Something More Page 8

  “What, Jamison?” He had her full, annoyed attention.

  “Well, I was thinking we should do it before we start our freshman year so we aren’t the only freshmen who haven’t done it.” He looked down at his hands, still holding his controller.

  “Wait. What are you talking about?” She climbed up on his bed to look at him since he refused to look at her.

  “Well, we don’t want to be the only freshmen who haven’t kissed anyone, right?” He had a smirk on his face but still didn’t look at her. The mention of kissing forced her eyes to lock on his lips. She couldn’t help herself; she couldn’t stop staring.

  “You haven’t kissed anyone?” she asked his lips and couldn’t believe her ears.

  “No, I haven’t, and I thought since you and I are friends, we could just get it over with.” The smirk remained on his face, and his gaze finally found her. he looked into her eyes. “You don’t want to be the only freshman in entire high school who hasn’t kissed anyone.” She thought about it for a moment. Both Dexter and Emma had already had their first kisses just this summer; he might be onto something.

  “We’re just friends.” She paused nervously. “This kiss doesn’t mean anything.” She looked at him seriously.

  “Duh,” he said, as they scooted closer together. She put her hands on his shoulders lightly. He put his hands on her hips lightly. They leaned into each other. She closed her eyes, trying to memorize this moment, her first kiss. His lips were on hers. He sucked like he was a vacuum, and—then his tongue was touching her tonsils going from one side of the inside of her cheek to the other. She gagged and pulled away abruptly, coughing a little, catching her breath.

  “OK, de-tongue-onator. Slow down.” She thought about all the magazine that she had read articles she’d read about how to kiss a boy; she remembered listening to her sister describe kissing her flavor of the month to Lindsey on the phone. “Just follow my lead, OK?” She held his eye contact. His face was bright pink, and he looked annoyed but agreed. “Close your eyes,” she commanded, and he did. She looked at his face as she leaned into him slowly. She licked her lips and saw that his were only slightly parted. She closed her eyes as she fit his upper lip between her lips and kissed it. Then she did the same thing with his lower lip. They did that a couple times, and he exhaled deeply. She then touched the tip of her tongue to his. He scooted closer to her and tilted his head, doing the same thing she had just done. He took the lead, and they began touching their tongues and opening and closing their lips as they gently continued their second first kiss. She didn’t know how long it was, but it had to be quite a few minutes before they finally broke and looked at each other. They were both breathing heavily.

  “You want to do it again?” he asked eagerly, leaning back into her, millimeters from her face. In the past few weeks she had gotten her braces off and gotten contacts. She wasn’t such a dork. She was actually kind of cute, but not hot. He wanted all of his high school girlfriends to be hot. When he first asked her, he thought she would jump at the chance to kiss him and not be so resistant. He was glad he talked her into it though. For a first kiss, it rocked.

  “For practice,” she said, still reluctantly. He grinned, seeing through it. She was breathing just as heavily as he was. He tried something different and put his hand under her ear so that his thumb traced her jawline. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes.

  “For practice,” he repeated and leaned in again. This time he took the lead from the beginning. Though it began as sweet as when she began kissing him, it soon became heated. He crushed her to him, and she began running her fingers through his hair, grabbing it with her fists. Then he pulled her down on the bed, and they were lying side by side. Their lips never left each other’s. He tried to touch her bare stomach, but she pulled her shirt down and pushed his hand away. It didn’t matter; they kissed for a long time. It had to be close to an hour when they abruptly pulled away from each other because they heard Nadia and Lindsey in the hallway. She stood and straightened her tank top and shorts and ran her fingers through her long brown hair as she looked at herself in the mirror. He leaned up on his elbows and watched her, thinking to himself that she could be hot if she wanted to be. Lindsey opened the door and looked from one of them to the other. She narrowed her eyes at Jamison as if she knew something. He wondered if his lips were as pink as Nyla’s.

  “Your mom is here. It’s time to go, Nyla.” She grinned mischievously at them both.

  “OK.” She crossed his room again and took her book from his bed, but she didn’t look at him. Her face was red. Was she embarrassed by him? He suddenly became annoyed. She didn’t get to be embarrassed by him, he thought.

  “I’ll see you on Monday?” She finally looked at him, but he looked away.

  “Yep.” He picked up his controller and resumed the game he’d been playing over an hour ago.

  That Monday she walked up to him as he stood in his group of friends by his locker. She gave him a friendly smile, but he smirked at her.

  “Hey, Jamison,” she said with no fear in her eyes. All his friends surveyed her and sneered back at him. She wore short jean shorts that showed her long legs and a hip length graphic T-shirt of an eighties rock band with some neon pink, turquoise and yellow, high top Sketchers.

  “Hey, um, you,” he said, acting as if he didn’t know who she was and rolling his eyes at his buddies. She stood there for a moment contemplating him, and he felt his face warm as she watched him. Finally, she utterd a thoughtful “huh” and nodded her head as if she understood.

  “I’ll see you around then.” She turned and walked away. He watched her, and then his buddy Wesley jabbed him in the shoulder and asked, “Is that your new girlfriend?”

  “Whatever, man. I don’t even know that chick,” he said as he jabbed back at Wesley. She stumbled and paused but didn’t turn around. She just kept walking with her head held up straight.

  Now sitting in the study session turned truth or dare, Jamison knew the memory Nyla was thinking of as the group looked at her and waited. They had returned home weeks ago after she spent the week in Indiana ignoring his calls, texts, and Status Quo messages. She had been very solemn on the drive home, listening to a playlist and reading a book. She had basically shut him out. After their return, she avoided him still. It didn’t change any of the decisions he’d made over fall break, and if anything, her behavior only reinforced his determination. She looked at him and shrugged as if he were the one prodding her for the information.

  “Tell us,” Maddie pushed.

  “It was just some loser who was a human vacuum. He didn’t know what he was doing. I think we nicknamed him the de-tongue-onator. Well at least my friends and I did.” Everyone chuckled, including Jamison. She looked at Maddie, hoping that answer satisfied her; it did. Maddie turned to Jamison next.

  “When was your first kiss?” He glanced at Nyla. She looked at Ethan and gave him a weak smile.

  “It was right before ninth grade. This amazing girl—actually taught me how to kiss because I had no idea what I was doing. I could have kissed her for hours.” Nyla couldn’t help but take a quick, jagged breath. “I know that we kissed for at least an hour. I’d say it was the best first kiss anyone could ever have.”

  “How long were you two together?” Ethan asked, only half caring about the conversation. He was doodling on his notebook paper.

  “Um, we didn’t date. She was just this girl, totally out of my league, but I guess she took pity on me one summer afternoon.” He shrugged. Nyla stood, went to the patio door, and slipped out into the crisp night air. She stood at the railing and looked off into the distance. It was dark, but the city lights in the distance looked like stars kissing the ground. Nothing made sense to her. Confusion had taken up residence in her brain, and she decided she probably needed a court order to evict it if that would even work. At this point, she wasn’t sure of anything.

  “My first kiss was under the bleachers at a basketball game with a g
uy in the marching band. What was his name?” Maddie chimed in. Jamison ignored her. Instead, he rose and went over to the sliding door. He stood there for a long moment watching Nyla. Maddie continued with her story, but she sounded distant, like a TV left on in another room. He felt Ethan’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care. Finally, he slid open the door and stepped outside. He’d barely talked to Nyla since they’d gotten back from Morgantown. He missed her immensely. But she had engrossed herself with Ethan. Ethan was always by her side. Now here it was two weeks later, and this was the first time he’d been alone with her, and still Ethan’s eyes were on them.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t take any more of the third degree in there.” She didn’t turn. She assumed it was Ethan who had followed her out.

  “It’s OK; I used to be a dick.” He leaned on the railing at the opposite corner from where she stood.

  “Used to be?” she asked innocently.

  “I meant what I said.”

  “I’m sure you did. And I’m sure you meant what you told Addison Grey the first day of school after you kissed her in the biology lab. How appropriate.” she countered, annoyed that she was so upset.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I was in the girls bathroom, and Addison came in with her twin clones. You remember Kylie and Kaylee. She said you kissed her, and you were an amazing kisser. She asked you where you learned to kiss like that, and you said you’d never kissed anyone before. She told everyone what an amazing kisser you were.”

  “Oh yeah,” he remembered. He had girls lined up for him to ask them out. He had a hot girlfriend within that first week of school, but then again he’d had a lot of girlfriends in high school. Yet, in that moment, standing by Nyla, he couldn’t remember any of their names.

  “And then mysteriously a rumor started floating around that I had kissed Hershel Martin, and he taught me how to kiss,” she fumed. “Devon Meyer liked me until he heard that rumor. Then he wouldn’t have anything to do with me. Hershel Martin.” She remembered Emma sitting her down in an empty home ec. room to tell her why Devon suddenly wasn’t speaking to her after the freshman fall formal. She couldn’t stop her head from shaking as she tried to calm down. It wasn’t working. He remembered. He’d heard Devon talking to his friend in the locker room after gym one day about how cool Nyla was. Jamison told Sarah Barker and started the rumor. Then at the freshman fall formal, after he’d seen Devon dancing with Nyla, he’d told Devon the story in the boys restroom. Devon didn’t talk to her again after that. He’d done similar things like that to a few other boys who had taken an interest in Nyla over the four years in high school— simple rumors, like booger eater, adopted by wolves, or the funniest that she was on a strict kelp diet.

  “I’m sorry.” He nervously ran his fingers through his hair.

  “It’s not your fault; it’s not like you started that rumor.” She shrugged and turned back toward the city lights. He cringed at the thought of her reaction to his next words.

  “Actually,” he began. She whipped around to face him, suddenly knowing what he was about to say.

  “Unbelievable. You are absolutely unbelievable!” She stomped toward the door. He stepped in front of her and grabbed her arm just above her elbow. She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her go.

  “Wait,” he said. She stood there expectantly, but nothing he could say would change things. He realized that as he searched her dark brown eyes for the right thing to say. Nothing. There was nothing he could say. He let go of her arm and she pulled away roughly from him as if his touch damaged her because it did. She went inside and began stacking up her books. Ethan looked from her, to the patio accusingly. He must have watched the whole scene. Jamison leaned back against the railing simply watching her. Watching as she said goodbye to everyone, as Ethan stood and walked her to the door. Jamison was sure he offered to walk her home, but she shook her head no and left.

  Chapter 11

  After walking the four blocks to the coffee shop and getting in just before they closed the doors, she got her mocha. She was relived finally to be unlocking the door to her apartment. She entered and locked the door behind her, threw her bag on the floor, and crumpled onto her bed, her face in her hands. The tears were on the brink of tracing lines down her cheeks. She took a deep breath though and went to her bathroom to get ready for bed. She put on the large, man’s business shirt that she sometimes slept in. It was her father’s, and the only thing of his she’d brought with her. He’d died of a stroke at the age of thirty-nine. The shirt was old and tattered; she’d worn it as a sleep shirt since she was ten. She still wore it when she needed an extra comfort even after it had long since stopped smelling like him. She still remembered seeing him come home from a long day at the bank, sleeves rolled up, tie loose around his neck. She’d run to his arms, leap, land against his chest, and hear the steady thump of his heart. She thought she’d always hear that thump. But life has a way of taking sure things, and turning them to unknown. As she pulled down her murphy bed the only thought she had was that she couldn’t believe the nerve of Jamison. He got some sick, perverted pleasure out of making her high school life miserable. And here he was now at her college, living within blocks of her apartment, in three of her classes, in every aspect of her life, claiming he wanted to make things right, showing her a side of him that she didn’t think existed. Here he was forcing her to think about him and making her fight back the tears that burned her eyelids. There was a knock at the door. She had no idea who it would be at eleven-thirty. She unlocked the door and opened it so that the chain was taut. He had some nerve.

  “Jamison, just leave me alone, please.” She began to shut the door, but he put his hand in the way to keep her from shutting it.

  “Just let me explain or try to apologize or something?” She just looked at him. “Can I come in?” he pleaded. She shut the door and leaned her head against it, contemplating locking it, turning off the lights, and putting on her headphones full blast so that she didn’t hear him if he stayed out there. But her hand found the chain, and she slid it over and opened the door. He stepped in and surveyed her, her unmade bed. She sat on the bed and looked at him, tired.

  “Another chance,” he began.

  “How many do you get?” she exhaled, exhausted. This had stopped being fun for him. She was hurting now; he suddenly realized she had always been hurting, and he was the reason. His knees went weak, and he fell beside her onto her bed. She looked at him with concern.

  “You’re as white as a ghost.” She put her hand on his shoulder and leaned toward him. Suddenly all he could see were her brown eyes, concerned for him, her rosy cheeks, and her full and luscious lips. He swallowed hard and stared at her. He was in love with her; he might have always been in love with her. And that was why he always thought of her, why the thought of not seeing her every day terrified him. Why he followed her to Chicago and watched her routines a week before revealing himself to her. She didn’t say anything else; she just looked at him, searching his face. He felt vulnerable, like she knew what he felt, what he was thinking; he didn’t think anymore. He reached for her face with both of his hands. He pulled her to him and kissed her. Shocked for a second, she didn’t respond. Then she began kissing him back. He scooted closer to her, pulling her into his lap. He kissed her neck and moved his chin down her chest, popping loose the first button on her shirt. He kissed her chest, her heart pounding against his lips. His hands rubbed her smooth thighs.

  She inhaled deeply. Her mind was in a whirlwind. Was she really straddling him; was he really kissing her like this on her bed? Why was he? Why was she letting him? How long had she felt like this? She didn’t know, but right now all she wanted was for him to hold her like this and kiss her like this.

  “Last chance, slate wiped clean,” he breathed on her skin as his lips smeared against her. She held his head in her hands and brought his face to hers. She was desperate for his mouth. He flipped her around on the bed, and he was over her. He pulle
d away from her only long enough to take off his jacket and pull his T-shirt over his head. He looked down at her and began to fumble with the next button on her night shirt with his right hand while her hands tugged at the button on his jeans. Her phone rang in her purse. He froze. She looked at her purse.

  “Ignore it,” he pleaded as he leaned closer to her and began working on the button again; the first button had popped with barely a touch.

  “I can’t. Who’d call me at this hour?” She began to lean up.

  “Please.” He pulled her up against him and began kissing her neck again. But it seemed the spell had been broken. The phone continued ringing. She pushed him off, crossed the small space, and began digging through her purse. She found her phone and looked at it.

  “Ethan.” She looked at Jamison suddenly ridden with guilt. “Why did you kiss me like that?” She accused him. Her phone rang again before he could answer her. She answered it on the first ring.

  “Hello.” A pause. “I was digging it out. Yeah, I made it home fine. I stopped and got a latte.” Another pause as she crossed the room and sat beside Jamison still looking at him guiltily. “Yeah, I’m going to go ahead and go to bed; it’s late. Um, OK, bye.” She hit the end button on her phone and stared at her bay window with the curtains drawn. Jamison moved the hair from her shoulder exposing her neck. She moved out of his reach.

  “What was that?” she asked as she buttoned her top button.

  “I don’t know—I couldn’t stop myself. I have very strong emotions for you.” His eyes bore a hole through her. She tore her eyes from him and stared at the curtains again.

  “You’ve always had strong emotions for me: animosity, disdain, enmity, detestation, hate,” she whispered.

  “I think those were masks I hid behind because I couldn’t face the truth.” He paused and swallowed hard.

  “And that is?” she asked skeptically, looking back in his eyes.

  “That I’m in love with you,” he said in a small voice. She inhaled sharply. He scooted closer to her and touched her hand on the bed.