Pieces of Love

by PJ Sharon

  “Um...we could talk about all of your wild guy adventures.” I grinned across at him to the next bed. “You do have friends, don’t you?”

  He tossed a towel giraffe at me. “Yes—I have friends.” He leaned over and took another sip off his drink and I followed with my ginger ale, glad to add cool moisture to my parched throat.

  “Tell me about your best friend.”

  “I don’t know if I have a best friend,” he replied, his brows furrowing in concentration. “Kyle and Greg have been around since my first year of private school. We played Lacrosse together and hung out sometimes. Before I met them, it was a geeky kid with glasses named Doug who lived across the street. He got me hooked on video games and Cheetos. I still can’t play Madden 25 unless I have a bag. Man, could I go for some Cheetos right now.”

  I laughed. “Munchies, huh?”

  “Want to order room service?” Ethan rolled to the side and grabbed the menu, still restless and noticeably edgy underneath his calm. He ordered cheese pizza, a salad for me, and two chocolate shakes, and then demanded a bag of Cheetos, arguing with the service staff that he was certain they could find a bag somewhere on board a ship this size.

  I giggled.

  “How much will that be?” I heard him ask. “Add a bottle of your best champagne to that order, please. And charge it to the room.” When he hung up the phone he slumped back onto the bed, slugged down the rest of his drink, and huffed out a breath. “Can’t wait to see the old man’s face when he sees the bar tab and the room service bill.”

  “You’re really taking Maddie’s advice to heart, then?”

  “Oh, you mean about getting my dad’s attention by hitting his wallet? Or maybe I should toss my “good guy” image and get into trouble to prove the point that teenagers need supervision?” He laughed, rolled off the bed, and fixed another drink. “It won’t matter to him. I’ll get a lecture about being responsible, and he’ll sweep it all under the rug so he doesn’t have to feel like a failure as a parent.”

  I shook my head when he offered me a bag of peanuts.

  “It’s your turn. Tell me about your friends,” Ethan said as he slid back onto his bed. This time, he moved the pillows closer to the edge and closed the distance between us by two feet, making the hairs on my arms stand to attention. I took another sip of my soda, considering my answer.

  “When I was little, it was all about me and Amanda. I followed her everywhere.” I swallowed past what felt like a stone. “Nothing depressing, right?” Clearing my throat, I continued. “D.D. is my closest friend. Her parents are divorced and her life is always a mess, but she and I can talk about anything, you know? And who am I to talk about messed up, right? Sometimes I hang out with Sami, but she just graduated and has her own crew of friends. Mostly we hang out to jam together. She’s an awesome drummer.”

  We traded a few more stories of childhood friendships and adventures of mayhem, every story ending with how we’d each fallen from grace with our parents in some way and adults in general. Our common denominator was that we were both sick of trying to make them all happy. By the time room service came, Ethan had already polished off his third drink. The waiter eyed him and me as he uncorked the champagne but said nothing about our under-age status. He left us alone, and a moment later, I reluctantly took the glass Ethan handed me.

  “C’mon. It’s only one,” he coaxed. “It’s summer vacation. What should we drink to? Oh, I know,” Ethan said. “Let’s drink to failure.” He swayed slightly as he tipped his head back and guzzled. He sat down hard on the edge of the bed, bottle sloshing in one hand and the empty glass in the other. I took his glass and set my own on the table, the bubbles deceptively happy.

  “It’s been my experience that failure is the best teacher,” I said, realizing how true that was. I took the bottle out of his hand, walked to the sink in the bathroom and poured it down the drain.

  “What are you doing?” Ethan jumped from the bed and stumbled to the doorway.

  “Keeping you from feeling like crap in the morning.”

  Ethan crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “That was a hundred dollar bottle of champagne.”

  “Well, making yourself sick kind of defeats the purpose of punishing your father. You hanging your head in a toilet bowl—that’ll show him.” I drained the last drop and handed him the empty bottle as I tried to brush past him.

  He grabbed my arm and spun me around, pulling me close. Eyes filled with emotion he stared down at me. “Haven’t you ever just wanted to...forget?”

  “Every day,” I said softly. I touched my palm to his cheek and gave him a weak smile. “But hiding in a bottle or running away isn’t the answer.” I heard my words as if they were coming from someone else. They made sense, but sounded hypocritical and foreign pouring out of me—the queen of running away, Amanda’s voice whispered.

  Ethan’s brows drew together in contemplation, then he grinned. “And yet, getting trashed right now seems like a perfect idea.” He leaned heavily against the doorframe blocking my exit—or possibly holding himself steady. His eyes lost focus and he blinked several times.

  “How’s that working out for you?” I slapped his face gently but hard enough to get his attention, sobering him up slightly.

  “I guess we’ll see in the morning,” he snorted.

  “I hate seeing you like this.” My voice was hoarse and I worried it might crack.

  “What? Drunk, or pathetic and miserable?”

  “Both.” I ran fingers along his cheek and a grin appeared, softening the lines around his eyes.

  “I knew you cared about me,” he teased. He captured my hand in his and laid a soft kiss on my palm, tender and sweet, sending a shockwave of affection through my heart.

  “Of course I care about you,” I said. Our fingers wove together, the front of our bodies almost touching.

  A flicker of appreciation overshadowed the sadness in his eyes and warmth radiated through me when he stroked a finger up my arm. I met his gaze squarely, which had a spark of fire in it I hadn’t seen a moment before. My nerves ignited. A part of me knew I should be afraid, being that Ethan wasn’t likely in full control of his faculties, but I couldn’t quite make myself fear being alone with him. Somehow I trusted him in a way I’d never trusted anyone before.

  I had a heartbeat of apprehension before I draped my arms over his shoulders and wrapped my hands around his neck. The two of us together pushed off from the doorframe and danced to some unheard tune, our feet shuffling side to side into the bedroom. His eyes, glassy, but dark and wide, met mine.

  “Can you stay with me?”

  My teeth caught my bottom lip as if to stifle my totally insane response—and failed. “I’d like that,” I whispered as our noses touched.

  He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on mine. “I was hoping that’s what you’d say.”

  Chapter 23

  Ethan dipped his head and kissed me. He tasted fruity, like lime, and his breath was sweet from the champagne. When his mouth opened and his tongue met mine, my first instinct was to pull away. But as his hands brushed my lower back, my whole body sank into him, and all I wanted was...to be closer. Denying me, he drew back and gave me a satisfied but crooked grin, then proceeded to drive me even crazier. A jolt of sensation to the lower half of my body drew a groan from deep in my throat as his lips followed a trail along my jaw and down my neck.

  I grabbed what I could of his hair and pulled him close, finding his lips once more and attaching myself firmly as we fumbled to maneuver our hands around clothing and over each other’s flesh. We fell onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, fingers tugging at buttons and mouth’s fused together. The dull taste of alcohol reminded me that I should be thinking of something other than tearing Ethan’s clothes off, but my heart stampeded in my chest and every cell in my body screamed for connection. I’d never wanted to be part of someone else so badly. Thoughts crashed against the humming vibration in my body and the fuzzy barrier in
my head. I couldn’t think of a shred of a reason why I should resist the opportunity to go all the way with the coolest, sweetest, cutest guy I’d ever known. Drunk or not, he was hot. And he was the only boy who had ever made me feel this way...like I was beautiful...like I mattered...like I was wanted.

  I unbuttoned the last button of his shirt and my hands raked across his bare chest, the smooth warmth of his body against my palms setting my insides on fire. I came up for air long enough to see from his expression that the feeling was mutual. The blazing intensity in his eyes only fanned the flame hotter. But as I climbed on top of him, I only had a moment to enjoy the exciting new sensation before his hands grabbed, vicelike onto my arms. He pushed me back—a look of disgust taking over his face. My heart plummeted and dark emotions dowsed the flame like ice water.

  “We can’t...” he said, breathless. “You...you have to go...right now.” He rolled out from under me and leapt off his side of the bed, hands running through his hair to straighten himself out. His shirt hung open, his pants half unzipped. He looked down, zipped his fly, and fumbled with buttons, his chest still heaving. “I can’t do this.”

  I pulled my skirt down over my thighs and slowly slid to the edge of the bed, my heart thundering, but feeling set adrift. “Maybe I misunderstood the meaning of stay with me. Did I do something wrong?” My voice sounded small, embarrassment creeping into my cheeks as I straightened my blouse and tugged my bra into place.

  “No...God, no...you’re...” Ethan punched his fist into the palm of his hand, groaned, and began pacing, clearly sobering with each step. “I’m an idiot. You...you, are perfect.” He stopped pacing and stared at me from across the room. “I’m so sorry, Lex. I shouldn’t have ordered that stupid bottle of champagne. And I shouldn’t have been drinking. I wasn’t thinking about you, what happened to your sister, or...that drunk driver who killed your dad. You must think I’m a total jerk.” He resumed his pacing, still muttering self-recriminating curses under his breath.

  I couldn’t let him believe my dad was a saint or that I was some kind of victim, although being called perfect had a certain appeal. I stared at the wrinkled bedspread and cut off his tirade. “My dad was the drunk driver, Ethan. He killed a kid because he’d had too much to drink and then decided to drive home.”

  He skidded to a halt, his face shattering. “Oh, God. I am an idiot.”

  “Yeah, you mentioned that,” I said, a smile sneaking across my lips. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel worse. I just thought you should know the whole truth.” I studied my fingernails, resisting a hangnail itching to be gnawed. “Maybe it’ll help you understand why I don’t drink, and why I think that no matter how messed up your relationship is with your dad, you should appreciate that he’s someone you can be proud of.”

  A sad smile stretched across his face as his resistance faltered. “I’m beginning to wonder which one of us is really the black sheep around here. You’re pretty special, Lexi.”

  “Glad you think so. I was beginning to have my doubts about how you felt.” My cheeks burned, but my heart leapt with relief as his eyes filled with affection.

  A look of recognition dawned as he realized how his rejection had stung. He lowered himself to the bed beside me and took my hand between his. “I like you way more than I should under the circumstances.” He trailed fingers up my arm, across my collar bone and around the curve of my ear, his eyes focused hazily on my lips. “You have no idea how hard I’m trying not to throw you down on this bed and kiss the hell out of you right now. But...” his eyes avoided mine. “I’m totally unprepared for what that might lead to. And I shouldn’t have let things get so out of control,” he added sheepishly. “I don’t even have any...protection.” His ears turned crimson. “Besides, you’re only sixteen and...I wouldn’t want our first time to be because we—I—drank too much or smoked pot. Then there’s the whole vacation hook-up cliché.” He brushed my bangs out of my eyes and peered at me through a hooded expression. “I don’t want you to think...I’m using you.”

  “I’m tired of admitting it,” I said shaking my head. “But you’re right again.” I bit my lip, secretly grateful that at least one of us was thinking about the aftermath, but at the same time, totally wishing he wasn’t such a Boy Scout, and embarrassed that he had more self-control drunk than I did after only a few hits off a joint.

  “I can’t even imagine what it would do to Maddie if she caught us like this,” he said to drive the point home. Ethan’s lips were as swollen as mine felt and if his spiky hair was any indication, we probably both looked a mess. Maddie was only a few doors down the hall.

  “I’d better be going,” I said.

  I rose and pulled my hand out of his, smoothing my skirt down and squaring my shoulders. Regardless of all the good reasons Ethan had for stopping us, I couldn’t help my disappointment. The ache of loss lingered in every square inch of my body. Even with his clothes rumpled, shirt buttoned askew and his hair standing up in all directions, I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted a boy before. But it didn’t matter that my heart and my body were saying it would have been an amazing night. My head knew that Ethan’s choice to stop before things got totally out of hand was likely the right one. Otherwise, I would never have known if he really wanted me or if it was the alcohol and pot at play.

  He took my hand again and led me to the door. After he laid a soft kiss on my forehead, he closed his eyes and swayed, holding me tightly once more as if drawing strength to stand firm. Then he whispered against my hair, “I promised Maddie I would take good care of you, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  ∞∞∞

  Disoriented when I woke to bright sunlight the next morning, I pulled the covers over my head. The night before came back in a flood, and a muffled groan escaped. My fuzzy brain tried to make sense of it all, but my heart could only contain one image. Ethan beneath me, gazing up and wanting me in a way no one else ever had—his green eyes deep and dark with passion and sincerity. There was something about the way he looked at me, the expression on his face saying, I want you to be mine. The look that followed—the one that said I was off limits, had me wondering how long Ethan thought either of us could hold out. A year and a half until I was eighteen and out of high school seemed like a lifetime, especially since the memory of Ethan’s lips locked to mine brought a searing spike of heat tingling to my toes.

  I grinned, stretched, and yawned, letting the covers slip under my arms as a loud rumble rolled up from my stomach. Even the thought of Ethan being miles away and in college for the next eight years couldn’t dampen the warmth that radiated from my heart out to every cell in my body. There was something between us I knew couldn’t be contained—an attraction as strong as a moth to a flame.

  Which of us was the moth and who was the flame remained to be seen—a thought that brought another wave of excitement and nervousness coursing through me. Whatever the risks, I was determined to take them.

  Maddie walked out of the bathroom, her hair in a towel and cold cream caked on a half inch deep.

  “What time is it?” I asked, still confused and worried I was late for something.

  “It’s almost nine o’clock. We’re at sea for the day, so I thought I’d let you sleep in.” She rubbed lotion into her hands. “You came in very late last night. I trust you and Ethan behaved yourselves?” The question came out in a reproving tone, twisting a shard of guilt deeper.

  “Define behaved,” I replied. I rolled to sitting and scrubbed my hands through my hair.

  Maddie grew still and her expression turned instantly hard, making me wonder what the goo on her face was made of. “You didn’t do anything you’ll regret, I hope.” Her blue eyes widened, stark against the white cream. A spark of fear shone through.

  “We didn’t have sex if that’s what you’re asking.” I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and yawned again. “Ethan was a perfect gentleman.” A slight exaggeration, maybe. But it lead me to realize how hard it must have been for him
to step up and stop us from going too far. Either he had the most self-control of any eighteen year-old guy on the planet, or he’d figured out that giving into the ‘vacation hook-up cliché,’ as he’d called it, would only lead to heartbreak and disaster for us both. Perhaps he’d decided that since long term was out of the question, it wasn’t worth starting something we could never finish. The smile slipped from my face. “I’m not going to do anything stupid. Don’t worry.”

  “This is a first for you, then.”

  Maddie’s barb caught me and I flashed a frown at her. “Meaning?”

  “Would I be considered too optimistic to think you’re finally ready to take some responsibility for your actions and make smarter choices?” She wiped a wet cloth over one side of her face and then the other, leaving a swath of white cream across her forehead and a stripe down her nose while she paused, apparently waiting for my response to her rhetorical question.

  I groaned. “Really? Do I need to answer that or can we both assume I’m not a total moron? Besides, we’re on a seniors cruise. How much trouble do you think we could find to get into?” I didn’t want to think about the dozen or so ways our last night’s activities could have landed me and Ethan in a heap of complicated.

  Maddie lifted a brow and retreated to the bathroom to rinse her face. She continued from there. “You know exactly what I mean, young lady. You two clearly have the hots for each other, and I don’t want some silly crush derailing your future.” She turned away and faced the mirror, instant irritation taking over her voice. “If I hadn’t been so tired last night, I would have kept a closer eye on you.” She proceeded to add moisturizer and then spackle on her layers of makeup.

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” I said, grabbing my swimsuit and a set of shorts to wear for the day. “Ethan and I...we both know the score, Maddie. We aren’t stupid. And I’m not a little kid anymore. I’ll be seventeen in six months, and I’ll graduate high school next year. If everyone would stop pressuring me to grow up—like yesterday,” I said, jamming my feet into my flip flops, “—maybe I could figure out where I’m going after that and start planning for a future.”