by Carian Cole
"You ladies ready to get out of here?" Brendan asks, pulling Chloe out of her chair.
"We thought you'd never ask," she replies, winding herself around him.
"Sorry I missed the dinner, babe," Jason says, putting his around me as we walk out of the hotel. I'm not sure when I became 'babe'. "And I'm a pretty sucky dancer, anyway," he adds.
"It's okay. The food wasn't that great, so you didn't miss much."
His arm tightens around my waist, and he leans into my neck, his breath reeking of alcohol. "I'll make it up to you at the hotel."
Nerves turn my stomach as we climb into the back of the limo. I'm grateful the driver is not one of my father's usuals. Initially, my dad wanted to pay for the limo and have one of his drivers take us, but Jason and Brendan insisted on paying, and now I know why. Chloe must have told them that they had to get the limo out of my father's control to make sure that word didn't get back to him that we ended up in a hotel for the night. I'm annoyed at Chloe's orchestration to ensure she tricked me into spending the night with Jason, even though I know her intentions are for me to have fun. I don't like being manipulated.
The boys resume drinking once we hit the road, and Chloe joins them. I decline when Jason offers the bottle to me. Smiling, he pulls me against his chest. "You don't have to be a good girl all the time, Kenzi." He whispers, his lips against my ear.
I know I don't have to be, but I want to be. Why is being good considered bad? Just a few hours ago half my family stood in my living room, proud of me and happy for me, telling me how beautiful I looked, and how handsome Jason was. They thought they were sending me off to experience one of the happiest nights of my teen life. I feel ashamed that now I'm on my way to a hotel, about to lose my virginity to a drunk guy who probably won't even remember me by the end of the summer. My mother would be incredibly disappointed.
I feel sick and trapped, and not excited in any way about what's to come.
When we reach the hotel, Jason and Brendan go to the office to check us in while Chloe and I wait outside. I watch the limo pull away, wishing I had asked the driver to take me home. Now my ride is gone, and I have no way to get home until tomorrow.
"I feel kinda sick," Chloe says, grabbing onto my arm.
"Are you okay?" Under the parking lot lights, she looks like a mess. The makeup she paid someone a hundred dollars earlier today to apply is smeared, and her perfect updo is now very much down. The bodice of her black dress is stretched from Brendan's groping. I want to drag my best friend out of here, take her home, and scrub her face.
"I think I'm gonna be si-" she turns towards the bushes and vomits.
Ugh.
The guys join us a few minutes later and laugh at Chloe, who's bent over in the bushes, but immediately vaults herself into Brendan's arms when she's done. I have an immense urge to shove a piece of minty gum into her mouth as they lean into each other for a kiss.
"You two have fun," she drawls as Brendan leads her away to their room.
Jason grabs our duffel bags and eyes me suggestively. "Well, at least you're not puking in the parking lot," he jokes. "Let's go find our room and get this party started."
Our room is just like any other hotel room, with the usual stiff bed, ugly orange comforter and generic pictures on the walls. I've been in literally hundreds of these rooms over the years with my parents. I make a beeline for the bathroom, which always seems to be in the same place. I blot my face, fix my hair, and rinse my mouth with the tiny bottle of mouthwash provided by the hotel.
Calm down. I tell my reflection. Stop being a loser prude. Relax, have fun and get this milestone out of the way. Stop being the class weirdo.
I open the door, prepared to attempt to have some fun, to find Jason right outside.
"Hey. I was just going to ask if you were coming out." His blue eyes are glazed, his tone slightly slurred. He doesn't move from the doorway to let me by. Instead, his gaze drifts down to my chest before he leans in to kiss me, his hands circling my waist, pulling me against him.
"You're so fuckin' hot, Kenzi..." His hands move down my body to paw my ass through the thin material of my dress.
"Jason..." I try to squirm from his touch but he backs me up against the sink, his lips coming down hard on mine again.
"I've been waiting weeks to get you like this..." His hands slide up and squeeze my breasts, his fingers pulling the delicate fabric aside. "God, your tits are fucking amazing..."
His head bows down to dive into my cleavage and I take that as an opportunity to grab his hands and push him away.
"I'm sorry...can we kinda slow down...?" My heart rate picks up speed, but not from desire. I'm panicking, not sure how to get away from him. The way he's touching me is making me feel dirty and scared.
His hand snakes around my neck and a grin flashes across his face. "I'll go as slow as you want, baby." He kisses me again and the taste of alcohol on him makes me queasy. "You've got the body of a fuckin' porn star, Kenzi." His hands are everywhere, on my ass, on my breasts, trying to pull my dress up my thighs.
"What?" I try to pull away from him, feeling my face flush. I don't even know what he's talking about but it doesn't sound like a compliment I want.
"This ass and these huge tits," he nips at my neck. "All these fucking curves," he slides his hands from my breasts down to my ass, then brings one hand between us, shoving it between my legs, bunching the fabric of my dress up against me. "All the guys want to fuck you, and half the girls, too. You're hot as fucking hell."
Disgusted, I push him off me, and he stumbles, feeling the effects of the alcohol. "Stop. I don't want to do this."
He comes back at me. "No, no, no. We're not playing this game anymore, Kenzi. For weeks you've been teasing me and I can't take anymore." He tries to kiss me again, but I duck away from him and slam my hands into his chest.
"Jason, stop. I mean it."
His eyes go dark. "What the fuck? You think I paid all this money for this room so we can sit here and talk?"
I bite back tears. "I'm sorry. I'll give you the money for the room."
"You think your little rich spoiled ass is too good to be fucked by me?"
"No, not at all," I swallow hard, his anger feeding my fear. "I'm just not ready for this."
He sneers at me. "Not ready? Your body was made to get fucked, Kenzi. The faster you accept it, the better off we'll be. Now shut up and let's have some fun."
"Fuck you, Jason. You're a drunk asshole."
I push past him and get myself out of the tiny bathroom, but he follows me, grabbing my arm and spinning me around. "Come on, Kenzi. Stop being a cock tease."
"I'm not trying to be one!"
"Why the hell do you think you're here?" He slams his fist against the wall.
"I didn't agree to be here with you, Jason. This was Chloe's idea, not mine. Why are you acting like this? I'll give you your money back, I just want to go home."
His lip actually curls at me. "Fuck off, Kenzi. I'm outta here. There's plenty of chicks here that aren't stuck up bitches. Too bad your body's wasted on such a cold stupid bitch." He storms out of the room, slamming the door hard behind him.
Deep breaths aren't doing much to calm me. No one’s ever talked to me like that before or said such ugly things to me. Sitting on the bed, I try to gather my wits. I could lock the door and stay here 'til morning, tell Chloe what happened, and get a ride home. But what if Jason comes back? He still has his room key. I can't sleep in this room knowing he could come back in at any time.
I pick up my bag and head for the lobby, trying to figure out where I can go. I could call a cab, but they'll have to bring me home and then my dad will know something went wrong. One look at me and he'll know, and I can't do that to him now when he's right in the midst of working on a new album. If I get him all distracted with my drama, it will interfere with his creativity because he'll immediately feel like he has to do something to fix this for me. I refuse to do that to him.
Rayne wou
ld come get me, but she'll want to track Jason down and tell him off and make a big crazy scene.
There's only one other person I know who will come get me in the middle of the night without question.
I count to ten and press his contact image on my phone screen, and it rings four times before he answers.
"Kenzi?"
"Hi..."
"What's up? You okay?"
"Yeah...I just kinda need a ride. Do you think you can come get me? Are you busy?"
"You know I will. I just got home. Where are you?"
I clutch the phone, knowing he's going to blow a gasket. "At the Blue Robin down at Hampton Beach."
"A fucking hotel? I thought you were spending the night at Chloe's?"
"That's what I told my father."
"Kenzi..." Disappointment laces his voice.
"Tor, come on. Please don't make this harder."
His keys jingle in the background, then the distinct sound of his front door opening and closing. "I'm on my way. It's gonna take me about an hour to get there, though. Are you okay? You're not hurt or anything?"
"No, I'm fine. Just humiliated."
"That's fixable. Are you in a room?"
"No, I left the room to get away from Jason"
"Then stay in the lobby, okay? Don't be wandering around in the dark by yourself. The beach can get weird at night. The last thing we need is you getting picked up by a sex trafficker."
"What? What the hell, Tor?" Sex trafficker? As if I wasn't nervous enough already, now I have to sit here and worry about being thrown into the back of a van and sold to someone.
"Just stay in the lobby."
After we get off the phone I huddle in the corner of the lobby with a magazine hoping the manager doesn't come and kick me out or make me go back to the room. The last thing I want is another run-in with Jason.
Tor's truck pulls into the parking lot of the hotel a little over an hour later. I'm so glad to see him that I don't make any of my usual funny comments about him being late. He looks me up and down when I climb into his truck but doesn't say anything until after we've been driving for about ten minutes.
"I'll fuck that kid up if he did anything to hurt you, Kenz," he finally says, his hand tightening on the steering wheel, his eyes not leaving the road.
"He didn't hurt me. He was drinking all night, and I didn't want to put out. He got mad, we argued a little bit, and then he left to go to a party in someone else's room. I didn't want to be there alone after that."
"Put out?" he practically spits the words. "Jesus Christ. I can't stand hearing that shit come out of your mouth. It's fucking degrading."
"Well, what do you want me to say? That I wouldn't sleep with him? Is that better?"
"No."
"He called me a cock tease, too. I never even once hinted that I wanted to have sex with him. I haven't teased him at all."
Tor's jaw clenches and he shakes his head. "I'm gonna turn this truck around and put that kid in the fucking ground. Does that little shit think he can treat you like that and get away with it? Does he have any fucking idea who he's messing with?"
I touch his arm. "Tor, stop. Do you want to go to jail for assault again? Please just take me home. I want to forget all the filthy things he said to me."
"If I hear any more of this I'll fucking kill him."
"Fine." I cross my arms in front of me, wishing I had changed my clothes and gotten out of this ridiculous dress.
He glances over at me. "I didn't mean you couldn't talk. I just meant I can't hear any more of how he treated you without going back to teach that scumbag a lesson on how to treat a woman. And how not to."
"I really don't want to talk at all," I reply, trying not to cry. "Can we just listen to some music?"
"If that's what you want." He connects his phone via Bluetooth to the stereo and starts up my favorite Eagles playlist that he made just for me a few months ago.
"Better?" He asks.
"Better."
I rest my head back against the car seat and close my eyes, letting the music ease away the stress of the night. Music has always been a huge part of my life. I may not be a musician like the rest of my family, but the love of music is embedded in my bones and lives deep in my soul. Nothing makes me feel more content than my favorite songs. While I love both of my parent's bands and their music, I have lots of other favorite bands that I listen to. A favorite song or melody can be so therapeutic and take you back to a better time and place, almost make you feel like you're really back there again. These songs on Tor's playlist remind me of when my mom was still here, and she and Dad would sit on the back porch and talk, drink wine and listen to the Eagles. I'd get comfy in my beanbag chair with my favorite books, and we'd sit out there for hours. It didn't happen often since both my parents traveled a lot, but those nights were always my favorites. I'd do anything to have just one more night like that again with my mom and dad.
"Can I stay at your place until tomorrow afternoon?" I ask Tor when we get near the exit to our town. "If you take me home now my Dad is going to know something happened."
"Where the hell is Chloe?"
"Probably under Brendan."
"Terrific," he sighs.
"Yup."
"You can stay at my place, and I'm not going to tell your father about this. He'll lose his mind if he knows you lied to him to stay at a hotel with a guy. So now we're both lying to your dad."
"I'm sorry, Tor. Really. And I didn't know about this. Chloe and I were supposed to share a room. She switched everything up when we got there and there was nothing I could do."
"Let's just get home. What's done is done, and I'm too tired to fight about teen drama."
I'm half asleep by the time we pull into Toren's driveway, and I feel bad that he must be utterly exhausted after working all day, probably chasing dogs around all night, and then driving almost three hours for me.
"I really do appreciate you doing all this for me," I say when we get inside his house. "I didn't mean to piss you off and ruin your night."
He lets out a deep sigh. "I'm not mad at you, Kenz. I'm glad you called me. You can always come to me. You know that."
"I know. And I appreciate it. I'm sorry if I disappointed you. That bothers me more than anything else that happened tonight."
"You didn't." He throws his car keys on the kitchen table. "You can't get through life without making mistakes, right? It's how we learn."
I nod and pull the clip out of my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders. "True." I kick off my shoes, relieved to be out of them. "Jason started to drink and hang out with his friends as soon as we got there. I just sat there getting blisters. I didn't even get to dance or anything; it was a total waste of time and money."
He tilts his head and smiles at me. "I can fix that." He crosses the living room to his mp3 player that's hooked up to his speaker system, hits the play button, and Elvis's smooth voice fills the room.
My mouth falls open in surprise. "Wow. I remember this."
"Do you?"
"Yes. You danced with me on your feet when I was little. I used to love that."
He moves to stand in front of me and takes my hand in his. "Let's try it without you standing on my feet."
Laughing, I put my hand on his shoulder as he lightly touches my waist. "Okay," I reply. "But I'm afraid I'm not much better than I was when I was five. Your feet still aren't safe."
He laces his fingers through mine. "Don't worry about it. I'm not any better, either."
As we sway together, our bodies a few inches apart, I realize my forehead comes to his chin. I don't know why I like that, but I do. Jason and I are the same height, and it felt awkward to me when we kissed - as if we were sorta unbalanced even though we were even in height. I think the man should be taller than the woman, it looks better to me. And now I know it feels better.
"I always loved when you played these songs for me when I was little."
"That's because you thought it was your
dad singing. Actually, you thought every guy singer you heard was him."
I laugh because that's true. It took me a long time to understand that not every man on the radio was him singing. "I've just always loved his voice."
"He does have a good voice, but he can't compare to the King."
Letting go of his hand, I bring mine together behind his head, pull the black rubber band out of his ponytail, and wrap it around my wrist. With a shy smile, I clasp my fingers together at the back of his neck while he gives his head a little shake, his hair landing in an oddly alluring shaggy mess.
"Why'd you do that?" He asks, his warm hands circling my waist, pulling me a little closer to him.
"I like how it looks when it's messy." His hands tighten around me, and he turns us towards the window where the blue glow of the moon is shining through, revealing his devilish grin in the dim light of his living room.
"I think you just want to steal my rubber band," he accuses.
"It's not stealing if you let me have it."
His smile widens. "You're right. Should I be worried about you hoarding all my stuff? I thought you would have outgrown this by now. You're not gonna start clipping pieces of my hair, are ya?"
Tilting my head, I finger the ends of his hair, pretending I'm contemplating that. "I do like your hair," I tease playfully, but on the inside, I've started to shake like a leaf. I haven't stood this close to him since I was a little girl, and I can feel his body heat mingling with mine. It's exhilarating and frightening at the same time. I slide my hands down to his shoulders, thinking it will ground me to hold on to him, but instead, the inner jittering amplifies. His shoulders are wide and hard, so different from the boys I've touched. Where they were athletic and lean, he's like a rock wall. The solidity of him is incredibly powerful, almost commanding me to get closer, to touch him more.
"I kinda want your shoulders," I say with a light laugh to mask my nervousness as my hands move hesitantly down towards his chest.
He leans his forehead against mine, still swaying us slowly back and forth to the music, and laughs softly. "Unfortunately, you can't take those home and put them in your box. They're stuck to me."