Now
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Evangeline
And that’s exactly what we’re doing—kissing, caressing, tugging …
We’ve been enjoying third base a lot, and both of us have gotten much better at pleasuring each other.
The first time I saw Jackson’s … thingy, I was intimidated and genuinely scared that I wouldn’t figure out how to make him feel as good as he’s made me feel.
But with his encouragement and some practice, I’d say I’ve gotten great at it.
A few times now, we’ve also used our mouths, and while it still feels a little odd, I think I really like it.
“Jax,” I moan into our kiss.
“I know, I’ll take care of you. But first …”
He rips himself away from me, leaving me alone on the seat in my sundress, my body tingling for more. I watch as he grabs his leather jacket and looks for something in the pockets. Once he finds it, he pulls out a small red velvet box.
I straighten up on the backseat, attention fixed on it. “Happy first year of many, Evie,” he says, extending it toward me.
My hand shakes a little as I take the gift, and I focus on containing my hectic breathing as I open it. Planted in a beige satin cushion, there are two stud earrings. Tiny, sparkly gems surrounded by yellow gold.
“It’s real gold. Plated,” Jax explains. “And real diamonds. The guy said they’ll last forever.”
I can’t rip my eyes away from them. Actual diamonds? Really? He bought that for me?
When our gazes meet, mine is blurry with contained tears. “You bought me diamonds?”
“You deserve nothing less, princess. One day, I’ll buy you a whole necklace of them. A diamond fountain, or whatever it’s called.”
“It’s Riviera, not fountain,” I giggle.
Careful not to drop it, I take out one earring and work on putting it on.
I’m not used to wearing those because the ones I own are old and I don’t like them anymore.
So, I struggle a little to find the hole.
Jackson notices and comes forward to help me.
I stare at him so close as he carefully puts it on, then we do the second one.
“So?” I ask, tucking my loose hair behind my ears so he can see them.
“You look beautiful, Evie.”
“You think so?”
I was being playful, but he looks very serious when he says, “Yes. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, Evangeline. I feel so lucky, every single day, to have met you that night at the liquor store.”
Just like that, I’m emotional again, my eyes filling up with tears of happiness. “I’m lucky, too, Jax. The luckiest girl in the world.”
We move together to kiss again, and soon enough, we’re making out just as we were before, half lying on the backseat, while our hands explore each other. When he lets go of my lips to kiss a path down my neck, I stare at the roof above us, panting.
I brought a gift, too. The idea has been in the back of my mind for months, and I impulsively decided earlier today that tonight would be the night. Now that it’s time, though, I’m not as sure …
“Jax?” I softly call.
“Yes, princess?”
He doesn’t look up, busy laying pecks all over my chest—what the modest cleavage reveals, at least.
“I also have a gift for you,” I say with a trembling voice, then swallow hard.
This time, his mismatched irises meet mine. “You do?”
“Yes, I—”
Jittery, I bring two fingers under my bra and pull out the little packet I slipped in there before he came to pick me up. I snuck into my mom’s room to steal it and quickly hid it there, worried she’d find it otherwise.
Jackson stares at the silvery condom packet, jaw loose, expression confused. “Are you—are you sure?”
I nod.
“I’m okay to wait more, Evie.”
“I’m not. I really, really want to do it.”
He takes the condom and looks at it for a moment before his focus is on me again. “Are you sure we have time?”
Per usual, I’m supposed to be home by midnight, but my mom won’t notice if he brings me back later. She’s always passed out on the couch anyway, with a half-empty bottle of J?germeister on the floor by her side. She never sees me come home, so we definitely have time for this.
“Yes, we’re good.”
“It will hurt, you know?”
Again, I nod. I don’t have anything to compare him to, but I’ve heard other girls talk about their boyfriends’ size.
That’s why I’m pretty sure Jackson is much bigger than average, which isn’t optimal for a first time.
But I can’t imagine doing it with anyone other than him, so whatever it takes, I’ll willingly endure it.
To prove to him I’m ready, I tug at the straps of my dress along with my bra and push them down my arms, revealing my breasts.
He’s seen them a few times before, so I’m not as shy as I used to be.
Still, when his eyes lower, transfixed, I can’t help the warmth of embarrassment that has my face reddening.
“I want to do it with you, Jax. Tonight.”
He hesitates, or holds back, for only three more seconds before passionately returning his lips to mine.
We kiss with an entirely new purpose, and his hands play with my bare chest, fingers toying with the perky tips. When he pulls away, he looks as horny as I feel, eyes dark with want and need.
“Do you want me to go down on you first?”
I didn’t think my face could get any redder, but I feel it warm up as I offer him a shy nod.
Jax doesn’t need to be told twice, and his eager mouth begins a slow descent down my body, kissing between the swells of my breasts, then over the cotton of my dress.
We left the door at our feet open, and he slowly lets himself slip out until he’s leveled with my white panties.
A shiver courses through me when he slips his fingers under the elastic band at my hips.
From his lower vantage point, he stares up at me, asking me a silent question, waiting for one more confirmation. Instead of nodding, I raise my hips, inviting him to take them off. My gaze is on the roof as he does, my breathing already messy and ragged.
This is it. After one entire year of dating, we’re finally doing it. And yes, I’m a little scared, but I’m also very excited. I can’t think of a single person I’d rather be doing it with. And I don’t think I’ll ever want it with anyone else but him.
I’m the one who got lucky that night, when he and his friends robbed the liquor store.
Where else would I have found such love?
“Are you sure you have everything you need?” I ask one more time, still staring at the picture on the fridge.
I barely hear what my mom answers, focused on the two kids in that old Polaroid snap.
The colors have faded, but I can still make out every detail.
We look so young. Jax doesn’t have those sharp features quite yet, but they’re there, hiding under his youthful face.
And me … I look so innocent and naive in that white dress that didn’t fit right.
“You two were so adorable together,” my mom says, appearing next to me. “A shame it didn’t work out. For a moment there, I really thought it would.”
“So did I.”
She opens the fridge, which rips me away from the nostalgic sight. After she’s taken out a carton of milk, she asks, “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?”
“No, I told Nathan I’d be home early. We received the cake tasting samples, and we have to try them out quickly.”
“I see. Next time.”
“Maybe,” I answer with a smile.
I try to visit her once a month. We go grocery shopping, I help her put everything away, then we hang out for the day before I return to my reality.
As soon as I graduated early at seventeen, Jax and I moved to Indiana together.
There were better racing opportunities, and I couldn’t wait to get out of that trailer.
I didn’t go no contact with my mom, but I limited it as much as possible.
When I moved back into the area five years ago, though, I quickly realized she was trying to change, to become a better person, to quit drinking.
So, even though she was never the best mom to my sister and me, I decided to help her as much as I could.
I moved her out of that trailer and into a proper house.
Well, it’s a poorly built thing with a concrete front yard and a patch of dead lawn in the back, but it’s still better than what I grew up in.
She paid the same rent she used to, and I paid for the rest.
Then, since her license was revoked years ago, I drove her to AA meetings and acted as her substitute sponsor whenever hers wasn’t picking up. I didn’t mind the twenty-minute drive to Florence twice a week. Not if it meant she would get better.
She’s been sober for nearly four years now, and she has maintained a job for the past three years—her personal record.
She’s even able to pay her full rent by herself, and she’s working on getting her license back.
Of course, she still has her issues, but she’s doing better than I have ever seen her.
“Okay, I should go,” I decide. “I’ll let you know what the landlord says about the leaky roof.”
“Thank you, baby.”
She gives me a tight hug, and once she lets go, she returns to the fridge and takes the picture from under its magnet.
“Do you want to have it?” she offers. “I found it the other day while I was sorting through some boxes. I didn’t want to throw it away, but I didn’t know where else to put it.”
I hesitate, looking at the two kids on it. It feels like a lifetime has passed since that day. And maybe it has. It happened almost half of my life ago, after all.
“Sure,” I decide, unsure where I’ll put it. I take the picture and slip it into my back pocket.
Reasonably, I can’t feel it in there. It’s too light and too thin. But I swear, the whole time I walk to my car, sit in it, and drive away, I can sense the picture, as if warm against my butt cheek.
Seeing Jackson again has caused so many old feelings and memories to resurface. I’ve been struggling to sort through everything and keep a clear head about it. I still remember what it used to be like to be so young and in love, and it’s messing with my head.