by Amy Steele
My eyes close as I picture Ali the first day I saw her: dark hair pulled up into a high ponytail and big sunglasses covering most of her face. I had been watching her for a good ten minutes before she even noticed me. Once she did, my life changed. I watched her from the water as she watched me from the sand. The night that I kissed her, six days later, was like nothing I have ever experienced before. Her body fit to mine, her lips soft but urgent.
Not like the last time I kissed her. I was so upset seeing her agree to go out with that idiot, I just couldn’t think straight. I had written that letter only because I didn’t want to hold her back—then to see her moving on. My emotions and testosterone just reacted. I wanted to keep on holding her and kissing her, but it isn’t possible. Our relationship isn’t possible. My heart hurts so bad I am physically in pain.
No. Wait. That would be the rum.
I lean over the porch and throw up the only thing in my stomach, alcohol. I all but curl up in a ball and cry. What the hell, I do end up curling up and let the pain have me . . . then pass out.
I wake up and feel something soft over me and know someone is close by. I try to sit up and see that Ali is next to me reading a book with a flashlight. She notices that I am awake.
“You almost got caught out here,” she says, putting her book down and turning the flashlight off. There is a blanket over me, and I recognize it as the quilt from her bed that we had lain on back in September. I try to sit all the way up and am immediately too dizzy and want to puke again. Ali shifts and fumbles with something next to her.
“Here,” she says, helping me. “I have water and crackers for you.” Ali’s arms slip under mine as she props me against the wall. She is so close to me, taking care of me. I can smell the coconut scent surrounding her, and the sense of being home surrounds my heart.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask, taking the water and sipping it. A grin crosses her lips.
“I’ve seen you out here every night that I’ve gone out with Jeremy,” she mumbles. “When he dropped me off, I noticed you slouched over and waited until he left to come over. When I found you, well, I guess I knew you could use some help.”
I rub my head. “What time is it?” The moon hangs lazily in the sky. I think, or hope, I have thrown up most of the alcohol I consumed, but I am still feeling the effects.
“Three in the morning,” she answers.
“It’s not what you think,” I say, feeling my stomach roll. Ali nods, watching me.
“What is it then, Cooper?” Her eyes look as sad as I feel. I want to tell her that I just can’t let her go and how much I love her. But I am buzzed, and when I tell her how I really feel, I know I need to be sober so she takes me seriously.
Instead I say, “I don’t know.” She hands me another bottle of water, more crackers, and a couple of sticks of gum. Oh, man. I so suck right now.
“Can you walk?” she demands suddenly.
“You’re right.” I push to stand and immediately curse the invention of rum. “I need to get home.” Ali shakes her head and sighs loudly, balancing my weight with her shoulders.
“You live too far away to walk, and I’m not letting you in my car if you’re just going to throw up again,” she says, struggling to lead me forward. I make a mental note to ask her how she knows where I live. “My dad is fighting a fire in the farmlands up north and won’t be home for three, maybe four more, days. You can crash at my place, but just for the night.”
I know that I should be saying no and walking home, but I can’t. “I’m drunk,” I state the obvious. Ali laughs and pulls me forward. I am vaguely aware that she somehow managed to get me upstairs and has tucked me into her bed. I can feel her pulling my shoes off and her hesitation as she considers what to do with the rest of my clothes. My eyes are closed, and she is humming while placing extra blankets on me. The room is spinning, and I want to make it stop.
“You are freezing,” she says to herself, thinking I have passed out again. She sits on the bed and brushes the hair from my face. “You are so handsome, Cooper.” Her lips press softly to my forehead. “I miss you every day, and every day I wish that things could be different. Why did you write that last letter, huh? What made you think that would make anything better?” she whispers then leaves the room. I ache at the thought of her leaving. I miss her too, and I want to tell her, but the rum has rendered me mute. Slowly my mind drifts into a disturbed sleep.
What a horrible night. My head hurts more than I ever thought possible; now that I think about it, so does the rest of me. I roll over and feel the tightness of my empty stomach. I need to eat. I swing my feet out of bed and realize I am still in my clothes from yesterday. I don’t even remember how I got home. I force my eyes open, trying to pull back what memory I have from last night. I wanted to talk to Allison, so I decided to walk to her house, and on the way was a liquor store . . . I bought a bottle of rum . . . Ali was on a date, so I camped out across the street . . . oh shit.
My head snaps up, and I force my eyes open. I’m in Ali’s room. Ali found me last night and took care of me. I look around the room that is decorated in mostly pinks and yellow. I am trying to reconstruct the events from last night. I hope I haven’t made things worse between us. There is a note on the pillow:
Cooper, sleep as long as you’d like. I put a fresh towel in the bathroom so you can shower. My dad is taller than you, but I found something that might fit you.
I groan in embarrassment and look at the clock. It is almost noon. I pull myself to my feet and make it to the bathroom. I strip off my clothes and turn on the hot water. The shower feels good but not good enough to make me feel better. After I towel off, I pull on Mr. Starr’s clothes—jeans are a little long and big, so is the shirt, but they will do. I find and use Ali’s toothbrush; that will be my little secret. I step back into the bedroom and inhale. It smells like Ali. I want to look and touch everything, but I hear noise downstairs. She must know I am up. Time for the walk of shame.
I make my way quietly into the kitchen. Ali has earbuds in and is humming and swaying to the music that I can’t hear. There is a pot of coffee brewing, and she is making pancakes. I lean against the counter and just watch her. It looks like it will start to rain any second, but the dim early afternoon light seems to dance off her like the summer sun. Her hips are slowly moving back and forth; her hair is hanging down to the middle of her back. She is wearing sweatpants and a tank top. She is the most beautiful person I have ever seen.
I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care about how stupid and drunk I was last night. I don’t care that I told her to move on. All I care about is her, Allison. I love her and need to be close to her. I move across the cold kitchen floor and put my hand on her swaying hips. Ali jumps and lets out a little scream.
I remove the earbuds as she turns around. “It’s just me,” I say, smiling. “Who did you expect?”
Ali swallows and turns back to the stove. “I am making you pancakes,” she says evenly. I guess that is fair. My feelings have only grown stronger—I can’t expect hers to be the same especially since I told her to move on. Oh, and that stupid jerk, Jeremy. I pull my hand back, but she stops me, putting it back on her hip. “How are you feeling?” Her voice is now soothing and concerned, and it takes me a moment to answer because her skin is exposed between her pants and shirt, and I want to touch it.
“Better, thanks to you,” I say, moving so my front is almost pressing to her back. I lean in and inhale her scent. I just want to hold her tight. “If I said anything last night . . .”
Ali laughs at me, not with me because I am too ashamed to laugh. “You were pretty messed up.” She puts the last of the pancakes on a plate and turns off the burner. “I couldn’t just leave you there.” She turns around, and my hands seem glued to where she has placed them. “You keep showing up, and I don’t know what to do anymore.” She puts the palms of her hands on my chest, and I wait, expecting her to push me away.
“I’m sorry,” I wh
isper. Thunder interrupts us, and Ali jumps. My arms instinctively wrap around her, protecting her from any harm. Rain lightly falls outside, and we are standing there holding each other, unable to make eye contact.
“Why are you sorry?” Ali asks. I snort out a laugh.
“I am sorry for so many things I don’t know where to start,” I admit. Ali looks up with her big brown doe eyes.
“I don’t like Jeremy,” she says, to my surprise. “I just want to feel wanted.” Her cheeks blush, and I can tell she wants to look away. I hold her face with my hands so she can’t. I’ve missed this face too much to not have the opportunity to stare at it.
“You have always been wanted, Ali,” I say with so much passion I can’t think straight. My lips are almost on hers. “Sometimes we can’t have what we want the most.” Ali closes her eyes and takes in a long breath. I know her well enough to know this is what she does before she makes a decision or before she says something important.
When her eyes open again, they are smoldering. “If it is me that you want, Coop”—she pauses and runs her hands under my borrowed shirt—“you can have me.” I anticipated her to tell me to leave, that I’ve hurt her too much. I want her so bad that I lay awake at night regretting that I would never have a chance to even touch her again, and here she is, offering herself to me. I pull her against me hard, and our mouths almost slam together.
Ali lets out a small groan that almost stops my heart. We are kissing, and our hands are everywhere. I open my eyes and find hers open as well, but nothing stops. It almost ignites more in us. She is breathing hard, and I’m not sure how she managed it, but she has my shirt off. This reminds me of our last night on the beach. Ali leans back and runs her hands over my chest; my knees buckle. She tumbles on top of me, and we land on her kitchen floor, which makes us both burst into laughter.
We are lying side by side, laughing and catching our breath. I don’t know what to do. I want to be with this girl in every sense, but I am still her teacher. The conflict that battles inside of me is torture. It doesn’t help when Ali sits up and her tank top has been flung beside us. I can’t look away even if I wanted to. She is wearing a black lace bra, which contrasts with the pale skin it’s covering, and it fills my vision. Ali gathers her hair in a loose ponytail and leans over me and traces my lips with the tip of her tongue. I am paralyzed.
She slides back on top of me, pressing her warm soft body against my chest as she begins to kiss me slowly, hesitantly. My fingers knot themselves in her hair, holding her face to mine with one hand, the other resting on her hip again. Ali shifts her weight back and forth, and I momentarily forget how to breathe. I realize what she is doing, and it is too late. She has slipped her sweatpants off, and I can’t breathe at the sight of her matching panties. Her mouth assaults mine, and I can hear my throaty groan.
“Ali,” I whisper, trying to find the will to stop. Of course, stopping is the last thing that I want to do. I want to take her in my arms and hold her forever. I want our first time to be romantic and special, not on the kitchen floor.
She can feel my hesitation and leans back. “I thought that this is what you wanted.” Her face flushes. Of course I want this, how could I not? I can see her starting to fall apart waiting for me to tell her no again. I sit up and pull her close and hold her tight.
“It is,” I say into her hair. “It is, Ali—gosh. There isn’t anything I want more than you.” I can feel her beginning to relax. My fingers are exploring the newly exposed skin which is causing goose bumps to rise on her. I help her to her feet and led her into the living room where I wrap a blanket around her shoulders.
Immediately we are both back on the beach, a bonfire burning bright behind us, a thousand stars sparkling overhead. As I did before, using the blanket, I pull Allison closer to me and tilt her face toward mine. I become completely saturated with love for the girl I feel like I could drown. Her eyes are wide and blazing with desire. My will is shot, and I give in to her and to myself. I have been away from her intimacy for months, and I can’t take it for another second.
I think she is surprised when I pull her face to mine, and just like on the beach, the blanket falls silently to the floor. Ali’s slender arms wrap around my neck, and I easily lift her off the floor. The couch isn’t far, so I make the short walk, not breaking our kiss, and gently lay her down. I position myself over her delicate body, not letting her feel any of my weight, but Ali pulls me down, so we are pressed together. Her fingers lace themselves in my hair, and she groans softly as I kiss her neck.
“I love you,” I whisper in her ear, and she trembles under me. When we make eye contact again, we both know that nothing will stop us from this moment and that nothing will interrupt us.
That is when the phone rings and interrupts us. I fall off the couch and crash to the floor. Allison jumps up, pulling the blanket off the floor to cover her exposed skin. The answering machine picks up the missed call.
“Hey, Ali,” Jeremy’s voice fills the room. “Just making sure we are on for tonight. Call me back . . . love ya.” Ali walks over to the machine and presses a few buttons until the message is deleted. When she turns back to face me, she looks upset. I want to go to her, but it dawns on me that she might want to go on a date even if it’s not with me—even if it’s with a guy she claims she doesn’t like.
I would be lying if I said my ego wasn’t bruised. “He loves ya, huh?” Here we are, rolling around half naked and a . . . a suitor is literally calling on her.
Ali blushes and shrugs. “He says he does.”
I swallow. “And what do you say back?” Ali turns around and pulls the blanket tighter around her almost-nude body.
“Nothing.” Her voice is low. “I say nothing to him because that is what I feel toward him.” I am washed with relief at her words. I walk across the room and take Ali in my arms.
“We just have to be patient,” I tell her, kissing her head. “Can you wait for me?” I ask softly, knowing that I’d wait a lifetime for her. Ali nods slowly, looking as frustrated as I feel.
“Until May?” she asks me, leaning back. I kiss the tip of her nose. I find it ironic that I am the one asking her to wait for me when the roles are usually reversed. I’m not complaining. I like the fact that this smoking-hot chick is trying to take advantage of me.
“Until May, then we can be together all the time.” Ali smiles that smile I love best and leans in to press her lips to mine.
“And then forever,” she repeats back to me. We sat on her kitchen floor listening to the rain, holding each other; love and patience seeped through us. There was nothing more we needed to say.
May. Only five more months. One hundred and fifty days of cold showers.
Nine
Allison
Cooper and I are back on track, or the best we can be, and have been talking every day for hours. We have hatched a plan, a secret schedule to be able to still be close. He even snuck over once while my dad was at work. On Christmas we exchanged gifts. I gave him a new watch, and he gave me a necklace with a seashell on it. He said it was from our beach and has had it with him since our last night there. I wear it every day instead of the key bracelet. I couldn’t wear it with Christina knowing what it meant to me. I want to take things to the next level with him, but understand why we can’t. Five months—that is my focus—just five more ridiculously long months.
It is January and our first day back to school from winter break. I am actually looking forward to my English class today. I know Cooper and I need to keep this secret, but he is just so incredibly handsome, and I can spend the entire class period ogling him instead of ignoring him. I hope I can keep myself under control. It won’t be easy since when I left for winter break, I was always a sneeze away from tears, and now you can’t wipe the smile off my face. I am walking between second and third period when Jeremy approaches me.
“So, you never called me back last night,” he says, putting his arm around my shoulders. I want to shrug off his ar
m but also don’t want to hurt his feelings or burn my friendship bridge with him. He has been so sweet to me, even after I called him back the day Cooper heard his message.
I told him that I liked spending time with him, but I just didn’t feel the same way. He said he understood and asked if we could still hang out. I reluctantly agreed and saw him one more time over the break, where he tried to kiss me. Since then I have been trying to avoid him, unsuccessfully.
“I’m sorry about that. I was just busy,” I lamely explain. He leans in and kisses my cheek.
“Can I take you out tonight?” he asks optimistically. “As friends?” As if adding the friends is going to change how he really feels about me. Sorry, buddy, not this girl.
“I really need to focus on school right now,” I lie. He takes in the information I feed him and nods, knowing my nerdy background.
“Okay,” he says easily. “See you in English.” He kisses me lightly on the cheek once more. I watch him disappear into the sea of students. I walk into third period dazed.
“Oh, Allison,” Mr. Thorn calls as I take my seat. “They need you in the office, something about tutoring. Here is a pass.” He hands me a slip of paper, and I look at it confused. Do they know something? Fear fills me, and sweat covers my skin. I swallow and smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Thorn,” I manage to say as I turn and walk out of class. I stop first in the girls’ restroom. I need to make sure I look innocent and pulled together. I do look paler than usual. After standing in front of the mirror for ten minutes, I will some color to my face, or so I convince myself. I take the slowest route to the office and find my counselor on the phone. She motions for me to sit, so I do.
“Hello, Allison,” she greets me. She seems calm, which is good. Of course if I were in some sort of trouble, I would have been called to the principal’s office, not the guidance counselor’s.
“Hello, Mrs. Brown. What’s up?” I am shaking. She is holding a folder and hands it to me.