Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory story) (20 page)

Bobby, Mathew, and I hung together the rest of the week. We found ways to break off from the group and not be too obvious. We would go to whoever’s condo was empty. Sometimes we got beer, sometimes not. Mathew was inconsistent with his attention and affection, and it made me crazy. It made me crazy because I wanted it so bad.

Chapter
24

“So you guys are killing it this season
.”

I
was lying on his bedroom floor, talking about his football season. Mathew was sitting on the edge of the bed, strumming and playing his guitar. I watched his fingers move and wished they moved so knowingly on me.

“I guess
. I would rather be killing it with the band,” he said.

             
“So how’s that going?” I asked.

             
He lifted his head and glanced at me smiling.

             
“We came up with our name, 'Kingdom Come'. What do you think?”

             
“Mean anything?” I asked lazily.

             
“It’s our kingdom and it has come.”

             
“Come how?” I asked.

             
“For the band, I guess. Coming together, our time, or something like that.”

“I like it
. So, what about that football?” I teased.

             
I knew he played mainly to please his dad; he wasn’t passionate about the game.

             
“You know, Morgan, you can be such a bitch.”

             
“Same back at you. Or should I just say
asshole
?” I said.

I curled myself in an S position on the floor and flipped my hair
out, fanning it across the carpet. He watched me and couldn’t help but smile. Since the ski trip, when we were alone, the teasing and touching had intensified—bolder on both our parts, and hotter. Mathew would kiss me randomly. At times tender; at times with a passion that would send shivers down my spine. It would always be intense. I would feel his tongue probing into my mouth, and the physical attraction between the two of us was undeniable. Our hands would roam over and under clothing.

The fear of a parent entering Mathew’s room at the wrong moment kept the clothes mainly intact
. I didn’t say
no
to him, ever. I’d flip-flopped back to wanting to be more to him. I thought if I let him get his way he would come to understand he did have feelings for me. He was especially affectionate when he got high, so I drank or smoked pot whenever he scored.

I loved the way he kissed me
. When he did, I ignored everything else: the girls, the current girlfriend, the reality of how confusing our relationship was. My body had absolutely no trouble responding to him. It was my mind that objected.

“Mathew
, what are we? I mean our relationship,” I asked, still lying on the floor.

             
I knew he hated it when I asked about his feelings. He wasn’t particularly good at expressing them except physically.

             
“We’re friends.”

             
“I assume you’re aware that most friends don’t kiss their friends like you kiss me?” I said absently.

             
“Plus,” he said.

             
“Plus friends?” I asked.

             
When he didn’t respond, I knew it wasn’t worth pursuing. It would only hurt my feelings. I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it back. He watched me as I stood up.

             
“What are you doing?” he asked.

             
“Leaving.”

             
He set his guitar on the bed and reached for me.

             
“Get,” I said, pulling away.

             
“Morgan,” he groaned as he caught my upper arm and pulled me to him.

             
He knew I was frustrated. My usual response when I couldn’t stand it anymore was flight, and I turned my face away from him. He put his fingers on my cheek and tried to turn me to him. I turned the other way. I kept trying to escape looking at him, turning to one side and then the other, until we both started to laugh.

             
“Mathew, really, don’t. You know you hurt me sometimes,” I blurted out.

“
Really?” he asked, leaning into me.

I felt his lips on mine
before he pulled back briefly.

             
“Hurt you? How?” he asked, kissing me softly.

             
He was being tender, slowly pulling me back in. I was so weak when it came to him, I knew it. He knew it. I let him kiss me. His hand slipped under my shirt, and he unhooked my bra with one hand. He put his hand over one breast and then the other. He was gentle. I pulled back and stared at him. His eyes were so intense, it made me feel embarrassed.

My lips felt full
, and I wanted to kiss him again, but he just held my gaze. He had both hands up my shirt now. I closed my eyes.
Why did I let him?
I could feel the tears coming, the tightening in my throat. I concentrated on holding everything back, breathing hard. I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. When he finally pulled me close to him again, he laid us down on the bed and kissed me passionately. He cupped my ass, pressing me to him. When he stopped, I opened my eyes. The tears, despite my efforts, came.

“I hate it when girls cry
,” he said softly.

             
“I didn’t mean to.”

             
I slipped my hands under his shirt and let my hands wander down his back to the top of his jeans as I buried my face in his chest. He took one of my hands from under his shirt and placed it on his crotch. I could feel his hardness. Then he took my hand and slid it into his pants. He ran my hand up and down his cock. He’d gotten me to a point I thought I would explode when I heard my mom.

“Morgan?”

              “God damn it,” I said, rolling off the bed.

             
I adjusted my clothes while Mathew straightened out the bed.

             
“Their timing is amazing. How’s my hair?” I whispered, smoothing it down.

“Looks fine,” he said, flipping his head down and back to un-mess his own.

             
I moved over to his desk and sat down. He grabbed his guitar.

“Play something
,” I whispered.

             
He’d plucked a few chords when the door opened, and Ann and my mom stood there. Neither of them seemed the least suspicious, which continued to surprise us. There was never a question about what we did behind his closed door. They assumed we were innocent.

             
“Ready, Morgan?” my mom asked.

             
I knew it was time to go home. I wasn’t happy, her timing or ours, was always so off. Ann and my mom started back down the hall. I looked over at Mathew and sighed.

             
“Survived another close call,” he said grinning.

             
“Too close. If they ever knew anything was going on, we wouldn’t ever be left alone again.”

             
“I know, now go,” he said, waving me out.

             
I stood up from the chair and walked over to the bed. I bent down and kissed him hard, forcing my tongue into his mouth. He kissed me back.

“Next time
, kid,” he said as I moved away.

             
“We’ll see about that,” I said.

             
He smiled. My god, he was beautiful. Looking into his face, I could feel the blood racing crazily in my body. It was so hard to breathe. Again, I was surprised at my attraction. I didn’t think next time would mean anything more than any other. What often shocked me is that I knew there would be a next time despite my feelings, whatever those were on any given day.

I was
still a virgin, and he knew it. He even teased me about it. I didn’t want to be anymore. When I was around him, I felt so sexually charged. I couldn’t get the thought of having sex with him off my mind. I wanted to be his girlfriend in the worst way, but even if I wasn’t, it didn’t matter, given the opportunity I would still sleep with him.

             
Mathew started letting me further into his circle of friends. I got invited to parties and to watch the band practice. It gave me a chance to get to know the guys better. In a way, he treated me like one of the guys, except on those odd occasions. He was comfortable with me hanging around. A couple of guys from school showed interest in me, but I wasn’t open to them. It wasn’t long before a petite blonde named Kim became the flavor of the month for Mathew. He’s physical nature with me became less often, and I missed it.

             
Mathew threw a lot of parties. When Brad and Ann were home, the drugs and alcohol were kept hidden; when they weren’t home, it was everywhere. Pot was old news. The new drugs of choice were acid, mushrooms, and cocaine. I wasn’t that thrilled with pot, so I wasn’t anxious to try any of the new stuff. I knew Mathew had, he’d told me.

             
Whenever I was around him, it was hard for me not to think about us. I could look at him and feel his touch. Gayle said I was obsessed. In a way she was right. I hated watching him with Kim. She didn’t like me much either. When I was around, she steered Mathew clear of me. Mathew had explained to her that our parents were friends, and that we’d been friends a long time. She made it clear she didn’t care.

             
“Fuck her,” I said to Gayle.

             
“She can try, but she won’t keep us apart. Our parents get together all the time,” I said.

             
Her being bothered made me want to be around him more.

             
“She’s another temporary annoyance,” Gayle said.

“You’re right
, they never last too long,” I said.

School was out, and Mathew invited Gayle and me to a pool party. Brad and Ann were out of town, and he was watching Sam and Sara. That being said, I knew there would be crazy partying going on. The band was supposed to play. I told him we would come. Gayle and I decided we would walk to his house. We had our bathing suits on under our shorts. I carried a beach bag with my towel and warmer clothes.

             
“So how are Mathew and Kim?” Gayle asked, knowing it was not a good subject with me.

              “Fine if he plays her way. She’s a clingy shit. They fight a lot,” I said.

             
“He tell you that?”

             
“Unfortunately yes, I try not to talk to him much about his current fling; doesn’t stop him from talking, though.”

             
“What do you talk about then?” Gayle asked.

             
“We talk about the band, music. We talk about friends, school, getting high, lots of things.”

             
“Sex?”

             
“Of course, that always comes up,” I said.

             
“Is that what you want from him?”

             
“So bad it hurts at times,” I answered.

             
“Morgan, if it gets that hot between the two of you, why doesn’t he want to date you?”

             
“Maybe he’s afraid,” I said.

“Shut up
. Afraid of what?”

The sun was hot on us as we walked along the sidewalk.
A bird chirped loudly, but I couldn’t find it.

             
“That I would go away like the rest of them; how should I know.”

             
“Does he still play music for you?” Gayle asked.

             
“Of course, it’s what he does. I ask him to play, especially when conversations get sideways. He’s so focused then, and I love to watch that.”

             
“What does he play?” she asked.

“
Whatever he feels like, sometimes what I ask for him to play. Not love songs for me if that’s what you’re getting at. You want to know what’s going on with us right now? Ain’t happening.”

             
“No kissing even?”

             
“Not very often, and, man, I miss that part.”

“Why isn’t he?” s
he asked.

             
“Kim,” I said, “duh.”

             
“Girlfriends haven’t necessarily stopped him before. You’ve been kinda tight-lipped about Mathew lately.”

             
“Gayle,” I said in exasperation, “there’s nothing to tell. Besides, I know how you feel about it. I pine over him, and it drives you nuts. I know I shouldn’t always be there for him, but I can’t seem to help it. I want him.”