Chapter 8 – Jael
I’ve wanted to leave this football game since the second we showed up, and running into Rhett only made that itch to bolt ten times worse. What is it about this town that makes it impossible to outrun the ghosts of my past?
Owen and I grabbed food and found seats in the bleachers, and instantly I was thrown back to high school—the roar of the crowd, the way people’s eyes followed us, curious, like they were still keeping score. Those years weren’t the worst of my life, but they sure as hell weren’t the best either.
When I told Owen I wasn’t feeling it and wanted to head out, he brushed me off, too caught up in the game. He stood the whole time, like it was some kind of championship, like he was back under those Friday night lights himself.
I wish I hadn’t agreed to this date, but I didn’t have any other plans, and I don’t have any real excuse to leave.
Molly’s on patrol tonight, and I haven’t bothered reconnecting with anyone else since I’d been back.
Frankly, I’m not even sure who still lives here.
So, I’ve stayed, mostly sitting because my legs are still aching from my first brutal week at the new hospital, half-watching the field and half-letting my mind wander.
And of course it wanders straight to Rhett.
I don’t know why he’s everywhere lately—why his face keeps sneaking into my head when I least expect it—but tonight is no different.
Sitting here, watching Owen cheer like the past ten years never happened, all I can think about is the boy I used to love, and how strange it is to see him now all grown up.
I wonder what Rhett’s doing right now…
◆◆◆
It’s another scorching, late spring day, with only two weeks remaining until our high school graduation.
Rhett is once again tinkering away on his old, worn-out Ford F-Series truck that his mom picked up from a neighbor in exchange for her help with watching his daughter after school.
The neighbor had claimed it was junk, but Rhett saw potential—so the neighbor said if he could fix it up, and get it running, he could snag it for just one hundred dollars which was a sick deal we both agreed.
Anything would beat the rusty clunker he’s been driving us to school in every day since he turned sixteen years old.
Meanwhile, I’m lounging on a folding chair, soaking up the sun's rays and enjoying a cold soda from his mom’s snack stash.
I’m still pouting about Rhett not agreeing to teach me about sex like I'd asked over a week ago and while I pretend to flip through a magazine, I’m really trying to plot ways to change his mind.
“I’m going to go to college and know nothing. Do you want me to be some dumb, impressionable girl who gets taken advantage of?” I ask, picking up from our last conversation like no time has passed.
Rhett lets out a heavy sigh and drops the wrench with a clatter. He shoots me a look over the hood, rolls his eyes, then smacks the roof of the truck shut like he’s officially done with it, and maybe with me too.
“Come on. You can’t be that na?ve. Owen must have gotten to a base or two. No oral? He hasn’t tried to slip a hand up your skirt and get a feel?”
“Don’t be so crass,” I snap, pointing a finger at him. “Other than kissing, I’ve stopped him anytime he’s attempted something more, and though he’s pushed, he hasn’t pushed that far.”
Rhett mutters something under his breath about Owen getting what he wants from someone else since I’m not giving it to him.
I chuck my empty soda can directly at his head.
To my satisfaction, it hits him exactly where I threw my dream barbie boat at his face when we were fourteen years old.
I hope it leaves another scar. Rhett bats it away with an eye roll.
“That’s not true. Owen’s been faithful to me.”
He rolls his eyes again and then walks over to where I’m seated on the folding chair. Leaning down he presses his hands into the arms on either side of it.
“The only thing that guy’s faithful to is his dick.
Why don't you ask your friend Lainey about sex? Or Molly? She’d be more than happy to explain things to you.
Better yet, why don’t you look it up on the internet?
You know, pull out that phone I see you on all the time and type it into your little search engine.
The web is an amazing place, Jael. They have how-to guides for just about anything. ”
“Because people lie, and porn exaggerates. I want to know from real-life experience what I’m supposed to do,” I push.
He sighs heavily and then pushes to stand, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. “Dammit. I feel like I’m going to regret this, but what do you want to know?”
I smile and sit forward, tossing the magazine I wasn’t even reading to the side before folding my legs underneath me. “Let’s start with kissing again,” I say. “You said last week I was trying to eat your face. I’d like to not have a guy ever tell me that again.”
His eyes narrow before his hands grip my wrists and he’s tugging me from the chair to stand in front of him.
“Alright. Fine. So, this,” he starts, “is the correct way to kiss a guy.” His voice deepens and drops a few octaves before he pulls me in closer against his chest and cradles the back of my neck tenderly.
Owen was my first kiss, so I don’t have much to compare it to—unless you count the short, simple kiss that Rhett gave me last week when we were practicing.
I’d always assumed Owen was good at it. I mean, he’s had plenty of practice with the girls at our school, and I’ve never heard any of them complaining.
Still, when he kisses me, it’s always felt a bit.
.. much. Even back before I kissed Rhett, with no real experience, I’d sensed it was overly aggressive.
But I figured that’s just how kissing was supposed to be. Owen’s a passionate guy, right?
Now, though? Kissing Rhett for the second time has confirmed what I didn’t know originally: Owen doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing.
Rhett, on the other hand, is gentle, deliberate.
His tongue drags lightly over my bottom lip, asking me to open without any words, and when I do, it dips into my mouth just enough to tease before retreating again.
His lips move against mine like he’s savoring every second of this, not rushing to devour me and move onto the next step.
Both of his hands move upward to cradle my neck, fingers brushing softly against my jaw, and when he squeezes there firmly, urging me to tilt my head, I do it instinctively, like he’s in control of every part of my body. Then he deepens the kiss on a groan, and I’m gone.
This isn’t like anything I’ve ever experienced. There’s more lips, less... face-eating. Honestly, Rhett’s fuller lips probably help. Maybe Owen was overcompensating all this time because he doesn’t have much to work with in the lip department.
Rhett’s hands slide to my lower back, pressing me gently into him so that our fronts are connected. My mind starts spinning in a million different directions when I catch the scent of his cologne and feel how firm his body feels against mine.
I hate where my thoughts are going—thinking about Rhett in this way, about his mouth, his hands, his everything that’s touching me and in front of me.
He’s my annoying, know-it-all neighbor, the one who’s been driving me crazy for years and treating me like I’m nothing more than an inconvenience to him.
But it’s hard to focus on all the things I thought I felt towards him when his lips are still on mine.
This isn’t cheating... right?
This is research. And research I’m going to take back to use on Owen for that matter.
Eventually, he breaks away, his gaze remaining locked on mine. There’s something behind his eyes now that’s different from how he’d looked at me just fifteen minutes ago.
“So… um… does that help?” he asks, clearing his throat.
I nod, trying to think of a way to get Rhett to show me more things without giving it away that I intend to use these techniques on Owen but my mind’s a jumbled mess and nothing about what I’m doing and why I’m doing it makes sense anymore.
“What about… like, hand stuff?” I ask.
His eyes grow wider. “Jael.” It’s a warning.
“Look, don’t make me feel bad about asking this, Rhett.
I’m embarrassed enough to be coming to you, but you know more than anyone that I could never ask my mom or dad and searching this online isn’t going to help.
So, are you going to help me out, or should I ask another guy?
Maybe I should check with Colt Marshall the next time he comes to hang out with Maverick and Molly,” I say, folding my arms across my chest knowing he’s going to hate that suggestion.
He lets out a growl and I take a step back as he shakes his head no. “Don’t ask Colt. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. But Owen isn’t pressuring you into this, is he?”
“No,” I lie again and this time I feel the tiniest bit of guilt for not telling the truth.
Owen isn’t pressuring me into this. At least, he wasn’t before. I’ve wanted to have sex and lose my virginity to him. I’ve had a crush on Owen since I moved here and was fourteen-years old.
This is what I want.
I think.
I don’t know.
He watches me closely, studying to see if I’m telling him the truth then nods again. “Meet me at the lake behind the trailer park tonight. I’ll answer all your questions then.”
◆◆◆
The whistle for the game sounds loudly, bringing me back to my current reality which is sitting at a high school football game without Rhett.
Owen turns to me, his face lit with the kind of excitement I just can’t muster for a pretty lame first night out in Whitewood Creek.
“You interested in hanging out for a bit longer?” he asks, his grin wide and hopeful.