CHAPTER EIGHT
A GOOD KID
Coincidentally, Jay called a week later and asked if I'd like to come to some party Giselle's friend just outside of town was throwing.
Not much about the idea appealed to me.
Parties were one thing, but parties full of people I didn't know were torture. Small talk and leaning against walls while I waited for whoever I had come with to be done doing whatever they were doing was about as appealing to me as closing my hand in a car door.
Yet the thought of spending another weekend watching stupid baby shows with Miles had me somehow jumping at the opportunity to get out of the house.
“Hell yeah!” Jay exclaimed, and I could see him pumping his fist in the air in that awkward, nerdy way he did. “We'll pick you up, okay?”
I agreed, hung up, and stuffed my feet into my sneakers, not bothering to change out of my gym shorts and T-shirt. Mom passed my open doorway with a full laundry basket in hand and stopped when she noticed me standing in front of my mirror, raking my hands through my hair.
“Are you going somewhere?” she asked, leaning against the doorway and resting the basket on her hip.
“Yeah, Jay's picking me up,” I muttered.
Things had been weird between Mom and me ever since I'd asked Dad about my beginning.
I suspected he'd told Mom—hell, he told Mom everything—and ever since, she had been dancing around the topic.
I got the impression there were things she wanted to say and didn't know how to say them, and as much as I didn't like things to feel strange with her, I also wasn't about to clear the air myself.
That conversation had been shitty enough with Dad. I couldn't imagine how awful it'd be with her.
“Where are you going?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. Some party his girlfriend's friend is throwing.”
“And where's this party?”
I blew out a heavy breath and grabbed the body spray Grandma had gotten me for my birthday.
“I dunno. Somewhere close.”
“You'll be home before midnight,” she stated, leaving no room for negotiation.
“ ’Kay,” I muttered, spraying my neck and chest and under my arms.
“And no drinking or smoking.”
“It's important to stay hydrated, Mom,” I grumbled, glancing in her direction.
Her face was painted with an unimpressed expression. “You know what I mean. No drinking, no smoking, and also, if anyone has any pills, don't take them.”
I gave her a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
“I mean it, Noah,” she said, exasperated.
“You act like I'm stupid—you know that?”
“I just don't want you to get yourself hurt or in trouble.”
“Yeah, well, good thing you married the only felon in town to keep me on the path to upstanding citizenship,” I replied sardonically, smirking.
She pressed her lips together, holding the basket tighter to her body. “You're not funny.”
“You know I'm kidding. I'm not gonna do anything. I never do anything,” I pressed, looking down into her eyes, somehow barely remembering that I had once been so small that I had to look up.
Mom released a sigh of resignation and nodded. “Okay. Is Jay driving?”
“Yeah, he's picking me up.”
“Don't let him drink either. And if he does—”
I groaned and dropped the body spray onto the dresser before standing in front of her and putting my hands on her shoulders. “Take his keys. I know. You worry too much.”
“About you?” She scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “You're my baby, you'll always be my baby, and I could never worry enough.”
“Yeah, well, you don't have to. I'm too smart to do anything too stupid,” I replied with a quirk of my lips as Jay's rusty, old car beeped outside. “Don't wait up, okay? I'll be back before midnight.”
***
“Hey, Giselle. Who's this?”
A black-haired girl sauntered over to where I stood with Jay and his girlfriend in the crowded living room. She held a drink in her hand that was just a bit too full, its contents sloshing onto the carpet at our feet.
“Ash, this is Noah, Jay's friend,” Giselle said, wrapping her arm around mine, acting as though we were close friends or something when she hadn't even remembered my name when they picked me up earlier.
Ash's eyes glinted with mischief as she pressed a long-nailed fingertip to the center of my chest. “He's cute,” she purred as that finger traced a line downward toward the waistband of my shorts. “Noah. That's a sexy name.”
I furrowed my brow with amusement and shot my gaze toward Jay's. “Uh, thanks … I think.”
She giggled, pulling her finger away from my waistband to clench my T-shirt in her fist. “You don't have a drink,” she declared, stating the obvious. “You need one.”
I shook my head, even as she turned and gave my shirt a tug, leading me away from the only people I knew. “I, uh … I don't—”
“Have fun!” Jay called, and I glanced over my shoulder to see him wiggle his fingers in a little wave.
Fucking hell.
Ash brought me to the kitchen, where she hurried to grab an empty plastic cup from the counter, then filled it with something pink from a large pitcher.
“Here,” she said, passing the cup to me. “It's sweet as hell, and you'll get so fucked up.”
I stared at the drink in my hand, swallowing hard and thinking about what Mom had said earlier, what Dad had said last weekend.
“No drinking …”
“Get into stupid crap, but not … too stupid.”
But did I want to get fucked up?
I'd had alcohol before. I had taken sips of wine and champagne here and there, and once, Jay swiped a couple of beers from his fridge, and we drank them in the tree house in his backyard.
It had never been enough for me to feel anything but a bitter taste in my mouth, a burning in my throat, and the thrill of doing something I wasn't supposed to.
What would it feel like to be fucked up?
Would it make me feel better? Would it make me forget?
Ash took a sip from her cup, eyeing me from over the brim with deep eyes heavily lined in black.
I could tell she was smirking, daring me to do as she did, and that look scratched deep under my skin, telling me I should accept.
And why the hell did I care? I had just met her!
I didn't know her in any way whatsoever, other than the fact that she was friends with Jay's girlfriend—who, for the record, I also barely knew.
Yet I wanted her to think I was cool. I wanted her to think I had it in me to down the contents of this damn cup and whatever else she wanted to throw at me.
So, I put it to my lips and knocked it back, draining half in two hearty gulps.
And, oh God, it burned. Whatever pink shit was in there corroded my throat and lit my belly on fire.
I resisted the urge to cough, to force my gut to regurgitate everything the moment that sweet, fruity crap hit its depths.
I schooled my expression, acted like it didn't faze me, and Ash raised her brow with an air of approval I lived for.
“Oh, Noah,” she purred, reaching for my T-shirt again and clenching the fabric in her fist. “I thought you might be bad, but you're really bad.”
My jaw tensed as I tried to grasp what she meant by that. My experience with bad people was likely different from hers, and I guessed her definition of bad was likely very different from mine.
Did I want to be bad?
I wasn't sure I did if bad meant enjoying this feeling swirling around with this fiery liquid in my belly.
But then again, I reveled in the way she looked at me, like the only goal on her mind was to rip off my clothes and touch the places nobody but me had ever touched before, and if that was what bad meant, then …
Well, I guessed bad sounded pretty good.
So, I gulped down the rest of that disgusting drink as Ash sidled up closer to me, her soft body molding to fit comfortably against the hard lines of mine.
She sipped at hers, keeping her darkened gaze on me the whole time, toying with the little hairs at the back of my neck, causing goose bumps to sprinkle across my skin.
Then, when I was finished, she took our cups, left them on the counter, then took my hand.
“Come on,” she said in that smoky, heated sort of way that set my nerves on fire. “I want to show you something.”
The party was thriving outside that kitchen.
There had to be at least a hundred kids jammed into the house, and there were others spilling out into the backyard.
I wondered where Ash's parents were. I wondered if they were okay with their daughter drinking and leading boys by the hand toward the stairs, then up, up, up, past all the others, until they were brought to her bedroom, the door closed behind them.
I wondered if they were okay with her pushing said boys onto the bed to straddle their hips, to press her soft, glossy lips to theirs while the party continued below.
But then she used her tongue to kiss me in a way I'd never been kissed before, and I stopped wondering.
Instead, I kissed her back, my movements uncertain and clumsy at first, but I thought—I hoped—I was a fast learner.
She hummed with satisfaction, pulling away just when I thought I'd started to get good.
Disappointment curved the corners of my mouth downward, and I was about to ask if something was wrong when her hands moved down my chest and stomach to the waistband of my shorts.
A cluster of discombobulated thoughts burst like fireworks all at once as she yanked them down, along with my boxers.
“W-whoa,” I stammered with a nervous chuckle and immediately felt stupid afterward. “Um, wha-what are you—”
But before I could finish the sentence, she was maneuvering her body to engulf my dick with her mouth. I gasped, dropping my head back against the bed, overwhelmed by a thousand new sensations coalescing through my body all at the exact same time.
“Oh my God,” I uttered, both shocked and aroused.
Ash moaned in response, and I got the feeling she wasn't new at this. Not at all. And I didn't care to think about that, didn't care to care about anything other than the mounting pleasure I already knew I was addicted to.
“Oh God,” I gasped breathlessly. “Wait, I-I'm gonna—”