Blue Love : Blue Valley High — Senior Year

by Mj Fields

He walks closer, bends down, and kisses my lips, softly at first, and then he takes my face and deepens it. My body arches into his, and he immediately steps back. Almost ashamed, I look down.

  “You like what you see, Tessa, so stop looking down. Look at me.” He unbuttons his pants, and they slip to the ground. “Don’t look away.”

  “Your mom, Lucas,” I whisper.

  “She’s not coming up here. Trust me; we could be in here until midnight, and she wouldn’t even knock.” He steps out of his jeans and walks toward me in his white boxer briefs. Again, he kisses me, this time longer and harder. Then he trails his lips down my neck, and having nothing else to grab, I decide on his biceps.

  He begins pushing my sweater down and off my shoulders. I become tense, but when his lips meet mine again, I feel the tension slip away. His hands now on my waist, he moves them softly up my sides and breaks the kiss to pull off my cami. Then his lips crash against mine again.

  His kisses are intoxicating. His tongue, addictive. And my body responds to our closeness, my nipples pebbling, and a knot growing in my stomach, just below my belly button, and it’s definitely not butterflies.

  As we kiss, he skillfully undoes my bra with one hand, while he tightens the other on my hip. As he slips one strap then another off my shoulder, licking where the strap just lay, he then does the same to the other side.

  My erect nipples now rub against the bulging muscles of his abs, and I whimper at the friction, the connection, the jolting pleasure caused by both.

  Lucas kisses me harder as he unbuttons my shorts then slowly lowers the zipper, and they fall to the ground. I free my feet from the fabric pooling around them and lean against him, feeling his erection just above my belly button. Digging my nails into his shoulders, I then push up on my toes and kiss him hard, like he was kissing mine.

  He skates his hand down the side of my body, gripping behind one of my knees then lifting it around his hip to grind against me.

  The knot moves lower and is replaced by a pulsing feeling, and exquisite heat pools between my legs as he grinds against me again.

  Hands on his shoulders, I pull myself up and wrap both of my legs around him, hooking my ankles against his muscular back. Then he lays me on his bed.

  Hovering over me, he kisses my neck as he rocks against me, my legs spreading to accommodate him, and then I shake my head, trying to break the Lucas-induced trance.

  “Oh God. Lucas, stop, please.”

  “You don’t like this?” he asks, looking down at me smugly.

  “Too much … I like it too much.” I squirm beneath him.

  “It’s not time yet. Just wanted to feel my favorite girl against my skin. How does it feel to you?” He lowers his body against mine again.

  “Lucas,” I plead.

  He pushes himself up, and my greedy eyes take him in. “Exactly how I felt last night, Tessa.” He slides off the bed and stands, drops his boxers, and my eyes nearly fall out of my head. “And that’s how I felt when you showed me your perfect tits.”

  “You’re such a dick,” I say as he turns and walks away, giving me the full view of his amazing ass.

  “We’re perfect for each other. Fucking perfect,” he says, walking toward his bathroom.

  He is … perfect. Not that I have anything to compare him to, but the few nude men I’ve had seen in movies, and the articles I curiously read … his dick … huge and so hard.

  I close my knees and groan, my body throbbing even more just thinking about it. Then I realize my panties are … damp. Another first experience.

  He walks out in his swim trunks. “What are you waiting for, baby? Let’s go swimming.”

  I sigh heavily. “I don’t want to move.”

  He laughs as he grabs my bag then takes my swimsuit top from it, tossing it over his shoulder. Then he bends over and grabs my hands to pull me up.

  He puts my top on, and then, with a devilish grin, he hooks his thumbs in my panties, and I jump back and slap his hands away.

  “I showed you mine. Now you have to show me yours.”

  “Mine is very angry at you.” I scowl at him. “Now, turn around.”

  “I’m not looking.” Lucas laughs, and I look directly into the mirror to see he’s grinning as he looks at me in the mirror.

  “I see you looking at me.” I grab my bag from the floor then hurry into the bathroom and slam the door.

  I can’t help but laugh at myself for being snippy with him, because the reality is that I’m seriously confused by my body’s response to everything he does and the comfort I feel being practically naked in front of him. In this case, confusion doesn’t seem to be a bad thing. Oddly, it doesn’t even feel terribly wrong anymore.

  I quickly change into the rest of my suit then head out the door.

  He is trying not to laugh when I walk out, and I try not to smile. We both fail.

  I lift my nose, stomp past him, and head out the door, down the stairs, out the patio doors, and then I dive into the pool, hoping to cool my damn jets.

  As soon as I surface, he does a cannonball directly behind me as I swim across the pool to the stairs.

  “You still mad at me, Tessa?” Lucas asks, giving me puppy dog eyes.

  “Yes, I am. I think you’re trying to torture me.”

  We both laugh.

  “Did you like what you saw?” he asks quietly.

  I splash him with water. “Of course.”

  “Your tits? Perfection. There are a million ways I want to touch them when you’re ready. Tell me, baby, what did you want to do with me?” he whispers, his sweet, hot breath hitting my neck, making my hair stand up there.

  I arch my eyebrow and whisper in what I hope is a sultry tone. “First, I want to touch it, then maybe rub it up and down … slow, soft strokes. Maybe rub it against my panties because it felt good when you did.” Looking into his now dark green eyes, I wet my lips. His eyes are now hyper focused on my mouth, giving me more ideas. I lean forward and whisper, “I kind of wanted to run my tongue up and down it and …” I lick my lips again, since he’s still looking at them.

  “So fucking—”

  “Then I really thought I’d like to …” I pause with purpose then say all gravely, “bite it off.” As planned, I then lunge forward, push off the stairs, and swim underwater, all the way to the other side of the pool.

  When I come up, I hear him laughing a full belly laugh, and it sounds a lot like a song, one that I would write in my book and put a star next to. Hell, put two.

  “Lucas, honey, dinner’s ready!”

  “Gonna have to give us a minute,” he says back, his voice right behind me now.

  I turn and look at him as he nears. “I really like your laugh.”

  “I really like everything about you.”

  “Even pissed off?”

  “I’ll take it if I have to in order to keep you.”

  Okay, he gets all the stars.

  After a minute, which I realize is his “cooling off period,” Lucas pushes his body out of the pool, arms bulging, back bulging, ass … his ass is everything as water cascades over him. For a minute, I am rendered immobile when I realize I haven’t run to the falls in need of an escape even with everything going on since his kiss.

  He’s the falls.

  “Baby”—he leans down—“hand.”

  I look up, and he’s smiling, towel wrapped around his lower half, and another slung over his shoulder.

  I take his hand, stupid smile spreading, and I don’t care.

  I sit, wrapped in a towel in one of the outdoor dining chairs, shivering as Lucas, at his insistence, plates food for all of us.

  “Honey, get Tessa a sweatshirt.” His mother, Kate, smiles. “She’s cold.”

  Lucas winks then walks into the house.

  As soon as he’s gone, she looks at me and whispers, “He likes you, Tessa, a lot. He’s only invited one other girl over for a dinner.”

  “Sadi,” falls from my mouth like a bomb.

&
nbsp; Stupid mouth.

  “I never liked her. I liked you the minute you walked in through the gate.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lucas walks outside and puts one of his sweatshirts over my head, and I can see his mother smiling as I push my arms through the sleeves and Lucas pulls it down.

  He kisses my nose. “Better, baby?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Mom, I brought you a sweater.” Lucas drapes it over his mother’s shoulders and kisses the top of her head.

  Plates are set before us. Grilled chicken, perfectly seasoned, alongside grilled vegetables and seasoned rice.

  Lucas’s mother shares stories about Lucas and talks about how he’s going to go pro someday, and the pride in her eyes and voice are undeniable. He looks at her with obvious love.

  When she talks about his childhood, from insisting on no training wheels for his bike to the day he was going to swim across Cayuga Lake, lengthwise, which is thirty-nine miles, he laughs that amazing belly laugh.

  “He was five, Tessa.” She hold up five fingers. “Luckily, we talked him into doing just the nearly four-mile width.”

  I see nothing of the monster I had pictured in my head, and the way Lucas looks at her, I know, at that moment, neither does he.

  When we finish eating, he insists on clearing the table, and when I get up to help, he stops me.

  “I got this. Sit and relax.” He then takes the plates in the house.

  “Tessa, he adores you.” She grabs my hand. “Thank you for bringing his smile back.”

  Lucas clears his throat, and I look up.

  His light and happy disposition suddenly changes. “You ready to go home?”

  His mother looks at him, lets out a slow, deep breath as she closes her eyes, then opens them and smiles at me. But, this time, she doesn’t look all that happy.

  “It was very nice meeting you.” She stands and hugs me, then turns and smiles again, sadly, at Lucas.

  It takes moments for him to appear with my clothes, and it becomes obvious that I’m not changing before I head home.

  Walking hurriedly to the gate, I ask, “What’s wrong?”

  When he doesn’t answer, I grab his hand and softly demand, “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing, baby.” Lucas pulls his hand away and runs his fingers through his hair as he opens the car door.

  “That’s not true. You’re upset about something. Tell me,” I whisper as I slide in the passenger seat.

  When he gets in, he says, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  The tires squeal as he backs out, whips the car around, and then heads down the driveway. Hell, he doesn’t even slow down when he hits the mouth of the driveway.

  “Please, slow down.”

  He doesn’t.

  “Please, Lucas, you’re scaring me.”

  He turns a corner, and the car skids on some loose gravel before going into a three-hundred-and-eighty-degree spin.

  When the car comes to a stop, hands shaking, I grab the door handle, jump out, and start walking.

  “Tessa, come back here,” Lucas yells after me.

  I keep walking, faster now, definitely needing the falls.

  I hear gravel crunching beneath his tires and pray he’s going to turn around. When the car stops behind me, I hear him running up from behind. Then, without warning, he grabs me around the waist, lifts me, and carries me back toward the car.

  “Not fucking happening, Links.” I attempt to wiggle from his arms. When that doesn’t work, I kick at him.

  He’s strong. I am, too, but pissed and still shaking, he’s able to turn me around and set me firmly on the hood of the car. The heat of the engine warms me, but I will not take comfort in it.

  “Let me go. Now.”

  He holds tighter.

  “What the fuck? You’re scaring me!” I shove him, and it’s like trying to move a fucking brick wall. “Let me go.”

  He does, and my body begins to tremble as I slide down the hood.

  He grabs me again and pulls me into him.

  “Lucas! Let—”

  “You’re shaking,” he says in an oddly soft voice, and it enrages me.

  “I’m in a fucking wet swimsuit under a sweatshirt. Of course I’m shaking! I need my damn clothes!” I shove him again, and this time, he steps back.

  I storm over to the car, fling the door open, grab my bag, pull out my shorts, step into them, throw on the stupid thong sandals, and start hoofing it home.

  “Tessa, you’re five miles from home. Get in the car. I’ll drive slow, I promise,” he calls after me.

  I throw the finger over my head and keep walking.

  He follows me all the way home but turns around in the driveway then peels out.

  Chapter Eleven

  Heads turn and the whispers begin, alerting me that Lucas is walking down the hall.

  “Our men are here.” Jade smiles as she shuts her locker door and leans against it.

  I glance left and see him—baggy jeans hung on his hips, and his navy Polo hugs his tight, toned body.

  I attempt to hurry and grab my books, but he’s already beside me and putting his hat in my locker again.

  I turn around and look up at him. His eyes are guarded, his jaw set. I wonder which Lucas I’m getting.

  Narrowing my eyes, I whisper, “Don’t you have your own locker?”

  “Yeah, let’s go there.” He grabs my hand and, not wanting to cause a scene, I allow him to pull me behind him.

  Standing at his locker, his grip on my hand unrelenting, he unlocks his door, steps to the side, and opens it.

  Notes, letters … freaking panties spill out of it and all over the flecked tiles on the floor.

  “They get more creative every fucking day,” he grumbles, kicking them away.

  “Nice, Lucas, real nice.” I kick away the pair of black thongs that land on my sneaker.

  He slams his locker. “You think I like carrying my bookbag around? You think I like not using my locker because it’s full of this shit?”

  “Well, looks like there’s room now.”

  He slams it shut as Mrs. Granger walks out of her English classroom and into the hall.

  “You mind calling maintenance and asking them to clean this mess up?” Lucas asks.

  “Oh my!” she gasps, hand to heart. “Of course.” She turns and hurries into her classroom, repeating herself, “Of course,”

  He takes my hand, and I’m so pissed that I don’t yank it away.

  At my classroom door, he leans down to kiss me, and I give him my cheek.

  When I take my seat, I open my bag, and there’s a note and a Polaroid of us. It was taken when he was pulling himself out of his pool, and I’m looking at him, blatantly taking all of him in, with that stupid smile on my face.

  I look toward the door to see he’s filling it, hands gripping the door jamb. Being that I’m at the desk closest to said door, he whispers, “That whole scene out there was embarrassing.”

  I know damn well he’s not talking about the locker spill; he’s talking about … me.

  I hold my hand to my heart, like Mrs. Granger just did. “Allow me to apologize for embarrassing you.” Then I turn completely away.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see him still standing there, expecting me to actually apologize. I can also see that he’s blocking others from coming in. Normally, I would cave for those behind him, but not today.

  After several seconds, he snaps, “Nice, Tessa, real nice.”

  I avoid him whenever I can, and it’s not because I’m a total bitch. A bit bitchy? For sure. Yet, still, not even two weeks in and so much has happened, so much that I haven’t allowed myself, nor have had the time, to wrap my brain, my thoughts, my freaking mind, the part not ruled by a physical attraction that is stronger than I ever imagined, around it. And yes, I like Lucas, and I know he’s seen different sides of me. Hello, even the drunken, “bite my nips” side, but he did a literal three-sixty within two minutes y
esterday, and now he’s acting like a Neanderthal.

  I eat lunch in the library, and when I open my backpack and see notes he’s snuck in during some of our classes, I shove them to the bottom of my bag instead of reading them.

  Walking out of the locker room for practice, we pass the football field. I avoid looking at him and get into a conversation about tomorrow’s game and hair braiding tradition with Phoebe.

  She looks past me for a second then back to me. “So, this is about the avoidance of the football star and not really the braiding, right?”

  “I’m legitimately excited about braiding your hair for your first game and—”

  “Okay, stop.” She giggles and smacks at me. “I got you, T. Ross.” She motions between us. “Just make sure you have my back on the field.”

  She throws her arm around me, and I’m reminded of the day we met, the fact that I was immediately drawn to being her friend, like a weird spark exchanged between two girls that I feel will withstand the test of time. I will make damn sure I don’t get too wrapped up in all my teenage angst and family drama, both of which are new to me, to make her more a part of my life.

  When we finish practice and pass by the football field, I see Lucas getting an ass-chewing from his coach.

  At home, the fact that the phone isn’t ringing bothers me a bit, even though yesterday I left it off the hook purposely, I still expected he would persist.

  After finishing my homework and putting the Shepard’s pie in the oven, I ask Jake and Kendall if they want to go to the playground at the state park for thirty minutes and am met with a resounding yes.

  Hanging upside down, making silly faces at Kendall, I see Lucas standing two feet away and must look like a freak when I fall from the monkey bars.

  He catches me … of course he does, and I immediately snap, “Put me down.”

  He does.

  “Kendall, will you go push Jake on the swing? I’ll be over in a couple minutes.”

  When Kendall and Jake are out of earshot, I turn to face Lucas. “What are you doing here?”

  “I needed to see you, tell you I’m sorry, again, or whatever else it is you need to hear to end this freeze out,” Lucas whispers.

  “Sorry for what exactly, Lucas? Is it for making me completely uncomfortable in front of your mother? For almost killing us in your car? For not letting me go when I asked you to? For tormenting me every time we’re alone? Sorry for not answering me when I asked what’s wrong? Sorry for what?”