Loose

by Coo Sweet

  His mouth formed a wistful smile. Raven rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Sage noticed. He tried again to shake off the glum mood he felt himself free-falling into.

  "You cold? We could go to the den. Make a fire," he offered.

  Raven pushed up against him. She stroked his back with both hands. Sage circled his arms around her. They kissed. Once. Twice. A third time because it felt so good. The tips of their tongues danced and darted from one mouth to the other. The intensity was feverish by the time they came up for air.

  "There's a fire right here," Raven said, pressing forward.

  She made him backpedal to the bed, pushed him down on it. Then she inched on top of him. Raven ground her hips against his pelvis, and she planted hot, greedy kisses on his eyelids. Sage caressed her back, her butt. He explored every inch of her landscape that he could get his hands on, all through the confines of her clothes.

  "You feel good," he whispered. That was all Raven needed to hear. She pounced on Sage’s belt buckle, loosened it.

  But he flipped the script. And her, too, right onto her back. Sage pressed her hands to the bed. He kissed her so deep it felt as though he could touch her tonsils with his tongue.

  Raven’s hair fanned out on the pillow. When Sage came up for air the sight of her earring gripped him like an iron claw. He was jerked upright by the force of it. Sage struggled to not hyperventilate. He worried he might pass out right there on top of her if he didn’t get his breathing to slow down.

  Mistaking his panic for passion, Raven shifted into overdrive.

  "You have protection?" she panted.

  On the verge of freaking out, Sage rolled off her and onto his side. With a whole lot of bed between them.

  "What's the hurry?" he wheezed.

  "I'm not trying to get busted by your parents. That’s what."

  "It's cool. Don't worry about them." Sage baited her with tender kisses. Raven didn't bite.

  "Come on. We doing do this or not? I know you want it." She elbowed him a little to let him know she really meant business, but even as she did that, she knew she’d lost him.

  Sage untangled himself from her and the bed. He shuffled to his dresser. A small, ornate, wooden box sat on top of it. Sage fingered the box then examined himself in the mirror. He couldn’t help noticing the sadness in the eyes that stared back at him. He noticed the fear there, too.

  Behind him, intruding on his reflection was Raven. Stripped down to her bra and panties. Sage dropped the box. He whirled around to face her.

  "Hey, I'm not...could we...do this another time?" he blurted out.

  Raven swooped toward him with her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing.

  "Do it another time? What, you mean like a rain check? Like I'm Wal-Mart or something?" She pushed him in the chest hard enough to rock his balance.

  Sage grabbed her hands.

  "Stop it. Now you’re tripping," warned Sage.

  Raven jerked away.

  "No…you’re the one who’s tripping." She planted herself firmly in front of him. Sage brushed past her. He snatched up her clothes and tossed them to her.

  "Get dressed. Party's over. You don’t have to go home, but you have to get the hell out of here." Sage crossed his arms over his chest and silently willed her to get her ass moving.

  Raven exhaled a mouthful of hot air. She shook her head in disbelief. She lifted the clothes with two fingers pinched together like she was afraid of catching his cooties off them. Then she wriggled into her pants and shirt, raging the whole time.

  “I knew something wasn't right with you. Can’t ever trust the pretty ones. Are you gay or something?" She threw the words right in his face, daring him to throw some back.

  Sage winced; didn’t answer. Instead he deflected the diss with a shield of silence.

  "Why'd we come here anyway? So you could clown me? Or are you trying to prove something to yourself?"

  Raven couldn’t stop slinging arrows. It felt too damn good. Plus, she got the reaction she was hoping for.

  Sage’s eyes narrowed and turned dark. That last shot hit close to home, but not in the way Raven intended.

  "No, I’m not trying to prove anything. That’s stupid. I thought we could chill. Get to know--"

  She didn’t let him finish.

  "And then what? Roast marshmallows? Drink hot chocolate?"

  "Please, you got it all wrong, Raven. This was obviously not a good idea. Just get your stuff so I can take you home."

  "I don’t think so. We're not done here.” She popped her neck, waved a finger at him.

  Sage raised his palm and moved the finger away, “Listen, you need to--“

  Raven slapped his hand hard -- like she was trying to launch it into the next room. Sage clenched his teeth, but he backed up instead of moving into striking distance. He pressed his palm to his forehead and sighed. Raven pounced again.

  "I've heard things about you. Know that? I just blew them off. Yeah, people talk. They say you're fine as hell but don’t have a girl--"

  Sage closed his eyes to block out the sight of her. He almost clapped his hands over his ears, too, to drown out all the yakking that was making his head start to throb.

  "And I’m not looking for one either. Let’s go."

  He grabbed her arm. Raven pulled away from his grip. The flimsy material her blouse was made of ripped along a weak seam in the armpit. Raven stared at the hanging threads and jagged edges. She couldn’t help laughing. This was perfect commentary for the way the evening had gone.

  “Hey, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to—-“

  Sage started toward her, but she stopped him with a scorching glare. Raven snatched her purse off a chair. She barreled out of the room.

  They rode to Raven's house in bone-crushing silence. Her neighborhood was minutes away in proximity, but miles apart aesthetically. The entire block looked like it had given up any hope of ever being a civic gem of manicured lawns, freshly painted facades, and awe-inspiring architecture.

  "This is it," Raven said, pointing to her home. They parked in front of a house that would answer to fixer-upper in polite circles and a piece of crap in not so polite ones.

  Sage tunneled his vision along a line above the death grip he had on the steering wheel.

  Raven touched his arm. He jerked it away like her fingers burned.

  "You need help out?" he asked, in a low monotone.

  Raven slammed her palms on the dashboard. Sage flinched, but still wouldn’t make eye contact with her. Raven raised a fist and let it hang in mid-air.

  "Uhhh, you just don’t know how tempted I am," she snarled through gritted teeth.

  “You have problems. You know that?” said Sage, with a sad smile tipping the corners of his mouth.

  He reached across Raven and opened the door, but she didn’t budge.

  "Okay. You want to play rough, huh? Well, here we go. You’re taking me shopping tomorrow…after school. To buy a new shirt," she said.

  Sage threw his head back and laughed into a closed fist. He revved the truck’s engine.

  “Look, I’ll give you money to replace your shirt. We are not going shopping. Sorry. Ain’t going to happen.”

  Raven stared him down. The spot on her jaw just below the ear pulsed with furious rhythm. Sage refused to bend.

  "What? You’re still here? I need to go," he said.

  "Then get your punk ass on," Raven screamed at him. She reached over to mush the side of his head, but he dodged her.

  There wasn’t a hint of emotion on his face. Raven hopped out of the truck in a huff. She left the door standing open behind her.

  "Peace. Hope to never see you again," Sag
e yelled.

  "After school tomorrow, bitch. Out front," Raven shot back, over her shoulder. She pranced toward the house swinging her purse and nodding to a tune in her head.

  Sage stretched over and pulled the door shut. He threw the truck in drive and peeled off. His head throbbed like someone had taken a hammer to it. He ground his back teeth so hard it made him wince. A sheer red curtain seemed to drop across his line of sight. The SUV bucked from the force of him accelerating the gas.

  That’s when a frosty draft swept over his body and made him shiver--even though the truck’s windows were sealed tight, and the heater was going full blast.

  Chapter 5

  Sage ripped the linen off his bed. He got a fresh set and remade it. Then he canvassed the room with a pillowcase in his hand. He wiped down each item Raven had touched, as if he could scrub away the memory of her. A glimpse of his infantile behavior in the mirror cracked him up.

  There was a knock on his door right in the middle of his crazy cackling. Before he could answer, the door opened. His mother, Nadine, was standing there. She had a few more lines on her face since that day in the park six years previous, but she was still a good looking woman.

  "You okay, son? I heard funny noises in here." Nadine craned her neck to peep over Sage’s shoulder. She swept the room with that special optical acuity mothers are gifted with.

  "Uh-huh. Fine. Just getting ready for bed."

  Nadine walked in with her arms wide open. Her eyes and nose, too. No sense burying my head in the sand, she reasoned, chuckling inside at her use of such stealth tactics. Sage clutched her in a bear hug. She grunted and blew out a soft puff of air.

  "You're crushing me, boy! Sure you're okay?"

  "Yeah, Ma. Promise."

  She peered over his shoulder again spying the dirty linen.

  "Why are you changing your sheets this time of night?"

  "They're funky. Trying to help you out."

  Nadine creased her forehead and lowered her chin, obviously skeptical. Yeah, right, OCD Boy. You don’t know the meaning of funky, she thought. What are you up to? She leveled her eyes on him with a steely gaze that dared him to look away or even think about lying.

  "What're you trying to hide, Sage?"

  Sage grinned, "Come on, Ma. Nothing. I swear."

  "What'd you do tonight?" She stepped closer to him. Trying to get another whiff of his breath and clothes.

  "Saw a movie. Nothing special.”

  Nadine surveyed the room with laser-like vision. In very precise sections. Bed--check. Top of dresser--check. Closet and bathroom--check, check. She probed carefully, searching for any signs of that smoking gun that would blow Sage’s flimsy story out of the water and support her suspicion.

  "You get home at a reasonable time?" she grilled him.

  "Of course, Ma."

  "Good. And you haven’t forgotten that I don’t allow any bootie popping or belly rubbing up in here. Right? Or heads--"

  "...Will roll. Got it, Ma." Sage couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Nope, none of that happening here.

  "You'd better make sure you’ve got it. With all those fast girls sniffing after you...never know what might happen. Little hoochie-coochie mamas are ruthless these days. Not like when I was coming up." Sage bit his lip to keep from laughing.

  "What girls, Ma?"

  "Lots of girls. Whoever. You know what I mean. Just don't want you falling for any old big butt and a smile, son."

  "Don’t worry. I’m too smart for tricks like that. All of this is a hoochie-coochie mama dead zone," Sage waved his arms around his body.

  Nadine had to laugh in spite of her serious conviction on the subject. She hugged him again, pecked him on the mouth, then she turned him in the direction of the bed and swatted his butt.

  "Alright, long as we're clear. Now get in that bed."

  "I'm going, Ma. Love you."

  "Love you, too, baby. Good night."

  The instant she left, Sage dragged the notebook from under his bed. He flipped through the pages. He wrote furiously with a big scowl marking his face. The scowl was there for two reasons. First, he hated lying--to his mother, to Peyton, and to himself, but there was really no getting around it. He had a part to play, and this was the only way he knew how to play it.

  Second, he knew from experience that his nightly trek down memory lane would most likely be brutal. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Not that he ever did, but sometimes the pain of reliving that day was sort of cathartic, instead of just being haunting.

  Yeah, sleep that night would most definitely be torture--not therapy. He’d gone way too far with Raven. Serenity would surely make him pay for his infidelity to her memory and the promise he’d made to her.

  She always made him pay.

  The next morning, Sage swiped at his buzzing alarm clock to shut it off. He didn’t feel rested and could have used a few more hours of sleep, but he climbed out of bed with no hesitation.

  He started making it up right away, surprised at how warm the mattress and linen were. That was strange--because the air in his room had felt like an arctic freeze the entire night.

  Sage was methodical with the mundane chore. Lumps and creases were defenseless against his exacting hands. When he finished he stood back and inspected his work from a couple of angles, fully prepared to make adjustments wherever necessary.

  There were a lot of things he felt he couldn’t control in his life…but neatness and order? That he could control.

  Sage moved to the closet. He gathered several outfits from the color coordinated, perfectly even rows of tops and bottoms. He held up different combinations of shirts and pants. He placed each one back on the rod before he chose the next.

  Sage cast a critical eye toward every outfit in a full-length mirror that hung inside the closet door. He was totally engrossed in every detail of the day’s ensemble, right down to choosing a pair of shoes from the multi-slotted fixture at the very back of his immaculate walk-in.

  Behind him, Sage heard his dad clear his throat. Halloran was in his forties, handsome, and jovial. He was dressed to kill in an expensive designer suit and crisp white shirt. No mistaking where Sage got his flair for putting together a great look.

  "Morning, Sage."

  "Hey, Dad. What’s up?"

  "You have a good night?"

  "Depends. You playing good cop or bad cop?"

  "Alright, boy. Don’t play with me. Answer the question." Halloran sounded serious, but the corners of his mouth did turn up a teeny bit.

  He draped a colorful silk tie around his collar and knotted it with expert fingers while maintaining eye contact with Sage.

  "I know, Dad…respect."

  "Damn straight. Don’t forget it.” Halloran clucked out of the side of his mouth and winked at Sage.

  “So? What did you and Peyton get into?”

  Sage’s stomach clenched at the flashback of the night’s events.

  "Some crappy movie he picked. What about you and Mom?"

  "Usual stuff. Kicked some butt at the card table. Tiff asked about you."

  "Really? How's she looking these days?"

  "You trying to get me in trouble?" Halloran tipped his head toward his son. He reached out and roughed up the hair on top of Sage’s head.

  Sage patted it back into place as soon as Halloran put his hand down.

  "Guess I should call her, huh?"

  "Sounds like a plan, my man. What’s the harm?”

  Sage tensed inside. Right…if only you knew, Dad.

  “Been a while since you brought a girl home,” Halloran rambled on.

  Sage bunched and twisted the clothes in his han
ds, shuffled his feet like he had to pee. He felt a few beads of sweat pop up on his upper lip.

  "Dang, I better get dressed. Don’t want to be late for school."

  "Alright. Same here. Have a good day, pal."

  "Thanks, Dad. You, too." Sage gave him an anemic smile and a weak chest bump.