by S. Love
My mom’s kissing my dad’s best friend, and if I didn’t know either of them, their story, I would think they were in love. Sean’s tender with her, his devotion clear from all the way up here.
Wetness shines on her cheek in the firelight, Sean’s thumb quick to brush it away as he cradles her head in his hand.
Is this why Cindy falls regularly into other men’s beds? Loneliness? Momentary companionship? Because she’ll do anything to fill the hollow from her failing marriage? Is that what Sean is? A rebound while my mom figures out how to carry on without her husband. Or are they in love?
It’s an unusual thing to see, my mom’s lips on another man’s when she’s been married since she was a teenager. But it doesn’t make me upset, or blind me with rage over her betrayal.
Because my dad’s a short drive outside of town, and unreachable to all of us. Makes no difference if he’s fifteen miles away or fifteen thousand. He doesn’t want to see us
I back away from the window, taking my knee down from the bed. I don’t want to know what happens next with my mom and Sean, or if anything happens at all. But the side gate creaks, voices start again, and a car engine rumbles to life, fading out down the street shortly after.
Sean’s gone home.
I’m still sitting on my bed, staring at the mirror on my wall above my desk when my mom’s bedroom door closes, the house settling into quiet again.
I listen to the nothingness, straining my ears for the faintest sound anyone else in the house is awake. When it’s obvious no one is, I tread softly to my bedroom door and peel it open to avoid the protesting hinges. I pass my mom’s room in the short hallway and pad down the stairs.
The TV glows a ghostly shade of blue in the living room. Ozzie’s sitting on the couch with the remote on the arm of the chair and one hand tucked loosely into the pocket of his jeans. Highlight reels of a pro surf contest play on the TV, the sound one setting above muted.
For a moment, the monster in this movie reveals a side of vulnerability while he’s unaware I’m here, and the power changes owners, shifting into my hands.
“I know you’re behind me, Lyla.” Ozzie takes the power back, ruining it for me.
I sigh, walking deeper into the living room to stand by the couch, my eyes on the television screen and the surfer waiting for the right wave to bring him maximum points from the judges. He picks the wrong one, he blows it. Because to be great at surfing, to master the waves and not be afraid of them, you need to understand the water, be able to read what it’s going to do next. Something I’m no good at.
“There a reason you’re sneaking around in the middle of the night?” Ozzie says to the television.
I’m not telling him about my mom. He’ll only draw another line to show how parallel our lives are, and he’s smug enough as it is.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I say. “Why are you awake?”
“Same reason, I guess. With you in the same house, it isn’t so easy anymore.”
I draw-up a look of skepticism, aiming it at the top of his head. “You haven’t been able to sleep since I started working for your mom?”
“Something like that,” he says dispassionately.
“Well that explains why you’re so grouchy all the damn time.”
“Glad I could clear that up for you.” He raises his head, slowing his gaze as he drags it over my bare thighs, to the low hem of my nightshirt. My pulse kickstarts into my throat when he pulls his hand from his pocket to curl around the meaty part of my thigh, hedging higher, his fingers disappearing under my shirt as I release a pent-up breath.
He lifts his eyes to my face. “Come here,” he says, softening his voice, knowing just how to manipulate and which way to pull my strings.
My instinct is to tell him no. Slap him with all the reasons why I shouldn’t go to him. But my legs are already moving, carrying me around the side of the couch until I’m standing between his knees, poised to give him anything he asks for. And why? I’ve got no idea. There’s no logical reason or sensible explanation. He’s conquering me like I’m some sort of game, and I’m running out of energy to fight back harder. My sane, intelligent side’s being gnawed on and eaten away at by my not so intelligent, morbidly curious side.
Sliding forward on the couch, he brings both hands to my outer thighs, grazing his palms lightly over my skin, bunching up my shirt as he pulls me toward him. I dig my fingers into his hair, and he kisses the skin on my belly, completely unaware of the chaos he’s unleashed on my insides.
It’s a constant push-pull with Ozzie, and the battle rages on. Sometimes it’s unclear whose side I’m on. Mine or his? Is he fighting dirty or am I letting him win by tapping out too early?
“My mom might wake up,” I say feebly, but it’s hardly an argument. I’m losing myself again. Giving one hundred percent of myself over to him in the hazy fog.
“Then we’ll be quiet,” he says into my skin. And that’s all I need to hear to go along with him.
He pulls me onto his lap. I press my hands into his chest, pushing him back against the cushions, so he’s slouched beneath me, and I relieve him of his T-shirt, impatient for him to undress himself. If my mom comes downstairs now, I’m dead. And so is Ozzie. But I can’t think about that right now.
I unbutton his jeans, tug down the waistband on his boxers, and pull him into my hand, securing my veneer and pretending his length and thickness doesn’t worry me, even a little bit.
I swallow, running my fingers from the warm base to the swollen tip, then I grip him in my fist, iron against my fleshy skin. With my other hand, I trace the tight ridges in his stomach, slowly pumping him with my right hand, lingering on the head, moist with precum. Ozzie’s body relaxes, his fingers under my shirt searching for my breast.
Before he meets his target, I pull away from him and crawl from his lap to the floor. As scared as I am to put that huge thing in my mouth, I look into his heavy-lidded eyes as I lower my head and part my lips. He tastes salty and warm on my tongue, and I almost gag when he hits the back of my throat.
He gives me exactly a pocketful of seconds to set and maintain my own steady rhythm, and then his thighs tense up as he reaches out and gathers my hair in a ponytail at the back of my head and invades my mouth with thrusting hips, stealing my air and filling me to my throat. I feel like I’m in a movie, playing the role of a character with no shame and no inhibitions. Basically, the opposite to who I started out this summer as.
The breadth of him broadens in my mouth, if that’s even possible, and I close my eyes when the urge to throw up shoots up my throat. He’s savage, and I’m not sure how much more of him I can take while still trying to stay alive.
With my hair wrapped severely around his knuckles, he drags me off him and off the floor, pulling me abruptly to my feet like I’m a thing and not a person. He’s lucky I don’t bite him, he’s so jerky and callous with me. He grabs me around the waist with one arm and throws me down onto my back on the couch.
The word ‘no’ tingles on my lips when he tears my underwear out of his way, but then he says reassuringly, “I won’t put it in.” Then not so reassuringly, “Yet.”
The blunt weight of him slides over me, pressing into me for longer than I’m happy with.
“Ozzie,” I warn on a drawn-out breath. “Not that.” I may be confused in all other areas Ozzie’s grayed, but I’m certain about this. I want my first time to mean something, and not remember giving it all away on my living room couch while my mom’s upstairs in bed.
My eyes shutter as Ozzie positions his hand between us. “Lyla, look at me,” he rasps.
I try to, but the voices of doubt are still too loud. I’m the one who led us here, and I’m being crushed under the weight of my own uncertainty.
Ozzie slides his fingers through my hair, bringing our bodies even closer as he leans in and trails kisses down the side of my throat. He’s gentle with me at first, but it isn’t long until his breathing spikes, the muscles tensed in his arm holding
him up as my fingers glide to his waist.
He quickens his pace, presses against me harder. I peel his fingers away, replacing them with mine as he fills my hand, thicker now. His head drops as I slide my palm over him, the tip setting me on fire as it hits me on every stroke.
His hair falls over his forehead into his eyelashes, his shoulder and arm muscles squeezing and flexing, and he hisses, “Fuck.” The length of his body jerks, and I want to feel more of him, all of him, from inside.
Spurts of warmth soaks me between my thighs. Releasing the tension from his muscles, he gradually drops his weight onto me, still hard against my thigh. Nudging my leg to the side, he spreads his cum over my throbbing skin, his fingers working brisk, methodical circles. My back bows, but he’s too heavy on me as uncontrollable pleasure swells and inflates, heat surging through my belly. He pushes the blunt tips of two fingers barely inside of me, my hips aching over the shallow intrusion, and he waits for me to tell him no or to stop.
I know it’s wrong. I know it’s not safe. But I’m freefalling over the edge, my muscles seizing up as I exert all my energy into not screaming the house down and waking up my mom.
I come apart in a delirious wave of intoxication as his thumb sweeps over me and he pushes into me a little bit more. His head rises to steal my jaunty breaths with his lips, shutting me up in a kiss that invades my body just as powerfully as his fingers do.
Milky-gray light slants through the living room blinds. It’s morning, but I have no idea what time it is beyond insanely early.
I shift on the couch, peeling my back from Ozzie’s chest. And that’s when I see my mom standing by the window, a stern, conflicted look on her face as I blink my eyes open wider.
Ozzie stirs as I ease away from him and slowly push off the couch. My thighs feel sticky, my underwear’s still damp, and it’s hard to tell whether I’m putting on a convincing show or if my staged innocence has crossed into overkill.
Wordlessly, I follow my mom into the kitchen, glancing back at the couch to check Ozzie’s still sleeping. He is, and it may be the only damn time he doesn’t look capable of inflicting terror. Obviously when he wakes up that will all change.
I take my time walking into the kitchen and climbing onto the stool at the bar. I take even longer to meet my mom’s intense, questioning gaze.
She folds her arms across her chest, her eyes working back and forth over my face like she no longer recognizes me. Like I’m a stranger in her house. Someone who’s taken Lyla’s place, and honestly, who can blame her? I don’t even recognize or relate to myself anymore.
Trailing a finger over the countertop, I drop my eyes to the task, the flagrant disappointment in her expression too much to bear at this godforsaken hour. I haven’t even had my orange juice yet.
“Do I need to worry about that?” she asks, hacking away at the silence. “Worry about sending you home with him? Back to his house?”
I look up, and everything from here depends on how much sincerity I can muster up and deliver. “No. We fell asleep.”
Tears rim her blue eyes. “Should I be making an appointment for you to get on birth control?” She shakes her head, like she’s at a loss with me and the position I’ve put her in. As though she can’t believe she’s just had to stand there and ask me that. I’m the obedient daughter, not the outrageously popular socialite also known as my sister.
Mom doesn’t leave adequate time for me to answer her on the birth control. “You’re seventeen. As of yesterday.”
“I’m responsible, Mom,” I defend myself. “It isn’t like you found me patrolling a street corner.
“I might as well have,” she snaps. “I’m not stupid, Lyla. I’ve been where you are. I’m well aware what it’s like to be a teenager, surviving off your hormones and making one reckless decision after another.”
“I haven’t made any reckless decisions. Mom, come on,” I practically plead, telling her with my eyes she’s worrying over nothing.
I must get through to her on some level, because she loosens her shoulders and unfolds her arms, walking around to my side of the kitchen bar and sitting on the stool next to me, turning her body into mine. “Just please don’t get pregnant, Lyla. You’re too young and beautiful. Too intelligent for a mistake as lifelong as a baby. There’ll be plenty of time for that many years from now.”
I am physically mortified. Burning in shame. “Mom, I wouldn’t. Like I said, we fell asleep.” I hate lying to her, and it’s not something I would ordinarily do. But since moving in with the most dysfunctional family in Cape Pearl, I do a lot of things now that I didn’t do before, and I can’t name any of them that have turned out in my favor.
Mom covers my hand with hers. “I trust you. But I’m your mom, and I can’t not be scared for you. Boys…” She chews on her lip, pausing briefly. “They can be manipulative. Promising to give but only taking. I don’t want anyone to take anything from you, Lyla. Don’t be blinded. Stay focused.”
I think she may know Ozzie better than she realizes. She’s basically just described him. I don’t understand where all this is coming from, though. Unless she assumes I’m so naïve I couldn’t have figured out any of what she’s telling me on my own.
“You aren’t a child anymore, but you’ll always be my baby. I can make you an appointment at the family planning clinic?” Her eyebrows slowly rise, relying on me to fill in the blank on whether that’s an appointment she has to arrange for me.
I sigh, and say reluctantly, “It wouldn’t hurt, I guess. But not because I’m having sex,” I insist vehemently. “Because it’s the right thing to do. I should be prepared… when the time…” I’m cringing inside. Squirming in my own skin.
My heart hustles to leap out of my chest at the sound of approaching footsteps. I turn to find Ozzie idling by the kitchen threshold. His hair’s mussed in a shockingly sexy way from sleep, his hazel eyes hooded as he breaks in the day. The low sunrise spearing through the kitchen window lights his irises to exotic gemstones against his dark-golden, summer skin.
“Hey,” he says, warily glancing from me to my mom. At least he’s found his shirt and put it on. His jeans are zipped and buttoned, too. My thighs are no less sticky or caked in him, and I can’t wait to take a shower. I’m worried my mom can sense I’m not as pure as I was last night. Although, who am I kidding? I haven’t been pure for a while now.
While Ozzie ducks into the bathroom, I take the opportunity to broach the subject of finding my Barbies a new home.
“Before I leave, would it be okay if I grabbed some of my old stuff from the basement?”
Mom starts a pot of coffee, glancing over at me while she fills the glass bowl with water. “Sure. What did you want from down there? It’s mostly dusty, old junk.”
“Well… Ozzie’s sister.” I don’t know why I say it like that. “They’re for Mariah,” I rephrase. “And she has, like, one doll still in one piece. It could do with a friend if you ask me. And I have all those Barbies down in the basement doing nothing. Outfits and shoes, too.”
“That’s a great idea, honey. I’ll help you dig them out. I’ve got every box labeled, so they should be pretty easy to find.”
After Mom’s drank her coffee and I’ve had at the orange juice, we lug one ratty box upstairs, my mom happy some of my favorite childhood toys are being given a new lease of life. Breakfast is still a slightly awkward affair, my mom’s eyes shifting inconspicuously from me to Ozzie, quietly figuring out if there could be more to the PG13 baloney I’d fed her earlier.
As I stand at the door with my mom, gearing up to part ways, I falter with my two arms around my box of dolls, letting Ozzie go ahead to the car first. He isn’t a gentleman, so he doesn’t offer to carry my less than heavy load for me.
“Are you okay here… by yourself?” I ask my mom. It’s my roundabout way of fishing for information on Sean, because it isn’t my place to outright ask her. I wasn’t supposed to see them kissing, and since she hasn’t volunteered the informatio
n herself, I’ve deemed the topic as off limits for now.
She reaches out a hand and teases the hair that hangs over my shoulder through her fingers. Then she pushes it behind my ear, smiling at me affectionately. “I’m fine. Really.” She nods, as though convincing herself, not just me. “I’ll be okay. I’ll call you after I’ve spoken to the hospital, let you know how he’s doing today.”
“I can come home,” I offer. My mom’s so much more important than money. If Cindy’s taught me anything, it’s that wealth has absolutely zero value if it doesn’t come with happiness. And I’d take my mom over a car and college tuition any day. No question or negotiation about it. I’m living without one parent. I’ve got no desire to find out how bleak life is without two.
My mom’s smile wilts. And I’m not sure I believe her when she says, “Yes, I know. You’ve told me. Just don’t forget what I said. Be careful and use your head. I’ll make you that appointment.”
I nod once, lean in, and kiss her on the cheek. I dump my box in the Jeep’s backseat and then climb into the front where Ozzie’s sitting with the ignition turned on waiting for me.
Ten minutes on the road, he levels me with a concerned look and asks, “Does she know?”
“Know what?” I say shortly. I’m annoyed with him as much as I am myself. Why the hell can’t I just say no to him and avoid this icky feeling coating my skin even after I’ve baked in a fifteen-minute scalding shower?
“Don’t fucking do that.” Ozzie’s plastic smile drips with irritation, one hand relaxed at the top of the steering wheel. “Don’t act like it didn’t happen and you didn’t enjoy it.”
“Don’t pretend you’re interested in me. You expect and then you take. End of. This is all about power for you, but I’m sick and tired of being the pawn you push around your own lopsided board. You think you own me, but news flash, you don’t. Far from it.” I turn my face toward the window, stiffening my shoulders and making my body as compact as I can to deter him from touching me any more.