Radiant Point

by Brei Betzold

  “Gee, thanks for that.” I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “I got pizza for dinner.”

  “Thanks, I’m starving.” He let go of me and attacked the pizza, eating over the counter. I smacked him on the shoulder and handed him a plate.

  “Freaking pig,” I growled, he oinked but didn’t slow down, shoveling food into his mouth. Then he picked up the pizza boxes, the plate on top, and headed toward the living room. I grabbed us both a beer and followed.

  After he ate three pieces, he started to slow; I’d barely gotten through my first. “What else did you do, other than massacre your hair?”

  I rolled my eyes at him, slightly annoyed that he was still pouting, it was just hair. “Let it go already, and I went to the eye doctor.”

  His head jerked up for his fourth piece of pizza “You got contacts?” he accused.

  “Yep,” I responded, slightly taken back by the venom in his voice.

  “But I liked your glasses,” he sulked, “they made you look like the little science geek you are.”

  This guy confused the hell out of me, since when did he care what I looked like? “Oh my God, why are you acting like such a girl today, Jeron?”

  “I’m not,” he said still moping.

  I rolled my eyes at him stood up and snatched his plate. I ignored him when he yelled he wasn’t finished yet and went to clean up the kitchen. A few minutes later he came in and put the left over pizza into one box then shoved it into the fridge.

  “You look pretty, Trin,” he whispered in my ear before walking off.

  I stood in front of the sink, my mouth gaping in shock. Jeron had never before made a comment on what I looked like, other than telling me I was never allowed to wear a bikini again after the incident at the party.

  After that evening in the kitchen, Jeron started acting differently. I understand now what was going on, but then I was utterly clueless. I attribute it to the fact that before Jeron I had never really been in any kind of relationship. Hell, I don’t think boys even looked at me in high school unless it was to try and cheat off my tests. So, when he started putting his arm over my shoulder, or holding my hand when we were out or around his friends. Or if I was away from his side, I could feel his eyes following me, it made me nervous. I laugh now at how squeaky clean I truly was at eighteen.

  When I first realized my initial college aspirations where ending, I thought my life was ending with them. All I could picture was working a job I hated, barely keeping up with the bills, and eventually falling into a relationship I knew would go nowhere. When I started at the local community college, I realized that it was a blessing in disguise. While I’d have loved to move into a dorm and start a new life, I was better off the way my life was progressing. The summer before fall term started I lived more than in my previous eighteen years, and I learned that I’d missed so much life had to offer. I know that if I had gone off to live in the dorms I would have stayed holed up in there, only leaving to go to class. But Jeron forces me to leave my constraints and see the world from another point of view.

  I decided to take three classes, I was stretching myself, but in the end it would be worth it, I hoped. I was lucky to get all three classes on one day, except it made that day long. I worked full time at the book store, leaving me with one real day off a week. That one day I crammed in as much as I could. Which meant I often fell asleep ,drooling on clean clothes and a textbook sticking to my face. Jeron of course thought I was insane, but he did try to make my life easier when possible

  Jeron was around more, but he also wasn’t. It was strange, if I was home he made a point of being there as well, but I also knew that if I wasn’t he was off doing his own thing. I knew he still kept me out of a lot of aspects of his life. And honestly I was fine with that; I really had no interest in watching girls hang on him or his buddies get loaded.

  When Jeron and I were hanging out things had been off kilter. I had often snuck glances at him, trying of course to be careful that he didn’t notice. Only when I sneak glances at him it’s often to find his eyes on me as well. He was also touching me more, especially when his friends are over. It’s little things like a hand on my lower back, an arm slung over my shoulder while sitting on the couch, or just a brush across my hands when he went to grab a beer. A part of me was thrilled by this, the other was confused.

  Tonight was one of those nights where I was more confused than thrilled. I came home to find his buddies sitting around watching some game, but there was an unusual twist to tonight’s festivities. For the first time ever they’d brought girls with them. Now we’ve had a few parties where of course girls were prevalent, only they’ve never had them over just hanging out like this, so it was a bit of a shock when I drug my sweaty tired ass in from work to find unknown girls hanging off of the guys.

  I was even less in the mood for their catty looks when the guys welcomed me home. Instead of saying something, I just rolled my eyes and headed to the kitchen, hoping there was something easy for dinner. I purposely kept my eyes away from Jeron as I walked by, so when I felt his fingers brush across my ass, I jumped. I turned stunned eyes his direction and realized he wasn’t even looking at me, I sighed internally at what must have been an accident on his part. I was pathetic, I know, I just wish I knew what and the hell he wanted from me. The lines blurred so often lately that I didn’t know which way was up.

  I was pleased to see they had ordered pizza, so I started sifting through boxes looking for something I liked. Mostly I found empty boxes that contained crusts. I nearly gave up when Jeron walked in, he reached on top of the fridge and pulled a box down and grinned.

  “I ordered your fruit pizza.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled reaching for the box.

  He leaned back against the counter as I ate; I watched him from the corner of my eye, wondering what he was looking at. I knew I looked like crap, I’d just worked twelve hours, but the way he was staring had me covertly wiping my chin and lips.

  “How was work?”

  “Long,” I groaned. “We had a new shipment in and there was some long awaited release in there that’s been preordered to death by the grey-haired book club. I spent most of the day going through and counting and recounting to make sure we had enough before locking the books up in the backroom. Then we had to unpack the rest of the books.”

  He reached over and ran his thumb across my chin, “I’m sorry you had a rough day, I can get rid of the guys if you want? We can watch a movie or something, just relax.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I nearly whispered.

  “It’s not a problem.” He smiled that sweet smile that showed off his dimples, the one I only ever saw him use with me. “Go take a shower, put on something comfortable and I’ll get rid of them.”

  I nodded mutely and went to do as he said, because honestly what he suggested sounded like heaven.

  When I walked out of the bathroom half an hour later freshly showered, in boxers and a tank top it was to find our house blissfully empty. The living room was picked up and Jeron was standing in front of the television slipping a DVD into the player.

  “I thought we’d watch Princess Bride,” he said with a smirk.

  “Again,” I whined, though we both knew it was fake. We both loved this movie, and we’d watched it a dozen times over the past year. It was fun watching a movie we could both recite on command.

  I sat down on the couch and pulled the afghan I kept there over my legs. Jeron joined me a moment later after turning the lights off, he fiddled with the remote then the screen blacked out before the anti-pirate screen flashed.

  We watched quietly as Wesley and Buttercup lost each other then found each other again, as they fought dastardly foes and unruly princes. Often reciting our favorite lines from the movie while holding our breath as Inigo Montoya searched for the six-fingered man. This movie never failed to suck me in as if it were the first time I’d watched it. Eventually I laid down, my head in Jeron’s lap as he gently p
layed with the curls in my hair that he’d become fond of.

  When the credits rolled, we both seemed to come out of a trance then stretched lazily. We quietly picked up our mess of beer bottles and soda cans and headed toward the hallway and our bedrooms.

  I looked up at Jeron to find him watching me, again. “Night,” I murmured and turned to leave. Only Jeron caught my wrist and I turned toward him. He gently tugged me closer, his eyes watching me intently.

  “Trin,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to my cheek, his thumb gently caressing. I couldn’t do anything but try to remember to breathe. His other hand came up slowly stroking my other cheek, “Trin,” he whispered again. One of his thumbs slowly stroked down my cheek and softly traced my bottom lip. “So beautiful,” he crooned before leaning down, his lips so tenderly floated across my own. He pulled back slightly and looked at me, then leaned back in. His hands slowly slid from my cheeks to cup my neck on both sides; his thumbs swept across my collar bone, reassuring me. Then his tongue gently glided across my bottom lip, my lips parted on a soft sigh as he pressed against me, his tongue slipping across my lips into my mouth. He groaned as our tastes mingled, and I was lost in him, his scent, his taste.

  When he pulled back, his hands still against my neck, his thumb leisurely caressing my throat. “Trin,” he groaned, sounding like he was in pain. That’s when I realized what just happened, my first kiss, and it was with my best friend. I pushed away, jolting him; his eyes widened as I spun away and ran to my room, slamming my door closed.

  I half expected Jeron to start banging on my door yelling at me to open it. Instead as I listened, I heard his footsteps, the pause for a moment outside my door then they carried on until I heard the quiet snitch of his door closing. I laid my head against the door and called myself every name I could think of.

  My first kiss and it was Jeron, then like the freak I was, I ran away from him. I’d never be able to face him again. Eventually I laid down and stared unseeing up at my ceiling trying to figure out what had happened. Why did I run away, and better yet, why did Jeron kiss me?

  Every girl, at some point, dreams about her first kiss. The anticipation of watching the boy you like slowly make that descent, the initial jolt or realizing it’s actually happening. Then the flash of lust that mingles with the insecurity of wanting to do this right, not to disappoint him. My first kiss was all that and more; there was that flash of lust, but instead of the insecurity I should have felt it was a warm, knowing sense of home. Every time I kissed Jeron I felt home, peace that never changed.

  To say things were weird would be an understatement. For the first time in a year of Jeron and I being friends, things weren’t easy. And I knew it was my fault, I was just confused. I still didn’t know why he kissed me. We’d hung out for a year, why then? I stared at my reflection trying to figure out what he saw, why the sudden change and all I could come up with was the recent changes I’d made. If that was the case, if he noticed me because I cut my hair I would be crushed. I closed my eyes and gave a brief prayer that he wasn’t that vain.

  Jeron was doing his best to hide from me, and I hated it. He rarely came home, and if he did while I was home, it was only for the briefest moment. The one time we spent any real time together was filled with tension and unease.

  I knew I was the one that screwed up; I shouldn’t have run like I did. I just hoped that he would say something, only I knew he wouldn’t. Jeron would do what I wanted in this circumstance, and he thought I wanted avoidance of the subject.

  I was going to have to be the one to break the ice, only I’d have to see him for that to happen, which was a rare occurrence. It was a Tuesday, and instead of going to my late morning class, I grabbed lunch for Jeron and me; if he wouldn’t come home I’d go to him.

  I found him in the garage bay at work, the southern rock blaring from the speakers as he and the other mechanics worked. I leaned against the work bench behind the bay he was working in and waited. Finally he looked up at me, and his look of astonishment would have made me smile if it wasn’t ringed in weariness.

  I picked up the paper sack with our lunch in it. “Thought we could talk.”

  He pulled a red shop rag from his pocket and nodded slowly. “Okay, let me get cleaned up.”

  I left him to clean up and went and sat outside on the hood of my car, waiting. I’d rehearsed what I wanted to say all morning, but I knew I was going to fumble this. I was never very good initiating these types of conversations, or really any conversation.

  When he walked out, he’d lost the blue coveralls and was in a pair of old worn jeans that hugged his thighs, paired with a tight black t-shirt. I had to quickly check my chin for drool. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

  I shrugged. “Probably, but I wanted to talk to you.”

  He leaned against my car beside me, his arms crossing over his chest. “What do you want, Trinity?” He had that weary look on his face again, and it broke my heart. I didn’t like this gap between us.

  “To apologize.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Trin; I never should have kissed you.”

  “Oh,” I muttered, dejected. I should have known it was just a moment of stupidity on his part.

  “Hey,” he whispered, somehow now standing in front of me. “Trin, I’m sorry.”

  I nodded and looked away, blinking back tears. “It’s okay, I get it.”

  “What do you get?”

  “You made a mistake,” I mumbled.

  He grasped my chin in his hand and brought my face around so I had to look at him. “Yea, I made a mistake; you deserve so much better than me. I never should have kissed you; I never should have thought I could sully something so pure, innocent.” He ran his thumb across my cheek. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured. “You have no idea what I want to do to you; I’ve spent the past three years telling myself how much better off you’d be without me in your life.” He groaned, his head falling back. “Then that night I heard you scream. God, my heart stopped when I heard that scream. And then I found him on top of you, I wanted to fucking kill him, Trin. After that night, I just wanted to make sure you were okay, safe. That’s what I told myself anyway.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow. He looked me in the eye. “If you were smart you’d run, you’d scream at me and tell me to stay far the fuck away from you. I would you know, I’d disappear if you asked, your life would be better if you asked that of me.”

  “Jeron,” I whispered, shocked by his admission.

  “Ask me, no tell me to go, Trinity, please, tell me to get out of your life before I ruin you,” he begged.

  Only we both knew I wasn’t going to do that, that I couldn’t any more than he could turn and walk away from me.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, then leaned forward and kissed me. Our first kiss was sweet; the second was anything but. It was full of tongues, teeth, and lips; he took what he wanted and I gave it willingly. When we broke apart we were both panting, our foreheads leaning against each other.

  “Fuck,” he muttered again, “you own me, Trinity.” His thumb swept across my bottom lip before he leaned in and gave me a soft kiss. “I’ll see you at home later, sweetheart.” Then he turned and headed back into the shop.

  After that, neither of us looked back as we went head-first into our relationship. He was mine, and I was his. And the thought of being his terrified me as much as it thrilled me. I finally had the man I’d been pining after for years, but at what cost?

  When I look back at our early relationship, I’m amazed at how easy it was. Everything and nothing changed all at the same time; while the touches held more meaning and kisses were slipped in, we still led our lives. It was as if the time we’d spent together was all leading to this point, and the awkwardness you would expect was nonexistent.

  Jeron never pushed me for more than I was ready for. There were slow, drugging kisses on the couch, short hot kisses on the way out the door, and lingering touches while doing the dishes. We were together for
two weeks before it ever escalated beyond that, and even then it was only after I said it was okay to continue. For being one of the town’s bad boys, Jeron was respectful to me, patient, and I fell even more in love with him for it.

  He also made some changes to his life that I didn’t expect, like instead of going out with his friends every Saturday night as usual, he stayed home and watched me study. Not that I’d get a lot of studying in, it always seemed that we ended up kissing on the couch instead. He also made it known that he was off the market, which acquired me a lot of glares from women I didn’t know.

  That time with him was magical, we grew to know each other in ways we hadn’t before, and not all intimately. We whispered fears, hopes and dreams in the quiet after making out on the couch. We told secrets we never would have had the courage to say to someone else. It was a time that I will always look back on and relish; it was when I got to know the real Jeron Price.

  It’s also when he confessed his darkest secret, the death of his mother. I knew she died when he was sixteen, then shortly later his father moved him and Beth here. I never knew the story beyond that, and I never asked; it wasn’t my place. Though I will admit I was curious.

  We lay on the couch after a particularly long and hot makeout session; my head was lying on his chest, his fingers playing in my hair, wrapping a curl around his finger. “It was my fault,” he whispered.

  “What was your fault?” I whispered back.

  “My mom, it was my fault.”

  I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I said nothing and just squeezed the hand that wasn’t in my hair.

  “I was out with friends and I drank way too much, ya know?” Then he chuckled. “No, I guess you don’t,” he murmured. “She made me promise to never drive drunk, that if I did she’d kill me herself and I knew she was serious. She was amazing; she said she remembered what it was like being a teenager, and that I’d do stupid shit, like go out and get drunk, have sex, any number of things. She just wanted me to know that she was there for me no matter what, and that while she’d help me I was responsible for my decisions. And she’d back those decisions as long as they were smart ones.” He fell quiet again and I just laid there listening to the beat of his heart, feeling the intake of his breaths. “One night after I broke up with my girlfriend, my friends decided we needed to party, and I got drunk, we all did. So I called my mom; she of course told me she’d come and pick me up.” He sighed quietly. “She’d been sick with the flu and I didn’t know she had taken anything. I guess she thought since she’d just taken the medicine it would be okay, only it wasn’t. On her way, she crossed the yellow lines; they think the medicine caused her to fall asleep. Anyway, she was hit head on. She held on, but there was so much damage, and she didn’t wake up. When they tested her brain waves, there weren’t any, two weeks after the accident my dad agreed to take her off the machines.” I held him closer as he began to sob, his arms encircling me, crushing me against him. After awhile he calmed down; I brushed the tears from my own face and just continued to hold him. “My dad moved us here, well he moved me here, and Beth wouldn’t leave me alone. He took a job on an offshore rig and started a new life; he couldn’t look at me, said I was a selfish bastard and it should have been me that died. We haven’t spoken since.”