Patrick smiled. “Deal.”
***
No more than thirty minutes later they were in Patrick’s room having sex with the door locked. It was the most passionate, intense, dirty, amazing sex he’d ever had. The best he’d ever had. He’d bet it was the best she’d had too.
Afterward, she lay on him, both of them soaked with sweat. Her legs were shaking.
“So Josh won’t be back for another two hours, right?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Her phone was on the nightstand and she checked her messages from Josh one more time to confirm. Both of them were still absorbed in the afterglow. “Yeah, that’s what he said.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
“No, he thinks I’m at home.”
Patrick sighed. “We are seriously terrible people.”
“I am a bad girl with you. I can’t figure out why.”
He just smiled.
She laughed. “It’s nature I guess.”
He nodded, still breathing hard, eyes up at the ceiling.
After a period of silence she asked, “But why is the sex so good with us? Because it’s wrong?”
“It can’t be wrong.”
She looked up at him and smiled.
He smiled and planted a soft kiss her on the forehead.
George
THE ENGINE OF GEORGE’S HONDA hummed like an overgrown bumblebee. He’d woken up late and was hurrying up to campus to hopefully catch the end of the graduation. His radio played loud and he was speeding faster than he should’ve been.
On approach to the bottom of the front hill leading up to the campus, Patrick’s van came speeding down and around the final curve of the hill toward him. A cold chill shot all through the length of him—George had a knack for being in the worst possible place at the worst possible time.
His foot immediately eased off the gas and he turned down the music. The beaten up, unmistakable van pulled into the first driveway at the base of the hill and parked.
George craned his neck as he passed by in what seemed like slow motion, no faster than twenty miles per hour. Patrick stepped out of the van and for the second time, didn’t notice George’s Honda humming by.
Patrick peered back through the driver-side window, talking with someone, and just before George began to ascend the hill and the house was pulled out of sight, a petite, very dark-haired brunette thing hopped out of the passenger side. He didn’t need to see her face to recognize Simone.
Only an hour or two earlier, Tiffany and Simone had knocked on his apartment door, expecting him to be ready to go to the graduation with them. But George had overslept and answered the door in his boxers. The two of them had gone together.
The house was well behind him now. His Honda’s engine droned as he climbed the hill. George felt the urge to swing around and make another pass by the house. After some contemplation, he took out his cell phone.
It felt like he was in a confusing dream. Why was she with Patrick? Each time he recalled the series of events of this morning, he questioned if he’d been thinking clearly.
Tiffany’s contact came up on the screen and he tapped it. It rang three times and then a muffled, distraught voice answered. She was sniffling. George’s brow crinkled and he paid very careful attention to what he was hearing.
“Where are you?” he asked.
Tiffany cleared her throat just long enough to speak. “At the apartment.”
“I thought you and Simone drove together?”
“We did,” she answered, her raw voice suddenly spiked with confusion. “I got upset—it’s not important. Simone is getting a ride back later.”
“I just saw Patrick—” he told her.
The line got quiet. “What?”
“Yeah, I saw him at his house.”
“Was he with that slut?”
George didn’t know how to interpret that comment. “No, he’s with Simone.”
“What?” There was sudden, fierce alarm in her voice as she now was putting together his line of questioning.
“Yeah, the two of them were at his place. I don’t understand. Did you send her to talk to him or something?”
An image replayed in his mind of Simone hopping out of the van with a carefree bounce in her step.
“Tiffany?” he said into the phone. “Hello? Hello?”
He pulled the phone away from his ear and saw that Tiffany wasn’t on the line with him anymore.
Simone
SIMONE PUSHED HER FINGERS INTO Patrick’s black hair, which she noticed was growing quite long, and she moved through it in gentle, easy strokes. His eyes were closed and she found herself admiring the way his eyelashes curled upward in long, beautiful sweeps, and how their dazzling, almost feminine quality was contrasted by his masculine rough stubbled face. Better looking by the day, she thought.
He was taking a quick nap, and she felt herself dozing as well as she lay there beside him. Her entire body was so relaxed, so free and calm, but an image haunted her mind and kept her eyes from closing. She imagined waking up, having slept too long to Josh standing over them, what the expression of shock on his face would look like up close. In fact, it was time to get going if she was going to go home and comfort Tiffany, shower, and then come back to see Josh.
As Simone began to mentally walk through that procession and the pure absurdity of it, her heart quickened with anxiety. She realized at that moment that there was a big part of herself that she truly hated.
Then there was a faint sound of knocking at the front door. She shot up straight in the bed. The covers fell away and she instinctively covered her bare body up with her arms. She frantically tapped Patrick, whispering to him that someone was at the front door.
Patrick arched his back, peeled open his blinds, and looked out. “Oh God.”
She’d never heard that truly frozen scare in his voice.
“Where the fuck are my clothes?” she hissed in a shrill whisper and hurled herself out of the bed, knowing Josh would burst through the door at any second. She raced around the room naked, searching frantically for her clothes amongst the mess. She had found only her shirt and a lone sock when a hard rap came at Patrick’s door followed by an obligatory jiggle of the handle. He’d locked it, thank god.
She threw the shirt on without bothering with the bra, but then realized that would look just as bad and so found her bra on the floor, tore off the shirt, and threaded an arm through one of the bra’s straps.
“Open the fucking door!”
Tiffany.
Even through the thick door, Simone’s ear caught the pure ache in her friend’s voice. It made Simone’s hair stand on end and stirred up a physical pain in her body, a feeling like she’d been literally shot in the stomach. All at once, Simone couldn’t breathe.
Patrick looked at her with same eyes flushed with fear and then ran his hands over his face. “Go away,” he said to the door.
“I will break this fucking door down, open it!” Tiffany threw her fist against the door several times, rattling the frame. It was the first time Simone had ever been near Tiffany and felt her on the cusp of violence. The door handle began to jiggle wildly and then Tiffany must’ve put a strong shoulder into the door, because it heaved and then splintered a bit.
Patrick jumped out of bed and found his jeans, slithered into them, and then went to the door, but didn’t open it. This gave Simone a chance to find her thong and jeans underneath a blanket that was balled up at the foot of the bed. She put them both on and then realized she was completely clothed except for one missing sock. She put on her boots anyway without them.
There was another boom and splintering at the door.
Simone shook her head at Patrick, urging him to do anything but open it. He stood helpless at the door in only his jeans hanging loose and low off his waist. They both knew there would be no explaining this.
He let out a deep breath, closed his eyes, and unlocked the door. Simone considered dashing beneath his bed, but it was
too late. The handle turned, the door flung inward.
Tiffany stood there with crazy, frantic tears in her eyes. She took a big step into the room and saw Simone standing on the far side of the mattress, with her hair all tangles and wisps from rolling around in bed, clothing not properly hung on her body. Tiffany staggered back making awful whooping noises, buckled into the door frame, and slid down it to the floor.
“We were only kissing,” Patrick said.
“Shut up! Just shut up. Shut up. Shut up,” Tiffany pleaded. She pointed at Simone. “You. You.”
“I can explain—” Simone started. They were the worst words that could’ve left her mouth.
Tiffany jumped to her feet with sudden dexterity and started throwing punches at Patrick. Real punches. She was trying to hurt him. He scrambled across the bed to get away from her, and he was suddenly next to Simone, shoving her aside so he could get to the door.
“Calm the hell down, Tiffany,” Patrick said. “Stop it. We weren’t doing anything.”
Tiffany glanced down at the bed, at Patrick’s navy sheets, and saw the wet spots. “I can smell it. Oh God, I can actually smell it.” She started that horrible breaking down again, lurched over in misery.
Every muscle in Tiffany’s face was clenched so painfully it looked like they could rip right off the bone. Her eyes were an infected red. And the guttural noises coming from her throat made Simone’s stomach turn over. Tiffany lifted trembling hands over her face as Simone and Patrick both stood there in silent observance. Almost half a minute passed. Realizing the two of them had nothing to say, Tiffany took several steps back and faded through the doorway back into the living room.
Simone regarded Patrick with a hateful stare, if for no other reason than she didn’t know what else to do.
There was a weak, gentle click of the front door closing as Tiffany exited, leaving them alone in the house. They stood no more than an arm’s length apart. Simone was repulsed by his presence, a hitching feeling deep in her gut. She had to get away from him.
She gathered her clutch, the only thing left that she’d bothered to find amid the scattered mess.
“Wait,” Patrick pleaded, stepping to her.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned.
“Just wait a second,” he said, following her into the next room. Simone was bolting for the door and wasn’t going to be lured back in by his words, no matter what they were. Never again would she let that happen, never again would she let herself be polluted by him.
“Simone!”
She flipped around. “What?” she screamed, wetness pooling in her eyes.
Patrick offered out both hands, palms up eyes cool and earnest. “This could be our chance.”
She smirked cruelly. “Either you tell Josh, or I will.”
Then she slammed the door in his face.
Simone stepped out onto the driveway, wheezing and crying. Tiffany had driven away already. The birds were chirping from high branches. There was a cool breeze. She staggered across the driveway, wiping her eyes, her boots making soft scrapes under foot. She looked around for a minute and then started down the hill, boots still scraping softly, this time on blacktop.
She had no idea where to go, or what to do, so she put one foot in front of the other, and again, one in front of the other.
Josh
JOSH SPENT MOST OF THE morning of graduation with his mother, who was in town for what they hoped would be his last court appearance. It went as smoothly as they’d hoped, and he was let off with community service and six months probation. His mother was a mess of tears in the courtroom. Josh felt like he could’ve fainted afterward, and when that finally passed, he was left tingling with gratitude that it was over at last.
He’d also gotten his grades back from school the afternoon before. A’s and B’s. He was going to spend his first summer in Durango, something he was looking forward to; in fact, he could see himself staying there for a while, even after school was done. And best of all, Simone was back in his life. There was no better feeling than summer love, and over a celebratory lunch, he told his mom as much. She was so happy for him. Her boy was going to be okay.
They said their farewell underneath the awning out front of the restaurant while it began to sprinkle rain. The light had faded as clouds pushed south down the valley into town like they always did in late spring and summer.
As he walked to his car, it began to rain harder. The sidewalk was suddenly being pelted with fat drops and Josh just walked in his normal, easy gait, not bothered. It made everything seem alive. The leaves on the trees weighted down with droplets, the clear rivers coursing down the curbsides, the way flowers bobbed when each raindrop hit them, how his hair felt when it lay down wet against his head. These were all things he was attuned to. Each moment seemed a precious gift, after escaping court.
Once he reached his car, he took a moment to check his phone. He’d sent Simone a few texts but so far hadn’t gotten any response. They were supposed to meet up after he had lunch, so it was a little odd, but he didn’t think too much of it. It was the day of graduation and a million things were going on, a lot of parties, except now the rain might dampen those a bit, but he had no doubt the drinking would just be moved indoors.
He headed for the house and saw Patrick’s van in the driveway when he got there. The rain was steady and heavy. Josh hurried inside the house and then got into a dry change of clothes. He called out through the house for Patrick several times, but there was no answer. Maybe he’d dropped his car off and gone with someone somewhere. With his behavior lately, there was no telling where, or whom he was with.
After getting into warm clothes, Josh went to the kitchen, and as he passed the window, he caught something out of the corner of his eye out in the back yard. He backtracked a step and saw Patrick sitting out on the deck in a camping chair. Josh studied him for a moment, just sitting there in the rain, and then hurried to the back door. It was open and only the screen door was keeping the water out of the house. Conscious of his dry clothes, Josh opened it but stayed in the doorway.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Patrick was slouched in the chair, his chin dropped, hair weighted down with wetness and almost totally black against his skin, which seemed almost translucent in the gray light.
“Yo,” Josh called again to his unresponsive friend.
Patrick slowly lifted his right hand and curled a finger in Josh’s direction, beckoning him to come outside. He wouldn’t make eye contact though, was only staring hopelessly ahead. It was then Josh grew worried. He came outside barefoot and felt the chill of the wet deck run up through the soles of his feet. Instantly, he was soaked again.
Patrick pointed to the wooden bench built into the railing of the deck on one side. “Sit.”
There was a distant rumble of thunder. Josh swept a hand across the bench and a sheet of water was skirted off. He sat, now across from Patrick. Patrick’s dead, obsidian eyes lifted to him slowly.
Josh realized Patrick’s hair was getting long, was hanging down nearly onto his eyebrows.
“It’s over between Tiffany and me. Officially,” Patrick said, his voice sounding lifeless. “Thought you should know.”
“I’m sorry. Is that why you’re out here?”
Patrick gave a despondent shake of his head. “There’s something else.”
“Oh?” Josh was intrigued at what could drag him down like this.
There was a long stretch of quiet where Josh could tell Patrick was having trouble getting something out. Finally, Patrick shifted in the chair and moved his eyes back to that fixed position, staring straight ahead. “Simone was here earlier, too.”
“Simone?” Josh was very interested now, especially since she hadn’t returned his last few texts. “Did you guys get in an argument or something?”
Patrick held his own hands in his lap like he didn’t know how to say whatever it was that was bothering him. “I have to tell you something,” he said.
“Speak,” Josh insisted.
“We’ve been hooking up,” Patrick spit out the words almost in one unbroken sound. His eyes lifted back to Josh. They were almost completely absent now, completely gone. Two black holes in an empty man.
“What?” Josh straightened up. It felt like he’d taken an unexpected punch to the nose and was stunned. “What the fuck do you mean?” He stood up angrily.
“Not a lot,” Patrick said. “Three times. Once back over Christmas break. Once when you were in jail. And once today.”
“Today?” Josh stepped toward him aggressively, but Patrick didn’t flinch.
Patrick nodded without looking up. “We have something. I don’t know what it is, but it’s something. I had to tell you.”
Josh felt the rage building inside, and turned away and walked to the edge of the deck. “God damn it!” he screamed into the rain. He put his hands on his hips, and looked off at the leaves of the trees, which had been so beautiful and colorful only minutes before. There was only the sound of the rainfall on everything. He turned back to Patrick. “You piece of shit!”
“You don’t even know why you love her,” Patrick said back, finally showing life.
Josh leaned forward. “But, I do. It doesn’t matter why. You just want every goddamn girl in the world for yourself. How many times have I covered for you, have I looked the other way when you brought girls over? How many times have I lied because of you?” He was steadily becoming furious, could feel the heat rising to his skin. “She was the one girl I wanted—”
“You can’t help who you fall for,” Patrick said. “You knew we had history. You aren’t stupid. You knew it, and you wanted her anyway.”
“And you denied it! You said nothing ever happened, that you were just friends. All that bullshit, remember? All you had to do was resist. For me, man, couldn’t you have just done that for me?”
“I—” Patrick stammered. “I guess I couldn’t.” His voice was raspy and pathetic. He sounded like a feeble old man who’d finally realized he wasn’t going to live forever.
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