I’d normally say no. If anyone else had asked I’d just walk away from them in silent rejection. I’m tempted to turn her down.
But the look in her eyes draws me in. Since I communicate with body language instead of words I pay more attention to people’s eyes and faces than anything else. And her eyes have a plea in them, desperation I wouldn’t have expected in someone so sure of herself all the time.
The spell she casts on me takes instant effect and I nod.
Lead the way.
Mara grabs my hand and pulls me toward a side door that leads into the hallway. She clasps my hand with our palms locked, thumbs intertwined as she picks up her pace to a speed walk toward the bathrooms but stops outside and sinks to the floor against the wall. The weightless fabric of her dress fans around her like a magical blue pool of water. I just stare at her with my hands tucked in my pants pockets for a second.
“Are you afraid I have cooties?” She teases, then pats the space beside her. Reluctantly, I sit on the floor that looks like it hasn’t been swept in a week.I’m kind of surprised she’d let a dress that costs a car payment touch the dirty floor, she’ll have stray hairs and food crumbs stuck to the back of her dress when she stands.
Of course, if she needs someone to brush it off I’ll happily oblige.
“You look nice, by the way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything besides jeans and a t-shirt. Although, you pull those off pretty well too.” Mara angles her head a little more toward me but I keep staring ahead. “I’m a little surprised you haven’t dated anyone, or hooked up with someone. You’re a good looking guy. I’m sure there’s gotta be some girl who isn’t concerned about talking because what she has in mind doesn’t require words.”
She’d be wrong. Her boyfriend made damn sure people saw me as a pariah and no one wanted to get too close. He’s made life hell. I don’t know if my school life would’ve been easier without his torment and bullying, and I never will. No one wants to go near the Mute or risk social suicide by associating with me.
So why does she?
I’ll never admit it, but I’ve never kissed a girl, never had sex, none of it. And it never bothered me until now. I don’t know why but I care what she thinks. And although I don’t care what her boyfriend thinks, I care about how this stunning creature beside me views me. I can’t help but think she isn’t as mean or distant as the person she is around her peers. But she’s a great actress.
Before I register what’s happening, I feel soft lips on my cheekbone and a gentle hand on my jaw holding me in place as she kisses my cheek. Her touch is warm, a fire ignites where her lips meet my skin and travels to my belly where it cools with nerves.
Why did she do that? Whywouldshe do that?
We’ve barely interacted in the twelve years we’ve been in school together. Our parents aren’t friends. We don’t have any mutual friends. Sure I’ve noticed her from afar, who wouldn’t? She’s beautiful. Her personality is captivating. But that’s it. So why is she initiating communication now?
The second she pulls away I turn my head quickly to make out what justhappened in her eyes. I see hesitation, I see nerves, I see fear of rejection. Does she really think I’d be upset? I’m not upset, I’m fucking confused, but I’m not upset.
Actually, it was nice. Her touch sparked a chemical reaction like a base and an acid mixing to create something new. I’m not foolish enough to think anything likeshe was made for me, or some bullshit. But I can’t help the gnawing in my gut that tells me I want more.
I want more.
Turning my torso to mirror her angle, I take her hand in mine and run my thumb over the lines of her palm, tracing what others think can determine their future, define their lives. And I understand for a split second why they might feel that way. It’s not my lines that mean anything, it’s hers. Her pulse in my hand, her skin beneath mine. Such a light touch and it feels so heavy.
I’m not the kind to romanticize the meaningless, but part of me sees the sweet karma in my bully’s girlfriend being my first kiss. How I’d like to run my hands and lips over the same skin he thought he’d claimed.
“It’s a good thing you never dated anyone,” she validates my choices. “It’s easier to outgrow this town when you’re not tied to it. Bryce is…a dick. But at least he’s not a long term commitment kind of guy otherwise I might never be able to leave.”Leave?“I don’t want to be stuck here forever and pick up right where my parents left off. I don’t want their life. I want to see more of the world. I want something more meaningful than just another cog in the system.”
That I do understand. I have no desire to live in a big, busy city with people who can’t function without validation from others. But I don’t want to stay in town either. I want a life of my choosing, designed by me for me. One that simplifies what others strive for. Stability. Purpose. Happiness. I think people assume they can only find that when they feel special or unique. I disagree. I think it can be found when we humble ourselves back to our roots.
But my line of thinking isn’t for everyone.
Mara looks at the bathroom door beside us then back at me. “Come on,” she says with a sly grin that brightens the world. Rising to her feet, shedoesn’t let go of my hand, just takes me along with her until I’m standing over her as she pushes into the men’s bathroom.
It’s empty. I go to lock the door but she stops me, “What? Are you afraid I’ll escape?” I catch the meaning behind her words.Don’t cage me in.Okay, I won’t give the impression she’s trapped, but if someone interrupts us, I’m not stopping.
I press her back to the wall by walking her back, chest to chest, hands still locked. Leaning my forehead against hers, I inhale her lavender scent like I’m hotboxing a car, taking every intoxicating fume into my core.
She slides her hands up my chest to the first button that closes my shirt. She unhooks it and continues her way down until my shirt is open in front but hanging on my shoulders.
I wrap my still covered arms around her waist to her back to feel for the zipper to her dress. Much to my frustration, I find a long row of tiny buttons.Great.
But she claps my forearms before I can get to work. “Wait,” there’s panic in her voice, a little fear.Is this her first time too?“I’m…I’m not ready yet. You first?” It’s not a demand but the nervousness in her voice makes me think she’d be more comfortable if she’s not the first one to get naked.
I don’t really want to be the only one naked either, but if someone has to go first, might as well be the gentleman.
Although a men’s bathroom isn’t really ideal. If things were different, I’d have taken her to my lake on the mountain and laid a bunch of blankets in the bed of my truck. I hear girls like things like that, but I also like the idea of the seclusion, just her and I and no interference. Forget the world around us and the past and fall into the relief of our bodies.
