Double Clutch

by Liz Reinhardt

  Jake grabbed me and kissed me lightly on the lips, then smiled and jumped up on the tractor, shifting it and driving into the field.

  “Brenna,” Thorsten called, coming into view just as Jake pulled away on the tractor. “I got you an apple tart and some cider.” He pressed the bag and cup in my hands. “Your mom is already filling the truck bed with crazy things for the yard. We won’t have room for your things.”

  “Thanks, Fa.” I willed myself not to look over at Jake driving the tractor with expert athleticism. “Our yard is going to look like it belongs to an Italian palace,” I joked.

  We chuckled all the way back to the car. I knew Jake wouldn’t call until that night, but I turned my phone to vibrate anyway. It was just better not to bring any attention to the whole thing.

  Mom and Thorsten spent the ride discussing where they would put Mom’s new fountain and birdbath and statues, and I had time to think.

  Mostly about Jake’s kiss.

  He definitely kissed like a guy who had kissed a lot and knew he was great at it. I’m not saying it wasn’t toe-curlingly amazing to be on the receiving end of a kiss like that. It just didn’t help his “man whore” dilemma. After all, if he had that much experience, was it even safe to think about being with him? Would he expect me to sleep with him if we dated? I didn’t know if I was ready for that.

  But I also knew I was jumping way, way ahead of myself.

  We parked at IKEA, and I was relieved to totally devote my entire mind to something other than a guy. Or two.

  Mom and I looked through comforters, lamps, rugs, beds, dressers, closet organizers, and knick knacks. I picked things at random and Thorsten lugged them around, then we put it all together and took it all apart again, not stopping until all the pieces made sense to Mom. My mother just had that kind of eye, and once she okayed it all, I knew it would look great. We got some frames and hit the poster store at the mall to get prints. Then we stopped at the paint store and argued about paint colors. Finally, we stopped at Thorsten’s favorite hot dog place and ate dinner.

  “This room is going to be amazing.” Mom covered her eyes with her hand like it was too much for her to visually imagine. “Don’t freak, Brenna, but Thorsten and I moved your stuff out of your room last night.”

  “That’s cool. Where am I sleeping?”

  “We left the mattress on the floor,” Mom said.

  And I was so relieved, because I’d been panicking that I wouldn’t have anywhere to talk to Jake in private. I depressed myself with my pathetic boy obsessions.

  We made plans to get up crack-of-dawn early and start work on my room. By the time we got home, it was late and everyone was totally wiped out. I had that irrational desire to start working on my room right away, but I curbed it because I knew it was crazy, and that I’d wind up doing a crappy job if I rushed it.

  Mom and Thorsten went to their room upstairs after we said goodnight. I thanked them both and we joked about how awful the next day would be, and finally, it was just me on a mattress on the floor of my lavender room, where Mom had dusted and swept and washed the walls, so there weren’t even creepy cobwebs or gross dirt patches like there most likely had been. I didn’t know when exactly Jake would call, so I pulled my laptop out, even though I had a feeling it might be a really bad idea.

  I opened my Facebook page. Kelsie had left a comment on my wall. “hey girl, keep me updated on the bad boy!!! last night was supa fun. get ready to make me some shirts and snag me a boyfriend all at once. love and kisses, Kelsie” I had nothing to write back, so I just clicked on my friend page and saw Saxon was one of my friends. The red notification bubble told me there was a message waiting for me. I clicked on it.

  Hey,

  Thanks for the make out session in the car. Don’t sweat it, Blix. I won’t tell a soul. Did you listen to the CD? I didn’t think so. Do yourself a favor. Folly’s cool, and you’re about to clothe their groupies.

  Later, friend,

  Saxon

  His note, was, of course, designed to make me sweat it. How could it not? It was like he had something to hold over my head, and, boy, was he ever going to hold it over my head. I thought about writing him back when my phone vibrated. I didn’t recognize the number, but it wasn’t like I was expecting another call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey,” Jake said, and I felt a little tightening in my stomach, but in a good way, hearing his voice again.

  “How was work today?” I lay back on my mattress and wondered where he was. If he was in his room, I wondered what it looked like.

  “It sucked. Especially after I saw you.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  His laugh was hushed. “It sucked because it was like a tease, Brenna. I spent the rest of the day wishing I could hang out with you.”

  My heart picked up, beating hard and fast. “Sorry. I was busy today anyway.”

  “How did your shopping go?” His voice was warm, kind. It was easy to drift away on it and forget all of the things I’d seen on the internet and Kelsie’s rumor-telling.

  “I think it was good. My mom is going to help me redo my room as a birthday gift, so I have all the raw stuff, and we just have to put it all together tomorrow and see how it goes. As quiet as I tried to keep my voice, it bounced off the stark walls in a series of echoes.

  “I bet it will look great. I wish I could come over and help you. I’m a really decent painter.” I felt a stab of panic. I didn’t really want to let Mom and Thorsten know anything about any boys at all. But he wasn’t really asking, because he said, “But I have work this Sunday.”

  I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle my sigh of relief. “That’s okay. I’m sure we’ll be fine. There are three of us and my room isn’t very big.”

  There was a fairly long stretch of silence. I could hear Jake lean back and get comfortable, and it was weirdly intimate to hear it all but not see it.

  “So I guess I have some explaining to do,” he finally said.

  “Not really,” I returned, and even I could hear that my voice was a little prim and prudish. “If you don’t want to tell me about the pictures, you don’t have to.”

  I could hear him draw his breath in and push it out slowly, like he was preparing himself for something difficult. “Even if you didn’t see something that made you suspicious, I would have eventually told you all about myself. It’s just not the first thing I like to talk about. Like…” He stopped for a minute. “It sucks to say, ‘Hey, I’m Jake and I’ve screwed up a lot.’”

  “Everybody’s screwed up,” I said diplomatically. I waited a few long seconds.

  “Maybe not like me.” His words had a dark, ominous ring to them, and I forced my mind to shut down and stop imagining the possible extent of his screw ups. “I’m not going to cry on your shoulder, but I’ve had a weird upbringing.” He paused. When I didn’t say anything, he went on, “My mom died when I was seven and my dad started to drink. A lot.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sympathy radiated out of me and I willed him to feel it across the distance between us.

  “That’s okay,” he said automatically. “My dad totally stopped drinking a few years ago. And even though I hated when he did it and hated how it made him act, I started to drink when I got into high school. As much as Dad ever did, and maybe more.”

  “Oh.”

  “I was really messed up. I was running around with some wild kids, a lot of them already out of high school, and we were just getting smashed every weekend.” His breathing was unsteady. “Sorry. This is just really weird. I’ve never talked to anyone about this, and I really didn’t want this to be one of the first things we ever talked about.”

  “I’m glad you’re telling me,” I reassured him, though I wasn’t sure if I was. An obnoxiously persistent voice in my head kept telling me to tell him to stop. I didn’t want to hear anything else that would make me feel bad for him or regret liking him. But it was brave of him to tell me, so, against all better judgment, I said, “Yo
u should tell me everything.”

  He let out a long whoosh of air, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for my answer. “Alright. I, um, I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll just say it. I’ve slept with a lot of girls. I was drunk most of the time. Not even one was a girlfriend. A lot of time it was older girls I met at parties. I had, kind of, a reputation?” he said uncertainly. “I’m really not proud of this,” he added.

  “It’s okay.” My entire body trembled, but I managed to keep my voice perfectly steady. “Just tell me the rest.”

  “One weekend I got really, really drunk.” His voice pitched hollowly. “I woke up in some girl’s bed. I couldn’t find my shoes. I didn’t know where I was. And my tooth was chipped. I had no idea why. And that was it. I was done with it. I stopped drinking that weekend. That was a year and four months ago.”

  Even his adorably chipped tooth was part of this mess. I felt like all of the energy had run out of my body, like my muscles and bones were just congealed mush that left me limp and powerless. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  “Please,” he begged in a ragged whisper, “say something, Brenna.”

  I managed to piece together something neutral and not nearly strong enough to convey all the words and emotions that crashed and exploded in my brain. “Thank you for telling me.” My voice was as hollow as his had been.

  He cleared his throat. “I pretty much screwed up any chance of us, you know…”

  “What?” I knew it was torturous even as the word left my mouth. He obviously felt like crap and I wasn’t helping. But I didn’t want to, suddenly. In a sick way I liked hearing him suffer; it let me know he really felt terrible about all those girls, all those times he was with them.

  “For us to go out. Man, this blows.” He laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of happiness in that laugh.

  “You didn’t lie to me. And I would never blame you for something that you did way before we met.” Or even many, many someones he did. He was right. This blew.

  “God, Brenna.” His voice was cracked and raw. “I feel like I had this one bad year and that’s my real life. I can try as hard as I want, but that terrible year is what’s in store for me. I won’t do better.”

  “Jake, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You made some mistakes. So? Big deal. Of course I would still be willing to date you.” The words popped out of my mouth, mixed in the tumult of anger and frustration and attraction that swirled like a whirlpool in my head.

  “You would?” His voice brightened. “I’m not asking you now. I mean, I wouldn’t be that much of a loser. But you’re serious? You would consider dating me?”

  I thought about kissing him and knowing, always, in the back of my head that there had been so many more before me. Would I be able to get over it?

  And then I thought about Jake. And his crinkled eyes and his sweetness and his really, really mind-blowing kisses that I knew were all about him and me only, no matter who else there had been before.

  I took a huge, deep breath. “Yes. I would consider it. Definitely.” I felt some of the old giddiness tickle to life low in my stomach.

  He laughed, and it still wasn’t a happy sound. This time it sounded like relief. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

  I wanted to tease him, to tell him not to get his hopes up, but it felt like we were in deep waters and that kind of joking wouldn’t fly. But then, I didn’t know what to say.

  He cleared his throat. “I guess I dropped a lot on you tonight.”

  “Yeah.” It sounded annoyed, even though that’s not really how I felt. I curled on my side and cradled the phone next to my ear, blinking in the dim light of my empty room.

  “You don’t know how sorry I am. You have a lot to do tomorrow. I should let you go.”

  And I knew that he was really asking if I wanted to get off of the phone with him, and I also knew that if I said yes, it would break his heart a little. And as much as Jake Kelly had made me crazy, I still felt protective over his heart, like it was an egg I held in my hand that could be crushed without much force at all.

  “Not yet. What’s up with your comments on my photos?” I knew I managed to make my voice sound almost exactly the way it had sounded on Friday just after I kissed him.

  His laugh was so sheepish I could practically see him blush. “I was feeling brave. It’s what I’m thinking. You’re just…” He stopped again. “You’re like the kind of girl I’ve only ever imagined meeting, and then you just show up one day across the table from me at school, and I know this is my one chance and I’d better not screw it up. I don’t know how to say it. You’re gorgeous and smart and funny. And you’re not judgmental. You know, I feel like I could tell you all of the crazy stuff I’ve been through, and you would still see the real Jake under all the bull.”

  It was essentially what Saxon had told me about myself, and I felt ashamed that Jake had given me so much credit when I didn’t really deserve it at all.

  “Jake, you make me sound like some perfect girl, but…”

  “But you are,” he interrupted. “My idea of perfect, anyway.”

  “I’m far from perfect.” I pushed my bangs back with the heel of my hand.

  “I know I’m not really in your league,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Yes you are.” I laughed and sat up, cross-legged on my mattress. “I think you’re just fishing for compliments.”

  “No. Seriously, I’m not.”

  “I actually believe you,” I admitted and leaned forward, the phone pressed hard to my ear, my voice low. “So I’ll give you some anyway. No interrupting or being all humble. You are very good looking.” I heard him make a noise, but I rushed on to stop him. “You are a very hard worker. You’re smart, don’t even say you aren’t. I don’t waste time on dumb people, Jake. And, this one is important.” I paused for dramatic effect.

  He laughed shyly. “Lay it on me.”

  “You are an awesome kisser,” I whispered.

  He laughed loud and long. “Here I thought you were going to get all deep on me.” When he was done with his laughing, his voice got deeper and very sexy. “So you think I’m a good kisser?”

  “You’ve had enough practice!” I joked. The memory of kissing him made my breath come fast and my lips tingle.

  His voice got really serious all of a sudden. “Not really, Brenna,” he admitted. “It was…kind of heartless. It wasn’t…” He didn’t speak for a few seconds. “It wasn’t good,” he said finally. “At all. But if you and I were, um, together, it would be different.”

  My traitorous body shivered and squirmed with a need that I didn’t really know how to respond to. “I don’t have any plans to do much more than kissing for a while,” I said carefully, even as I fought waves of something hot and hungry that crashed over me.

  “I didn’t mean that,” he rushed, and his voice was so sexy I got goose bumps. “I meant kissing. The way it felt with you today was ten times better than all of the sex I’ve had put together, and that was just one kiss.” He took a breath, and it sounded jagged and unsteady. “Or maybe I felt something you didn’t?”

  “No.” I smiled so wide my cheeks ached. “I felt it, Jake. I’ve felt a lot for you. Since the minute we met.”

  “I have a feeling we’re going to be crazy happy together, Brenna Blixen.” The naked optimism in his voice stung my conscience.

  If I decided to move forward with Jake Kelly, I had better be positive that it was all through with Saxon Maclean. If not, I was going to have one hell of a nightmare on my hands.

  “I…want to see you again. Soon.” I only realized how much I felt the words as they came out of my mouth.

  “You will. Now I’m going to go ogle your Facebook pictures and let you get some sleep. Sweet dreams, Brenna.”

  “You too,” I said, and we clicked off.

  The feeling of aloneness that swelled around me once we disconnected was overwhelming. I usually liked being alone, espec
ially late at night when I could think on my own. But this was different. This time I wanted Jake’s voice back next to me. For the first time I tried to imagine what it would be like to sleep next to someone, like to have Jake lying in the bed next to me. Just thinking it made me smooth my hand over the empty bed. I was always the only one in bed, and had a hard time imagining it otherwise.

  I believed Jake when he told me things that sounded crazy, like that kissing me was better than sex had been. But my belief had more to do with my feelings for him than any type of real knowledge, because I had almost nothing to go on physically. I just had to take Jake’s word for it and hope he wasn’t saying what he thought I wanted to hear.

  It took a long time to fall asleep in my empty, echoey room, and I even considered calling Jake back, but squashed the thought before it could really take root. My own company was never that intolerable.

  Chapter 6

  The next day dawned brighter than I expected, and Mom and Thorsten already had my window cranked open and primer rolling before I rolled off my mattress. I put on old clothes and pulled my hair up in a messy ponytail, then got to work.

  Mom and I had picked a robin’s egg blue for the accent wall behind my new bed, which was a dark wood frame with a high headboard that had a deep shelf on the top. The bedclothes had bright red poppies on a cream background with brown accents and pillows. The other three walls were painted a caramel-type color. There was a large blue and brown rug with swirling flowers. I had a new desk with a roll top and a set of hung shelves with glass doors. There was also a tall bookshelf with glass doors on it and shelves underneath. We fitted a new organizing system into my closet and moved all of my new clothes into it. The old clothes that had clogged up my closet got put in a pile for Goodwill. Thorsten hooked up a cream colored chandelier that hung with long swaths of red crystals. I put together several paper lamps, a few oblong and a few spheres, and hung them from the ceiling, where they shined light on the floor and cast a soft glow. We hung the paintings: Cassatt’s Girl in the Blue Armchair and Chagall’s Wedding Portrait. Mom helped me pick the prints based on color and what I liked. We hung a bamboo shade and curtains with huge red and cream flowers.