Chapter 11 - Jael #3
“Because girls are emotional and shit. They never get over their first time and I don’t think you’ll ever get over me,” he says waving his hand in the air.
“You can’t be serious. You think you’re that good at sex? How many times have you even had sex?”
“Three times,” he responds without hesitation.
Geez, where has he found the time? And the place? And who are these girls? I’ve never heard any of our classmates talk about him at school.
“I’m sure I’ll manage to move past this experience. It’s not like this is my first and last time ever having sex. Hopefully, I’ll have loads of sex when I go away to college. I already bought a pack of condoms.”
His eyes flare as he glares at me, studying me with those eyes that have always been able to read into me too well. “This isn’t like a revenge thing or something because Owen broke up with you, right?”
“Owen didn’t break up with me, I broke up with him,” I say lying again, though now, I’m starting to think I do want to break up with Owen which is ridiculous.
I’ve been crushing on Owen for years. Plus, Rhett doesn’t want a relationship with me, I’m pretty sure he isn’t interested in that with anyone given he’s never had a girlfriend. And we’re about to graduate and I’m leaving for college in just three short months. None of this makes sense.
But Rhett, his kisses, his body, this moment, my mind is all over the place right now but one thing I’m certain of is that I want Rhett to be my first time. Not Owen. Not the guy who I know, and have heard on several occasions, has cheated on me with other girls in our class.
I step towards him again. “If you don’t tell me no, I’m going to reach my hands inside of your pants and practice what you taught me on you,” I warn him.
Rhett watches me move closer without making any action to move away until our bodies are a mere inch apart.
“I don’t hear you stopping me,” I murmur, my voice low and teasing, as I slip my hand into the waistband of his shorts.
My fingers brush against the dark hair on his pelvis and then reach the heat of him.
I wrap my hand around his completely hard, impossibly thick dick, my fingers unable to touch.
Slowly, I tighten my grip, giving him a firm, deliberate pump. Once. Twice.
I can’t see it, not yet, but I don’t need to. The weight of him in my palm, the way my fingers can barely encircle him, tells me everything that I need to know—he’s harder than steel for me.
He hisses when I stroke him again, his hazel eyes studying me harshly. “That’s it, Jael. Grip it like I’m going to take it away from you.”
I stroke again, feeling heat flush my cheeks by his dirty words and this time he snaps.
“Fuck this.”
With a low growl rumbling deep in his chest, he grabs my wrist, yanks my hand out of his shorts, and throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.
“Rhett!” I squeal, laughing and gasping all at once as the night air rushes around me, tousling my hair. His grip is firm, unrelenting, one arm locked around the backs of my thighs as he stalks toward his mom’s trailer like a man on a mission.
He leans his head down, his lips grazing my ear as he whispers, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m going to show you exactly where that fits, and I’m going to make your first time so good you’ll never get over it.”
And a part of me hopes he isn’t right.
◆◆◆
Rhett leans closer to me on the couch while our friends are all shouting around us, trying to explain the rules of the game that we’re supposed to be playing. His lips brush against the shell of my ear, his voice quiet and rough in a way that makes my skin break out in goose bumps.
“I’m glad you came tonight.”
The warmth of his words sends a shiver down my spine, and my chest flushes hot with nerves. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but this is the closest that I’ve been to Rhett in years and it feels too intimate. Like it’s only us in this room full of our old friends and the past versions of us no longer exist.
I pull back slightly, desperate to put a little space between us.
“Yeah, thanks for inviting me,” I say, trying to sound casual, but the slight tremor in my voice betrays me.
I’m tipsy and just slipped down memory lane of our first time together.
It’s a memory that I clung to for years like a shield before I forced myself to forget it.
But some memories can’t stay gone forever.
His hazel eyes sparkle with knowing, and when I wet my lips—a nervous habit that I can’t seem to shake—his gaze drops there instantly, lingering for a heartbeat too long before snapping back up to meet mine.
A surge of heat floods through me. Being on the receiving end of Rhett’s complete attention is a gift that I used to cherish.
I can feel the tight pull of my nipples against my shirt, the thrum of my pulse picking up speed.
It’s ridiculous how flustered I am, how easily he can unravel me with just a single look.
God, he’s so handsome. Older in all the right ways. Only better with time. He’s letting his beard grow in, and the lines around his eyes tell of wisdom that I missed and years of laughter. He looks happy. I’m relieved to see that.
Maybe I need to slow down on the drinks because something about the way he’s watching me, the way his attention feels like a physical touch, has me so turned on that I can’t think straight.
“Alright, everyone! We’re playing UNO first—house rules!” Lainey calls out from the other side of the room, her voice slicing through the charged moment between me and Rhett like a cold splash of water.
Rhett leans back slightly, his smirk softening into something more playful as he shifts his attention to the game.
But I can still feel the lingering heat of his presence next to me, and when he sits back to listen to Lainey explain the rules, his arm stretches casually and rests behind the back of the couch, almost touching me.
Even as I reach for my cards, my fingers trembling just the tiniest bit, I know that whatever tension is between us will come to head tonight.
The next hour turns into the most chaotic, gut-cramping, game of UNO I’ve ever experienced. Every Draw 2 card means pointing at two people to take a shot, while a Draw 4 has four unlucky victims scrambling for their drinks to chug.
With only eight of us playing, it doesn’t take long for the alcohol to start flowing faster than the game can progress. By the time we’re halfway through, Lainey and I are a heap of laughter on the floor, clutching our stomachs like we might pass out.
Then Lark announces the new Wild card rule: if you play one, you get to make up a rule on the spot.
All hell breaks loose. Someone declares you have to yell “Ride ‘em, cowboy!” every time before playing a reverse card. Another one of the guy’s mandates that you skip backwards across the room before skipping someone’s turn.
It’s pure, ridiculous chaos, and it isn’t lost on me that this is the hardest I’ve laughed in years.
By the time the second game finally wraps up, I’m crawling back onto the couch, my cheeks hurting and my stomach sore from laughing.
My head has a nice buzz from the shots, and I feel relaxed.
Rhett is still seated there, grinning like he’s having fun too, his legs stretched out in front of him easily.
“Having fun?” he asks, his voice low and easy, that grin softening into something quieter as he leans back and studies me.
“I haven’t laughed this hard in years,” I admit, wiping tears from my eyes. When I glance at him, his face is only inches from mine now, and I can see the slight glassiness in his hazel eyes.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the quiet connection that we’ve always had, but the moment stretches between us longer than it probably should.
“I like you with this smile on your face,” he says softly.
His fingers reach up, brushing gently against my cheek before cupping my chin tenderly.
The touch is light but sure, and when he tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, I swear my heart skips a beat.
“I hate seeing you with those sad, tragic eyes.”
My mouth opens like I’ve got something smart to say, but it snaps shut just as fast. Because really, what do you say to that?
Do I have sad eyes? Probably. I didn’t roll into town radiating joy to be back here.
If anything, I dragged a storm cloud in with me.
When I think back on the last decade, it’s been one long stretch of miserable, tragic and lonely even when I was technically with Christopher.
“Tragic eyes” sounds about right. Eyes that have seen too much but have somehow survived.
And Rhett knows best about the reason for them.
The alcohol is humming through me now, warm and bright in my veins. Not enough to make me weepy, just enough to shake loose something I thought had gone dormant months ago: my libido.
And Rhett… God, Rhett only makes it worse. He smells like fresh soap and warm skin, looks like sin in a flannel button-down. It’s unfair how every little detail about him feels like an invitation and lethal the way that he smells.
My gaze drops to his scuffed work boots, a detail I’d noticed the second he walked into the house, and a completely inappropriate fantasy flashes through my mind.
I picture him bending me over, gripping my hips with those strong hands while I catch glimpses of those boots behind me while he drives into me, making me scream out his name.
I wonder if he’s a rough lover now that he’s older and more experienced, or if he’s still soft and gentle, taking his sweet time like he did when he took my virginity. The truth is, I’d love any version of Rhett.
What are you doing, Jael?
It’s like my body is working on autopilot, driven by some primal instinct that I can’t control instead of taking a step to think this through. There’s something about Rhett that’s so raw, so masculine, and yet so deeply familiar and comforting that it’s messing with my head and my hormones.
Lainey’s earlier words pop into my head like a taunt: ‘Just fuck a bunch of random guys to get back out there. Screw Christopher and his moving on.’
Except right now, I’m not thinking about random guys. I’m thinking about only one: Rhett, and that’s a whole other problem steeped in way too much history and pain.
“How’s my smile different?” I ask, looking for a distraction and wanting to hear his deep, raspy voice again.
“It’s the smile,” Rhett says, his voice rough, gaze still pinned on mine, “the one you used to have when I said something you thought was funny, and you couldn’t hold it back. Before the big city sucked you up, spit you out, and you got too good for us.”
The smile fades from my lips like it’s been slapped away. Rhett knows damn well it wasn’t my move to Virginia that stole that smile from my face. It was so much more than that—history, hurt, and the weight of everything that I left behind here in Whitewood Creek.
Is that what he thinks about why I left town and never came back? That I thought I was too good for this place? Because that’s far from the truth.
My lips are so dry from laughing. I drag my tongue across them slowly, trying to bring some life back to them.
Rhett’s eyes drop to my mouth like he’s helpless to stop himself, the same way they had earlier, lingering there for just a second too long.
When his gaze lifts back to mine, it’s heavy, his pupils are dilated, holding me in place like he’s daring me to acknowledge the tension that’s clearly between us.
“Jael… don’t.”
My breathing escalates, my pulse hums and I know, something’s about to change between us.
“Hey, Lark,” Rhett says suddenly, his tone casual, but his eyes never leaving mine. “You still got that model train you’ve been working on in your basement?”
Lark coughs like he’s trying not to laugh. “Uh, yeah, man. Still building it. Looks like crap right now, though. The kids knocked over part of the station, and I need to order some new parts to fix it.”
“I’m gonna go show it to Jael,” Rhett says, his voice steady, but his gaze locked on me like this is a challenge. What he doesn’t realize is I’m all in on whatever this is.
My stomach flips as I glance toward Lark, who’s shooting a confused look at Lainey. He mouths the words “Jael’s into model trains?”
She swats his arm with an exasperated eye roll, but what they’re thinking doesn’t matter.
It feels like Rhett and I are operating on some unspoken wavelength that no one else can tune into because they weren’t there for the years’ that we spent together just us two, growing up and making mistakes.
They weren’t there when I gave him a piece of my heart and body I’ll never get back.
“Come on,” Rhett says, gripping my hand without waiting for a response. The touch sends a jolt up my arm as he tugs me toward the basement door. “Let’s go check out some trains.”