While we drive, I think the kissing strategy may work for her and Spanish. Not in class, obviously. Or when other people are present. It’s worth a shot.
***
She's got it down, so I take over driving. I drive us through some of the deepest ruts, up small hills, and do donuts in the red dirt. I took off the hardtop and the doors. We’re almost as dirty as the Jeep when I pull up to a string of mesquite trees providing scarce shade. The sweat is rolling off of us, but I couldn’t care less.
She's grinning at me like she doesn’t have any cares. I reach for her like she’s a glass of water in the desert. My hands tangle in her pulled-back hair. Our parched lips are rough when they meet. It’s still the most amazing sensation.
Ashlyn’s arms are braced on the center console. Before I think to stop her, she's across the console. She moves to my lap and straddles me. In the middle of nowhere, in the Texas heat, all alone. In the next instant my shirt is yanked over my head.
Same as last time we were in this position, at the mall, my hands have made their way under her shirt, splayed along her back. Again, I follow her lead. She kisses me sweetly at first, allowing her fingers free reign, sliding over my pecs. It’s heaven and hell.
Slowly, I edge her tank top up, giving her ample time to back out. It’s over her head without protest.
Plain white bra.
Those three words have never brought to mind “sexy” before. But I'm seeing it for myself. It’s not even a push up.
My gaze moves to hers for permission as my hands start at her waist and inch up her silky skin until they're right at the edge of her bra. Confident that her hazel eyes grant permission, I let my thumbs skim the underside of her breasts. Holding her gaze, I move my thumbs up to graze her nipples. Hands firmly in place, I resume kissing her gently. No rush.
Ashlyn’s hands are all-the-hell over my bare chest. Her fingers are constantly skimming over my nipples, for heaven’s sake. Girl don’t play. She may have kept her virtue intact, but she knows what she's doing.
I shouldn’t compare apples to oranges or whatever analogy works here, but she's had me half-naked twice already. Her bra is still on.
“This might just be me, and correct me if I'm wrong, but we’re unevenly clothed. Just calling it like I see it.”
Ashlyn’s face changes from sexy to sensual. Her hands leave my body. They zip to her back, and she watches my face as she lets the bra drop. Without any hesitancy, it gets tossed in the passenger seat.
“Ash,” I say in reverence. I cup her gently, loving the weight of them in my palms. They aren’t large but wonderfully round. I am in awe. I've seen a few pairs in my life, but none quite as nice. Quite as…mine.
***
Ashlyn
“Kiel,” I whisper roughly. Instead of finishing a thought out loud, I moan. A sound I've never made before in my entire life escapes past my lips as his fingers flick over my bare breasts. If he thought things were going fast before…
“Kiel,” I try again. His hands stop moving. Totally not what I had in mind. “Don’t stop. Please.” Not what I meant to say either.
“Kiel,” I say a third time while his hands pick up where he left off.
“Yeah,” he responds, watching me.
“Ok, I'm trying to tell you…” I moan once more. “Trying to say. I. Um—”
“No, we’re not going to, here in the car. I know, babe. You tell me when. I'll get us a where.”
This next moan I let out is captured by his mouth as we kiss. I shift in his lap, with no subtlety. I use my body to tell him how much that promise means to me. And to let him know the wait won’t be long. He sure better have that ‘where’ in mind.
I pull back from Kiel’s lips long enough to say, “I love it when you call me babe. It feels so possessive.” He tells me with his kisses exactly what that statement meant to him. The kissing goes from hot and heavy straight into boiling.
A little while passes, but I need air. I lean into his chest. The skin-to-skin contact is kind of gritty, a lot sweaty, and almost too much to bear. I move a bit for friction.
Yeah, I know what I'm doing to him. The same thing he does to me.
He mumbles into my hair, “You know, this wasn’t the plan I had for this date. I sort of wanted to talk, get to know you better.”
“Mm. Date.” I'm not into coherency at the moment. Or for serious talk.
He chuckles. “We can stay like this to talk, you know,” he informs me.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Sold! Ask away,” I tell him imperiously.
He asks a few ordinary questions. What I like to do, eat, watch, listen to.
“What happened to your real dad?” he asks, going for the more in-depth questions, apparently.
“Real? Ha! As in biological sperm donor? That person was only in my life for six years. Those six were not all that great, either. He was gone a lot for work on oil rigs. While he was gone, he would cheat on my mom, forget to send her his paychecks, and spend said paychecks on alcohol and whatever else.” I trace tiny circles on his chest while I talk. “One day, he took off for a job in San Angelo and forgot to come home. Found himself a new woman to jerk around. He has like five children with her. I expect a card in October and another in December. Not from him. From his ‘family’”
“Do you hate him?”
“Nah. I just think he’s stupid. Mom is pretty and smart. His new wife? Fat, cranky, and jobless. Not in the stay-at-home-mom sort of way, though.”
Kiel has been caressing my back as I talk. This bared chested-ness is pretty intoxicating stuff.
“Is it my turn yet?” I ask him.
“Be gentle,” he teases.
I ask his birthday—Christmas Day. How awesome is that? I ask what his post-high-school goals are. Like me, Kiel hasn’t worked that out. He likes the idea of college, as long as it’s free.
After lulling him into a false sense of security, I bring up the one he's been avoiding. He knows it’s coming, too. This is going to be awkward if he shuts down again, being topless like we are. I lean back, preparing myself and him.
“Ok. Why did you move here?”
Kiel’s head goes back, eyes closed, with an intake of breath. “You really gotta know, huh?” I don’t respond , but he knows what I want. He lets his fingers roam, feather-light, up and down my arms.
He opens his eyes slowly, heavily. Peering deep into his sad chocolate eyes, I almost regret the question. Almost. I want to know what makes him who he is.
He starts telling me his story. He tells me how he sold drugs and fought. His sentences get short and choppy, causing me to reach for and grip his hands. I bring our combined hands up to my heart.
“I thought I was some badass…We got away with it for so long. At school, at parties…I can’t even tell you…” I bend my head slightly to kiss his knuckles. “I can’t even tell you some of it. It was that bad. The other guys… The worst of it,” he laughs harshly. “The thing that scared me straight? That happened at a middle school football game. Right in front of me.”
Kiel stops. He's trying to decide whether he can continue, how much he can trust me. I hold his hands tighter. It’s all I can do at this point. Either he trusts me or he doesn’t.
“I sold acid to this kid earlier, maybe he was thirteen or fourteen,” Kiel’s voice gets frantic, telling the story faster to get it out of his mind faster, I guess. “His trip was bad, bad as I’d ever seen. He was going on and on about this other guy. He pulled a gun and shot the guy when he walked by.”
I let Kiel’s hands go and he runs them roughly over his hair. Leaning in again, I place a gentle kiss on his lips and trail more along his jawline.
“That night, I turned narc. Went straight to the police station when I could get away from the other guys. I wanted out. The people we go to school with? They throw that word narc around like they know anything about it.” Another harsh laugh escapes from his lips. “Like what’s going on here is anyt
hing close to what I've seen…what I've done.”
Kiel goes quiet, unsure of my reaction. I don’t think he needs my words right now.
***
Kiel
I knew once we got to the questions portion of the night that I’d be in for it. That I would regret letting her ask. But I’d already resolved to tell her. When Ashlyn took her shirt off, then her bra, it was a done deal. I had to come clean.
As I speak, I watch her face for any signs of disgust or anger directed at me. I only see sadness and compassion, as she keeps me close, raining kisses on my hands and face.
The few details I give bring back the memories of the undercover work I had to do to keep my record clean. Every day was a day I could have died, every day an innocent person could have overdosed.
When I finish with the parts I can tell her, I sit and wait. Wait for her to run. Instead, she speaks to me, punctuating each word with a sweet kiss to my forehead, eyes, cheeks, “Don’t. Think. This. Changes. Anything. If we weren’t in this field, in a Jeep, you’d be in so much trouble. Everything you’ve done for me—you're not that person you used to be. You can’t erase it, but it’s made you the man you are.”
“I still see that guy at the game in my head…”
“Anytime you do, start thinking of these instead,” she says and smiles as she plasters my hands to her chest. “And call me.”
“Anytime?” I ask gruffly.
“Anytime,” she assures me. “Besides, it’s only fair since every time the idiots here start giving me grief, I totally intend on thinking of yours.” Then she places her hands none-too-gently on my chest.
***
Later, after another series of breathless kissing, I sit there with my head resting on her shoulder. I'm breathing in her scent, my nose nuzzling her neck.
“I'm glad you did what you had to, in the end” she whispers.
“What?”
“Think about it. If you hadn’t made that choice, we would never have met. You’d be dead or stuck in that nightmare of a world.”
I press kisses to her neck, realizing she’s right. All the crap that brought my family here, also brought me to Ash. If there was any sort of doubt clinging onto some portion of my brain about Ash, I just let it go.
“I have one more question,” Ashlyn murmurs. “You have to answer it, or you're going to homecoming by yourself.”
Oh, no. After the big one, I'm afraid for my life. “Go for it,” I tell her, but I'm wary. Her deep intake of breath had me picking up my head to watch her again.
She licks her lips, then bites the bottom one. (Is it wrong to be turned on and distracted when facing a potentially painful question?)
“You avoided me at first. You always seemed to…” she pauses looking down, uncomfortable. “I don’t know. Act like it was my own fault or thought I might have earned it somehow. I need to know that that’s all behind us. That you know who I am now.”
She hasn’t looked back up at me. I gently raise her chin so she can see me when I say this. “Don’t be angry at me, please. Yeah, at first I didn’t want any more trouble in my life. And the rumors made me think you were trouble. And later I was willing to try to see past the rumors, if that makes a difference.”
“A little bit of a difference,” she says, but her face is still clouded with doubt.
“I'm sorry. You need to believe that I am. I would take it all back. I have enough of that in my life as it is. I do know who you are. Forgive me. Please?”
“How can I not?” she asks rhetorically, more to herself. “I love every stupid angel kiss on your face too much to hold a grudge.”
“Angel kiss?” I laugh.
“Yes, the tiny brown dots all over your face.”
“Mmm, I'm partial to freckles myself. They really are all over. Like you confessed to me.” I take the opportunity to kiss the patches all over her shoulders and take the risk by going a little lower. Ashlyn leans back to give me better access. God blessed her, she's so beautiful.
My mouth is at the top of her breasts when her phone goes off.
“My mom’s ringtone,” she breathes.
Perfect timing. I was about to dive off the cliff. She answers and says yes several times before saying goodbye. We get clothed and head back. It may only be 8:00, but I am dead tired.
***
There’s very little PDA going on on the way to school Monday morning. One quick good morning kiss. I'll deal, I suppose. Mental pictures of Ashlyn’s breasts kept me company last night. I didn’t sleep well.
Jenna comes skipping crazily up to us with D'Nae trying to keep up. D'Nae looks like she just won Miss America. Biggest damn smile I've ever seen on her.
I leave them to their chatting and squealing. I hunt down Tómas and fill him in on the auditions as we make our way to our lockers. What I see next lets me know exactly what “no longer convenient” meant in no uncertain terms as Reyna prowls down the hall in stilettos. She's carrying a Caf-Fina cup with no lid. Steam is rising from the top.
There’s no way I can make it there. But I run anyway. Reyna is already faking her own trip and dumping the hot drink down the front of Ashlyn’s shirt.
Ashlyn is screaming after being scalded. Her top is ruined, but that's the least of her worries. I get to her and pull my shirt off and hand it to Jenna, shoving them toward the nurse’s office. Reyna is apologizing profusely, her hand over her heart in feigned innocence. Not buying it.
I text all three girls to tell them I'm heading to first and to message me if Ash needed a ride home. First, I stop by my locker for my clean Athletics grays I brought from home today.
Thirty minutes later, Ashlyn makes it to class. With my shirt on. One of the girls let her borrow a belt, so that navy v-neck that is just a t-shirt on me? It’s never looked that good.
When she sits down in front of me, I run a hand over her shoulder. I think I missed something. I do it again, then run my hand over her other shoulder. Ashlyn’s bra is as MIA as it was last night in the empty field. Damn! I have to think calming thoughts of Spanish teachers and sweaty locker rooms.
Reyna’s horrendous laugh can be heard across the room. If I didn’t worship the ground Ashlyn cheered on, I’d have her quit cheerleading with those cows. I'm selfish like that, though, to want her cheering me on at every game.
The teacher conveniently steps out of the room. “Nice shirt, Ash! Are you preg-o? Making room for the little bastard?” Reyna says loudly.
I keep telling myself that the bitch is a female. I don’t beat the crap out of females (or anyone anymore for that matter, but Reyna may end up on both exceptions lists).
At lunch, we finally figure it out and have consolidated tables, making it me, Tomás, Ash, Jenna, D'Nae and Miller. Robbie and Liam make guest appearances as we eat. D'Nae and Miller are close but not really touching. Interesting. He sees me noticing and shrugs. I shrug back, but roll my eyes.
I inform Ashlyn of my devious, yet foolproof, plan to teach her Spanish. Not surprising, she's down regardless of the success rate. We start immediately after school at my place.
***
Ashlyn
They crossed the line. First Reyna tries to peel off my skin with the scorching hot coffee. Sure, it burned like a witch, but I got to wear Kiel’s shirt which was comfy and smelled like him. Reyna’s snide remarks slide off my back because Kiel discovered I was bra-less, making the day that much more interesting.
Then, on Wednesday my clothes get stolen. Brisa is going to have a hissy. Whoever was under Reyna’s evil spell stole Bri’s new Urban Outfitters top. She had saved up forever to get that top online. Oh, and my life is ended for borrowing it without her permission.
There was no saving me from this one. Since Kiel couldn’t clothe me every time I landed in this kind of situation, I had to get special permission to wear my Athletics clothes to class. Spritzing with body spray and extra deodorant, I make it through Biology.
Ugh! What next? I shouldn’t tempt fate by asking…
<
br /> On an up note, we have our homecoming float finished, and I managed to get Kiel’s garter ordered. And I'm learning Spanish. Don’t misunderstand, it is still beyond bad, but the arrangement we have is worth it. I'm rewarded with kisses, whether I succeed (rarely) or fail (often).
We’ve sort of slowed down and kept our clothes on lately. It hasn’t been easy, no, far from it. Kiel calls me the aggressor, to which I must agree wholeheartedly. Keeping my hands to myself and leaving his shirt on has been painstakingly difficult. At least I have a feeling of security when I'm around him; that the junk happening at school stays at school.
***
Dad storms into the house super early on Thursday morning, pissed. “Veronica, have you seen what’s in our yard?” I'm not even awake fully, and the anger in his voice is absolutely apparent. I glance at Brisa, who has also heard the commotion. We get up and creep groggily to the front door in our PJs, like it’s a twisted version of Christmas.
I tempted fate. And the drama has spilled over from school into my home life. Stepping outside, we are shocked by the grotesque sight of our yard. If it had been toilet paper alone, it wouldn’t have been as bad. However, helping the TP stick to everything are eggs, ketchup, and mustard. The icing on this sick cake, are the forks stuck in the yard. My parents’ cars are covered in all the goop as well.
Mom is immediately on the phone with the police, then with our neighbors and friends. She’s close friends with the manager of the only grocery store in town. She’s asking if anyone bought excessive amounts of the goods and food plastered to our property.
We all know the young citizens who did this could easily have driven to Abilene to shop. On the other hand, that group has shown they aren’t exactly criminal masterminds, leaving fingerprints on the alcohol and texting threats from their own phones.
They have taken it way too far bringing their fight with me to my home. My family didn’t need to be involved in the dispute—if it can even be called that since I'm not fighting back! Point is, my parents will be forced to pay people to put it right.
Of course, who else but Officer Castro himself pulls up to take our statements? Dad explains how I'm being bullied at school. “Show him the texts, mija,” he tells me. After the coffee disaster, Kiel made me confess to my parents about the threatening messages.
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