by N. K. Smith
He put his hand on the back of my neck. “You’re such a dirty girl, Sophie. Show me how dirty you can be and I won’t tell your mother.”
Back in my own room, I shook my head quickly and violently, and forced myself to return to the present.
I stepped away from my computer desk and the new chair Tom had gotten me to replace the one he’d smashed, and went over to my closet. In the second shoe box were my old-as-shit Goodwill Vans. Buried all the way in the toe of the left shoe was my new bag of pot.
Jason had sold me a dime bag so that I’d never have too much for Tom to find if he were to go through my things again. I didn’t even think it was Tom, but Wallace.
He’d also let me borrow another one-hitter. Even though I wanted the man’s voice to stop echoing in my brain as quickly as possible, I couldn’t just pack it. I had to break the pot up, so I sat there with my stupid fucking hands shaking like I was some scared little girl, trying to get that done and then pack Jason’s nice glass one-hitter.
I fucking hated that voice and I wished that I could forget what he sounded like. I hated the way I could still feel his breath on my cheek and his hands on my skin. My stomach tightened and I fought against the urge to get sick.
I just had to smoke a little.
I made it to the window and as quietly as I could, I inched it open.
I hoped that two hits would be enough to shut that motherfucker’s voice off, and then I wouldn’t have to hear him say those things, but maybe it would take more than two.
I put the pipe to my lips and the lighter to the tip, and inhaled.
I wouldn’t have to feel him do those…
It was only after five hits that I withdrew back into my room, leaving the window open and letting in the too-cold air, which was good for waking me up and keeping the pot smell out.
It was late, but not late enough for Tom to be sleeping. I jumped when there was a knock on my door. I really had no desire to answer it, but didn’t want him to break it down again, because I probably couldn’t handle it. When I realized the chair wasn’t under the handle, my chest tightened and my stomach knotted. It was stupid of me not to have done that before messing around with the weed.
“What?” I asked through the door. “Do you have the window open?”
“Yes.”
“Can you close it? This is an old house, and it’s already expensive to heat.”
“Fine.”
“I’m going to bed.”
What was I supposed to say to something like that? Why did he think I needed to know that he was going to bed? Was I supposed to be thrilled and enlightened that I now had confirmation Tom was going to sleep?
“‘Kay,” was the only response that came to mind.
I spent the rest of the night trying not to fall asleep, because every time I closed my eyes, I was back in my room in Tampa.
I guess I finally fell asleep against my will, because I awoke at eleven and went to work at twelve-thirty. The holiday display project was massive, and there were about four of us doing it. I got to put up one side with Brody, and we talked about stupid, random things like the water temperature at Ocean City and some kind of soccer teamed named “Arsenal.”
I’d been working for a while, getting ready to take my lunch and get high, when I heard, “I-i-it’s b-beginning to look a lot like Ch-Chr-Christmas.”
Instantly, a smile forced its way onto my face. I turned around and looked up. “Elliott!”
He was an incredibly wonderful surprise. I stood and went over to him. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
“I w-w-was in the neighborhood.”
I kept the smile on my face, but narrowed my eyes. “No, you weren’t.”
He shook his head and smiled. “No, I w-w-wasn’t, but I w-wanted to see you.”
I looked back at Brody who was pulling out small glass snow globes and putting them on a shelf. “I’m taking my lunch now.”
I was on top of him in his car, the steering wheel grinding into my back as I pressed myself to him. His hands were digging into the small of my back as I tangled my fingers in his rusty hair and attacked him with my lips. If he moved his hands any lower, he’d be cupping my ass, and I hoped to hell he’d be doing that soon.
I wanted him so badly in this moment and if I was perfectly honest with myself, the ever-present aching need for him was rippling throughout my body.
I pulled myself closer to him and sighed into his mouth. He felt so good. He moved his bandaged hands up my back and down over my shoulders, and then encircled my wrists. Carefully, he pulled my arms away and practically forced me to stop touching him.
I didn’t stop kissing him though.
“SSSS-SSSSoph-phie,” he stuttered against my lips.
“Hmmm?”
“We sssshould sssstop.”
I shook my head and sucked his lower lip into my mouth as I ran my tongue along the length of it. Even though he was still holding my wrists, I put my hands on his chest and pawed at him.
“SSSSophie, ssssstop.” “Why?”
“B-b-b-because.”
I lifted my head away and focused on his deep hazel eyes. “Your body wants me, Elliott, I can…” I pressed against him again.
“I c-c-can’t.” I pulled back. “Do you want me?”
He bit his lower lip as he gave me a slow answering nod. “Y-y-yes.”
“Then quit saying we have to stop. I promise I’ll make you feel good, baby.”
I ignored how his hands tightened around me when I said that. I ignored how firm his grip was when I tried to get closer again. I kept inching toward him until I could attach my mouth to his earlobe in hopes of hearing that sexy groan of his. It felt like he was bruising my wrists as he pushed and pulled me away from him.
“SSSSoph-phie, sssstop.”
I sighed. Well, it was more of a huff, actually. I pushed up against his shoulders and got off of him, settling back down into the passenger seat. He’d let go of my wrists and I ran my hands through my hair as I let out a deep breath.
“We’re really not going to…”
Elliott shook his head.
“Seriously?”
He nodded.
“Well, shit.”
“D-d-don’t be m-m-mmmad.”
I sighed again. “I’m not mad, Elliott.”
“You ssssssseem m-m-mmad.”
I was disappointed. I was upset. I was confused. I was jealous as hell of Megan Simons, but I wasn’t mad at Elliott.
“I have to go. My lunch is up.”
“B-b-but you d-didn’t eat. W-w-will you be o-o-okay?”
I ignored the question because I was tired of having to talk about eating and cooking and food all the time. “Thanks for coming to see me. I’ll see you tomorrow, Elliott.”
I popped open the door, but as I tried to get out, he latched onto my finger. I stilled and swallowed hard, but didn’t look at him. If I did, he’d break something inside me, and I didn’t want to feel it. I didn’t know if I could handle anything else breaking. Especially after I’d worked so hard to not have anything left to break.
“I have to go.”
“D-d-don’t be mmmmad.”
“I’ll see you Monday.”
I got out of the car, slammed the door, and walked back into the store to clock back in, incredibly ready for the day to be over. Megan Simons was standing next to her register and I nodded hello to her. I wanted to pull her stupid hair out and ask her what the hell she had that I didn’t in order to get Elliott to touch her.
Well, Elliott touched me, but he mainly focused on my hands and, much to my displeasure, my face, while never going near all the good parts.
“You and Elliott, huh?”
I stopped and regarded her. She wasn’t a
bad person, and it wasn’t that I disliked her, but I wasn’t sure I could ever spend much time with her.
“Yeah. We hang out.” I took a deep breath and walked over to her. “So you’ve done him, right?”
The smile she wore made me want to break her face. “Yeah.”
“So what’s up with that?” I asked, even though I wasn’t quite sure I wanted the details.
“You want to know?”
“Did I not just ask about it, Meg?”
She smiled and got real close as if she was going to spill some deep secret that no one else could know. “It was freshman year and there was a big bonfire at the Reynolds’ farm. He was there, which was odd because ever since he’d come to Damascus, I would only see him at school, and occasionally with Jane at the store or whatever.”
As fascinating as that was, I just wanted to know about the fucking. I cocked an eyebrow.
“He was pretty much glued to Jane the whole night, except when she went off with Trent. Cierra kept talking about Elliott being gay and I was like, ‘no way’ and she was all, ‘he’s totally gay,’ and I told her to prove it, and she told me to prove that he wasn’t.”
I ground my teeth together. Her casual demeanor made me sick. “And?”
“So I did. I jumped him. He’s got nice lips.”
Well, shit. I fucking knew his lips were nice. “And?”
“What? You want the blow by blow?”
“No pun intended, I imagine?”
Megan chuckled, but shook her head. “He didn’t want me to, so I didn’t go down on him.” Thank the FSM. “But he did go down on me and it was hot. He’s, like, really skilled at it. I mean, I was a freshman and all, so it wasn’t like I had a lot to go on, but it was really, really good.”
I was pissed. I didn’t really care that Elliott had done those things, but more that he’d done those things with Megan, and now refused to do them with me. It was confusing and it pissed me right off.
“I could tell he was a virgin, but he was a skilled virgin.”
I was getting pretty annoyed, so I asked, “Did he fuck you, or not?”
She licked her lips and I swear there was a twinkle in her eye. “Yes, Sophie, his dick was in me. He’s got a lot of stamina too.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve got to go put fucking Santa up on the goddamn shelves.”
As I walked away, I ignored her when she told me to have fun. I worked in silence for nearly forty-five minutes until Brody tossed several bags of tinsel at me. I looked up, and tried to pull myself out of my head. All I kept thinking about was not being able to have sex with Elliott, and the fact that I was completely sober.
“What?”
Brody shook his head, but kept the smile on his face. “You’re all anti-social now. Quit fuming about whatever’s going on in that head of yours and talk to me again.”
I sucked in a deep breath, stood up a little straighter, and blinked. I kept myself occupied by straightening the ceramic angels on the shelf, wishing my mind was also blissfully occupied with something other than the image of Elliott doing Megan at a bonfire.
“Was that your boyfriend?”
“Um…” I said brilliantly.
Was he my boyfriend or did we just hang out? I would have thought that being someone’s girlfriend entitled me to dick benefits, but I didn’t know what the hell I was with Elliott, and at some point I would have to ask or define it myself. If I didn’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend, could he really be called my boyfriend? And all that aside, did I want him to have a title like that? And what the hell did all that boyfriend-girlfriend shit mean anyway?
But I couldn’t think of any other way to define what Elliott was to me. “Friend” was too cheap of a word, and he certainly wasn’t just someone I messed around with.
“Yeah,” I answered, sighing, “I guess so.”
I didn’t even bother pretending like I wasn’t going to get high Monday morning. In fact, it was my first priority. Sunday night was horrible, and I’d had way too many thoughts.
I woke up a little late, so my time with Tom was limited to roughly ten minutes. The thing about “firemedics” was that they were all incredibly dedicated and rarely called in sick. I thought Tom wanted to, but then decided he didn’t have a clue as to what to do with me if we both stayed home, so he went to work. Once the SUV had pulled out of the driveway, I was out on the side porch, putting flame to the pipe. I called Aiden afterward and told him to bring some of his shit to school and that I’d talk to him before first period.
There was a part of me that felt horrible, because Elliott would hate that I was getting high again, but a bigger part of me didn’t necessarily care. I liked getting high. No matter how much I’d like to change myself to be perfect for him, there was no way I would ever be what he deserved.
Every time I tried not to get high, something happened and I couldn’t do it. Yesterday I only did it one time before work, and then Elliott had replaced my mid-shift smoke. I didn’t smoke again until that man’s face appeared as I closed my eyes to sleep. I took a couple of puffs out of the window and it made my mind all warm and soft again. That man was still in my head after that, but his face was fuzzy and his voice was distorted until it was simply background noise.
Elliott picked me up as had become his habit. He was wearing his faded jeans and a plain gray t-shirt that I could just barely see through the “V” at the neck of his coat. He looked so hot. He’d taken off his hat, revealing his beautiful hair, and it lay on his lap. Usually his hair was so neat and tame, but his hat head resulted in sex hair. His cheeks and nose were slightly reddened from the cold. In short, he was gorgeous.
“Hey,” I said by way of greeting. He seemed relieved. I wondered if he thought I was going to keep holding onto what happened in the car. I hoped he didn’t think I was like that. I was pretty good at just boxing that kind of disappointing shit up and tucking it away somewhere to be dealt with at a later date. Or not at all.
“H-hhhhhhey, SSS-SSoph-phie.”
I was silent on the ride to school. I could tell that my silence was making him nervous, but I couldn’t help it. I kept thinking about him going down on Megan Simons. The thought of Elliott doing that to almost anyone was hot, but why did he have to pick Megan? And why couldn’t he ever feign interest in doing that to me?
Before I could get out of the car, he asked, “W-w-why did you get hhhhigh this m-morning?”
I was tired of explaining myself to everyone. Helen never wanted me to explain every little thing I did. She rarely even gave me a chance. “Because I wanted to.”
“W-w-why?”
“I have to go get my books for first period.”
“D-don’t go to the w-w-woods w-with J-J-J-J…”
As much as I just wanted to be soft, kind, and loving and shit with him, everything was annoying me today. Elliott telling me not to get high pissed me off. I could get high if I wanted to, and I did want to.
It didn’t dawn on me that today was Elliott’s first day back after redefining his status last Monday by beating Anderson to a bloody stump, until I was out in the woods with Jason, getting blazed. He snubbed out the roach and replaced his lighter in his pocket, then ran his hand up the inside of my thigh. I quickly pushed it away.
“Jesus Christ, Sophie, you’ve got to be done with that shit by now,” he said, obviously thinking I was still on my fake period.
“I’m not going to have sex with you anymore, Jason, so just stop.”
“What?”
I shrugged and moved away from him. I wasn’t entirely excited about this conversation. He’d already shown me that he felt more for me than I felt for him, and I had no clue how he would react.
“I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.”
I could practically feel the air change around him.
“What? Why? Because of Elliott Dalton?”
“No,” I denied quickly, “because I know you keep thinking that someday I’ll be your girlfriend and hold your hand and shit, but that’s not going to happen, Jace, ever.”
He covered his heart with his hand, as if I’d actually wounded it.
“But you can hold hands with Dalton?” I had a look of surprise on my face before I could stop myself. “I’m not an idiot.”
I sighed, because I knew he wasn’t stupid and I hadn’t exactly been discreet about my crush on Elliott, at least not with Jason. Maybe I should have handled the situation a little better. I knew he was nursing feelings for me, but I opted to ignore it. Now he was hurt.
I didn’t know how to handle this shit. It was stupid to have to care about Jason’s feelings. I’d told him that I wasn’t interested in that shit the first day. I was truly torn. My instinct was to be the biggest bitch I could to make sure he knew I wasn’t good for him and that I was done with it. But I didn’t want to hurt Jace. I was incredibly confused.
“I’m sorry if you thought we had more, but if it’s worth anything, I kind of think of you as a friend. I’m just not interested in anything more.”
“And now you don’t want to fuck?”
I shook my head.
“Well, shit.”
I picked up my bag and slung it over my shoulder, then shrugged. “I’m trying something new.”
“Are you still going to smoke? The Daltons don’t like—”
“Yeah, I don’t know, Jace. Like I said, I’m trying new shit. I have no effing clue what’ll happen.”
I turned to go because I was pretty much done with the whole conversation. It had gone better than I had anticipated, and I wanted to end it now and get away from it completely, but he wrapped his hand around my wrist and stopped me.
Dirty breath in my ear that didn’t belong to Jason sent chills down my spine that weren’t caused by the winter climate. Sophie, be my dirty girl.