Chapter 6 Solana #2
Nothing serious is on his mind, while I’m left wondering about Saturday night.
What happened after I fell on the sidewalk? Did I ask to come back to Kel’s place? Did we have…
I have to know. Good or bad. Once and for all.
“Kel,” I say slowly, “what happened Saturday night?”
He glances over at me with a brow raised like he’s questioning if I’m being serious. Then the grin’s back on his face as his gaze returns to the road. “You for real don’t remember? None of it?”
“Just bits and pieces… mostly from the start of the night. It all starts to get fuzzy during the club.”
“We had a good time. Stayed ’til the place was about to close.”
“And I… fell down?”
He laughs at the memory. “Yeah, a few times. I had you though. Gave you a piggyback ride to the car.”
“You… you did?”
“Lana, you really don’t remember?”
I can’t even bring myself to answer, I’m so confused. His hand falls to my lap, his fingers gripping at the width of my thigh and giving it a squeeze.
“Hey, we had fun,” he says. “You asked to come back to my place. We went upstairs for some privacy.”
“And we…” I pause to swallow against the sick feeling in my stomach. “We had sex?”
“Damn, I can’t believe you don’t remember. You were real into it. Had me thinking sweet little Solana wasn’t so innocent after all,” he chuckles. “If I’d known sooner...”
I remain quiet as we pull into the lot for the movie theater, my mind reeling from what he’s said.
None of it eases my worries; if anything, it makes it so much worse.
I was real into what? What was I doing? Why doesn’t that sound anything like me? Was I really so drunk I was throwing myself at Kel?
People do crazy stuff when they’re drunk; they piss on public streets and flash strangers. They drive drunk and get arrested. But I’ve never really been a confident, outgoing type of person—I still get shy when it comes to kissing guys.
Would the drunk me really be throwing myself at one?
You have had a crush on him forever…
…don’t act like you haven’t fantasized about him a gazillion times.
If there was ONE guy you could lose it to, you KNOW you would’ve picked Kel anyway.
The sharp little voice hisses at me from the back of my mind, reminding me that I have thought about me and Kel together plenty of times.
I usually pictured it differently—after he’d asked me to be his girlfriend and in a more romantic setting than blackout drunk after a long night of partying—but does it really matter?
Kel’s taking me out on a date. He’s obviously into me.
“You good?” Kel asks, drawing me out of my thoughts. He squeezes my thigh again and leans closer as if he’s about to kiss me. “Look, if it makes you feel better, I had a few too many too. But don’t worry—I made sure to use protection.”
I’m not sure what comes over me. What makes me do it.
Except that suddenly it’s like I’m watching myself from afar. I’m giving into the little voice whispering in my ear and giving a nod in agreement.
Yes, I’m good, it says. Everything’s fine.
I had sex with Kel Greene—I lost my virginity to him—and now we’re on a date.
It’s worked out like I hoped it would.
We get out of the car and head into the movie theater. The place is more packed than usual for a Thursday night.
The lobby smells like butter and the generic air freshener the vents blow out every few seconds. Kel steers me through the crowd with his hand on my lower back, making it difficult to change direction.
It’s a gesture of possessiveness, like he’s acknowledging we’re together now.
My heart should flutter in joy, but the weird feeling in my stomach wins out. It hasn’t gone anywhere.
“Let’s sit in the back,” he says once we’ve got our tickets. “Corner seats are the best.”
They’re not though. I hate sitting all the way back in the corner where the screen looks distorted and you have to crane your neck. I like the middle, about halfway up, where everything’s perfectly proportioned.
But his hand’s still on my back, guiding as if it’s already decided, and my mouth won’t form the words to object.
It’s as if I’m afraid to ruin what we’ve established. I don’t want to rock the boat too hard. Not as Kel’s finally taking me out.
We settle into our seats as the lights dim. He’s got a massive tub of popcorn balanced on the armrest between us, already shoving handfuls into his mouth, crunching so loud I can hear it over the previews.
I pull my sweater sleeves down over my hands and try to concentrate on the screen.
The theater goes dark as the final previews play along with a message about silencing cell phones.
The Marvel logo appears, finally putting me a little more at ease.
Spiderman’s always been my favorite. Something about Peter Parker being this awkward kid who suddenly gets power he doesn’t know how to handle and then learning how to become a hero in his own right is appealing.
Relatable, except for the superhero part.
On screen, he’s web-slinging between buildings, cracking jokes, saving people. Nobody’s laughing at Spiderman when he falls.
Kel’s hand creeps into my space. First by resting on the shared armrest, his pinky brushing against my arm through the sweater.
Then his hand wanders across the divide, finding my knee in the dark.
My whole body goes rigid, my heartbeat practically dropping off.
The strangest sensation I’ve ever felt creeps over me, a tingling that spreads quickly. It’s as if I’ve suddenly developed Spiderman’s hyper sense of awareness. I have his spider sense and it’s now alerting me to danger.
Kel’s hand starts rubbing my thigh through my jeans, the patterns slow and brazen. Enough to make my skin crawl through denim.
On screen Spiderman’s fighting some villain, but I can’t focus on anything except Kel’s hand moving higher.
I sit still and process the fact that Kel’s touch feels wrong. All wrong.
It feels like a violation.
But this is what I wanted, right? All those months of watching him from afar, imagining what it would be like if he noticed me. If he saw me that way.
Why can’t I just relax and go with the flow? Why can’t I be the girl he says I was on Saturday night?
His hand inches up my inner thigh and I squirm, trying to shift away without making it obvious. Useless since the seats are fixed in place and there’s nowhere to go.
My chest tightens, making it harder to draw my next breath.
I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe and the tingling sensation only spreads, some of my limbs going numb.
Tears come to my eyes, blurring my vision.
Kel leans over, his breath hot against my ear. He presses his lips against my neck, his hand only a couple inches from the apex of my thighs.
Something inside me snaps, the paralysis vanishing.
“I SAID NO!”
I’m on my feet before I realize I’m moving, the words ripping out of me so loud they echo off the walls.
The entire theater turns to stare. Dozens of faces illuminated by the screen’s glow, all looking at me.
Kel’s hands are up, his eyes wide with surprise or maybe annoyance; I can’t tell in the dark.
But I don’t hang around long enough to find out. I grab my purse, turning for the exit, and get the hell out of there, refusing to look back.