by Jay McLean
She wants to do the same with me, but I know I won’t last, and it’ll be messy and “We’ll have time for that later,” I tell her. Besides, I want to be on top of her. Inside her.
She keeps condoms in a box under her bed. I don’t ask why. I don’t want to know. But I know she hasn’t done this before. I feel it when I enter her for the first time. She whimpers, and I ask if she’s okay. I kiss her neck, her jaw. I stroke her hair. She whimpers again, and I ask if she wants to stop. She doesn’t. “It’s perfect,” she says.
It is perfect.
She is perfect.
Every inch of her is perfect.
I want the moment to last forever.
But it can’t.
It’s hard to control your body, your lust, your desire. Especially when it’s connected to a girl you’ve been in love with before you had a grasp on what love was.
I pull back, kiss her once. Her fingers strum across my back. “It’s okay,” she whispers, then smiles. “We’ll have time for more later.”
She watches me slip my boxers back on, her dark hair a mess against the white pillowcase. Her cheeks are flush, strands of her hair caught in the sweat on her brow. She’s smiling, and I feel like a god that I caused that. I grab my phone off her desk and connect it to the charger on the nightstand. I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for it to switch back on so I can make sure I have my alarm set. I’ll definitely need a run in the morning.
The bed shifts with her movements, and I turn to her, her fist wrapped around the blanket, covering her breasts so they’re not revealed when she sits up to kiss my bare back. I like that she finds it necessary to hide parts of her even though I’ve already seen them up close. She’s still shy. Still innocent. Still Laney.
I turn enough to kiss her forehead, taste the sweat. “You okay?” I ask again.
She shrugs, her chin on my shoulder. “I’m still a little sore.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“I’m not.”
My phone powers back on and she lays back down, her fingers stroking my back. My phone vibrates, again and again, and my eyes narrow as I pick it up, still connected to the charger. My pulse begins to race because I have no idea how long I’ve been here, no means of contact, but if something were wrong at home, Laney would be the first person they’d think to call. The alerts for messages and missed calls aren’t from home, though. It’s worse. My breath halts and the world shifts from this dream, this fantasy, to a harsh reality where the naked girl in the bed is not the girl who’s been calling all day, not my girlfriend.
“Is everything okay?” Laney asks.
And the only thing I can say is, “It’s Grace.”
Silence passes.
I don’t count the seconds.
“Oh my God, Luke,” she whispers, “What did we do?”
I turn to her, the girl I love, and I give her what she deserves. “You didn’t do anything, Lane. This is all me.”
“But—”
“But nothing, baby.” I kiss her forehead and dress quickly. She watches, thumb trapped between her teeth, tears in her eyes, and I know she’s hurting. She feels guilty, as if it’s her fault this happened, but it’s not. She didn’t cheat. I did. I didn’t even think of Grace—not once. I sit back on the bed and rest my hand on her leg. “Are we going to do this? You and me?”
She stares at me a moment, nods once, but she seems unsure.
“Then I have to take care of this. Tonight.”
“Okay,” she croaks, her gaze lowering.
“Lane, you know I’d love nothing more than to stay here with you, but I need to do this.”
“I know,” she says, but she doesn’t. She’s insecure, and I’m not surprised.
“Lane.”
She looks up, meets my eyes.
“I love you.”
Chapter Eight
LOIS
I expected Luke to call in the morning and offer me a ride, but then I realized it wasn’t just our first day back at school; it was Leo’s, too, and Logan’s first day of high school. So he’d be busy making sure everyone was set, probably fighting with Logan to get him out of bed. I look for him in the hallways, in the cafeteria, but our paths never seem to cross. I figure he broke up with Grace last night and might not want to rub it in her face by openly seeking me out. Luke’s an arrogant jock, but he has a heart of gold.
I send him a text.
Two.
Three.
He doesn’t respond.
I start to get giddy, wanting, needing to see him, because I spent all night tossing and turning and remembering what it felt like to have him on top of me, inside me, whispering words of love. He told me he loved me, more than once, and that has to mean something, right?
He has track practice after school, so I go to the library and leave with enough time to meet him outside the locker rooms when he’s done. I stand in the tunnel that joins the field to the locker rooms, and I wait amongst the captured wind flowing in and out. I become cold, because even though it’s summer, the sun’s not on me, it’s out there on the field with Lucas. So I reach into my bag, pull out a sweater, and shrug it on. It covers my eyes, blinds me for a moment, and when I can see again, there’s a guy standing in front of me—a guy I recognize but haven’t seen for years. He hasn’t changed much, though, same rich-kid haircut groomed to look perfectly messy, same dark eyes, same smirk that always makes him seem like he’s thinking about things he shouldn’t be thinking about. He should be at UNC, where he got in on the same scholarship that’s been promised to Luke, not standing outside the locker rooms of his old high school. Cooper Kennedy was your typical, entitled bad boy. Luke, along with many others, thought he was a dick. But he was also Luke’s competition our first/Cooper’s last year here. Even though they were technically on the same team, track wasn’t a team sport. And if Luke and I had heard the rumors, so had he. Luke was set to break his records, take his titles. And that meant they were enemies, on and off the field. “You’re Lois, right?” Cooper asks. “Preston’s friend?”
I nod.
“You’re all grown up,” he says. His eyes trail me from head to toe, and I don’t know what he’s looking at.
“And you’re still the same,” I tell him.
“Why so hostile?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and it’s true. I don’t know Cooper from shit on a stick. “I’m just waiting on someone.”
“Preston?”
I nod.
“He was finishing cooldowns when I left, so he shouldn’t be long.”
“Thanks.”
“No worries.” He points down the tunnel toward the field. “There he is now.”
Luke stands center of the tunnel, a silhouette against the bright backdrop. “Lane?” he asks.
“Babe! Wait up!” I recognize the voice. I couldn’t not. The voice had been part of Luke’s life for the past six months. Grace appears, ponytail swinging from side to side, another silhouette, and now she’s holding his arm and Luke’s letting her, and I can’t see his face, or hers, because I’m blinded. By the sun. By the rage. By the overwhelming heartache. And it’s as if all air, all life, leave me at once, and my shoulders drop and so does my gaze because I can’t look at them and I feel
So.
Fucking.
Stupid.
“You okay?” Cooper says.
I pick up my bag, the pieces of my shattered heart, and I hate tunnels. There’s no escape. One way leads me to the locker rooms, and the other way leads me to them.
So.
Fucking.
Stupid.
A hand curls around my elbow, Cooper’s, and he says, his voice low, “I’m trying to work out which one of you is the woman scorned.”
“Fuck off.”
Footsteps get louder and louder, echoing off the stupid walls of the stupid tunnel, and I’m angry and terrified all at once. Cooper puts his arm around my shoulders and says, “I’ll give you a ride home, okay?” And he leads me
away, using his body as my barrier, and Luke says nothing as we pass him. Not a damn thing. I get in Cooper’s tiny red sports car, a Porsche or a Lamborghini or some other obnoxious car his parents gifted him when he turned sixteen. Or maybe it’s not the same car. Whatever.
“You want to talk about it?” he asks.
The last thing I want to do is talk about it.
He drives, and by the time I push aside the rage enough to look at the time, an entire hour has passed. “You’ve been driving for an hour?” I yell.
Cooper laughs. “Well, I asked where you lived and you didn’t respond, so I’ve just been driving.”
“You’re an idiot.”
He laughs again. “Okay. I’m the idiot.”
“What are you even doing here?”
“I’m giving you a ride home.”
“I don’t mean here, in the car.” I’m mad at him for existing. “I mean, why were you at the school?”
He shrugs. “Community service.”
“Your parents’ credit card bounced, so you held up a liquor store?”
“I like how you think you know me, Lois Lane.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He changes gears, changes lanes. We’re on a highway. He’s taking me somewhere far away and he’s going to kill me. Well, at least I won’t die a virgin. He says, “So only guys who treat you like their personal fuck toy get to have nicknames for you?”
I scrunch my nose. “You’re a pig.”
“And you’re mean.”
I roll my eyes.
He smiles. “I feel like we got off on the wrong foot.” He extends his hand. “I’m Cooper Kennedy. And you are?”
I reluctantly shake his hand. “Lois Sanders.”
His smile widens. “The girl with the blue dress and bright red cowboy boots…”
“What are you talking about?”
“It was the dress you wore the first day of your freshman year.”
“You’re kidding…”
“My eyes don’t lie, Lois Sanders.” He winks. A little creepy. “So Lucas did a number on you, huh?”
I press my lips tight.
“And let me guess. You’re feeling pretty damn stupid right now.”
So.
Fucking.
Stupid.
PAST | LOIS
“So Cam and Lucy want to take us to the movies tomorrow night. Do you want to go?” Lucas asked, laying across my bed, baseball mitt in one hand, throwing a ball in the air with the other.
“Why?” I ask, turning away from my mirror on the dresser and facing him. Dad said I was too young to wear make-up even though high school started in a couple of days, so he bought me a pack of colored, flavored Lip-Smackers in the hopes we could find a happy medium. The strawberry one was red, made my lips pop and smelled nice, too.
Luke shrugged and rolled over onto his stomach. “I guess they want to celebrate us starting high school or something. If it’s a money thing, I can cover you.”
I smiled. I couldn’t help it. “Like a date?”
“Pshh.” He scoffed, then his features straightened. “I mean. It’s not a date. My sister and her boyfriend will be there so…”
“Okay,” I said, hiding my disappointment. “Only if you’re paying, though, because I spent all my allowance on some new outfits.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, sitting up, his eyes narrowed. “What kind of outfits?”
“Just stuff more suitable for high school, you know? I can’t walk around in slogan tees forever.”
“I like your slogan tees,” he said.
I smiled again and turned away from him, watching him watch me through the mirror. “You’ve changed,” he stated, his tone very matter-of-fact.
“How?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Good or bad?”
“I said I don’t know.”
And just like that, my smile faded.
I wore a new outfit I’d been saving for school. It was a purple dress with black palm tree prints that went to just above my knees and boots that stopped just below them. I’d never owned boots before. At least not ones like those. And I sprayed on perfume my grandmother (on my dad’s side) had sent me for my birthday. So even though Luke had said it wasn’t a date, I treated it like one. I couldn’t help it.
That was my first mistake.
When the doorbell rang at 7:30 pm on the dot, my heart began to race. Dad answered, and I heard them talking. Three voices. Dad, Cam, and Lucas.
They exchanged pleasantries as I made my way up the basement stairs and toward the front door. “Wow,” Cameron said when I came into view.
I rubbed my palms on my dress and smiled at Dad who was smiling at me, the look in his eyes conveying, “my little girl’s all grown up.” And I was. At least, I felt like it.
Cameron whistled, low and slow. “Lane, you look—”
“Overdressed,” Lucas cut in.
My dad’s eyes snapped to his.
“Not in a bad way,” Luke said, hands up in surrender. “I just mean… I feel underdressed is all.”
I quickly forgave him for his earlier comment.
That was mistake number two.
Luke wore khaki shorts and a white polo. He looked nice, even if he didn’t work at it.
“Be good, kids,” Dad said as he closed the door behind us.
“I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean you were overdressed. It’s just…” Luke paused as he opened the door of the minivan for me. “You’re dressed like this is a date or something, and I told you it wasn’t.”
I dropped my gaze, revealed my disappointment.
Mistake number three.
I sat in the last row of seats in the van, between the twins’ booster seats, because I didn’t want him sitting next to me. I was hurt. His words hurt, and I felt stupid. Pathetic.
He didn’t speak on the way to the movie theater where I’d later find my first place of employment. He didn’t glance in my direction. Not even when Lucy said, “You look so pretty, Lane. Doesn’t she look nice, Luke?”
He shrugged, mumbled, “I guess,” and kept looking out the window.
It was the first time I physically felt my heart sink. Felt it crack.
I wanted to cry but doing so in the car on the way to our non-date would make the actual non-date unbearable, so I kept it together. I should’ve faked sick and asked Cam to take me home. I didn’t.
Mistake number four.
I paid for my own ticket even though Luke offered.
I paid for my own snacks, too, just to reiterate to myself that it was not a date.
I wanted to sit on my own, or at least on the other side of Cameron and Lucy and away from him, but I thought that might be taking it too far. I didn’t hate him. He told me how it was, but my own wants and fantasies turned it into something it wasn’t.
Yep. Mistake number five.
I said I needed to use the bathroom and that I’d catch up with them. That way they could choose the seating arrangements, and yeah, I realized even then that I was overthinking everything, and as I stared at myself in the mirror, my eyes getting redder from my withheld tears, I realized how pathetic I was being. Hurt, but still, pathetic. I yanked a square of paper towel from the dispenser, ran it under warm water and removed what little “fake” make-up I wore, which was just grape flavored Lip-Smacker that turned my lips a light shade of purple to match the dress that was apparently too “overdressed.”
When I got into the theater, Cameron waved at me even though the room was practically empty and the lights hadn’t been dimmed yet. They were sitting in the middle of the last row. It was Cam on the left, Lucy next to him, empty seat, then Luke. I assumed the empty spot was for me. Luke stood when I approached so I could get past him and take my seat. I looked at my watch. We were ten minutes early. I had to sit in silence with the light on for ten whole minutes. A group of girls sat a few rows in front of us, their ages ranging from mine to Lucy’s. They turned aro
und often, giggled to each other, then whispered words I couldn’t hear.
“Are you wearing perfume?” Luke asked.
I should’ve scrubbed the perfume off me when I was removing the purple from my stupid lips. “Yeah. My grandmother gave it to me. I don’t really have anywhere else to wear it so…”
“It’s nice,” he said. “It suits you.”
“It’s not really me,” I admitted, choking on a sob. I whispered, “This really isn’t me at all. I look stupid.”
He didn’t respond for a long time, and I felt that twisting ache in my chest again. “I liked your slogan tees,” he said. “And your crazy colored flip-flops.”
I tilted my head back and looked up at the ceiling, all so my tears wouldn’t fall.
He hated my outfit, and I hated that it bothered me so much.
Mistake number six.
The girls giggled again.
“If they do that through the entire movie I’m going to take a rusty chainsaw to all their heads,” Lucy snapped. “Why do they keep looking this way?”
“Leave it alone, babe,” Cam said, trying to settle her. “If they do it while the movie’s on, I’ll talk to them.”
“Sure,” Lucy said. “You talk to them, babe, and if they so much as even try to hit on you, I’ll stab them in the eye with this straw.”
“You’re very death-to-the-world today,” Cam said.
Lucy giggled. “I’ll strangle them with my Red Vines.”
Cameron laughed. “Stone them to death with your Whoppers?”
Lucy said, “Shove my hot dog up their—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Cam cut in just in time.
Another round of giggles.
“What do you bitches want?” Lucy shouted, her arm raised, hand full of popcorn.
Cameron grasped her wrist, stopping her.
One of the girls, brunette and beautiful, pointed to Luke. “Come here,” she said, laughing with her friends.
Luke pointed to himself, his eyebrows raised. “Me?”
Five heads, hair perfectly straight, nodded at the same time.