People flocked to me for advice and for sympathy. They wanted me to tell them they were right. On the other hand, Jesse sought confrontation, made people feel like shit, and tried to prove that they were wrong. We were completely opposite, but drawn together despite ourselves. His sad, gray eyes were too powerful to ignore. They reminded me so much of my own. I knew then that whatever triggered his anger was the same thing that triggered my complacency…a past too painful to remember.
It was the only explanation. We’d both seen trauma and dealt with it differently.
I sat in a booth after my shift, surrounded by loud, drunk regulars. Coupled with the clattering dishes and the music, the crowd did well to hide me in the corner. But just as I took my first sip of beer, Jesse slung himself into the seat across from me, wearing his street clothes and a funny grin.
He plucked a stud from his pocket and wiggled his labret into his chin, then calmly folded his hands on the top of the table.
“So what are we going to do tonight?” he asked.
Was I supposed to be angry with him for making me feel uncomfortable at the patio party? Who was I to expect an apology anyway? I didn’t know how to feel. I set my beer down on the table, tugging at my lip.
He narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I snapped.
He leaned back in the booth, and I felt the vibration of his leg against the table. “You’re mad at me?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek and leaned into me. “Fickle and sensitive. That’s two strikes, Red.”
“Fuck you.” My response was indifferent. I tried to stay tough; I didn’t want him to think I was a crybaby. Why I cared, I had no idea. If anyone before him had spoken to me that way, I would’ve walked long ago. But then, I guess no one had ever really made their insults appear as harmless in nature.
“So I was thinking we could go on a road trip!” He slapped his hands and rubbed them together as though he had the entire night planned.
No! I made the decision to be mad at you! You can’t dismiss it. I was firm. I made the call. I said ‘fuck you’. How can that be ignored? I cocked my head and scrunched my nose at the drastic subject change. “What?”
“A road trip. You know, driving. On a road. No parking involved.” He winked.
“What makes you think I want to be in a car with you?” I asked.
He shrugged. “For the same reason I want to be in a car with you.”
My heart fluttered and I tried to ignore it. “Why’s that?”
He looked around the room in a daze, his eyes shifting to glossy. Then he snapped his head back to meet my stare. “For the company.”
Grabbing my glass, he shot it back and almost finished it in one gulp.
“You were kind of a dick last night, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if Paulina and Troy were mad at you.”
He rose from his seat, bouncing up and adjusting his sleeves. “That would really suck if I gave a shit.” He grabbed his uniform shirt and a CD case from the table and turned toward the door. “You coming?” he said over his shoulder.
What is it about this guy? Is he full of shit or does he really not care? And what does he want from someone like me?
Dammit!
Too many unanswered questions!
I threw a tip down on the table and gathered my purse as I followed him out into the parking lot.
Once I caught up to him, I mimicked his long strides out to my car. “Where did you have in mind? And do you have the gas money for said road trip?”
“No. Don’t you?” he asked, and I noted his sarcasm. “I don’t care where we go. How much gas is in your tank?”
“I could get us about twelve, maybe thirteen miles from here. Payday is tomorrow. And if I have to choose between a pack of smokes and a leisurely drive to Iowa tonight, sorry, but I’m going with the smokes.”
“Fine,” he said, stopping abruptly at the side of my car. “But I want to get out of here. Let’s go find some trouble.”
I cringed at what his idea of trouble meant. I wasn’t a trouble kind of girl. And yet somehow I could see that being the only outcome with a guy like Jesse.
I unlocked his door and he got in. By the time I walked around to the driver’s side, he was already putting a Bosstones CD into the player.
Turning the key, I glanced over, and he’d already begun playing the imaginary drums on my dash. Bouncing leg and all.
His enthusiasm was infectious.
Warming.
Alluring.
And fucking sexy.
Dammit.
Oh God, I’m in so much trouble with this guy.
He reached into the side pocket of my purse, pulled the last cigarette from my pack, and lit it. “Well don’t just sit there gawking at me. Get our asses to the store! We’re out of smokes.”
“What is it about you, Jess?” I asked, wondering why I wasn’t mad he’d reached into my purse without my permission; wondering why I wasn’t pissed he snatched my last smoke…
“I love this song,” he said, closing his eyes and moving his head to the music.
…And wondering how someone could change topics so easily without being called out on it.
Why didn’t I call him out on it?
Because I didn’t want to make him go away, that was why. Beautiful boys like him didn’t hang out with ugly girls like me. No matter his candor, I couldn’t ignore that I knew he was better than me. And that I should’ve considered it a privilege he was still there.
I threw the car into reverse and pulled out from the lot. I drove to the closest convenience store and he hopped out.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, popping his head back in through the window. “You need anything?” He took a long pull from his cigarette and handed me what was left.
“No. I’m good, thanks.”
His flippant strides into the store were even worse than when we’d left the restaurant. He was so relaxed that he almost skipped. Either he had really good news that he hadn’t shared with me yet, or the man was fucking crazy.
I sat listening to his music in the car. It was upbeat one minute and mellow the next. The voice was smooth on one note and strained in another. The parallels were uncanny.
After a few minutes, he returned. “Hey, foxy. I got somethin’ for you.”
I swallowed at the name he chose, having never been called anything remotely attractive in my life. “Smokes?” I smiled, avoiding his eyes.
“I got you this.” He held up a plastic bathroom sign, blue with a handicapped stick-person on the front and large white letters that spelled MEN.
I took it from his hand and he got in the car. “Thanks. What I’ve always want—” My eyes widened at the realization of what he’d done. “Did you steal this?” I shouted a whisper at him.
“Settle down.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ll treasure this. You’ll stick it in a box when you get home, and five years from now you’ll find it. You’ll hug it. And you’ll relive this night over again in your head.” He laughed. “Isn’t that what chicks do?”
“Oh. Um. Maybe? I can’t say I have many keepsakes like this one.”
“But you don’t have many friends like me, either, do you?”
I snorted a laugh. “Friend or not, I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone quite like you. But I do hope this is enough trouble for you for one night. I’d like to avoid jail time, if possible.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re so suburban, Charlie.” He lit another smoke and replaced the CD in the player with a different one. “Let’s go check up on your frogs.”
“Okay, sounds good. But I want to stop by my house and get a blanket for us to sit on. Too many crawly things weirded me out last time.”
***
“I can’t stay up all night again,” I said as we walked toward the pond.
“Why not?”
“I had bags under my eyes for two days.
I looked like I was forty.”
“Forty? Come on. What are you, twenty-two?”
I nodded and set the blanket down on the ground. “Yep.”
“You know, it’s funny,” he began, finding a seat on the blanket. “I’m twenty-five, and I think about my parents at my age. They had been married for years and already had a four-year-old. I couldn’t even imagine a life like that right now.”
“Your real mom and dad?”
He swallowed thickly and fiddled with a blade of grass between his fingers. “Yeah,” he whispered. His knee stopped bouncing and the look in his eyes distanced. “Bags are nothing. You have nothing to worry about, Red.” He cleared his throat. “You’re beautiful.”
I gasped at the sentiment and was thankful he couldn’t see the doubt in my expression. But the timing was inappropriate—a strange sort of gift to give me when the conversation had already taken a turn. His compliment, no matter how sweet, was misplaced.
“Can I ask you a question? I said.
“Shoot.”
“If it’s too personal or if it makes you uncomfortable—”
“Time’s ticking, Red. You could’ve asked the question already.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “Why were you fostered? I mean, what happened with your real parents?” I flinched, bracing myself for his answer.
It took him a minute before he responded. “I wasn’t a good kid. They were even worse parents.” He blinked slowly, throwing the grass to the ground and lying back with his hands behind his head. “No story there, Charlie. Just one fuck-up after another.”
I leaned in, remaining quiet, and eager for his clarification. But as the seconds ticked by and he lit another cigarette, I realized it wasn’t going to come.
He took a drag and looked at me from the corner of his eye with a smile. He sat up, and then brought his knees up to rest his elbows. “So why haven’t you had sex yet? Waiting for a knight in shining armor?”
I’m really going to have to get used to his random questions. “No. No knight.” I grabbed a handful of grass from its roots and counted each blade in my head. One…two…three… “I’m not really waiting for anyone. In fact, if there was a way I could just get rid of my virginity, I would.” Four…five…six… “It’s pretty embarrassing. Especially for someone my age.” Seven…eight…nine. Please stop talking now.
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed about it.” He shrugged. “You are who you are.”
“Sure, a guy like you can say something like that. You have sex kittens lined up every night just waiting for you to call their number. But look at me.” I waved my hand across my belly and hips. “Pretty soon I’ll be thirty and building a maze for my cats. In my parents’ basement, no less.” I giggled. “Not much hope for me, is there? Best chance I got is walking into a bar ten minutes before closing and picking the drunkest bastard in the room.”
“I shouldn’t laugh,” he said, laughing. “Seriously, Charlie. You don’t give yourself enough credit. There are a lot of guys out there who like bigger girls. And there are a lot of guys out there like me who don’t give a shit. Pussy is pussy.”
“Aaaand you just said that out loud. Find your filter, Jess.”
He smirked. “You’re being too sensitive again. I am who I am. Take it or leave it.”
I shook my head playfully, far too amused by the casualness of the conversation.
“When did you lose yours?” I asked. Hell, might as well. He’ll either answer me or he won’t.
“My first time was a disaster.” He grinned, scratching his chin and looking out at the pond. “I was sixteen and she was a year or two older than me. I wanted her so bad. She was a tiny little thing with a perfectly round ass. But I couldn’t have lasted much more than a few seconds. A minute, tops. She told all of her friends the next day how horrible I was in bed. And for the next two years I was known as the ‘Six-Second-Screw.’” He shuddered at the memory. “I couldn’t wait to get out of high school.”
I covered my mouth. “That’s horrible! What a bitch,” I snickered.
“Nah. She didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about women over the years, they all talk. Never assume they’ll keep their mouths shut. A lesson learned the hard way, I admit.”
I had no idea what to take offense to anymore with him. On one hand, I could have been pissed by his statement, but instead I brushed it off the way he intended.
“See, you don’t want to lose your virginity like the rest of us,” he added. “Don’t just give it away to anybody. Be smarter than us.”
“It’s not like I have a huge selection at the moment. Hell, I don’t even own a cell phone. ‘Here, Mr. Right, take my number. But can you try not to call past nine-thirty? Yeah, my parents are usually in bed by then. Thanks.’”
He raised his eyebrow. “All it takes is one. The right time. The right place. The right lighting. He’ll come around, and when he does, you’ll know. When it’s said and done, giving him your number is optional,” he added with a wink.
I looked out to the pond, unable to truly comprehend having as many people available to sleep with as he did. I couldn’t fathom the idea of giving so many people a part of me that no one else had ever had. Had ever seen. I hadn’t even looked at myself in a full-length mirror for years. Surely not naked. What a nightmare.
“Here, come here,” he said, scooting closer to me. “I’ll take your virginity from you. Right now. No strings attached.” He smiled. “Promise.”
My heartbeat slapped against my chest and I inched away from him, keeping my sudden fear from reaching my eyes. “Fuck off. If you were even remotely serious, you wouldn’t have waited this long. You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who is gifted in the art of small talk. No offense, but you’re more like the kind of guy who has a crumpled-up pile of phone numbers—smothered with little scribbled hearts—stashed in the ashtray of his car.” I swept my hand through my hair and took a breath, trying to keep the conversation as playful as possible, no matter how much my insides churned. “Besides, if it’s only going to take six seconds, I think I’ll pass.”
Tugging on his lip to disguise his lopsided smile, he looked over at me. “You are incredibly sexy, though. That feistiness is sweeter than a schoolgirl in uniform.”
“Well, I’ll definitely be sure to alert the Neighborhood Watch of the Level 3 sexual predator on your block after that comment.” He laughed and I put my hands up. “Just sayin’. There are after school specials devoted to guys like you.” I shrugged. “The more you know…”
His smile faded, and his eyes focused in on my lips. My breathing went ragged and my hands began to shake.
I panicked.
Searching for my smokes, I dipped my chin down and looked away from the intensity of his stare. “Well, whoever it ends up being is sure in for an overwhelming treat. I’ll have years of built-up sexual tension waiting to unleash on him,” I babbled like an idiot. My fingers trembled trying to remove a cigarette from the pack, but they felt like sausages trying to grasp at toothpicks. When I finally removed one, I struck the lighter four times before Jesse flicked his Zippo, illuminating the tattoo on his forearm.
Three black wavy lines. No letters, no numbers, and no shapes. The lines weren’t like waves of the ocean, though; they were scattered and uneven. I had a feeling I should’ve known what it was, but at that moment I couldn’t place it.
His eyes flickered to his tattoo and the light from his Zippo vanished, leaving us in the darkness. It was better there; it made the situation easier for me. I took a deep breath and tried to relax.
Jesse edged back over to his side of the blanket and sprawled his legs out in front of him.
“You have any tattoos?” he asked.
I nodded, but realized he couldn’t see me, so I spoke. “Yeah. Just one.”
“Let me guess. A flower.”
“Nope.” I smiled at how calming his voice was, and at the comparison of my still hands from just seconds
earlier.
“A heart. A pink fucking heart with a little arrow shooting through it.”
I laughed so hard I snorted. “No. Not even close.”
“What is it then?” It was so quiet that it was almost a whisper.
“A dragonfly.”
The reflection of the moon on the pond danced over his eyes with a contemplative stare over my shoulder. “Oh yeah? Why?”
His leg began to bounce again, and his movements were stilted. His mood had suddenly shifted, and a shiver ran across my skin. His pupils were huge in the dark; it only added to the eeriness. How something I’d said could’ve triggered it, I had no idea.
“When I was a kid, my parents always took us to a cabin up north,” I said softly. “The lake isn’t too far from Mille Lacs. Dad and I would wake up at four o’clock every morning to go fishing, while my mom and sister slept in.” I smiled. “And every morning, two or three small blue dragonflies would land on the tip of my fishing rod. When I’d look up, hundreds of them swarmed overhead.”
He looked away then, back out into the pond. “And that’s a happy memory? Enough to carry it with you forever?”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
He scratched the back of his head and sat quietly. I didn’t dare speak; I could already tell something was brewing.
“So the dragonfly saves the frog,” he whispered. Staring into the darkness, he added, “You know, Charlie, some might call that an abomination. When the frog eats you alive, what will you do, little bug?”
I swallowed, watching him closely. My cigarette had burned down to the filter and I hadn’t taken a single drag. The chirping had silenced, and there wasn’t an echo of a single living thing around us.
“Fly away, I suppose,” I finally said.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “But you’re trapped already. You probably can’t see it, but something will drag you backward while you dig your claws in, screaming for your life.”
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