by Ginger Scott
“I don’t take a lot of risks,” I say, almost ashamed of the way I’ve floated through life, letting it happen to me rather than actively participating. Every experience, the painful moments and the happy ones, playing out around me like a movie. I’m never the star, but I feel it all the same.
“I take too many,” Cody says, looking down at his feet as he comes to a complete stop. He rubs his hands over his face then tucks his thumbs inside his sleeves and crosses his arms, trying to get warm. I move a little closer out of instinct. The closer I get, the more Cody fidgets, and soon he’s staring at the sky above us.
He takes in a deep breath, and blows it out slowly, letting his lips vibrate softly, before he looks at me again. Long seconds pass, then finally, his right cheek pulls up into a tight dimple, his mouth a half-smile. “I want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to since the first time we met, but I really want to kiss you now,” he says, his arms falling limp to his sides, with a tired shrug, letting it all out for me to see—his declaration a challenge, a dare, the twist to the game.
I close my eyes and force my feet to move my body closer, and I swear I can feel the nervous patter inside his chest as well. Without looking at him, knowing I’ll never be able to say what I want to say if I do, I take the dare.
“I want you to kiss me,” I say, biting my lower lip, but unable to quell the numbing tingle that’s taken over my lips and tongue. I hear his breath hitch, but I keep my eyes closed, only reaching my hands up to grip the soft fabric of his shirt for strength. I know it’s my turn, and I know I’ve gone down a road that can’t be retraced—there are no U-turns here.
Deep breath.
“For once in my life, I want to live,” I say, hoping Cody understands what I mean.
The cold air whipping through the towering stalks around us sends goose bumps all over my body, and I know I’m starting to shake visibly—both from the frosty chill in the air and the complete vulnerability I’m displaying. I lift my eyes open hesitantly, terrified that I won’t find Cody’s eyes looking back at me. But they are. They’re still and crystal—and deliberating. He isn’t blinking. He isn’t breathing. He’s only looking at me, trying to decide if this game he started has gone on long enough, and I’m so afraid that he thinks it has.
Cody slides his hands up from my elbows to my hands that are now clutching desperately at his shirt. His eyes never leave mine, and he never flinches. He pulls my fingers loose from his thermal, and presses my hands flat together within his, pulling them to his mouth. My insides tremble watching him as he touches his lips slowly and softly to my freezing hands, pulling me even closer while he does.
He holds them flat against his chest with one hand, while he slides his other hand along the side of my neck, his thumb stroking the line of my chin first, and then my bottom lip. His eyes leave mine for the first time when he does this, his attention lost to my mouth, and when his tongue slips slightly from his parted lips and grazes his teeth, I shiver.
Cody is taking his time; it’s sweet and wonderful, and achingly torturous—I never want this to end. He pushes his fingers deeper into my hair while he erases the few inches left between us. He drops his other hand from mine, which are now locked onto his chest, and slowly sweeps the few strands of hair blowing across my face to the side and behind my other ear.
He pulls my face close to his, and I watch as his eyes lock onto mine—neither of us willing to close them, wanting to witness every moment of this. His gaze flicks to my lips again, and I hold my breath in anticipation. The first touch is gentle, a taste of what’s to come. The next time Cody pulls my top lip in between both of his, teasing me with his teeth and a soft stroke of his tongue, which fills my body with a rush of need and want so strong that I open wide in response.
My hands slide from his chest to his back, holding him closer, and not wanting to let go. With my permission, Cody slides his tongue deeper into my mouth with a sensual push and pull, his lips strong and hungry against mine. He keeps one hand in my hair, holding my head tightly to his, while his other hand slides down the side of my body, his thumb barely grazing my breast along the way. His hand comes to rest on the lower part of my back, and I bow to the pressure of his strength as he moves me even closer into his body.
I feel him, every bit of him, hard and hot and strong against me, and I’ve never felt more alive. I know in that second that if we weren’t in the middle of a field surrounded by families, and strangers, and—oh god—Cody’s best friends…I wouldn’t be able to stop. I would give in—give myself over to him.
We both pull back at the same time when we hear the familiar giggles closing in on us, but our hands are still linked when Gabe and Jessie round the corner and scream out of surprise from running into us. I feel the sweat cover my body instantly—unsure if it’s from the panic at being caught or the desire coursing through me.
I notice Jessie’s reaction, and I’m not sure if it’s a smirk or a warning, but at this very moment I don’t care—I don’t care that what I did was possibly the most wrong decision I’ve ever made, or that I might be throwing away everything safe based on a kiss. All I care about is that Cody’s fingers are still looped through mine, and our pulses are in sync.
“Look!” Gabe says, holding up a baggie with a complete set of puzzle pieces, completely oblivious to our out-of-breath panting, “Free pie!”
Chapter 9: Sober
The doorbell has rung six times—no one is getting up to get it. Jim stopped in overnight before flying out early this morning for Atlanta. I heard him and Shelly arguing when I came home from my night out with Cody, and I was pretty sure Shelly cracked open a fresh bottle of wine when they were done.
After the kiss, things between Cody and I changed—an instant wall grew between us, awkwardness crept in. That comfort that had done nothing but grow since the minute I met him was stilted, wilting. Our drive home was silent, and we both kept our hands to ourselves, not even venturing as far as the center console for temptation’s sake.
I’m pretty sure he’s ringing the doorbell. Though, I don’t know why he doesn’t just let himself in. I’ve been watching the clock the entire time—about five minutes passing between each ring. I know another one is coming in less than a minute.
I drag my feet to the floor and head to the shower, a clean T-shirt clutched to my chest. It’s Wednesday. I have some studying to do before Dr. Rush’s class, and then I want to spend the rest of the day refining my portfolio work for my Thursday critique at the internship. I’ve been distracted lately, clearly, and I’m worried that it’s starting to show in my drafts. They aren’t nearly as far along as I wanted them to be for my first critique.
The water is sobering against my face. I slept in fits last night, drifting between dreaming about my kiss with Cody and waking to thoughts of my weekend with Trevor. It’s strange how in the moment, there in the corn maze, everything was so clear—I was ready to throw everything I had with Trevor away. But the more distance we put between us and the scene of our indiscretion, the longer we sat there in the car—silent—the more I let regret eat away at me.
I was going to have to tell Cody it was a mistake. And then, I was going to have to hope like hell he understood and didn’t breathe a word of it to Trevor.
The doorbell chimes the second I turn the water off. He isn’t going to stop, and I was going to have to face this conversation at some point. Might as well get it over with. I throw on some jeans and my shirt, slip my feet in a pair of boots, and pull on a hoodie. The house is silent as I make my way downstairs. The harsh sound of the doorbell against the quiet makes me wince.
“Oh my god, stop alread…” I stop when I meet Jessie’s face. She’s pissed, and there’s no confusing it.
“We need to talk,” she says, arms folded in front of her, and I have this amazing fear that she’s about to punch me.
“Hang on,” I say, running back inside to grab my keys and bag. I have a feeling the talk is going to go on for a while. I lock the door behind me when I ret
urn and notice Jessie’s at the end of the driveway, leaning on the hood of her car.
“I need to know what the hell you’re doing,” she launches right into it. Funny, I wish I knew what the hell I was doing, but my girlish instincts have me defensive and ready.
“What are you talking about?” I say, brow scrunched—I’m really trying to sell it.
“Pffft,” Jessie rolls her eyes at me and pushes off from the hood of the car, closing the distance between us and showing me just how not intimidated she is of me. “Let me be clear; I love those boys, Gabe and Cody. We’ve been through some serious shit together. And I nursed him back to coming out in the daylight the last time some chick ruined him…and he’s still fucked up, but he’s a hell of a lot closer to the light than he was five years ago. I’m not letting anyone take him back,” she says, her foul cigarette breath pungent in my face.
I’m not going to lie, Jessie makes me nervous—I wouldn’t say I’m afraid, but I just don’t know how to approach her, deal with her. She’s honest, painfully so. And I know she’ll call me on my bullshit. So I don’t even try.
“What happened five years ago?” I ask, deciding that if I’m going to walk away from Cody, I should know about the damage he’s survived. It makes me feel like I’m making the right choice, not hurting him again.
It takes Jessie a full minute to talk. She takes a deep breath and holds it, her mouth tight and her eyes examining me, scanning to decide if I’m trustworthy. I relax when she steps back a few feet and once again leans on the car, this time sliding up the hood to sit and cross her legs.
“You know about the accident?” she asks, her eyes unflinching, daring. I nod yes, assuming Gabe probably filled her in on what he told me.
“Right, well, Cody was a mess before the accident, and things just spiraled after it,” she starts, pulling a pack of sunflower seeds from her back pocket and unfolding it, reaching forward to offer me some. I just shrug no and she continues.
“Jake and Cody were exactly what you wish every father and son were—in-fucking-separable. God…Jake was so proud of Cody. He taught him how to ride. And when most parents would freak out because their kid was taking their dirt bike and building ramps, Jake was buying truckloads of dirt from construction sites and farm lots, helping Cody build the shit he was jumping off of. He drove him around the country, got him sponsors, put the garage in danger just to get Cody on the damn tour. That’s why the garage is in so much trouble. Jake really let business slide for the three years he had Cody in the X-games.”
“He was the youngest to pull some of those stunts,” Jessie pauses for a minute, shutting her eyes. I can tell how much she loves Cody because of the sadness on her face when she remembers him before, when his body and his heart were stronger. “His last few competitions? Damn, girl. He was sick—like people were talking about how he was this phenom and shit. Then Jake died, and Cody just lost his grip on everything.”
I slide my bag from my shoulder and move over to sit on the other end of the hood. Hearing Cody’s story is bringing out feelings of my own, and it’s getting harder to hold onto the power I used to have to hide it, to bluff my feelings away. “How’d he die?” I ask because I’ve been wanting to know, but I know how it is to be the child without—you don’t want to talk about the details.
I’m gripping the metal crease of the hood, waiting for Jessie to speak. “That’s the thing. It wasn’t some freak accident, like a car crash or something. One day, Jake was fine—the next, he was gone. He had a brain aneurism, Shelly found him on the kitchen floor, a gallon of milk spread on the tile around him, his cereal bowl on the counter, bone dry. Dude was just getting up to have some breakfast.”
I feel the tears falling down my cheeks—Jessie has no clue how close to home her words have struck. But I think I would cry hearing Cody’s story even if it wasn’t a parallel of my own life in so many ways. I wipe them away quickly with my sleeves, hoping she doesn’t notice, but she does. She doesn’t make a big deal of it, but I know she sees me. “You said it got worse. After the accident?” The need to know more is strong, and I’m thankful Jessie is sharing.
“Yeah, it got way the fuck worse,” she says, sliding forward and stuffing the bag back in her pocket. “Cody got really depressed. His leg was mangled, I mean like really messed up. He had to live in that chair for months.”
“That’s when Kyla left him?” I ask, piecing the rest of the story together myself. Jessie just nods and rolls her shoulders back.
“Yeah, girl was a bitch. I never liked her, but when she just ditched him like that?” Jessie trails off, looking up at Cody’s place.
I wonder if he’s home, and I peek over at his garage. It’s empty.
“He’s at the garage; that’s why I came here,” Jessie says, reaching out for my hand to help me slide from her hood. “I’ve gotta get back though. Gabe’s going to wonder where I am. I told him I was just going to grab breakfast burritos.”
I smile at her realness. And I’m jealous that Cody has someone like her to look after him. I know I need to get to class, and I know Jessie’s ready to leave, but I can’t help but ask her one more question, get my final puzzle piece locked in before she goes.
“What pulled him out?” I ask, and she looks at me puzzled. “You said it took forever to pull him out of the dark. What did it? How did you do it?” I’m not sure why I’m asking, really. Maybe I want to know because I’m hoping it will work for me, or maybe I just need to have some sort of happy ending in my head for Cody’s story—especially now that I’ve made the decision to end trying to get closer to him.
“It was Gabe. Gabe was in a darker place than Cody, and that’s all it took. Those two are more like brothers than real brothers are,” she says, smiling while talking about her boys—her brothers. “Gabe got into drugs. Our families? We didn’t grow up in the best hood. And Gabe hooked up with a few bad guys while Cody was gone. Gabe didn’t make it to every tour, only the ones he could afford, and when Cody wasn’t around to help Gabe make smart choices, he made really stupid ones. He was taking a lot of things—pills and shit. But when he started to hit crack, it got out of hand. He stole a car one night and got his ass arrested. Cody bailed him out. Spent a lot of his sponsorship money on it.”
I can tell it hurts her to talk about Gabe’s weaknesses, so I stop her. “Thank you for telling me…everything,” I say, reaching out my hand, hoping that she’ll accept it, accept me, and trust that I’ll make the right choice and not hurt Cody. I’m surprised when she reaches forward and pulls me into a hug, and my arms are awkward as they reach around her. I haven’t been held much, let alone by another woman.
She doesn’t look at me while she walks away, and I know she’s struggling with trusting me, letting me get close to her tight family. And I’m torn, too—almost hoping she opts to keep me out, makes my decision easier.
“So, I’ll see ya, okay?” she says, getting in her car and leaving it at that. I watch her back out and pull down the drive before I get in my own car and head to school, my verve for studying now almost non-existent.
---------------------
I finished out the week in a rush. My portfolio critique went surprisingly well, and my boss was eager to show my work to the senior architect on the design team at the firm. I wasn’t expecting him to like my drawings, let alone show any interest. Of course, now I had a new deadline to contend with, and needed to have full-color drafts ready to present by the first of December.
Trevor was so proud of me. He even sent me a Monopoly box and changed all of the street names to somehow relate to my collection of homes. He wasn’t very accurate—he’s only seen my drawings in bits and pieces, so it’s not his fault—but the thought made my heart melt.
I was looking forward to our weekend together. I hadn’t seen Cody since the night of the kiss, and the more time that passed, the more it felt like a dream—and a mistake.
The flight to Washington is fast, just over an hour. I barely have time to s
tart listening to my new playlist. I made a goal for myself to grow my music library, which, though classically honed, is in need of some new blood.
I decide to squeeze in another song or two while I wait for the plane to unload—I always sit near the back, close enough to a restroom, but away from the lights and the chatter of the front of the plane. I like to close the window, not really interested in seeing the angle of our descent or how high I am above patches of farmland. The tradeoff is a painfully slow exit once landed.
I’m feeling the heavy thump of the latest Arctic Monkey’s LP when I finally clear the gate and see Trevor waiting for me. He doesn’t see me at first, and his feet are shuffling with nerves, his hand holding onto a long-stem rose, which looks desperate for water. His jumpiness makes me giggle. When our eyes finally meet, his smile breaks through, and the churning in my stomach that’s been going non-stop since Trevor left the last time…quits. He’s wearing a long coat with a white shirt and dress pants, like he’s just left a courtroom. He has one of those plaid scarfs draped over his neck, and his hair looks flat, probably from the rain.
My lips are on his the instant he says hello, and he scoops me up, lifting me from the ground to twirl me around. “Man, did I miss you,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine and giving me one more squeeze.
“Ditto,” I say, biting my lip in a coy smile. Coming here, visiting Trevor, is exactly as I always imagined. As we walk through the airport to the car and drive along the highway, I take in the rest of my setting. It’s perfect, exactly as I knew it would be, and when I close my eyes, I can imagine myself here—and I’m happy.
Trevor’s hand squeezes mine while we drive the short distance to his studio apartment. His building is posh, but his space is pretty small. Once inside, I slide my bags to claim a corner by the bed, and then freshen up in his bathroom.
“Are you hungry?” Trevor asks through the door. “I thought we could grab a light lunch, walk the city a little, and then come back to get ready for the show? I have reservations for dinner tonight at a place you’re going to love,” he says.