“Damn, girl. What did you do to me?”
“Does it look real?” I asked. “Be honest.”
He touched a faux open, blistering wound. “If I didn’t know better, I would think I was in some kind of crazy accident, maybe a fight with a lawnmower,” he said. “Alexa, you’re really talented. I had no idea you were this good.”
My work still needed practice in order to perfect the final project, but in the meantime, I snapped a couple photos and then gave Scotty permission to wash up. He came back into the room fresh-faced and handsome. I had been aching to kiss him all day. I was quite pleased when he planted an unexpected smooch on my lips. We ended up toppling onto my unmade bed. I cast my inhibitions aside, and welcomed the feel of his lips gliding down my neck.
“Scotty, my mom could be home any minute,” I warned as my body heat soared. “We can’t do this here.”
“Do you want me to stop?” Scotty whispered.
I didn’t want him to. In fact, I dreamed about going all the way with him since we met. “No—don’t stop.”
His hands continued to travel all over my body as though he was sculpting clay. A soft moan escaped me when one of his fingers snaked up underneath my bra and touched my left breast. The sensation was more than electrifying. Whether we might have gotten caught or not, I was ready to be closer with him, to be completely intimate. I pulled off my tank top so that he could have easier access. His lips slid down my stomach and reached my belly button. As much as all his wonderful kisses and nibbles left me in ecstasy, I had to stop him.
“Scotty, I have to tell you something,” I said, with my body throbbing like it was on fire.
Scotty stopped kissing me and looked up. His hair was a disheveled mess. “What?”
“Uh…okay. Well I’m sort of a—”
He shot me an incredulous glare and asked, “Sort of a what?”
It was humiliating for me to admit it, especially to a grown man. “You know—” I was hoping I wouldn’t have to spell it out for him.
“No way.” His eyes lit up in astonishment, like I had just ambushed him. “You’ve never—you’re a virgin?”
“You probably think I’m some sort of baby right?” I asked, feeling shot down.
“No. I would have never guessed it.” Scotty took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. “You totally caught me off guard here, I’ll give you that.”
“Does that change things between us?” I asked.
“Of course it changes things, but it doesn’t change the way I feel about you,” he said, lightly kissing my collarbone.
I pushed him back down on the bed. “Okay, then let’s keep going.”
“Wait. Hold up a minute,” he said, clutching one of my wrists.
“What’s the problem?”
“The problem is—that now that you’ve told me this, I really don’t feel comfortable taking advantage of you in your mother’s house.”
I grabbed my top and slid it over my head. “Fine. Suit yourself,” I said, embarrassed to the point of being angry.
“Look, there is a time and place for everything, Alexa.” He brushed his lips over the top of my hand and kissed it softly. “I promise you.”
“Well, what now?”
“I think it’s best that I get going. If I stay, we could get into some serious trouble, kid.”
I despised nothing more than when he called me “kid.” I was by far not a kid and would prove it. After Scotty left, I started by ripping down all my posters of Carter. I needed to be on Scotty’s level, physically and mentally. The first step to that was dispelling my ridiculously pointless love affair with Carter Storm. No matter how impossible that task seemed to be.
***
I was getting ready to go see Scotty the next evening when Mom approached me. She stood in my bedroom doorway with just a smile on her face.
“What’s up?” I asked.
Her smile widened and she said, “I just wanted to come in here and say how proud I am of you—how proud your father would be.”
“I’m always going to make you and Dad proud. I promise.”
“You’re definitely going to make a name for yourself, and you better keep that boyfriend of yours.”
“Yeah, I guess he’s all right,” I teased.
She tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear, and looked at me lovingly. “Where are you headed tonight?”
“Scotty’s going to make me dinner.”
“Oh, how special. Do I hear wedding bells?”
“Mom—” I returned to my mirror and applied a dab of blush to my cheeks. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Just a little late-night grocery shopping.”
“I shouldn’t be out late, so we can work on my project when I get home.”
“Take your time, honey. Just go have fun.”
***
For the first time since we started dating, Scotty invited me over to his apartment. Most of our dates consisted of him picking me up or meeting at a specific location. I told him I was fully capable of coming to see him, so I drove myself to a secluded part of Newport Beach. He lived in a ritzy area four miles from the beach where the lush Italian like resort required me to enter a gate code.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Scotty said, pecking my cheek. “It’s good to see you.” The television blared the latest football game, and like a true gentleman, he instantly shut it off upon my arrival and gave me his full attention.
I stepped inside, impressed by the sight of his spacious two-bedroom apartment. The walls were painted the color of cinnamon, and the place was quiet, cozy, and attractively furnished, decorated with long red curtains and expensive oil paintings. If you asked me, it was exquisite taste for a man.
“I love your place.”
“Thanks. I’m kind of partial to it myself.” Scotty headed over to the stereo. Smooth jazz filled the air like a fragrant summer breeze. “Sorry. I didn’t have time to cook, but I picked up some Japanese.”
I followed him into the kitchen where he grabbed a head of ice berg lettuce, a couple Roma tomatoes, and a dreary-looking carrot from the fridge. He placed the vegetables in the sink and turned on the faucet.
I stood to the side, drinking him all in. He wore a dark vintage t-shirt and snug-fitting blue jeans, which accentuated his perfectly rounded backside. I was tempted to walk right over and put my hands all over him, but I controlled my urges.
“Do you need me to help you with anything?” I asked.
“Nah, I got this. You just relax, kid,” he replied, voraciously peeling a carrot. “So how was your day?”
I could no longer handle my impulses. I crept up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He smelled incredible, like rich, sweet cologne and peppery shampoo. “Better, now that I’m with you.”
His back muscles twitched. “Oh really?”
“You know something,” I whispered in his ear, “I’m really not that hungry.”
The peeler dropped into the sink with a loud clang. After turning around to face me, Scotty said, “Come to think of it, me either.”
He lightly kissed my forehead, and his soft lips trailed down to my eyes. The blood vessels in my face pulsed with heat when his lashes fluttered against my cheek like a small animal’s heartbeat. I drove my hand underneath his shirt, feeling the warmth of his smooth chest against my cold fingertips. He shuddered like a man suddenly aroused at my touch.
“You feel so nice,” I barely murmured.
I was not able to stop thinking about the day we almost made love in my bedroom. The memory caught in my head like a thorn on a vine. He had me feeling things I’d never experienced before—love, desire, want—and I needed to have all of him. So what if I was only nineteen. My feelings were as real as the very world I was living in. In no way did I have an agenda when I showed up there that evening. I just couldn’t control myself whenever we were together. My feelings had grown intensely out of proportion, and now the fire needed to be extinguished.
Scott
y tenderly pushed a strand of hair away from my face and traced the length of my cheek and chin with his fingers. He looked deep into my eyes and said, “I love you. You know that, right?”
Those three little words meant more to me than anything in the world. If love was supposed to feel this blissful, I never wanted to fall out of it. I ran my hand over his sturdy jawbone and replied, “I don’t think I could love anyone more.”
Scotty took my hand, and led me down the hallway to his bedroom. All that surrounded us was the pitch darkness. I couldn’t make out anything besides the king-sized bed that he sat on. I stood in front of Scotty, towering over him. He pulled my blouse over my head and I followed his lead by unbuttoning his jeans. Scotty gently swung me onto the bed, and I lied back while he studied every inch of me. His hands ran over the bridge of my nose and explored every part of my face like he was seeing me for the first time.
I reached up, letting my palm slide down his arms. I was surprised by the indentations in his muscles and the smoothness of his skin. He was practically hairless. I ran my fingers over his ribs as though counting every bone in his perfect body.
I was a little apprehensive when he eased me out of my jeans. I knew I wouldn’t be able to turn back unless I put it an end to it right then, but I had no regrets. I watched him slide out of his black boxers once my jeans were tossed to the floor. The hardness of him against my thigh had my heart pounding a million miles a second.
He must have noticed me trembling. “Are you okay?”
I smiled at him through my nervousness. “Just a little shaky.”
He pulled me up, and drew my face in close. My hair cascaded now onto his shoulders as his tongue slid against my tongue with a roughness that was almost spellbinding. He tasted a bit like soy sauce, but I enjoyed the aftertaste lingering on the tip of my tongue like a distant memory. With those ever-so-gentle hands of his, Scotty eased my legs open and nudged inside me. At the sound of my gasp, he gave me a demanding open-mouthed kiss, and in no time, we became a twist of arms and legs. It was almost as if an angel made love to me: slowly, with great enthusiasm and kindness.
A few hours later, I lied in bed curled up against Scotty’s back. I wanted to live in that moment forever, listening to the rhythm of his breathing and watching his chest move up and down. I pressed myself even closer to his body, still feeling I wasn’t close enough.
I was just about to close my eyes and drift off to sleep when I remembered something vital. It slipped my mind that I told my mother that I’d be home early that evening so I could work on my project. That definitely wasn’t going to happen, but I needed to call and give her a fair warning. At eleven thirty, she would probably still be up. I looked around for a phone and spotted a white cordless beside Scotty on the nightstand. I hated to wake him from a peaceful sleep, but I had to let my mother know I was okay.
“Scotty,” I whispered. I slowly ran my nails down his back, hoping the sensation would wake him favorably. “I need to call my mom.”
Scotty stirred and shifted toward me—his eyes heavy with sleep. “Oh, sure.” He kissed me on the shoulder, stretched over to the nightstand and handed me the phone.
I cradled it like a lifeline, unsure of what I was going to say to Mom if she questioned me. I knew I would eventually come up with something, so I dialed my number. It rang several times before it went to her voicemail. I left a message: “Hey, Mom. I’m not going to make it home in time tonight. I’m kind of caught up here. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Love you.” I laid the phone to rest at the edge of the bed and at once curled up against Scotty, craving his warmth.
***
I got home around eight thirty that next morning. I felt guilty for flaking out on Mom and torn for leaving Scotty. I sensed his disappointment when he wasn’t able to make me breakfast in bed. We decided on a couple of slices of toast with grape jelly, and as soon as I wolfed that down, I was out the door. The further I drove from his place, the more my heart ached to go back and spend the rest of the day with him. Reality was like gravity—pulling my head out of the clouds and sending me back down to Earth. As much as I wanted to ignore it, I had a life to get back to. My impulses could get the best of me when something left me feeling so tempted. I managed to remind myself: Scotty is here to stay, Alexa. You have nothing to fear.
I expected to walk through my front door and hear the sound of the television coming from the living room. I even anticipated smelling the strong pot of coffee Mom brewed daily. Mom had been an early riser ever since I could remember and didn’t know the meaning of sleeping in. She woke up at seven a.m. on the dot every morning, alarm clock or not. This time, the sound of silence greeted me. The house felt empty, like its spirit stepped outside that morning and not yet returned.
“Mom?” I called out. “I’m home.”
I realized I wore the same clothes as the night before, and I readied myself for interrogation. Whatever her reasoning, the fact was that she really had no say in the matter. I was a grown woman, fully capable of making my own decisions when it came to who I slept with.
I peered into the kitchen, and to my surprise, the little red light still flashed on the answering machine. I pressed the button and heard the sound of my own voice. I found it strange that Mom hadn’t listened to my message yet.
Next, I checked her bedroom. The bed was neatly made, like she never even slept in it that night. In the garage, her parking spot was empty. I actually wondered if my mother went out and had a wild night of her own with some mystery man that I didn’t know about, but the chances of that were slim. It just didn’t seem like her. A bit vexed, I called Scotty.
“Miss me already, huh?” he asked.
His comment went way over my head. I had other things on my mind. “Scotty, my mom’s not here. I’m worried.”
“Maybe she went out and decided to have some fun of her own last night.”
“No. She’s not like that.”
“Well, did she leave a note?”
“No. Not a trace of anything.”
“Maybe she went out to get some breakfast or something. Wait a little bit longer. If she’s not back soon, call me.”
“Okay. I love you.” Funny, how easy it was to say the words.
“Love you too, kid. Keep me posted.”
I panicked when Mom didn’t show up after another hour rolled around. I was at my wit’s end with all kinds of grim scenarios flooding through my head. An unanticipated knock on the door jolted me out of my seat, and relief settled inside me. I knew it was Mom, although, something screwy was going on. She usually came through the garage. My heart stopped at the sight of two young police officers parked on my doorstep, each exhibiting solemn, perfunctory expressions.
The baby-faced blond male cop said, “Miss, my name is Lieutenant Sanders, and this is my partner, Officer Springer. May we come in?” When an officer stands in the middle of your family room in the early morning hours, it’s obvious he’s about to tell you some unpleasant news.
From what the police could gather, Mom left the house around eleven that evening, and was on her way to our local grocery store. I don’t know what was going through her mind when she decided to take off at that time. She didn’t like to go out past eight.
While driving down Jamboree Road at around eleven thirty, a drunk driver ran a red light and hit the driver’s side of my mother’s car as she was attempting to make a right turn. The impact was so intense that our little Honda Civic spun like a Frisbee into a light pole. The car split in half, scattering wreckage for miles and killing Mom instantly upon impact. Police and medics arrived at the scene to find groceries strewn around the accident scene like confetti: a bag of oranges in the middle of the road, a loaf of bread alongside the steering wheel of our car, and yogurt splattered on the pavement. Metal and debris covered the road like a blanket of thick soot. The drunk driver somehow managed to get away on foot, unscathed, although his mini-van was in shambles. They finally caught him hiding in a dumpster behind a drugstore.<
br />
The police told me that the news covered the accident for hours. They wondered why I hadn’t heard about it. Of course, I was otherwise engaged at that time. The thought made me sick to stomach. This would have never happened if I went home when I said I was going to. My mother was dead because of me. At this realization, I went dizzy, like I stood up too fast. The next thing I knew, I blacked out.
I woke up feeling as though someone poured ice water on my face. I opened my eyes and found Scotty pressing a damp cloth against my forehead. The same two police officers hovered over him and peered down on me. My heart stopped beating like my life was on pause.
I mustered the courage to utter, “Wake me up and tell me this is all a nightmare. Please wake me up, Scotty. Tell me my mom’s okay.”
Scotty swallowed audibly and glanced over at the two police officers as though seeking their approval. Their facial expressions told me everything I needed to know, and my heart just froze. I felt thrown back in time to that cruel day when I was sixteen where I was experiencing my father's death all over again.
“Listen, Alexa,” Scotty said, taking both my hands, “baby, this is going to be a really trying time for you—”
I choked on my own hot, fat tears, coughing out the words, “No. Don’t say it! Tell me it’s not true! I can’t live without her.” My body went limp, as though all my muscles were paralyzed.
Scotty scooped me up with the arms. “I love you so much, Alexa. You can’t give up on me.”
“All my family is dead,” I whispered into this shoulder. “I have nobody—there’s no one left.”
“That’s not true.” He took my hand and kissed each fingertip. “You have me, kid. I’ll always be here for you.”
***
Everything that ensued after that moment happened quickly. I vaguely remember how I got from one place to the next. A few days after Mom’s death, we had a vigil at the church and a short memorial in our back yard. Some people at the grocery store heard about the accident and wanted to pay their respects. The funeral, the reception, the whole day, was blurry in my mind, like water spilled over ink.
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