want you to know that I respect your decision not to have sex until you’re married, and I won’t ask anymore,” he said.
“Thank you.” She didn’t sound like his Tara at all. She also didn’t sound any happier than he felt.
Starting to panic, Tim kissed her another time. And when she responded to that, he deepened the kiss. Her tongue met his, and he started to spin out of control all over again.
She was still his. And he wanted her more than ever.
“Let’s move it to the back,” he said, and then froze. Had that upset her?
The click as her seatbelt came undone almost made him laugh out loud, he was so relieved. He climbed into the seat behind them and helped her over the console, pulling her into his arms so tightly he had to tell himself to lighten up. She felt so good to him, he didn’t want to let her go.
Kissing led to touching. It always did, no matter what he knew and thought and decided. They couldn’t make love, but there were a lot of things they could do.
He unbuttoned Tara’s jeans again, needing to be as close to her as he could be. Needing to be intimate with her. He pushed his hand down inside her jeans and she let him, spreading her legs as he caressed her between her thighs. He kissed her neck at the same time, and she started to moan, deeper than before. Like she was dying, too. His penis got tighter as her noises grew louder, and then she suddenly grabbed his hand and yanked it from her jeans.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. Had he hurt her?
She was breathing heavily, almost gasping for air. “I . . . almost . . . lost my emotions.”
His car smelled like sex, and he was hard as a rock. “What does that mean?”
“You know.”
He was pretty sure he did know, but he wanted to hear her say the words.
“Why didn’t you just let it happen?”
“No way. I would have been too embarrassed.”
He’d brought her to the point of orgasm, and she didn’t seem to know what to do with that. Which made him need to take her over the edge as soon as possible. He’d never had an orgasm with a girl, either, and he wanted to do that with her.
“Do you want to try once more?”
“No.” Any other night, he might have pushed a little harder. But Tara wasn’t herself. And one thing was for certain. He didn’t want to scare his sweet girl away.
“It’s getting late,” he offered, hoping he sounded easy and non-threatening, and not as disappointed as he felt. “I should get you home.”
There were other nights. Hopefully unending numbers of them. He’d get her to come.
Helping her into the front seat, Tim held her hand all the way back to Huber Heights.
Eight
I SPENT MOST OF THE DAYS OF NOVEMBER thinking about marriage. About marrying Tim. The guy hadn’t even told me he loved me, and I was trying to figure out whether or not he’d ever marry me.
I didn’t tell anyone. I knew what it looked like—like I was some pathetic girl who’d never had a date, was desperate, and was ready to jump into marriage with the first guy who showed her any attention at all. I also knew my own heart.
I’d waited for Tim to say something about our future when he’d asked me to make love and I’d told him I had to be married first. Just a few short words were all it would have taken. I want to marry you. We’re going to get married as soon as we’re a little older. Will you marry me?
He hadn’t said anything. He’d just stopped what we were doing. As though he’d rather stop than talk about marriage.
And later, in his car, he’d said that he’d never ask again.
Did that mean that he had no intention of asking me to marry him? Ever? We were only eighteen. I understood that. We were young. In our first year of college. Neither of us could support ourselves, much less each other. We were both living at home. Tim had just bought his first car.
But he hadn’t mentioned any of that. He hadn’t talked about marriage at all.
And I’d almost slept with him anyway. I needed him so desperately. Morals didn’t matter when
I was with him. Love did.
“Thanksgiving’s next week,” Tim said one day after geology lab.
I knew the date. I’d been wondering if we were going to get to see each other at all over the holiday. I had no idea what his plans were and didn’t want to impose. I was hoping that he’d at least stop by in the evening. Thanksgiving was a quiet day at my house. Just my brothers and parents, and football on TV all day. Other than when we were eating, the lights were out all day so that there was no glare on the television set.
“Will you come to Eaton and spend the day with me and my family? We all go over to my brother Mike’s for the day. It’s a lot of fun.”
He not only wanted to see me, he wanted me to be part of his family celebration? My heart soared.
“Yes,” I said, afraid I’d answered too quickly, sounded too eager. I hadn’t even thought about it. Or asked my mother. After all, I would be spending my first holiday away from my family. But Tim had just handed me my dreams on a platter. I barely cared about the rest of it.
That was as it should be. A girl grew up to be a woman and left her home for her man. Tim was my man.
Thanksgiving arrived, and I was a nervous wreck trying to figure out what to wear and ended up with my normal jeans and a sweater. Orange with green and brown on it—like fall. I’d never met Mike—or anyone in Tim’s family besides his mother and brother Jeff.
He picked me up at eleven.
“Who’s all going to be there?” I asked as we drove from Huber Heights to Eaton. Chum was home for Thanksgiving. He’d just arrived early that morning. I’d wanted Tim to meet him, but after driving all night Chum had still been asleep.
“Everyone but Ed and Gary.” Tim’s two oldest brothers. I’d already met Jeff, Tim’s one-year-older-than-him brother. The brother who still lived at home with him and their mother.
I was nervous about meeting Mike and Jane. About being in a houseful of people I didn’t know. Afraid that they wouldn’t approve of a city girl for their little country boy brother.
It Happened on Maple Street Page 7