He never turns around. With his back to me, he says, “I thought you weren’t going to come. I thought you were blowing me off,” his voice different than before, deeper.
“I know. I’m so sorry. I tried to get out like an hour ago, but my mom—”
He doesn’t let me get the rest out. “Your fucking mom,” he sneers, sending another rock soaring out over the lake, and though it vanishes in the darkness, I hear the sound as it bounces on the surface. Once, twice, three times. He turns slowly to me. I can’t see his expression as he says, “I’ll kill her if she ever tries keeping you from me,” though I don’t think twice about it because it’s just something people say.
I’ll kill you if you tell anyone what happened...
I’ll kill you if you lose my favorite shirt...
It’s not meant to be taken seriously. It doesn’t mean anything.
“I’m so sorry, Daniel,” I say to him, my words coming fast, worrying that he isn’t into me anymore, that he doesn’t like me because of this. “I wanted to come sooner. I tried. I promise it won’t happen again. Are you mad?” I ask, my teeth biting down on my lower lip, tears building in my eyes.
Daniel’s voice loses its edge. “I could never be mad at you. I told you before, Reese. I’d stay out here all night if I had to. Anything to see you. Come here,” he says, and I don’t even hesitate. I cross the grass, going to him.
His eyes, when I reach him, are intense. He looks at me and I feel weak in the knees. He’s never looked at me this way before. I hold in a breath as he takes me by the hand. He leads me into the woods and there, in the trees, he turns me around to face him. He says nothing at first as he slides a hand under my shirt with an ease and efficiency to it that tells me he’s done this before, that he’s felt up other girls before. The look in his eye changes, no longer cold, but something else, something that makes me both lightheaded and hyperaware of my own skin.
His thumb moves across my chest like a match, lighting me on fire.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, my breath hitching as he slowly slips his hand out from under my shirt, pressing it between my legs, making me gasp. “To be with me?” I nod, short of breath, imagining it as heat fills my face.
Him and me together. No one telling me what I can and cannot do.
“Is that okay?” he asks, watching me from above, his eyes dreamy in the sky’s faint glow. I bob my head, my words and breath lacking. “I can stop if you want,” he says, but I shake my head and breathe out no because I don’t want him to stop.
His hand moves inside my shorts and then he leans in, says into my ear, “Take your shorts off.” His breath is warm againstmy skin. I don’t hesitate or even think about what I’m doing or what’s going to happen when my shorts are off, but instead I undo the button and slide the zipper, I latch my thumbs into the waistband of my jean shorts and shimmy them down over my hips and thighs, stepping out of one leg so the other lies wrapped around an ankle, exhaling, my eyes sinking closed as he touches me in a way no guy has ever done before.
Heat floods me. It fills my legs, my chest, my face as I stand, wanting more than anything to be transported, to be carried away, to not overthink, and yet I’m in my head too much, wondering if I’m doing this right, if I look stupid.
“You’re so hot,” he says then, as if hearing my thoughts, and I open my eyes, see him watching me in the moonlight, a rapt smile on his perfect lips, making me believe it, making my self-consciousness disappear in a puff of smoke. Poof! I am hot. I stare back, becoming less inhibited now, wanting this, wanting him like I’ve never wanted anything in my whole life. I reach for him, touch him outside his clothes, our eyes locked, a silent conversation happening between them, his breath quickening, becoming harmonious with mine.
“Do you wanna?” he asks, breathy, excited, and I nod without reserve, my heart feeling like it’s going to explode out of my chest as he steps out of his jeans like they’re on fire and we lower ourselves to the cold, hard dirt, and I tell myself to remember everything about this moment. The way he lifts my shirt over my head, watching, enrapt, as my hair falls around my shoulders. The way he sweeps my hair gently back, taking me in, his eyes feasting on me, saying it again, how I’m so hot, how I’m so fucking sexy, making me believe it. The way he presses into me, laying me gently down on my back, asking if I’m okay and if I’m comfortable. The way he parts my legs with his knee, lowering himself between my thighs, spreading them wide. The way he kisses me first, slowing the pace, touchinghis lips tenderly, unhurriedly to mine until I lose myself in his kiss, in him, thinking how perfect this night is, all alone in the woods, watching the moonlight as it comes and goes from behind the clouds, flickering through the trees, dousing us in a soft warm white light, and thinking how I couldn’t have dreamed up a better scenario for my first time if I tried, because this is magic, the stuff of fairy tales.
He pulls his lips from mine, propping himself above me so he can see my face. He asks again, “Are you sure? You can say no if you want.”
But I say yes, arching my back, lifting my hips to him because I’ve waited my whole life for this, and I’m sure.
“I’m sure,” I breathe, letting my head sink back against the earth, pressing my eyes closed, holding my breath and bracing myself, overcome with a mix of nervous anticipation and desire, waiting for it to happen, wanting it to happen despite knowing it’s going to hurt, because Skylar told me it would, though she also said,Promise it will be worth it.“I’m sure,” I say again when nothing happens, and then, when still nothing happens, I open my eyes and gaze up, seeing him suspended above me like a statue.
“Did you hear something?” he whispers, every part of him completely still, staring deep out into the woods, searching the darkness.
“Hear what?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Just something.”
I hold my breath. We listen. And then I hear it too. And my heart stops. All the sensations I was feeling just a moment ago are gone, dried up, evaporated, replaced by a fear that spreads to every cell in my body.
There’s movement in the trees, something substantial, more than a bird or a breeze.
He springs from me, reaching for his jeans, stepping into them while I grope blindly on the dirt, the scant moonlight slipping behind a cloud, not enough for me to find my missing clothes.
The sound gets closer, more definitive. Something’s there.
Or someone is there.
Courtney
My vision is blurred. Spots dance before my eyes, which have become accustomed to the dimness of the house, making them more sensitive to the light that pours in the open door all of a sudden.
