Chapter Fourteen
J essie strolled to Stacey’s car from his apartment, whipping his still wet hair from his eyes. He was back in his basic outfit of board shorts, a wrinkled T-shirt, and a puka-shell necklace.
Way to dress for our date, dude.
Jessie got in the car, grinned, and leaned toward her. Stacey steeled herself for his kiss. Instead, he reached in the back seat, and grabbed her book of CDs.
“We need mood music,” he said, flipping through the pages.
“Good idea.” Stacey chuckled nervously and pulled the car onto the main road. “So, where do you think the best spot will be to see the meteor shower?”
“You know where Avenue A runs out, turns into a dirt road?”
Stacey nodded.
“If you keep going a half mile or so, past all the fences, there’s a clearing that’s perfect.”
“This car can’t really offroad,” Stacey said.
“Don’t worry. The path’s pretty smooth. Trust me. We’ll be fine.”
About twenty minutes of dusty, bumpy roads, and several Fugees songs later, the livestock fences ended. Stacey stopped and pulled up on the brake. She wasn’t comfortable going any further.
“This is good,” Jessie said. “Cut the lights.”
Stacey turned off the headlights and they were engulfed in total darkness. The final notes of “Killing Me Softly” played, with only the green glow of the digital clock display on the radio illuminating the space around them. Stacey leaned forward to try to look through the windshield, but could only see dried bird poop and dust on the window, and nothing but blackness beyond. Nothing like the shooting stars she’d fantasized. Nothing like the aurora borealis she’d painted.
“Should we get out?” Stacey asked, trying to remember if rattlesnakes came out at night.
Jessie pressed eject on the CD player and placed another disc in the slot. The hiss of the newly spinning disc took hold and Stacey recognized the deep voice moaning “Blue Spanish Sky.”
For two days, Stacey had imagined their next kiss would be even more romantic than the first. That there would be build up, holding hands, making a wish on a shooting star, and looking deep into Jessie’s eyes before their lips ever touched. Now, the MTV images of Chris Isaak shirtless, dark, and brooding flashed through her mind, tumbling with supermodels in the sand, the sheets, a pool. It was overwhelming. A lump formed in her throat and she scratched at the back of her neck.
She turned to look at Jessie for a clue of what she was supposed to do next. Before she opened her mouth to speak, Jessie leaned over and kissed her. His lips pushed hard. It didn’t feel the least bit romantic.
The further she tilted back, the further Jessie pressed into her, bracing himself on the steering wheel. His tongue searched deep in her mouth.
She could hardly breathe. Stacey put both hands on his chest and pushed back gently. She turned her face from his. “Whoa. Slow down.” His chest was hot and firm beneath her hands and she kept them in place.
He inched back, sheepish. “I’m sorry…I…” His eyes flashed back and forth between hers, then scanned quickly down to her cleavage. “I can’t help myself. I’ve liked you for so long. Never thought I had a chance.”
“A chance? With me?” She searched for a sign he was joking. “At the end of school you thought my name was Stephanie.”
He perched on his seat, one hand on her seat back and the other resting on the steering wheel, hovering like he was ready to pounce again. “Nah. I always knew who you were. So smart. So pretty. I had to act like I didn’t know how out of my league you were.” He grazed her cheek with his right knuckles, gently, like before that first kiss. “I thought for sure you’d turn me down if I ever asked you out.”
She shivered as his fingers ran through the strands of her hair that draped over her arm.
He rested his hand on her thigh.
“That’s crazy! I’ve liked you for the longest time.” Stacey put her hand on his upper arm. “I was sure you didn’t even know I was alive.”
“I always had my eye on you. Being alone with you, before the movie…felt like fate.” Jessie intertwined his fingers with hers. “Talking to you felt like we were always meant to be.”
Who needs shooting stars? Jessie Thomas likes me as much as I like him! This is my wish come true.
Stacey leaned forward to kiss him softly, her left fingers running up his arm, under the edge of his sleeve. Her eyes fluttered closed. Their tongues gently wet each other’s lips, and it felt like she’d imagined. Yes. This. I like it just like this.
Jessie’s hand moved from her thigh to her waist, then slid down to grab ahold of her belt loop, tugging her closer to him. Their knees ran into the emergency brake, and their mouths pushed harder, lips slapping as they joined and pulled apart. Jessie’s fingers slid over the curve of her hip, then backward, his whole hand palming her left butt cheek. Stacy flexed it. Yeah, okay. This is pretty nice, too.
Jessie let go of her hand. His fingers traveled up her back, the tips running over the nape of her neck and through her hair. His groans of pleasure vibrated from the back of his throat against Stacey’s lips and tongue. Their kisses became wetter. Stacey’s heart stomped like a racehorse in her chest.
Maybe we should slow down. Keep this from going too far.
She leaned her head back to inhale. To give words to her thoughts.
Jessie’s lips moved down her neck like she’d given an invitation.
Her eyes opened wider, staring at the dark ceiling above her.
His tongue grazed her collar bone, his warm breath raising the skin on her chest to gooseflesh. Rushes reverberated through her body. Her breasts and between her legs felt fuller, more tingly, like even the slightest breeze could set off a gasping spasm.
“Jessie, let’s–.” Her head spun, feeling too heavy to hold up. She put her hand on Jessie’s chest again.
He groaned.
She pulled her hand back.
He kissed her, then moved his mouth next to her ear. “Let’s move to the back seat,” he whispered. His hot breath tickled the inside of her ear. She reached her hand up to wipe it, then smoothed the hairs on the back of her neck.
Her stomach tightened. “Ummm…”
He reached under and pulled the release, sliding the chair forward, then climbed between the two seats, pushing his seat as far forward as possible.
Stacey froze, her left hand gripping the steering wheel. We’re going too fast.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. Jessie pulled the long blonde bangs from his eyes. God, he’s hot. Don’t be a baby, Chapman. You’re making out with JESSIE THOMAS!
He reached between the seats for her right hand. She let him tug her gently toward him. We’ve both liked each other for a long time. Stacey eased her right leg between the seats, then pulled the latch to slide her chair forward. When she maneuvered the rest of her body to the back, Jessie pulled her on top, to straddle him. She could instantly feel his heat through her jeans and she gasped. This is normal, isn’t it? Her whole body began to shake.
“Shhhh…” He eased his lips up to hers and kissed her gently on the mouth, his hands on either side of her face.
Her shaking slowed and she relaxed into the softness of his lips.
He reached his hands behind his neck and pulled his shirt off over his head.
Wait.
Stacey’s shaking intensified. Her hands stretched on her own thighs, wiping her sweaty palms. A picture flashed in her mind from the first day at The Plunge, staring at Jessie’s muscular chest, abs, and arms. But now the way he was looking at her, watching her looking at his bare chest, made it impossible to stop.
Jessie lifted her right hand and kissed each of her fingertips, then placed her hand on his breastbone, and his hands on her hips.
“Your heart is thumping,” she said.
He slid his right hand over her shirt, over her left breast, and spread his palm across her heart. Her lips fell open.
“So is yours,” he said. He slid his left hand behind her neck and pulled her face to his, sucking her bottom lip in his and groping her right breast over her shirt.
Stacey pushed him back. “This is going really fast.” Is this…second base?
He let his hands drop back to her waist. The spot where her hand rested on his chest felt damp, but she couldn’t tell if it was heat radiating from him or if she was sweating. Lifting her palm slowly, Stacey’s fingertips and nails grazed the skin on his left pec, and everything about him inflated.
Jessie groaned and pushed his pelvis upward. He was hard. Hot between her legs. Stacey suppressed her own groan.
Slow down, Chapman! She wanted to outline each of the muscles on his chest and abs with her fingertips, memorizing the curves and gaps, so she could sketch and paint him. And she was afraid that even the faintest touch would explode in each of them something that couldn’t be controlled.
Jessie leaned his head back, inhaling deeply, his chest spread wide. She bit her bottom lip. Stacey swiped her hand across his chest. Her thumb caught on his nipple before she rested her hand on his bicep. His tattoo of thorns.
The CD switched to “Wicked Game.” Jessie leaned forward, one hand on Stacey’s neck, pulling her close to kiss again. The fingers on his free hand slipped under her tank top, running the tips of his fingernails up her spine. Stacey shivered, arched her back. Jessie kissed the place her heart threatened to burst out from.
The air in the car was sticky. Sweat beaded on her forehead.
Their mouths met. They eagerly pressed their lips, tongues, and teeth together.
Being on top of him magnified everything she felt between her legs. There was a throbbing through her 501’s. She couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from, but hoped it would never end. This. Keep doing this. God this feels so good. ONLY this. Forever.
She spread her legs apart wider.
He pushed up harder.
Heat rose between them. The air smelled like their sweat. The windows were fogged up.
Jessie cupped her breasts through her bra. Stacey tensed. He moved his fingers to her back and she relaxed. He wrapped her in an embrace, then unhooked her bra.
A squeak escaped Stacey’s open mouth and she started to pull away. Jessie had already looped his fingers over the bra and tank top straps and was pulling them to the sides.
“Wait!” Stacey instinctively crossed her arms over her chest and tilted away.
Jessie eased her hands down by her sides, shaking his head. “Don’t cover up,” he whispered. “I want to look at you.” His breathy request and Chris Isaak’s mesmerizing voice braided Stacey’s thoughts.
Strange desire. Jessie wants to look at me. Foolish people. Kiss me. Touch me. Lick me.
She let her arms relax.
Jessie eased the straps down. The loose bra and lace trim barely clung to Stacey’s breasts.
I should stop him. Never dreamed. I know I should…stop us…both.
Jessie’s thumbs edged the lace. Her nipples hardened, muted her brain. Her lips parted. No words fell out.
Chris Isaak sang warnings about a broken heart.
Jessie eased the tank top down. Stacey froze. Her breath trembled.
Jessie’s mouth touched her left nipple. Waves of heat rippled into shivers. His tongue was like a pin, piercing her. Struggling to hold on, she gripped Jessie’s ribs. She exhaled. Her panties became damp.
Then Jessie’s hands were all over her. He cupped her breasts. It felt good. He licked her nipples and it felt so good. His mouth was on her mouth, her hands explored his chest. She ran her fingers down the ridges of his abs. It all felt too good.
Topless is third base, right? Third base is way too fast for a first date.
His slobber was intoxicating, and their heat, and his hands on her. It all felt dangerously good. Her breath was fast and deep.
This is scary and exciting, but maybe it’s okay. No more though…more would be way too far.
Jessie grabbed Stacey’s back belt loop, and cradled her to him with his other arm. He shifted them both up and over, and before Stacey knew what was happening she was on her back across the seat, with Jessie above her.
A seat belt buckle pressed into her shoulder blade. Her neck was angled oddly against the side armrest.
“Wait.” Stacey shifted under him.
Jessie’s fingers curled behind the button of her jeans.
“Wait!” A sharp panic struck her chest.
His fingertip grazed inside the top of her panties.
Her breath caught, and she put her hand on his. “Not yet.”
Jessie groaned, gripped her backside, pushing his hard groin against the inner seam of her 501s. His slippery chest slid up her abdomen. “You’re so hot,” he said, grinding into her crotch.
Stacey’s hands stuck to his sweaty back. “Let’s…I mean…we should...”
Jessie slid off the seat, onto his knees. He took her left breast in one hand and pinched her nipple between two fingers, his mouth wide on her other breast while he rubbed hard on the inner seam of her 501s with his right hand.
She reached to stop him, but clenched her fist and bit her knuckle instead. A wave of heat sped through her.
Jessie smiled up at her triumphantly. Her whole body flushed. Stacey’s brain screamed YES! and NO! in a fog of white noise. She struggled to open her eyes, catching only brief glimpses of Jessie’s teeth and tongue, his hand on her breast. Water droplets streaked down the steamed window.
Jessie removed his hand and his mouth hovered by her ear. “You liked that.”
She moved her hand to his hip. He pushed himself up and her hand slid down to his bare thigh. No boardshorts? Her eyes shot open.
Stacey jerked her hand away. “Jessie, where are your…” She was afraid to look down, and willed him to look at her face. She pushed her hands against his chest, but he wasn’t making eye contact.
Jessie grabbed her button and zipper in both hands, and tore them apart.
“Jessie, wai–”
Every pleasurable sensation Stacey had felt vanished. She gripped the seat with one hand and the seatbelt above her with the other, trying to pull herself up. She wriggled her hips back. “I want your pants...” Stacey’s voice cracked, searching for the next word.
As she scrambled to pull herself upright, Jessie tugged on her jeans in the opposite direction.
“But, I’m not…”
“I want you so bad.” He tugged her pants down, pulling her body back under him in the process. “You know you want me, too.”
Not like this! “Bu…” Stacey squeaked, her face scrunching. What would he do if I stopped him? What would happen?
“I can’t wait any longer.”
“Jess—sto…” She shifted her shoulders and reached toward her panties. He pulled them quickly below her knees and spread her legs.
Fists clenched, Stacey turned her face away from him.
He braced one arm against the seat. His other hand groped her with rough fingers. It was like being probed by sharp sticks.
She squeezed her mouth and her eyes shut, her fingernails cutting into her palms.
Jessie thrust himself inside her. She felt her skin tear. Her abdomen being thrust apart. A guttural moan erupted from his throat.
A tear slid silently over the bridge of her nose. His hair dragged along her jawline, catching in the trail of another quiet tear.
He inched back and pushed inside again. Each time worse than the last, until she was numb to it. She held her breath. Jessie pushed three, four, five times, then collapsed on top of her.
The seatbelt buckle pressed into her shoulder. She shifted away from his weight.
Jessie exhaled. She felt him slide out. He pushed himself up, then eased her knees together and pushed her legs aside. Slouched into the seat.
Stacey pulled herself upright, watching as he pulled his shorts up.
A lump formed in her throat. Was there no condom? Oh, God! She lifted her hips and pulled up her pants. No, no, no, no, no! She began shaking again. She struggled with the clasp of her bra and the arm holes of her tank top, sliding an arm through the neck opening, fumbling, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
Jessie’s head was pressed against the seat, his eyes closed, shirt crumpled on his lap, like he’d run a marathon.
That was so stupid! I’m an idiot. Oh god! Her stomach violently twisted in on itself.
Jessie’s puka-shell necklace glowed green in the dark, reflecting light from the stereo. Stacey fought an urge to rip it off him and smash it against the windshield.
She looked at the clock. 9:15.
As the song changed, Chris Isaak’s voice rose again, repeating over and over how trouble was going around.
Stacey reached between the seats and hit the power button on the stereo, but the lyrics wouldn’t stop reverberating through her mind. She squeezed her thighs together, hands clasped between them to stop her shaking.
Somewhere in the pitch-black outside, a coyote howled.
She wiped her cheeks. Rubbed under her eyes. She examined her fingers, but couldn’t see well enough to tell if they were covered in makeup.
There was another howl, closer, followed by a chorus of yips.
“You hear that?” he asked. Jessie’s hand squeaked against the window pane, like he was wiping it to look out. “They caught something. Maybe a rabbit.”
She turned her face toward her window, crossing her left arm over her body. Dumbass rabbit. Serves you right, out here alone. She put her right pinky nail in her mouth and chewed the tip of it off, blowing the strip into the side of her seat.
Jessie reached over to put his hand on her thigh.
Her eyes popped open. Is he…? She looked over.
Jessie’s eyes were sleepy, narrow slits. “Ready to go?” His hand dropped back onto the seat. She bit her bottom lip.
Stacey climbed back into the front seat and buckled her seat belt, blinking back the violent emotions ready to rush out of her. She turned the keys in the ignition. She rolled down her window and turned the AC on high to clear the condensation.
Jessie pulled his shirt on, then climbed back up front. He ejected the Heart Shaped World disc and popped in the Garbage CD, then buckled his seatbelt and tugged on the front of his boardshorts.
The surround sound of screaming guitars tightened the knots throbbing across Stacey’s forehead. She dialed the volume down. She flipped on the headlights, made a U-turn, and drove past the abandoned fields.
For the next twenty minutes, the music was muffled by the pulsating beat in her temple and the crunch of the tires on the dirt road. Stacey glanced at Jessie, asleep, his head bobbing against the passenger side window. I should open the door so he falls out.
By the time they reached the main road, she’d gnawed down two more fingernails, and spit them out toward his lap. “Stupid Girl” filled the silence, and even though she knew the song was coming, the words stung. She didn’t turn it off.
Stacey pulled the car into his driveway and wrenched up on the emergency brake before they were fully stopped. Jessie’s head fell forward, then jerked up. He blinked, then climbed out of the car and leaned his head down through the open door. “That was fun,” he yawned. “See ya later, Chapman.” He stumbled to his door and went inside without looking back.
Stacey turned off the music. Silent tears fell to her chin all the way back home. It wasn’t even ten o’clock when she pulled in the driveway. The house was dark, but Greg’s truck was still out front. She dragged the back of her hands across her cheeks. She didn’t have the energy to go anywhere else until her mom’s date was over. What if he stayed the night? She didn’t want to imagine what they were doing, or to answer their questions about her “date.” She hoped she could slip silently into her room. Be left alone. She turned off the engine.
She pushed open the front door. Murphy was waiting for her and jumped to attention, the tags on her collar clanking. She wagged her tail and licked Stacey’s palm, while Stacey closed the heavy door as quietly as she could. From the entryway she could see no one was in the kitchen or living room. Looking down the hall, the door to her mom’s bedroom was open.
Her mom’s laughter erupted in the backyard followed by a man’s deep chuckle. Stacey’s eye’s adjusted until she could see her mom and Greg reclined in lawn chairs, their backs to the house, looking up at the stars. Their arms on the rests met in the middle, her mom’s hand intertwined with Greg’s.
They’re watching the shooting stars? Unbelievable.
Murphy padded next to Stacey down the hall and into her bedroom. Leaving the lights off, Stacey closed her door without a sound. She pulled the cover from her bed and wrapped it around herself, rolling into a ball on the floor. Murphy licked her cheek, then curled into her. Stacey pulled the blanket tight around her face and ears, blocking out the world, and imagined dissolving into the darkness. Into the silence.
No stars.
No light.
No wishes or dreams.
Just drowning in that inky blackness where maybe, just maybe, nothing about that night existed.