“Your eyes look like fruit, and when I squish fruit, the insides are never nice. Plus, you’re too childish to drink alcohol.” He scooted closer to Mari. Tara’s look changed from friendly to scary in a flash. This was more than the normal looks girls gave him. It looked like she wanted to hurt him—take away anything that was commonplace about him.
“Sorry, Tara, but he’s lactose intolerant and thinks beer tastes like piss. He’s coming with me to get some Mediterranean food after school Friday. His sister and brother are joining us,” Mari said, her eyes harder.
Adam huddled up against Mari, and though his breathing was easier, he couldn’t fully relax with that Tara person looming over him like that.
“I’m sorry if I stepped on some toes, fruit-of-the-loon boy. Can I shake hands to apologize?” Tara smiled, but her eyes remained untouched. They still spoke of danger, mist and smoke. Probably rotten fruit, too. Is that why she called him fruit-of-the-loon? Was that code for saying she was squished fruit left out in the sun, but only on the inside? She must be a complicated mess.
“You don’t have to touch anybody you don’t want to,” Mari whispered in his ear.
But she was wrong. He needed to do this—too prove to Mari he was like everybody else. That a handshake would be fine and not unman him.
“That’s a good way to apologize. Better than a hug,” he said, convincing himself this was the way to handle it. A handshake would give him some space between himself and the rotting-fruit girl.
He extended his hand, and not only did Tara grab it too fast, but she pulled it up to her mouth and kissed the back of it.
Ahhhh! Bad fruit germs!
A shiver overtook him when her tongue touched his skin and numbers exploded like a supernova in his brain.
He mouthed the thirteens times tables but kept quiet. His eyes scrunched shut, and his shoulders were up around his ears.
When he opened his eyes, Tara wore a nasty smirk as she stared right at Mari.
She dropped his hand as if an unspoken challenge was answered and then pranced away after another boy.
A boy with dark hair, dark eyes, a crooked, Greek-looking nose and a bulky build welcomed her into the empty chair beside him.
“There’s something wrong with her. She licked me,” Adam whispered into Mari’s ear before settling back down in his chair. “And I don’t taste like fresh fruit.” Why didn’t the rotting-fruit girl know that? Didn’t her parents teach her that?
“She’s a disgusting slut. Ignore her.” Mari’s head fell forward, and her hair covered part of her profile.
“Maybe she was hungry and thinking about lunch. The cafeteria confuses me sometimes when I think about what I want to eat.”
Mari shrugged, and her lips pressed together as her head dropped, then her hair really covered her face.
This was worse than not knowing what to talk about earlier. Now he couldn’t see her, and his goal might not be met today.
With a shaking hand, he reached out and tucked it behind her ear. Her cheek was wet, but Mari promptly dried it with her fingers.
“I’m really proud of you for handling that so well. She makes me want to murder furniture,” she admitted.
“Sam says you smoke. I could show you how to light Tara’s table on fire using your lighter without her noticing, along with any of her peers sitting with her,” he offered, his teeth showing through his smile. Fruit didn’t burn well, but for rotting-fruit girl, he’d make an exception.
Mari erupted in a fit of giggles after that point, but something was off. Her happiness seemed manufactured, like it was there to cover something else up.
“I’m sure you could, but let’s just say it’s already burning hot today, and I don’t want to add to the heat.” Mari’s words and actions failed to fit together because at that point, she reached into her backpack and pulled out a light sweater.
It was then he noticed she had been wearing a tank top, and her lovely arms were now covered up, along with some of her cleavage. Oh, why hadn’t he looked at her breasts more closely when he got the chance? They were so nice and happy around him.
Tomorrow that was going to be the first place he looked at her before he even said hello in case she decided to put on a trench coat for possible inclement weather.
Well, he couldn’t fault her for being prepared. Tomorrow he’d also be prepared in case a micro-burst happened to come their way. He’d be her hero when he could protect her from the elements. All girls wanted to make sure their hair was protected from rain, right?
Yes, yes, he’d have a windbreaker for both of them, an oversized umbrella and a towel to dry off any splash-back from aggressive slanting sheets of rain.
He pulled out a piece of paper, his pencil, and wrote it all down so he’d have a note for himself. This he would remember—it was important.
Almost as important as her hand tucked up against his side, which in that very moment was lightly scratching his ribs.
He purred. He stretched and hummed. He smiled and hoped he would someday make her as warm as she made him, and then a sweater would be obsolete.
Zach said pussy was good. But in this moment, all Adam could think about was Mari’s breasts and how much softer that skin might be compared to her hands.
The soreness agreed. They needed to discover this for themselves, and soon . . .
Chapter 5
Adam stood in the bathroom stall, cupping his hands over his chest, wishing he was cupping someone else’s.
“She’s so pretty and round and soft,” he told himself, breathing hard, sorer than ever!
Mari touched his hand a lot today. She caressed it with her thumb, tickled his palms, massaged the back of his hands and even squeezed his wrists. All of it was amazing and made him edge closer to her, while his soreness reached epic heights. Especially when she’d smile at him and look him in the eye while she did those things to him. That made his appendages twitch. All of them.
He sighed, stepped out of the bathroom stall and straightened his jeans, straining at the crotch.
So far the day was successful. He smiled at himself.
He hardly saw any numbers. After the run-in with Tara, he decided maybe it was best to have Mari speak to anybody that approached them first.
He washed his hand that had been licked by that girl. He’d been doing it every chance he got. What if Mari changed her mind and realized she was afraid of germs and wouldn’t let him hold her hand anymore today with that infected one? It bothered him to know his choices were limited now.
It didn’t seem to stop him before, but that might’ve just been because he was in class and she didn’t want him to flip out. After school might be different.
He washed it one more time, in case that helped.
He’d disinfect it properly when he got home.
PE was good today. Nobody talked to him, and the coach let him choose if he played basketball or not.
Yesterday basketball went well. He scored several points and stole the ball enough times to help his team win. It was good for both Sam and Mari to witness it after his breakdown at the beginning of the class period, though neither of them congratulated him on a well-played game. Only the coach did.
It seemed strange Mari didn’t mention it. She was the only one around him who praised him when he did things well. His family only paid any attention to the things he did wrong, or pointed out anything they thought was related to his deficiencies.
California sounded like a terrific place to escape to after he got his diploma. They’d see—he could make it on his own.
He wandered out into the hallway, and Sam found him after the final bell rang. She was out of breath.
“Hey . . . I’m gonna call Dad to send us a cab so we don’t have to wait for Zach,” she said.
“That’s okay. I have plans. You can find a ride home for yourself with anybody but Mari. She’s off limits for you.” He smiled a cheesy, kid grin.
She ruffled his hair. “You are too cute.”
She chuckled and then left.
He sighed. Wow. That was easier than he thought.
First time she didn’t lecture and barrage him with questions about what his plans could possibly be, who was going to give him the physical contact he needed, and how he’d survive without going into a number trance.
She must’ve had a good dream last night. Those were his favorite Samara days.
Mari. She’s probably leaving. Go find her!
His brain dumped all numbers hovering around, and his legs pumped hard as he ran through the school corridor. Moments later, he burst out into the parking lot. Finally his brain was alerting him of useful things to do like finding his friend before it was too late.
But he was ignorant of what her car looked like. Oh no! What if she was giving another friend a ride home? How would he cope if they shoved him in the backseat? Would she be able to drive one-handed while reaching back to hold his hand? Would she be ashamed to do such a thing in front of others?
His chest constricted, and his jaw tightened as his teeth clamped shut, but . . . the numbers. Where were they?
He couldn’t find them.
Instead of panicking, he started singing a song he heard once about stars bursting in the sky because a woman was too beautiful to look at.
That was Mari.
His Mari. She was his bursting star. She scattered the numbers and banished them.
A plume of smoke wafted behind a red Jeep, and he hoped it was her.
He raced over in that direction, and when he was five feet away, he could smell her trail. She smelled like California sunshine after a good soaking rain on the beach.
It was all he could do to not start singing songs about waves and maybe surfing.
He circled around to the back of the Jeep, and there she was. And oh Gawwwwd! She was sweater-less, all tank-topness, and round in good places.
He sidled up to her, ignoring the smell of the smoke. His hips were polite and angled away from her, since he was sore already.
“Friends offer a ride home,” he hinted.
“Friends also tell the fat girl to stop smoking—it’s not going to help with her problems.” She chuckled, but it was low and dark sounding as the corner of her lips poked up. Her shoulders slumped.
“It’s not my job to tell you what to put in your body. I hope you’ll tell me to eat as much junk food at school as I can and to drink soda when nobody’s looking, because friends want each other to be happy. Those things make me happy. And donuts. I love donuts, but those are strictly forbidden. Why can’t I have a goddamn donut? The Boston creamy kind? Those are like a heart of goodness in the middle.” His own creamy heart raced and pounded in his ears. Man, was his breathing erratic and fierce. It was wonderful to tell her these deep dark secrets he hid from people and to curse, too.
“Donuts are pretty awesome. I love a good Boston cream, too. Come on. I’ll give you a lift, and you can tell me what else makes you happy.” She stubbed out her cigarette on the asphalt and then grabbed his hand.
He pulled on hers to stop her. His heart squeezed so tight his knees nearly buckled. “You . . . You make me so happy—happier than any beverage or sugary dessert. Because you keep me safe. You’re the reason the numbers stay away, and the reason I know I can do this. I can finally graduate this time.”
Her face remained steady and calm.
Not what he expected. He expected a look of disgust there.
She took his hand and placed it over her heart. He backed up, because the soreness was beyond bad right now, and the pressure was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
“You can do this because you’re special. You can do this because you’re amazing. It has nothing to do with me or your family. You can do this because you want it and there’s a fire inside of you that won’t let you quit. That’s what I adore about you. That’s who I wish I was. Not a quitter, or somebody that tries to cheat and take the easy way out.” She dropped his hand, but then out of nowhere, leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Sorry for the smoke smell. I hope nobody can detect it on you.” She rubbed the spot with the pad of her thumb where she’d just kissed him while cupping his jaw.
His legs instinctively carried him closer to her. And holy Jesus, that soreness doubled, but now it pulsed and his hips jutted forward. He smiled down at her, but his eyelids were half closed and went heavy. It was in direct contrast to the rest of his body—more alert than ever, even if he was moving kind of sluggish. It felt similar to when the dentist drugged him up once and his response times were hampered.
“Mari . . .”
“Hmm?” She looked over her shoulder, then back at him.
“If you kiss me, I won’t tell anybody, and nobody will know. Most of the students are gone. And I think . . . I think it will make you feel better, since you kind of have some sadness in your eyes.” His right leg shook. This was a lie. He never lied. That was unjust. But he needed this more than any hand holding—more than a donut or soda. He’d fold in half and die if she refused. Now his other leg shook. “Please . . .”
“No tongue, though, okay?” The right half of her lips quirked up, and there was some playfulness in her eyes.
The joy inside him was pounding its way into that sore spot but also doubling his heart rate as well.
“One fat, sloppy kiss coming up,” she said.
“Sloppy? But I—” His heart sunk as it continued to speed up.
There was no time for rebuttals, because her lips were on his, but it was unsatisfying because she refrained from touching him anywhere else.
With one big step, he was smooshed up against her. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her even closer.
This was much better than a handshake. Was this why his mom and dad used to hug and kiss each other all the time? This reflected those odd, unnameable feelings he had when Zach showed him that video with naked people in it. They all made sounds.
Oh no. He was making those sounds right now, and his hips were moving.
His hips were in control, not the numbers.
In his next breath, he had her up against the back of her Jeep. He pinned her with his entire body. But she hugged him back, so did this mean it was all okay?
He broke the kiss. Talking was necessary.
“It hurts, Mari. It’s really, really sore. It’s sore, and I know what I’m supposed to do to end it, but I can’t do that in front of you, and I don’t think I’ll make it ‘til I get home. Can you help me?”
“Sore here?” She placed her hand over his heart and smiled.
Was she teasing him?
“Please. It really hurts,” he begged, placing his forehead against hers and rubbing their heads together since he couldn’t rub her in the places he really wanted to.
He moved his hips up once more so she could feel where he was sore.
It twitched in his pants. She had to know.
Anyone else who saw him would know. They might even point and be disgusted with him.
“Being a teenager always hurts. It’s something you’ll get used to,” she said, then the sadness in her eyes was back.
But he wasn’t a teenager. Hadn’t been in a few years. Unlike Tara, he was old enough to consume alcohol, but chose not to.
Mari frowned.
“What’s wrong? Oh no!” He jumped back. He was hurting her. He was too strong for her frame to handle, and he forgot to be careful about harming her. Using his body weight was wrong. That’s how he hurt his mom before, and she wound up leaving because of it.
“I’m sorry. I’m soooo sorry. I . . . I’m heavy, and strong, and that was wrong. Don’t . . . I won’t do it again.” He wrapped his arms around his torso, refused to look at her and dropped into a crouch.
She dropped down with him and patted his back. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that should apologize. I lost my head for a minute. It’s not fair of me to let things get out of hand like that. It’s just that you’re so . . . God! This is unfair.”
She huffed, and the faint trace of smoke was residual in the air.
It made his heart tingle, because it was Mari. She was the only smoker he knew.
It meant she was special.
He tilted his chin up toward her, but kept his gaze down at her feet.
“I don’t know what you mean, but I have to know—are you mad at me?” The thought made his heart clench, and he released a whimpering groan.
“Why would I be mad at you? You asked me to kiss you, and I made a choice. It’s not like you tried to molest me against my will. Oh wait . . . That was me.” She chuckled for a second, then stopped. “Oh, never mind me and my warped sense of humor. I’ll take you home. And you can decide if we hold hands or not, okay?
He looked up, and there was sincerity in her warm gray eyes. They were like the unfamiliar desert here. Nobody ever looked at him like that—like he mattered and was worth really knowing well.
“I like you.”
“You’ve mentioned that before, but it’s good you like to be thorough and repeat important information.” She patted his back again and then stood up. She extended her hand, but then a second later changed her mind and put it at her side.
He grimaced. “Do you still like me?”
“I only kiss people I like, and I kissed you, didn’t I?”
“You did. You kissed me real good. It was better than a donut.” He stood up next to her. “But it made me more sore.”
She laughed, tipped her head back and shut her eyes. “Oh, God, Adam, what am I going to do about us? We both need some serious help.”
“You’re going to hold my hand more and kiss me again. That’s what you’re going to do about us, because that’ll make everything better. I swear.” He crossed his heart.
She laughed a little louder. “I’m sure you’re right.”
He nodded. Of course he was right. He knew the facts. Kissing her was good. Holding her hand was good. She was good. So, they needed to combine all three all the time, and everything would be fixed.
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