Catching Raven

by Smith, Lauren

  “Pretend?”

  “No,” he frowns. “We be there for each other no matter what.”

  Or in other words, pretend. What a colossal waste of my time. I’m swearing off guys for the rest of eternity. If this is even a fraction of how it would feel to be in a real, no holds barred relationship, I have no desire to be in one. We’ve run around in circles, only to end up right back where we started. At this point I’d rather deny myself what I want outright. Anything to avoid hanging around in lovey-dovey limbo for one more second.

  Abruptly, he stands and offers his hand.

  “Come.”

  I look up at him, confused. “Where are we going?”

  “For a swim.”

  I check the clock on his microwave. It’s already past eleven.

  “Now?”

  He nods and sticks his hand further out, prompting me.

  “But I don’t have a swim suit.”

  “You don’t need one.”

  “I am not skinny dipping with you.”

  He grins and lets his heated gaze appraise my body. “As fun as that would be, who said anything about skinny dipping?”

  I glance down at the dress I’m wearing. “You want me to swim in this?”

  He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Cut that out. You don’t get to be all flirty if you’re not going to follow it up with something long-term. Stop sending mixed signals.”

  “Fair enough. Let’s go.”

  I place my hand in his and let him lead me outside to the pool. The temperature’s perfect for a midnight swim—comfortable, and not too humid. Crickets and katydids sound off in the night. A trail of glowing lights help pave the way to the pool.

  When we reach the chaise lounges, I remove my heels and jewelry, and claim a spot. Eric slips his tee over his head and tosses it onto the chair next to mine. He deftly unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his legs. I focus my attention on the water in front of me. It’s calming. When I turn around to face him again, I try to ignore the fact that he’s standing before me in a pair of navy boxer briefs. So much for the calm factor. He digs through his jean pockets and pulls out a Zippo and a joint.

  My eyes widen. “Eric, what are you doing?”

  “Relax. No one’s out here.”

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “I bummed one from Levi’s party.”

  I’m not oblivious to the fact that he smokes occasionally, but he’s never brought it around me. I honestly don’t know how to feel about it. Half of me is curious to find out what all the hype is about, and the other half is filled with a nagging paranoia. He studies my reaction and slips the joint behind his ear, his lips curving into a sly grin.

  “Sometimes I forget how innocent you are.”

  I look down and feel my cheeks heat. I hate being perceived as a goody-goody. I want to be fun and carefree, not uptight and self-righteous. There’s got to be a happy medium, right? It’s not like anyone’s ever died from smoking pot. And I’m a firm believer in trying something at least once. As long as you’re not hurting anybody, what’s the big deal?

  The sound of Eric’s voice cuts through my dilemma. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll hold off until later.”

  I shake my head and flip my hair over my shoulder. “No, it’s fine. Can I try?”

  “If you want to.”

  He throws his jeans on the chaise longue and beckons me over.

  My legs move until I’m standing two feet in front of him. He retrieves the joint from behind his ear and rests it between his lips. He flicks the Zippo until a burning flame sparks to life and leans forward to light the tip. I glance around and quadruple-check to make sure no one’s watching us. He takes a hefty drag, holds his breath for a few beats, and flips the cap shut. He turns to blow the smoke away from my face.

  He passes me the joint. I examine it carefully. “How do I do this?”

  “It’s simple. Take a hit and hold it as long as you can.”

  Sounds simple enough.

  I look into his eyes and slip the joint between my lips. Timidly, I inhale. A deep burn spreads through my chest. Feels like my lungs are incinerating. I hold it for all of two seconds before I’m coughing profusely.

  He chuckles and snatches the joint from my fingers. “If you’re coughing on your first time, you’re doing it right.”

  I grip my chest. “How can anyone enjoy that?”

  “You get used to it. Just wait until the effects set in.”

  My mouth tastes like moldy ass. I don’t know which is worse, the taste or the smell. He takes a second hit and offers me another drag. I accept. Might as well reap the benefits and make it worth the experience.

  I inhale and pass it off. “How much do I have to smoke in order to get high?”

  “Since it’s only your first time, a couple hits will be plenty.”

  “Thank God.”

  He laughs and finishes off the joint in a matter of minutes. I mosey over to the edge of the pool and dip my toes in the water, secretly thanking my lucky stars that I wore a red dress tonight instead of a white one.

  “So I was thinking—”

  My sentence is cut off when Eric barrels into me from behind and catapults us belly-first into the pool. Cool water revitalizes every inch of me, temporarily washing away all my troubles. I’m weightless and free. My dark hair billows around me and my dress clings like a second skin.

  I break the surface and suck in a deep breath. Before I can rip Eric a new one, he submerges himself, grabs my legs, and yanks me back under. I try to fight him off but he spreads my thighs apart and pulls me toward him until they’re wrapped around his torso. He plants his hands firmly on the small of my back and brings us both up for air.

  “What did I say about the flirting? Do you not pay attention to anything I say to you anymore?”

  “Not really,” he responds.

  I know it’ll hurt so much more in the long run, but I can’t make myself stop wanting this. I love our close proximity and the feel of his hands on me. I love the way he’s looking at me—like he can’t make himself stop, either. It’s addictive and maddening.

  He reaches up and uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away the mascara streaks under my eyes. I mentally chastise myself for not applying the waterproof kind.

  “Have you decided what you’re going to major in once college starts?”

  I shake my head. “I want to pursue fashion, but it’s not practical. I’m thinking business for starters, then design school. I’ll need to know the business side of things anyway, so I may as well put myself through that. Once that’s behind me, I can focus on what I really love.”

  “Just promise me you won’t give up on your passion. I don’t want society polluting your mind. You’ve wanted to design for so long.”

  “I won’t. It’s important to understand the ins and outs of starting my own line. I want to learn every aspect from top to bottom. Hopefully it’ll pay off in the end.”

  “It will,” he assures me. “You’re one of the brightest people I know and you have an amazing eye for detail. No doubt you’ll be successful in whatever you do.”

  A slow smile spreads across my face. “You’re the best confidence booster, you know that?”

  “Ditto,” he says, then kisses me on the lips without warning.

  My heart swells. I stop him. “No kissing allowed! Do I have to spell it out for you?”

  He laughs. His hands squeeze me tighter, making me feel even more exceptional. On a crude note, I’m certain he can feel me nipping out.

  Whatever, he loves it.

  I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happens, but somewhere along the way, time lapses. It feels like we have forever and a day to experience this moment. I lean forward and kiss him this time, despite all my reservations. This time it’s gradual. We forget about everything and focus solely on getting lost in each other. Our tongues collide, sending shivers up my spine. His lips are slick and smooth, moving effortlessly wit
h mine. My fingers tangle in his wet hair. He grips my backside and presses me closer. A low moan rips through my throat.

  I know we’re prolonging the inevitable, but for a brief moment I’m able to pretend like I’m not expecting anything more. I allow the illusion to manifest and carry me through. What if I never feel this way about anyone else? What if nobody understands me like him? I don’t believe in soul mates, but I do know there’s only one Eric.

  Conflicted, I break the kiss and rest my forehead against his, listening to the sound of our ragged breaths.

  “Now who’s sending mixed signals?” he asks, humor gleaming in his eyes.

  Instead of answering him, I fall back into a floating position with my legs still secured around his waist. I spread my arms out and stare up at the starry night sky.

  I unhook my legs from his torso and crouch down to blow bubbles on the surface of the water. Reminds me of being a kid and blowing bubbles in my chocolate milk. Eric splashes me in the face, causing a serious case of the giggles.

  I hold onto the edge of the pool and try to catch my breath. “I think I’m high.”

  Both his brows shoot up. “Ya think?”

  “I feel weird.”

  “Good weird, or bad weird?”

  “Different weird.”

  “Excellent clarification.”

  “I know, right?”

  We spend the next several hours swimming, philosophizing about nothing, gorging on peanut butter pancakes, watching hilarious YouTube videos, and listening to Alanis Morissette on repeat. Eric begged for a different band choice, but I vetoed his request. He wouldn’t stop flirting. The score had to be settled somehow. Around 3:00 a.m. we crash on his couch. Walking all they way to his bedroom seemed like too much work. I’ve never slept so well.

  * * *

  All in all, it was a fantastic start to the summer. We made unforgettable memories and conquered milestones together. We kept our complicated situation under wraps, stealing forbidden kisses when no one was looking. We thrived on the secrecy at first, but the more we messed around, the harder it became to fool ourselves into thinking we could make it out unscathed.

  Still, Eric wouldn’t budge when it came to crossing that boundary, which I took to mean we were going ultra slow. I thought if given enough time, he’d eventually commit. Imagine my surprise when he landed his first official girlfriend (not me) by the time autumn rolled around. Devastation doesn’t even begin to cover how I felt.

  Everything changed overnight. We went back to being just friends, but it was never the same. No matter how hard I tried to bury my feelings, they wouldn’t completely go away. That’s what scared me the most. I’d become so infatuated, so consumed by him, that I lost my sense of self. Never again. My only saving grace was college. I spent the majority of my first semester buried deep in design sketches and dull classes like Business Finance and Statistics. Pouring all my heartache into my dream was the only way I could repair the damage. After all, this was my fault. Can’t say Eric didn’t warn me. Plus, I’m the one who insisted I’d rather see him give his fleeting affection to someone else over me. If I couldn’t have it all, I didn’t want anything.

  Word of advice: when someone tells you to be careful what you wish for, take that one to heart.

  ELEVEN

  r a v e n

  Three Years Later...

  I glance down and check the time on my phone while my date, Devin, continues to drunkenly spew politics, repeatedly shoving his conservative bullshit straight down my throat. Everything from immigration to our economy is up for debate. Since when are these appropriate conversation starters for a first date? I’ve taken enough business classes to know exactly what’s going on with our economy. I don’t need the hour-long recap. Unfortunately for me, no matter how bored I appear to be, this guy isn’t getting the memo.

  “What we really need are more pro-growth policies in the United States that are sustainable. That I’m all for. But these immigrants pouring in through our borders? That shit’s gotta stop. We’re condoning terrorism. Whatever happened to protecting our own people?”

  I wonder if he’d notice if I stood up and walked out?

  Just as I’m debating a clean exit, Devin reaches across the table and steals my untouched glass of Pinot Noir. He gulps it down without a second thought, leaving me momentarily dazed by his odd behavior.

  By all means, help yourself.

  He pops a couple buttons on his shirt and uses the fabric to fan himself. “Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”

  “Uh, I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s the entire bottle of wine you drained.”

  “We split it.”

  “I had one glass, and you just inhaled my second one.”

  “I thought you were finished...?”

  Another blind date gone awry. I’m going to kill Tori for setting me up with this one. The only reason I agreed to go out with this guy in the first place is because I wanted to put her concerns to rest. Ever since she moved out and ditched me for San Marcos last year, she’s been keeping close tabs on my love life. She doesn’t want my vagina to dry up. Her words, not mine. She says it’s already accumulated dust, and the next stage is some kind of petrification. Truth is, my heart’s not in the dating game. I’m far too busy with school, work, and my internship.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the server walking by. I hold a finger up to silence Devin and flag him like my life depends on it. “Excuse me, can we get the check please?”

  “Certainly. Will this all be on one ticket?”

  Devin looks at me quizzically.

  Oh, now he wants to be progressive?

  Our server glances back and forth between the two of us. The air thickens with awkward tension. We obviously didn’t discuss who gets to pay beforehand. I believe the person who asked for the date should pay. Problem is we were both set up by Tori, so technically no one asked.

  “Let’s put it all on mine,” Devin reluctantly says.

  I nod my approval. Our server removes our plates and disappears.

  Devin leans forward. “This was a total bust, wasn’t it?”

  I shrug and rotate the stem of my empty wine glass between my fingers. Guess he was picking up on the signs all along.

  “The food was good.” I wince as soon as the words leave my mouth. A brief moment of hurt registers in his eyes. I finish off the last of my water, hoping to wash down the guilt, and place my linen on the table. “Do you need a ride home?”

  He slumps back against his chair and rubs his hands up and down his face. “Man, I should’ve known a girl as hot as you couldn’t hold an intellectual conversation.”

  Not exactly the answer I was looking for. Color me offended. And while we’re on the subject, Eric wouldn’t dream of saying something so insulting. If I were a more spiteful person, I’d make Devin drive himself home. But I can’t do that in good conscience.

  The server drops off the check, which saves me from having to sit through any more of this shitshow. I whip two fives out of my purse and slap them down on the table.

  Devin looks up and frowns.

  “For the tip,” I clarify. “Let’s go. I’m driving you home. And once you make it inside your apartment, you’re going to do us both a favor and lose my number.”

  He tries to protest, but refrains when he sees the irritated expression on my face. He opens the booklet and slides a fifty inside, plus my two fives. We stand up and gather our things, then he follows me out to my car.

  * * *

  “He did what?!”

  “You heard me. The bastard blew chunks all over my upholstery. Only thing worse would’ve been if it had landed on my shoes. No more blind dates, Tori. I mean it. You’ve been demoted back to my BFF only.”

  “Hey, don’t blame me. I’m an excellent matchmaker. It’s not my fault your walls are impossible to breach.”

  I don’t miss the double meaning in her words.

  “This has nothing to do with my vagina and ev
erything to do with his mouth. Specifically, all the crap that was spewing out of it—before and during the barf fest.”

  “You’re being dramatic.”

  “There was red wine. How am I supposed to get that stain out?”

  “Oh, my God,” she starts laughing hysterically.

  “It’s not funny. It’s disgusting. The passenger floor reeks of garlic and salmon.”

  That one makes her laugh even harder. “Stop it. Can’t...breathe,” she gasps.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting to hold back my own laughter. “It was so bad. He was boring me to death with political viewpoints before we even got our salads.”

  “You know it’s bad when his upchuck reflexes are the highlight of the whole evening.”

  “Tell me about it. First dates should be light and fun. Feeling each other out and whatnot. I was there to have a good time, not sit through Macroeconomics.”

  “You should’ve pulled out a pen and paper and started taking notes.”

  I laugh and walk up the steps to my apartment. When I reach the door, I cradle the phone against my cheek and fiddle with my keys. “Hey, I’m home and want to change. Can I call you back in a bit?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Sweet. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I end the call and unlock my door. Leftover zucchini bread caresses my senses. The urge to throw on an apron and bake everything in my kitchen hit me out of nowhere this morning. A common side effect of that Bellotti-bred blood.

  I slip out of my heels and toss my purse and keys on the counter. Sauntering into the kitchen, I break off a chunk of zucchini bread and close my eyes, savoring the taste. Details from tonight's poor excuse for a date start replaying through my mind, effectively killing my appetite.

  Seriously, what was Tori thinking?

  Before I have a chance to get all fired up again, my phone vibrates in my purse.

  “Hello?”

  Sniffling sounds register.

  “Mia? What’s wrong?”

  I hear a muffled sob, followed by, “It’s my mom. I don’t think I can do this anymore, Rave.”