by C. Desir
I dropped Hailey’s arm as soon as we exited and she shook her head. “You’re gonna need to figure out that touching thing, Kyle.”
Then she gave me a wave and hopped into Tess’s car, and kept waving as they backed out.
I had purposefully added and crossed out an item on my list of fears. Not a real fear, but something that got me closer to Hailey. Got me closer to actually being worth something to her. My shoulder, my hand, my cheek. Three points where Hailey touched me. And that damn hug. Probably I needed to go home and jerk off. Probably I needed to be less sleazy with Hailey and be a real friend. Probably neither of those things would happen and I’d be stuck with a lecture from Mom about not having texted her that I was going out.
I wanted . . . I wanted so much, but taking what I wanted, getting what I wanted, going after what I wanted, was going to be so much harder than adding something to a piece of paper only to cross it out seconds later.
◊ ◊ ◊
A week after, school was finally out and I’d heard nothing from Hailey—though I guess I didn’t reach out to her either. I was given a bunch of bullshit things to do every day for my mom. Couldn’t she put all the groceries on one single list and send me in her car once a week, instead of this daily bike ride to the store to get a few things? I wanted to ask if she was trying to keep me busy. If my long summer with no job—I was applying to places every day because there was no way I could survive in my house alone for ten weeks—was going to be filled with stupid chores.
I didn’t complain to her, though. Didn’t say anything to anyone. For hours and hours at a time. I went into the radio station twice a week to engineer for our shortened summer hours. But I barely saw or spoke to anyone. Sometimes in the house alone, I’d read my journal out loud to hear my own voice. And every day I waited, checking email and hoping someone gave enough of a shit to see if I was alive.
Then, finally, a text from Pavel.
Pavel: Come over today, okay?
Kyle: On my way.
I’d been giving him space. I’d apologized and left the ball in his court. The wait had felt interminable, but maybe what I deserved.
When I got to his house, his mom hugged me hard, smashing me into her big arms and petting my hair like I was a puppy.
“He’s in the back.”
I passed through the kitchen with its delicious smells—Pavel’s mom was always cooking Russian pastries—and his sisters hugged me too. I got more touch from Pavel’s family than anywhere else. They used to seem stone-faced and unemotional, but once I was invited in, I was family.
When I stepped into the backyard, Pavel nodded at me. “Kyle. Perfect time. Play goalie.”
I sighed. “I suck at goalie.”
“Nonsense. Zig Ziglar says, ‘You were born to win, but to be a winner, you must plan to win, prepare to win, and expect to win.’ ”
Since I wasn’t quite sure how to respond, I moved to the front of the goal. “I sent you an email. A while ago.”
Pavel lined up the ball and kicked it fast and hard. It whooshed past my ear before I could even move. “Yes. I received it. But not today, okay? Today, you maybe should tell me about your girl.”
I sighed. Not forgiven, then.
“Don’t look sad, friend. This is not for you to be sad over. Just not today, okay?”
I nodded. “ ’Kay.”
“You still have the girlfriend?”
“Not a girlfriend. A friend who’s a girl.”
“Big boobs?”
I snorted. “Pavel.”
“We’re friends. Family. This isn’t a question to ask?”
“It’s maybe a question to ask. But maybe not the first question.”
I tossed the ball back to him. He stopped it with his chest and let it roll down his body, smooth, like the ball was part of him. “Okay. Tell me something about her that’s not boobs.”
“Hailey. Her name is Hailey. She has a list of fears. She asked me to do a list too. That’s why I sent you that letter.”
“Because you’re afraid?” He lined up the ball again and it whooshed past my other side, though this time at least I got a hand on it.
“Yeah. But not how you think.”
“I should do a list maybe? Will this help me with the ladies? To show my soft side?”
I laughed hard. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not the best person to ask about girls.”
“But you see more of them than I do. I’ve been practicing, though. Cosmopolitan has great tips on oral pleasure. Also, they now say the G-spot is a myth. Do you believe it?”
“Uh, maybe. I don’t have that much experience.”
His eyes went wide, more excitement than Pavel’s face usually expressed. “Do you have any experience?”
I almost told him about the sex offer. Almost. But Pavel would never let me live that down. He probably wouldn’t speak to me for another month if I told him I’d passed on Hailey’s suggestion. So instead, I tossed the ball back to him and said, “Nope.”
◊ ◊ ◊
I got home to a note from my mom: “You got the wrong kind of dishwashing soap. Cascade leaves streaks on the glasses. You’ll need to get the streak-free kind today.” Great.
I logged on to my computer—Jesus, why wouldn’t Mom let me have a smartphone?—and finally an email from Hailey. It was one line.
I’ve worked through every song you put on that playlist, and I love them all.
That was the moment I should have called her. Told her that Chaz was a stupid idea. Told her that I was in for crossing the sex thing off her list. That I needed time to prepare. Time to spend with her. That I wanted to hang out with her all the time. But I choked. I closed the email and did nothing. I couldn’t.
I’d screwed up with Pavel. Screwed up with my mom. Of course I’d screw up with Hailey.
Chapter Twenty: Hailey
Chaz was still hot, and a perfect distraction from all the juvenile crap that went along with the rest of my life, even though I barely saw him. I finally texted him a picture of me in my bra, but not my face. Faceless boobs felt pretty safe.
He came over that night and I had to sneak out to meet him in his car. He had my shirt off within forty-five seconds.
“You have no idea how hot that picture made me. Your tits are perfect, baby.”
Okay, gross. This shouldn’t have been gross, but it totally was. “Baby” and “tits.” I stopped him with a hand. “Do you want to . . . talk . . . for a little?”
He blinked. “Why? Do you? I never see you, and you sent me that picture. I thought you were into this. Into me.”
“I am. . . . I don’t know.”
I shouldn’t have been thinking of Kyle. Or the morning last week when he biked by and mumbled he’d seen Pavel but didn’t have the talk because Pavel put him off. He asked if I was still trying to decide which song to use for the competition, so I guess he got my email, but he never said anything else about my multiple offers to cross sex off the list.
It shouldn’t have affected me at all. Seriously, it was an offer of convenience, nothing else. But he barely acknowledged it. He didn’t say, Hey, Hailey, you’re hot, but getting it over with that way just isn’t my thing. Only, he did look at me in this funny way, straddling his bike like it was the one thing keeping him from saying, Hailey. I’m in. I shook my head. No. That was wishful thinking. Because he didn’t say it. I hated that it hurt. It shouldn’t have. We were friends. But I wanted an explanation aside from “I’m not the guy for that.”
“So do you not want this? Because, Hailey, a lot of girls . . . ,” Chaz started, pulling back and adjusting his dick in case it wasn’t totally clear what a lot of girls would be willing to do with him.
“No. I mean, I don’t want to do it in your car in the middle of the night with my moms a hundred feet away.”
Kyle would get this. Chaz looked baffled, like car sex with parental units close by was super normal. Kyle would be thoughtful about sex. God, why was I focusing on him? He’d
said no. More than once.
The thing was, he could tell me about Pavel, and the most traumatic experience of his life, and cry all over my shirt, or stand next to me when I held a disgusting spider, but he couldn’t man up and go for a sure thing. He knew it was still on the table. I’d told him it would be. I’d brought it up an embarrassing number of times. God, what was wrong with me?
“So we’re not going to have sex?” Chaz asked.
I kissed him again, wet and way dirtier than I really wanted, but it was a holdover. A not now but soon. Because it would be soon.
It was ridiculous. I was almost two months into being sixteen. And maybe it was stupid to want to get sex over with. I mean, I knew I was going blind, and I wasn’t eager for that to happen so I could mark it off my list. But I hated knowing that I would definitely someday have sex and not be able to see my partner. That’s why I wanted it off the list. I’d crossed off nothing since the spider, and that was more than two weeks ago. I had a willing partner, and I also had an unwilling partner, which, I guess, didn’t make him a partner at all.
“At the competition,” I whispered in Chaz’s ear. Then I shrugged my shirt on and snuck back into my house.
◊ ◊ ◊
“I can’t believe you’re doing this, Hailey.” But Tess grinned as wide as me.
“Me either.” I stripped off my jeans in the passenger’s seat of her car and slid on the denim miniskirt. I slipped Rox’s boots back on, which looked killer with my short skirt.
“You remembered to wear black panties, right? Because if you step too close to the edge of the stage, and guys try to look up your skirt, they might not be able to see the black.”
I blushed, thinking about Chaz seeing them that night. The panties weren’t black, they were green—Irish green. Matched my green bra. I’d planned this night since I’d promised Chaz two weeks ago.
“Promise you’re not pissed?” I asked.
“That you’re singing a love song for Chaz with another band?” We pulled into the parking lot near the bar. “No. Definitely not. Better them than me. Plus, it’s not like we have a band. You need to be singing with someone.”
I knotted up my T-shirt behind me, exposing my stomach and even more of my lower back. I’d rehearsed with these guys twice while “at Tess’s house for dinner.” Chaz insisted on me singing with them, and he was right, the band was probably really going somewhere, but they were picky as hell. I wouldn’t be playing that night, just singing. Les Paul was at home.
“Okay. So, if the moms call, I’ll just tell them that you’re either in the shower or already asleep and then send you a text.” Tess held her phone between us.
“Right.”
“And”—she grabbed my leg as I opened the door—“if you need a ride after, call.”
“I’ve got Chaz. I’m good.” I pulled the braids out of my hair, letting it fall in loose waves, shoved the jeans into my bag, and ran to the back exit of the bar, where Chaz stood holding the door open and smiling.
“Have fun,” Tess called as she gave me one last wave before pulling out.
I turned to wave back, but Chaz’s hands were on my exposed stomach, sliding their way to my back. “Damn, Hailey. Every guy out there’s going to want a piece of you tonight.”
I shrugged because I didn’t know what to say. Knotting my T-shirt up had been a great idea.
“We’re on in thirty,” one of the guys from the band snarled. “Where the hell have you been?”
“I told you she was working,” Chaz barked.
So, yeah. They had no idea how young I was either. My age never seemed to matter when Chaz was around, ’cause he knew everyone.
“But I’m getting a piece of you, right? After you sing me my song?” He gave my neck a bite, but I was so nervous about performing with the guys that all the awesome anticipation of Chaz didn’t hit me like it normally did.
“Maybe,” I choked out.
“Not maybe. I am. Don’t worry, Hailey.” He brushed his hand across my cheek. “You’re going to be amazing.”
And the way he looked at me and touched me so carefully made me tingle all over, and I suddenly couldn’t wait for my song to be over so we could cross something else off my list.
I sang hard. “In Your Eyes” was perfect for the crowd. They even asked us to do two encores. Onstage Hailey was an animal, and I almost, almost wished that someone I knew had seen me. Anyone. Our mini-set flew by—there was something to be said for not having the stress of playing as well as singing.
The guys were bummed we only took second, but I thanked them for playing with me. They said they were maybe looking for a new lead singer but weren’t ready to give anyone the spot yet. Probably best since the moms might not go for it, and then I’d have had to explain my age and curfew and all that.
Sometimes big chances were a one-time thing, and it felt okay. But I’d be lying if I said part of me didn’t hope they’d get in touch with me again and ask me to sing lead.
◊ ◊ ◊
The bar was closed, and Chaz and I were just about the last people left. The darkness of the small greenroom was both comforting and terrifying. Because Chaz and I were alone and my shirt was on the floor.
“Baby, that song. Every guy was wishing he was me tonight.” He cupped my boobs and squeezed a little hard. “I can’t wait.”
I slipped my glasses back on my face and peered at Chaz. He was sweaty and flushed and breathing hard. Because of me. Because I turned him on.
I reached for my discarded shirt, but he stopped me.
“I’m not putting you off. It’s that . . .” I looked down. “I wanna wait a little bit longer.” I was being a baby. I’d just gotten completely high from singing, from a gig he’d gotten for me, and I was backing away from him? I had an all-night alibi. I felt totally pathetic.
“But you said . . .” He twirled my hair around his finger. “Why are you making this into a big deal? I promise to take care of you.”
“Yeah, I know, you said.”
He dropped his hand and slipped his fingers beneath the strap of my bra. I shivered because, honestly, he was hot. And I liked him.
He gripped my hips and pulled me closer to him, dropping kisses on my neck that made me shiver even more. “I want you to be able to see what I can do to you. For you.”
Chaz did make me think I was sexy, and seriously, how many sixteen-year-old girls could say they were dating a hot bouncer? Who worked in bars that he got her into?
So taking all things into consideration—my need to get it over with, his horniness, and Kyle’s lack thereof—the decision was pretty damn easy to make, and I finally took control, which was what I’d needed all along.
I shifted the skirt up my hips and stood, letting Chaz slip off my underwear.
“Leave the skirt and boots on.” He kissed my stomach as I stepped out of my underwear. I was on top. I was doing this. I was in control.
He pulled a condom out of his pocket, unzipped his jeans, and gloved up. I’d seen a penis before—hello Internet porn and fifteen percent of Tumblr posts—but in that moment, I was sort of grateful for the dim lighting. Again. Thinking about that big thing being inside me was a lot to take.
His thumbs slid through my belt loops and he pulled me back down onto his lap. My legs shook. I tightened my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering in nerves.
“Take your shirt off,” I said through tight teeth.
The same cocky smile that I’d fallen for on the first night lit his face. “You got it.” He slipped off his shirt and guided me until I hovered over him.
I leaned forward and kissed him. I was on top. I was in control. I was shaking.
In a series of too quick motions, he grabbed my hips, tilted his hips upward, and pressed into me. I gasped at the sharpness of the pain.
“Hailey,” he grunted. “You’re so tight. Holy . . .”
Chaz rammed his hips into me over and over, telling me how amazing I felt. He jerked me toward him again and a
gain as he mumbled incoherently, keeping his hands on my hips, forcing my movements. How long was this going to last?
I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw to keep from crying because it hurt like fire, and Chaz’s hands gripped my hips tighter.
“Hai-ley, Hai-ley . . . ,” he moaned, and I was about to tell him to stop already—because after all his sweet talk about taking care of me, there was only one person having fun here—when his phone rang on the table next to the couch.
He paused, checked the phone, and then pushed his bristly mouth back into mine and started pumping away.
“Oh, come on.” I shoved on his chest with both hands and scrambled to standing in the middle of the room, my body still burning.
“What the hell, Hailey?” His face turned down in an angry scowl. “You can’t stop like that.”
I opened my mouth to talk, but like when the moms had me cornered, nothing came out. When I stared at him, in that split second on the couch, I felt like an idiot for ever, ever taking the time to be with him. What kind of a pathetic loser of a twenty-one-year-old wants a sixteen-year-old virgin girlfriend? And how the hell didn’t I see it sooner? The pictures. The being okay with not knowing the moms . . . I wasn’t in control of this. Not at all. He wasn’t my conquest. I was his.
I jerked my shirt back on, tucked my underwear in my pack, and took off. I didn’t care what time it was. I needed home.
The problem with being me, and seeing for shit, is that it takes a long time to find a way home at three something in the morning, and even though Tess had offered, I could not call her after this.
◊ ◊ ◊
The taxi dropped me off around five. I’d had to wait for ages at some random bus stop downtown. I dropped my bag under our coatrack and jogged down the stairs to my room, needing to be out of my clothes and into something clean. Probably I should have been quiet, but I wanted my bed and my blanket too much to care.
“Hailey?” Rox knocked on my bedroom door about two minutes later.
“Yeah.”
“Why are you home so early?” she asked through the door.