That Girl

by H. J. Bellus

  Placing my fingers over his mouth, I say, “Stop, I’ll go with you. Hold your hand and get you through the dinner. I’ll be there for you.”

  I feel a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders. “Thank you,” he whispers down into my hair.

  Wrapped up in his arms, I respond, “It’s the least I can do for you. Lincoln, you’ve brought me to life. The last three months have been nothing short of spectacular.”

  “Oakley Ann, I don’t know if I can ever live a day without you now that I’ve found you.” He holds me a little tighter. “Never run again.”

  I look up at him curiously. “Are you still worried that I’ll run?”

  “It spooks me sometimes, yes.”

  “Well, stop.”

  With a nod, he seems to accept my statement. “Let’s go get some fucking food. I’m starving.”

  I take Lincoln’s hand, making our way over to his truck.

  “Now, that’s my boy. Let’s talk about ESPN and the spotlight light reel you were featured on. The commentator said, and I quote, ‘Wilks is a force to be reckoned with. Any offense in the country should be terrified and ready to run the ball. Let’s analyze all of his sixteen picks this season. And do I need to remind you we are only halfway through the season?’”

  “Stalker much?” he asks with a huge shit-eating grin.

  “Well, have you seen this beast? He’s tall, dark and handsome. Has some killer legs on him, and the tightest set of buns in his football pants. Not to mention the long brown hair and scruff on his face. He’s hot.”

  “I’ve created a monster.”

  ***

  I’m starting to wonder if I was suffering from a brain tumor when I told Lincoln I’d go with him to have dinner with his parents. He hasn’t been himself since returning from his last away game, and I know it’s because of his parents. It kills me to see him so worried and full of anxiety. I’m beginning to miss my Lincoln. The one who is always full of life and energy. I want him back. I keep reminding myself going with him to this dinner is the first step to getting him back.

  Lincoln: Almost there baby.

  Me: ok

  As I’m getting dressed, I keep thinking of the horror stories I’ve been told about his mom. Every one of them serves as a warning about what kind of a bitch storm I’m walking into. Every outfit I put on screams ‘dollar store,’ but it’s who I am, and it’s who Lincoln loves, so that’s the way I’m going to roll. I settle on a pair of denim jeans with a ruffle tank top and a simple pair of flats. My short pixie hair is tame compared to some days when I let it all go.

  “Honey, I’m home,” Lincoln sing-songs as he enter my room.

  “Well, hello there, good looking.”

  There’s my Lincoln in all of his defiance, dressed in his rattiest gym shorts and a dingy white tank that’s been worn to one too many practices. His hat is on backward, and his shoe laces are untied.

  “Are you ready to attend a horror movie with me?” He tries to say this lightly, but the tension is clear in the lines around his mouth.

  “I’ve waited all day. You’re freaking hot,” I reply.

  Pushing Lincoln down on the bed, I crawl over top of him and nibble at his ear.

  “Wait, I have something for you,” he says. He reaches down into his pocket, pulls out a little black box, and opens it. Without saying a word, he unsnaps two large diamond earrings and clips each one on my ears. “For you,” he says, leaning back to get a better look at my new adornment.

  Tears stream down my face as he adjusts them. The love and admiration I have for this man is off the charts, and it’s about time I show him how I feel. I’m not able to buy him fancy gifts, but I can give him all of me by letting my love pour out over his body. Once his hands leave my ears, I don’t go back to his lips. Instead, I find his neck and begin peppering kisses down it, and then make my way to his chest. My hands pull up the hem of his tank, exposing his stomach, and I kiss it too. While my lips lick and taste his abs, my steady fingers pull down his shorts and then his boxers. I feel him spring to life, pushing up into my boobs.

  “Oakley, I think you’re going too fast. Don’t…”

  Reaching up, I place my fingers over his lips and dip my head inches lower, taking all of him in my mouth. The sound he makes turns me on more than his fingers or lips ever have. I have to hear that sound again, so I take him even deeper. Lincoln’s hands snap to my head and grip my hair.

  “Holy fuck, Oak, oh my God. Please don’t stop.”

  His words only fuel my desire to please him, and I work even harder. My other hand finds the base of him, and I grip him firmly, applying more pressure with my mouth. In this moment of intense desire to please Lincoln, I let go of everything I have and pour it all into him, and then time disappears, and all that’s left is pleasure filling the room.

  ***

  “Jenni schooled me on the dos and don’ts,” I inform him as we hustle to his truck.

  “By all means, any time she offers advice, listen up,” he says, lifting me up into the driver’s seat.

  “You’re silly.”

  “That was amazing, and guess what?”

  I scoot over from the driver’s seat toward the middle. “What?”

  “That’s the first time I ever let go in someone’s mouth.”

  His words cause shivers to crawl up my spine and my cheeks to flame with heat. Something pulls at my gut, and my chest puffs out just a tiny bit knowing I was a first at something for him. He’s been my first in everything so far.

  “We have about a ten minute drive before walking into the lions’ den.”

  “It will be fine. Drive, crank up the music, and let’s just be us,” I say, reaching for the remote to his sound system.

  “Deal. Always just us,” he repeats.

  Ten minutes later, we pull into a massive gated community. Houses, or rather castles, are scattered all over a hillside and some even nestled in small valleys. Each one has huge pillars adorning them and gates protecting the entryway. Paved streets, beautiful decorative sidewalks, and manicured shrubs are everywhere. It’s paradise.

  “This is where you were raised?” I ask, trying to keep the awe out of my voice.

  “Yep, home sweet hell.”

  “Holy shit,” I murmur taking in all the luxury.

  We drive up to the biggest one on the biggest hill with the longest paved lane. Of course. Beautiful white fencing lines each side of the drive, with gorgeous pink rosebushes decorating every single inch of it.

  I want to freak out and shit my pants, but keep it all reined in to help keep Lincoln calm.

  I get out of the truck and adopt a fake swagger. “Well, buckle up, bitches. Let’s take names and kick some ass.”

  Lincoln is unable to hold back a snort. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Jenni.”

  “Kiss me.”

  Lincoln leans down and kisses me, until I pull away just enough to say, “Now, remember this feeling, these lips on yours, remember us. I’ll always be here for you. Remember us and know I’m your number one fan. Fuck your dad. You’re a brilliant, amazing, talented, hot as fuck athlete.”

  “Lincoln,” a high-pitched voice squeals.

  I jolt back a half step and see the picture perfect mother standing before us, dressed in a very beautiful, very conservative pantsuit, with perfect hair and manicured nails. Before she schools her expression, I’m sure I see a hint of disapproval.

  “Well, come in. You’re not going to sit in that truck all day are you?” she asks with an impatient flutter of fingers.

  Lincoln climbs out, holding his hand out to me. I grab it and plan to not let go of it for the duration.

  An older version of Lincoln walks up behind his mom. They are so identical in their stature and looks it almost spooks me. I do know the feeling of resembling your parent so closely, but wanting to be nothing like them.

  “You didn’t tell us you were bringing a friend.” She’s trying to sound cheery, but I hear the judgment
al undertone. She turns her gaze to Lincoln. “Good lord, son, you could’ve dressed up a bit. You haven’t seen us for months, you’d think you might try.”

  His dad enters the fray, his voice full of grim resignation. “Jesus, Elaine, the boy doesn’t care. Never has, so quit poking at him.”

  “What’s your friend’s name, Lincoln?”

  “Mom, Dad, this is Oakley, my girlfriend.”

  His mom’s jaw blatantly drops open, and then her eyes see our locked hands. She turns her back on us and walks into the house.

  “Nice to meet you, Oakley,” his dad responds over his shoulder, having already turned to follow his wife.

  “Guess they were expecting someone else,” I mutter, not even slightly surprised.

  “Fuck them,” he growls.

  I follow Lincoln’s lead into the house and can’t quit staring at everything. The place is simply beautiful.

  Wasting no time, we are seated at the perfectly decorated dinner table where a feast lay before us. My hands tremble at the thought of breaking or staining something. Elegant glass adorns the entire table. The napkins are white linen, not a one-use paper napkin. The salt and pepper shakers look so fancy I’m not sure I’d even know how to use them.

  Lincoln’s dad turns on the big screen across the room, and to no one’s surprise ESPN is the channel of choice.

  “So, how did you two meet?” his mom, Elaine, asks, making a show of straightening her place setting.

  I know Elaine just asked a question and I should be answering her or at least panicking, hoping like hell Lincoln is going to provide an answer. Instead, I sit and stare at my surroundings. The paintings, fancy fabric, and attention to detail covering every single inch of this space cause my stomach to whirlpool, stirring up desperate bile. I fight the battle of all battle trying to keep it contained. Then I hear his voice.

  He simply answers and refuses to offer any detail. “At a local college hangout.”

  “Very nice.” I can tell she doesn’t think it is. ”And what does your family do, Oakley?”

  The note of tension in her voice is very similar to the sound nails make scraping down a chalkboard. The bile pooling in the back of my throat threatens again, and my eyes can only focus on the pepper shaker wondering how in the hell does that thing work. Desperately avoiding her questions, I focus on the feel of the plush carpet between my toes. My big toe is peeking over the edge of my flip flop. It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before. Comfort.

  Before I have the chance to answer, Lincoln jumps in. “Does it matter, Mom? You know it will never be good enough in your eyes.” He clenches my hand tightly under the table. “I love Oakley, and she loves me. What her parents do and where she comes from don’t fucking matter.”

  Mr. Wilks puts his wineglass down with more force than necessary. “Watch your mouth, son.”

  I’ve never in my life been in a room with so much animosity. It’s all bottled up in each person. You can see what each one desires, but nobody is willing to give in. A beautiful woman strolls into the dining room, causing me to flinch. It only takes me moments to realize she’s the one serving our food. In an odd way she provides me with one more distraction to stare at. I watch as she serves each one of us with the most obedient mask.

  Stirring around my salad, I try convincing my stomach to calm down so I can force a few bites in. The last thing I want to do is offend Elaine by not eating her meal.

  After a few moments of awkward silence, Elaine asks, “So, what are you majoring in, Oakley?”

  She’s relentless.

  “Why don’t you ask about your son and leave her alone?” Lincoln shouts, leaning forward in his seat.

  “I have no idea why you always have to be so stubborn,” Elaine replies.

  Silence descends again, and it seems as if we can all eat without any further inquisition. The salad is delightful once I’m able to focus on eating.

  “After the break, we’ll be analyzing the number one collegiate defense in the nation and their leader, Lincoln Wilks. This young athlete is set to break records and tear apart any offense he faces. That and much more. Stay tuned.”

  The words of the commentator fill the perfectly decorated room. Peeking out the corner of my eye, I notice Lincoln’s locked jaw. I wait a few moments for either his dad or mom to speak up and possibly congratulate their son, but it never comes. They seem to be perfectly happy with their meticulous home, choosing to forgo all emotions dealing with their son. My heart falls out of my chest with the realization of their actions, and everything inside me wants to shake them like ragdolls. How can they not see Lincoln for who he is? In my book, he’s way more precious and valuable than any piece of art or fine china in the house. Yes, house because by no means could this institution ever be classified as a home. Lincoln’s dad excuses himself from the table, making his way to the couch to watch the highlight on ESPN in the comfort of the living room.

  “Go,” I whisper to Lincoln, urging him to go sit with his dad.

  “Come with me?” he asks.

  Standing up and holding Lincoln’s hand, I say to Elaine, “Thank you for the meal. It was delightful. I’m not a college student and don’t have any fancy last name or pedigreed past, but I do love your son. He’s everything to me and has helped me survive some very difficult times.”

  I nudge Lincoln to go join his dad while I wait for a response from his mother. She still sits in disbelief, fork poised in midair, and I’m not sure if it’s from my words, Lincoln’s attitude, or the ESPN coverage. I’m guessing it’s a combination of all of it.

  The fork hits the lace tablecloth with a muffled clatter. “You’re not good enough for him. I’ll never allow it.” The expression in her eyes is stone cold.

  “Too bad you don’t get a say whether it happens or not.” I hold her gaze until she huffs and reaches for her wine.

  Instead of engaging the woman any further, I walk away to join Lincoln on the couch. He’s sitting across from his dad, and neither of them are speaking to each other. I want to go slap his dad upside the head and tell him to fucking be proud of his son.

  We continue to sit in silence as the highlight plays out before us on the T.V. So many plays of Lincoln’s are featured. In some of them he’s the star of the play, but several are him assisting. Not once is it mentioned who is father or brother is. They even cut to a clip where he was interviewed after a game. The pride covering his face lights up the room, and I even see his dad crack a smile.

  “You’re having a good season, son. We’ll be at the game Thursday. San Diego has an offense, though. Probably the first real one you’ve seen all season. Hope you can keep up.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Lincoln sounds both grateful and suspicious of his father’s faint praise. “We’re gonna head out.” he says as he stands and pulls me up beside him.

  “See ya, son. You better tell your mom goodbye,” his dad replies, making no eye contact.

  Lincoln walks toward the dining room to find his mom, and I let him know I’ll be waiting in the truck. There’s nothing else I have to say to that woman, and I certainly don’t need to take any more of her snide remarks. Sometimes in life there are situations where silence is best.

  Moments later, Lincoln walks out the front door with his mom hot on his heels. I can’t hear what is being said, but she’s enraged and yelling. Lincoln finally throws his hands up in the air and walks away from her.

  Slamming his door and peeling out, he screams, “I fucking hate them! I wish they’d just stay in fucking Dallas. I don’t need their sympathy visits.”

  “She told me I’m not good enough for you, and basically she’ll never allow us.”

  “She what?” he roars.

  I place a reassuring hand on his thigh. “It’s fine. I stood up for myself. I told her it wasn’t her choice.”

  He gives a terse nod and looks straight ahead. “I will not lose you, Oakley.”

  “You have four days to get your head on straight to play the game of yo
ur life. You’ll have your dad and mom in the stands. Show them. Show them the real you who loves defense and a no name girl, and the you who plays with his whole heart and is always leading his team. It will be your time. So, let the anger go.” I stroke his leg gently and soften my voice. “I love you, Lincoln.”

  “I want a pizza. That food was shit. I’ve always hated the gourmet shit Mom likes.”

  “That a boy,” I laugh, knowing Lincoln is fighting with all his might to make it.

  Lincoln damn near devoured a whole pizza by himself, and is now watching some shoot ‘em up, blow ‘em up movie on T.V. He’s relaxed, clothed only in shorts, with his arm propped back under head.

  “Like what you see?” he asks.

  Totally busted for staring, I just laugh and reply, “Slightly.”

  “Come here,” he says, dragging me on top of him.

  “Stay the night with me?” I ask as I conform my body to his.

  “Baby, I can’t…”

  “Please,” I interrupt.

  “Oakley Ann.”

  “I need you. I’m ready for you. All of you.”

  Getting up, I turn off the T.V., lower the lights, and grab my phone. I know exactly how I want this to work. Selecting the Oakley playlist, I turn the volume all the way up and crawl back on Lincoln. The first song begins to play in the dimly lit room, and I don’t recognize it. This is the first time I’ve listened to it.

  “I need you,” I whisper again.

  “It’s called Endlessly by Green River Ordinance. It reminds me of how I feel for you.”

  I put my lips against his ear and say, “I want you.”

  Lincoln rises and flips me over.

  “I’m in charge, and once I start I won’t be able to stop, Oakley. I’ve wanted to bury myself in you for months now. One nod from you, and it’s on.”

  “I love you, Lincoln,” I say, nodding, fully aware of what it means.

  The next thing I hear is my top being ripped from me, and I feel his lips on my skin. Next my bra is torn off and tossed over his shoulder as he begins kissing every square inch of my exposed flesh. My hips dance to his rhythm, and the familiar longing for him is back.