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Knee Deep

Page 8

by Jolene Perry


  “How are you?” I ask as I step closer. It’s a sort of generic question because I already know it’ll be awkward. My sleeves are pushed to my elbows so he can see the fresh bruising from today, but the light is dim and even though I know where to look, I can’t find it. I almost feel bad for using bruises this way, but at the same time he was the one who gave them to me, even though he didn’t mean to.

  “I don’t know, Ronnie.” His voice is low and his shoulders are slumped. “I know you want to do this theater stuff, but did it have to be for this play?”

  I can’t answer. Now that I have the lead, walking away would be torture.

  “I know I shouldn’t have overreacted today about Curtis. Luke is sort of dating Aubrey, so this all shouldn’t be a big deal. But I want you to know it feels weird for me, okay?” His warm hands take mine, and despite our argument some of my tension dissolves.

  And I know if I do something big, all will be good, all will be forgiven. Something really big. A nervous tingling starts in the pit of my stomach, but it’s for a whole new reason.

  Could I go all the way? Is this awkwardness between us the thing that puts me over the edge? I’m desperate for us to be close again, for me to be able to be held by him and feel comfort from it. I want Shawn and I to be happy like we’ve been for the past couple weeks, and like we were for months before that. “Can I come inside?” The words come out all squeaky. Have I made the decision to go further? Just this simply? My heart pushes against my ribs, faster, faster.

  “Aren’t you tired? You always complain about being tired.” He looks through his thick lashes at me.

  “Some things are more important.” I scoot closer, and my stomach tightens. What am I about to get myself into?

  “Okay.” His smile starts to spread. “I’m gonna go check my parents, see where they are and come back for you, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  His lips meet mine and his kiss is so soft and so sweet that I think, yeah, I might be able to do this. Or at least get a step closer.

  Shawn disappears into the dark house and I pull my cell from my pajama pocket to set the timer for vibrate in 30 minutes. My hands are shaking, not bad, just a little. Just enough that I notice.

  My cell is my safety net. If things start to go too far, I can fall back on that. Or I can ignore it. I mean, I can always back off, that’s okay too. He’ll understand.

  I think.

  Again, the thought of not stopping sends a frantic swarm of butterflies through my stomach.

  “Asleep,” he whispers.

  I jump at the sound of his quiet voice. I’m really going to have to calm down.

  “Come on.” His smile is soft as he gestures to the open door.

  I take his hand as he leads me through the doorway, and then wrap my arms around his stomach to follow him through the dark house. Once we’re in his room, he locks his door, sending another wave of nerves through me.

  He takes a step back to where I’m standing next to his bed, and slides his arms around my waist. His mouth is on mine, soft again, but his kiss is deep, and it’s like we both forget how to come up for air.

  The light from the backyard streams through the blinds striping the wall, striping his face, highlighting our bodies together.

  “I love you, Ronnie,” he whispers between kisses. Kisses to my mouth, to my neck, my collarbone.

  I sit on his bed, and he pulls off his shirt. I’ve seen Shawn with his shirt off loads of times—at the beach, in the backyard, but never like this. Never just to be closer to me. I’m totally high on the nervous energy and rest the flat of my hand on his broad chest. This is Shawn. I love him. What am I so worried about? My hand slides down his stomach until my fingers rest on the top of his pants.

  No way can I take the intensity of his eyes right now, so I give a little tug.

  He’s on top of me in moments. And it’s like I mean to tell him I’m happy I’m here. That I love him, but I can’t. There’s no room for words in what I’m feeling right now—there’s too much want. Too much need.

  His hands slide through my hair, down my arms. We continue to kiss, and I don’t break away. I can’t. My body, my mouth, has melted into his.

  His fingers caress my waist and slide up my tank top. I don’t even care. I want it. Him. More touching. My back arches, pressing our stomachs together, all of this feels so new—in the very low places I feel nervous tingling begin, and the excitement of being this close to him courses through my body.

  The heat of his skin drives my hands to touch more, and I pull him towards me, even though his weight’s already there. My knees pull up until his body’s resting between my legs. If we weren’t dressed we’d be having sex, or almost having sex. My stomach tightens both in nerves and finally, real anticipation.

  He pulls back in the dim light, barely far enough for me to make out his features. “Thank you. You’ve been so weird lately. I miss being with you like this.” His dark eyes see me, through me; the guy who’s known me since I was a tall, skinny kid and loves me still. My legs wrap around his back pulling our hips together, and my phone buzzes underneath us.

  “Shit.” He rolls off and sits on the edge of the bed.

  I scoot over and stand up, pulling out my phone to turn off the alarm. “I gotta go. That was Dad,” I lie. And this time only half of me wants to leave. I’m so in love with Shawn. What am I so worried about?

  “Thank you for this,” he smiles softly. “I hope you’re not in too much trouble. You can blame it on me, okay? Say I called and had to see you.”

  “Thank you.” I step up to where he’s sitting on the bed and stand between his legs. I take his hands and rest them on my bare stomach between the top of my pj pants and the bottom of my tank, knowing he’ll push them further and slide them back under my shirt. Instead of moving his hands up, like I expect, he moves them down between my legs and I forget to breathe. It’s scary, but sends a shiver through me, and just before I’m about to tell him to stop he stands up and gives me a long, soft hug. I run my fingers up and down his bare back and kiss the top of his shoulder. I’m way closer to being with him than I thought. I open my mouth to tell him I want to stay, but the words don’t come.

  “You’re my forever, Ronnie. I love you.”

  His words rush through me, leaving me high and floating. And I feel guilty for ever being afraid of him, or for being upset. “I love you, too.”

  Even more than any of our kissing on his bed, our goodnight kiss sucks the breath from me, and I happily give it away.

  ***

  My body’s sore from painting sets all afternoon. Dresses really aren’t appropriate for this kind of work, so I’m in short jean cutoffs and another long-sleeve shirt.

  “Hey honey!” Mom waves as she walks down one of the aisles toward the stage.

  “Hey, Mom!” I set down my brush and move towards her. I had no idea she was coming here today.

  Luke and his Powderpuff Girls t-shirt follow. Seriously. Powderpuff.

  “Hi there, Luke.” Mom’s smile is wide. “Or do I call you Romeo ?”

  He grins back. “Good to see you, Mrs. Bird. Luke is great.”

  My arms fold and I lean against a theater chair. “What’s up, Mom?”

  “Thought you might be hungry. Your dad wanted to go out to eat tonight.”

  “Okay.” It’s been a long time since we’ve done that. It goes back to the whole busy parents thing.

  “Where did that come from?” She points to my arm.

  My sleeves are rolled up—I must have done that without thinking. “Building sets.” I shrug and jerk my sleeves back down.

  Luke’s eyes are on me. Hard. “I don’t remember that.”

  “Maybe it happened on a day you weren’t here.” I shrug again. Only, both Luke and I know he’s always here. “It’s no big deal.” I can’t make my eyes find his searching ones so I stare at Mom, chest pounding. I swallow twice because I know I’ll have to talk again soon.

  She laughs
. “I guess having her build sets probably isn’t the best idea.”

  I laugh with her, but Luke isn’t buying it. He hasn’t moved. My heart beats harder.

  “Why don’t you help me clean up, and then you and your mom can take off?” He half-turns toward the stage. He’s just looking for a way to get me alone so we can talk. I’m not into it.

  I rest my hand on his arm and give him a big smile. “Would you mind doing it for me? I’m starving.” And I know I’m playing a desperation card here, but it’s better than Luke trying to confront me.

  “Sure.” His hands rest in his back pockets, broadening his chest, and gives me his best relaxed smile, only I know Luke better than that. He’s going to call me or find me the moment he can.

  Crap.

  “Thanks, Luke,” Mom says.

  “No problem.” His eyes still rest on me. “Guess we’ll talk later.” We both know there’s deep meaning in those words that I don’t want to think about.

  “Guess so.” I jog up the stage, grab my pack, walk past Luke, and follow Mom—a seeping dread replacing the panic of a few moments ago.

  “Luke sure has turned into a handsome young man,” she says as we step outside.

  There’s really no point in denying that. “Yep.”

  “Is it weird? Being opposite him in the play like you are?” And now her eyes are on me, questioning.

  “Sometimes,” I admit. There has to be some sort of subject change option in here somewhere. Anywhere.

  “And he and Shawn are still best friends, aren’t they?” she asks.

  I stuff my hands in the pockets of my jeans. She sure is perceptive today. “It’s a little awkward. I’m guessing that’s your next question, but we’re fine. It’s just a play. It won’t last forever.” And especially after last night, Shawn and I seem really, really good.

  “Well, you and Shawn should make some extra time for each other while this is going on.” Mom gives me another knowing look.

  “Yeah, we will.” And we did last night—you just don’t know about it.

  My phone buzzes.

  LUKE: WORRIED ABOUT U. WHAT HAPND?

  There’s no point in pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about.

  HE CAUGHT ME AS I FELL INTO THE POOL.

  LUKE: I DON’T BELIEVE U. HE’S BEEN WEIRD. I WAS AFRAID TO LEAVE U THE OTHER DAY. I’VE NEVER SEEN HIM ANGRY LIKE THAT.

  UR SEEING THINGS THAT AREN’T THERE.

  LUKE: IF UR SURE.

  Instead of answering, I stuff my phone back in my pocket and hope he drops it. Shawn and I are good. Luke poking around won’t help anything.

  ***

  I find a sleeveless tunic top because my bruises are almost gone, and now that I got them building sets, I won’t have to come up with anything. I also wear a pair of jeans and just for fun, and because I almost never do, I slide on my favorite platform wedges. Shawn and I should be cool. We’ve spent some good ‘us’ time the past couple of nights, even though I haven’t stayed.

  Shawn’s smile is wide as I step out of the house. He’s on his motorcycle today, which terrifies me, but the ride to school is only a half-mile. I can be terrified for that long.

  “Really?” His brows go up as he looks at my shoes.

  I shrug. “I love them. No one cares but you.”

  He sits silent and lets out a sigh of impatience as I climb up behind him. “It just makes me feel weird, and you know this, so…”

  I wrap my arms tightly around his stomach, hoping to relax him, but he’s stiff all the way to school and doesn’t even try to scare me. Not once.

  It sucks.

  We’re back to distance, all because I had to wear my stupid shoes. I should know better.

  ***

  “Ronnie,” Mr. Blackman waves at me from down the hall and I jog up, feeling light and tall in my shoes when I’m not around Shawn. Then, I’m heavy…for having the nerve to feel so great.

  “What’s up?” I ask.

  “I won’t be in rehearsal today. A former student here, and a theater major at the university, will be going over the scenes with just you and Luke, okay?”

  My chest tightens, making my heart frustrated and my breath shallow. Nerves. I try to swallow them down. “Sounds good.” Or, terrifying, or…

  “Great.” He pats my shoulder and walks away.

  I’m still standing. In one spot. This should be interesting. So far, rehearsals have been more about memorization and blocking. Blackman said we’d work on some of the closeness later. I guess later is now.

  “S’up?” Mindy bumps against me.

  “Sorry.” I shake my head. “Intense rehearsal today.”

  “With Luke?” She wags her brows.

  “Please don’t do that.” I shake my head, my chest weighted down further by her humor. “It’s already weird for Shawn.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Shawn’s hot and can be really sweet, but sometimes I don’t know how you put up with him.”

  And she doesn’t even know the worst part yet. I definitely can’t tell her. My eyes float to the floor. She’s in flip-flops. “Can we trade shoes?” I ask.

  Our eyes catch.

  “That stupid height thing?” Her eyes widen.

  “Yes. Please ?” I lean down and am suddenly desperate, fingers shaking as I fumble with the buckles. I’m so stupid. Shawn’s stressed and I had to wear something I know makes him uncomfortable. What kind of selfish girl am I turning into? “It’s just with the play and everything, I think he’s feeling a little left out, and then I had to wear my stupid heels…” The words come out in a rush.

  “Whoa.” She puts a hand on my arm as she kicks off her sandals. “Relax, Ronnie. This is high school. He’s your boyfriend. It’s all supposed to be fun.”

  I pull in a deep breath. The hallways are clearing. I’m sure we’ll both end up tardy. Whatever. “I know. Thanks for the shoes.” I kick off my platforms and slide on her flip-flops, grateful that despite our dramatic difference in height my feet are small enough to fit into her sandals.

  “I need them back during last period. And, we so need a girls’ night.” She gives me a half-hug before she jogs off to class, the buckles dangling as she goes.

  Maybe we do need a girls’ night. Maybe I do. Some time away from any and all guys would probably be good.

  ~ 10 ~

  After the way Luke looked at me when Mom noticed my bruised wrist, I’ve avoided him. There’s no avoiding him now. Laura, the college-age coach, sits on the stage with Luke and me. At least we’re not completely alone.

  “Tell me about Romeo,” she asks him.

  Luke laughs. “He’s a cocky bastard.”

  “Good.” She’s smiling.

  “He’s cocky, but he knows how to love. He sticks by his boys, he can get the girls, and now suddenly, a girl’s gotten him, too. For real this time.”

  “Nice, okay.” Her eyes turn to me. “Tell me about Juliet.”

  I’m not sure how to answer. I’ve focused so much on the language and the blocking and the memorization, I haven’t thought about it as much as I should have. This is one of those opportunities to sound cool and insightful, but I’m sure I’ll muck it up. “Juliet’s spoiled and is over-protected. Her parents have picked some guy for her that she doesn’t like. I think she’s as attracted to Romeo for his independent spirit as much as anything else.”

  “Tell me more.”

  More ? Think, think… “I think she’s confused, maybe a little scared and unsure as she begins to learn about what her family does. With the death of her family members things change, and she opens herself up to Romeo because she knows he’ll get it.”

  “Right.” Laura nods. “Because he gets her in a way no one else does.”

  I nod, and then Luke and I look at each other for a moment, but I force my eyes to the floor before he asks a question or before I feel something I shouldn’t.

  “Let’s get started.” He stands and heads to stage right where he enters the party, and Ro
meo and Juliet first meet.

  Laura steps next to me as Luke walks away. Her voice is low. “Your teacher said that you’re doing great, and that sometimes he’ll see you right on the edge of falling completely into the role and then you hold back.”

  My cheeks start to get hot. I have done that. I pull back because I’m afraid of feeling something I shouldn’t. “This is my first play and—”

  “Next time you find yourself on the edge of real feeling and then pulling back, don’t. Let yourself fall.” Her green eyes stare into mine.

  I nod. Let myself fall. Let myself feel.

  “And you rock those shoes.” She smiles and points at my wedge sandals.

  I blush, suddenly glad Mindy and I had to change back.

  Luke pretends to roll through his lines with his buddies and I stand pretending to hear the music and watch him. Suddenly I can hear the music, sort of, even though it’s not on. It’s just part of this scene. I watch Luke/Romeo move, his movements are familiar but new. He’s Romeo here, not Luke. I’m Juliet, not Ronnie. Feeling is okay. This is acting. This is what it’s supposed to be.

  My breath catches when his eyes meet mine and this is the point when I look away or I pull back. Today I don’t. I hold his eyes. I soak in his eyes. The black curtains don’t matter. The stage doesn’t matter. Laura doesn’t matter. He moves closer and I move closer because I can’t help it. Because Ronnie/Juliet is just as drawn in as she should be. I’m pulled to him; his eyes make my stomach flutter.

  His cocky smile is so full of wonder, and his warm voice and warm eyes touch me in really good places as I let his look and his words fill me. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” His fingers brush the skin near my lips. This is new. Shivers run through me and I swallow a lump of nervous anticipation, because at some point I’ll need the ability to speak.

  He leans in and I back away, just like we’ve practiced, but I don’t want to back away and that makes all the difference. I’ve let myself fall. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

 

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