I raise a brow, “You guess?Huh?” My hand finds the small of her back, and I pull her towards me, her body flush against mine. Just as the song changes to the one our parents like to dance to. Slowly, our body moves. Three steps to the side.Three steps back. We dance to the rhythm of bachata. Her chest flushes against me, and I breathe her in—the smell of cinnamon engulfs me. It’s a shame, really, cruel if I were to say the truth. To love someone so much only to be forced to stay away, I let out a sigh when she suddenly stops. Her hand rests between my pecs, my heart is hammering beneath it.
Can she feel the song my heart has made for her?
I shouldn’t do this… I shouldn’t tempt her with fire, knowing damn well we will get burnt. Tonight, I will risk it all for just a taste of her, my forbidden fruit… my beautiful sunflower. Tonight, I will claim her before she leaves for college and starts a life where I’m not part of it. A life separate from me, away from Woodstock.
“Let’s ditch this place,” I whisper, my lips brushing hers. She melts into me as if she also wants this, as if she’s been waiting for me to make the first move. Her head replaces her hand on my chest, and my lungs seize. Holding my breath, I take in the moment. Maybe tomorrow we’ll regret this, but between the beers, the joint I completely forgot about, and the magnetic pull between us, right now, I couldn’t care less.
I can hardly hear the music anymore or see the faces of our friends in the dim light of the barbecue, or care if our parents or anyone else sees us like this. My chin rests on the top of her head, smelling the rich scent of her shampoo. All restraints we have both put in place suddenly disappear, dissipating into the warm summer air.
“Take me with you,” she whispers, her voice shaky, and when she looks up at me through her curly lashes, it takes everything I have to resist the urge to crush her to me. Pulling away, I place the joint once again between my lips and light it up.
“Let’s go, Trouble,” I say, grabbing her hand and sneaking away from the barbecue and into my Camaro.
The engine roars to life, a beast that vibrates beneath us, swallowing the music from inside the house. “Best Friend” by 50 Cent blares from the radio. I watch asshe slips into the passenger side, throwing her long waves over her shoulder. The dark strands merge into a shade of blue at the ends. She smiles and plucks the joint from my lips, taking a long drag, the orange glow of the ember mirroring the sparks in her eyes.
Her deep inhale makes her cough harshly, smoke curling out of her lips as she passes it back to me, our fingers brushing for a moment longer than necessary, an electric zap that sends my skin tingling with anticipation. “Rookie lungs,” I tease.
“Fuck off,” She retorts through a fit of coughing. I can’t help but steal another glance at her before putting the car in gear and pulling away from the curb, leaving the house and its revelry behind.
She raps to the lyrics of the song, her voice carefree and filled with a joy that is electric. One of the very reasons it was so easy to fall for her and remain in the spot years later. If anything, that tender love grew to overwhelming admiration. The joint is passed back once more, the ritual now a familiar dance between us.
I roll down the windows to let out more smoke, and she throws her head back, letting her wild waves dance with the wind. We drive down the old, worn-out roads of Woodstock, houses becoming fewer and farther between as we venture out into the wilderness. The stars seem to get brighter as the city lights fade away in our rearview mirror.
“Where are we going?” she asks, her voice barely audible above the wind and the music.
“Somewhere,” I reply with a grin, having the perfect destination in mind. I’ve taken her here a couple of times before, so I’m shocked that she’s not recognizing the way to our spot. My foot presses a little harder on the accelerator, sending us deeper into the night.
“Hold on,” I say before dropping the clutch, hitting the gas, and drifting us around a sharp bend. The tires screech and the car’s tail fishtails on the road, but I keep control, steering us smoothly onto an old dirt road that cuts through the dense pine forest. She squeals with delight, gripping the door handle as we bounce along the uneven terrain. “Seriously, where are we going?”
I shrug, repeating over the music. “Somewhere, duh.”
We continue on this roller-coaster ride, climbing higher and higher, leaving the world behind us, and as if she couldn’t already tell, I glance over at her and finally answer when I see the look of defeat on her beautiful face. “We’re going to the top… Our spot.”
She laughs into her hand. “Wow. I must be high as fuck that I couldn’t tell.”
“I guess so.”
The tires crunch on the loose rocks, the trees parting briefly to reveal a steep, uphill trail. The engine growls in response, biting into the road with its raw power as we ascend. The music changes to Mac Miller’s “Cinderella.”
I turn up the song. Serenading her once again. Like I’ve done many times before. My song for her. It’s like Mac wrote this song with us in mind. I continue to rap along to the lyrics, watching her beautiful face light up with the moon as she laughs. Shaking her head in disbelief at my audacious performance. Call me corny any day as long as I’m the only one to put that smile on her gorgeous face. I pull into our secluded spot, the mountain overview of the city, placing the car in park. The moment is as if time stood still for just the two of us.
Chapter Four
Veronica
“I’m gonna miss you.” Iz pauses the music, tilting his head so he can look at my eyes. I try not to squirm in my seat. I feel the sadness in his gaze. All I can do is offer him a small smile. As butterflies take flight deep in my stomach, along with the heat that runs through my blood.
“Me too,” I whisper.
He nods once before resuming the music and focusing on the city lights that glow. Illuminated the space around us. I swallow hard, the lump forming in my throat doesn’t budge. I don’t think he knows why I chose tonight out of all the nights to break up with Tommy. Or why I asked him to take me with him. I didn’t only want to escape the party to hide and smoke some weed. I wanted him. For one night, I wanted to live my truth. There’s a need I have to get off my chest, this longing that’s been slowly poisoning me. All boiling down to this very moment.
My breathing becomes shallow, and the music is drowned out by the sound of my heart. My gaze lingers on Iz as he continues to rap the song “Cinderella.” Would I really go through with it, with giving him my virginity before I leave for Florence State? My heart beats erratically, and the butterflies in my stomach are tied in knots. Not in a bad way, but Isaac is experienced, and well, I’m not so much.
The only experience I have with a penis is a hand job, and with the opposite sex. Well, kissing. Tommy used to say I was a blue ball’s worst nightmare. The thing is, I never really had the urge to take it there with him. Now, with Isaac, things are different. I want him in a way that causes warmth in my core to gather. Climbingto a place I can’t reach, wetness pools in my panties, and he hasn’t even touched me. The anticipation has me shuddering where I sit. I shake away the hesitation that quickly surfaces like an unwanted ex, reminding myself I met him first, even if our parents fell in love and forced this on us.
We both know why we are here, what I want from him. What I so desperately need from him. The only thing I can offer him, the only thing I can give him, is his and only his, like my heart. It feels right.
Yes. This feels right.
