Authors: Lauren Smith
Why did I have to fall for this emotionally unavailable guy? What does
that say about me? I’m not attracted to Eric because he needs to be fixed, but
I’d be lying if I said the bad boy persona wasn’t thrilling. He’s an all or
nothing kinda guy, which is what attracted me to him in the first place—well,
that and those clear sky eyes—but it’s also why he won’t commit to me. He can’t
give me his all.
“Why do we keep doing this to ourselves? You and me, we fit. We’ve been
into each other for years, and we’ve been burying our feelings and coming up
with excuse after excuse not to act on them. First it’s my age, then it’s poor
timing, then it’s casual flings, or fear of intimacy, fear of dependency, blah
blah blah. It never ends. How long are we going to stay on the merry-go-round?
Because it never seems to stop spinning and I’m not sure how much longer I can
hold on.” I catch my breath and finish off my final thought. “I don’t
understand why I’m not worth a fair shot.”
His response nearly crushes me.
“Because I meant it when I said you weren't like any other girl.”
Wow.
What a way to throw that back in my face.
“You know we’re not ready. You deserve more,” he says, studying my
reaction.
“You can’t say for certain we wouldn’t last.”
“And you can’t guarantee we will,” he counters.
“I’ll never be able to guarantee anything. Life doesn’t work that way.
But at least I’m willing to fight for the people who matter most to me. I’m
scared too, you know, but I don’t let my fear cripple me.”
I don’t know why I’m arguing the issue. He isn’t saying anything untrue.
The timing isn’t right. Until he learns to open up, we’re always going to be a
recipe for disaster. But it feels so final, so permanent. He’s taking the
option away without my consent. All that does is make me want it more.
I have no idea how much times passes before he speaks again.
“It’ll happen for us one day, Rave. I promise.”
Part of me resents him for thinking he’s the one who gets to call all the
shots in this relationship. I’m not implying I should have all the control, but
neither should he. He’s delusional if he thinks I’m going to sit on the
sidelines and wait while he partakes in all the action.
“What does this mean for us? And where do we go from here?”
He shrugs. “We do what we’ve always done.”
“Pretend?”
“No,” he frowns. “We be there for each other no matter what.”
Or in other words, pretend. What a colossal waste of my time. I’m
swearing off guys for the rest of eternity. If this is even a fraction of how
it would feel to be in a real, no holds barred relationship, I have no desire to
be in one. We’ve run around in circles, only to end up right back where we
started. At this point I’d rather deny myself what I want outright. Anything to
avoid hanging around in lovey-dovey limbo for one more second.
Abruptly, he stands and offers his hand.
“Come.”
I look up at him, confused. “Where are we going?”
“For a swim.”
I check the clock on his microwave. It’s already past eleven.
“Now?”
He nods and sticks his hand further out, prompting me.
“But I don’t have a swim suit.”
“You don’t need one.”
“I am
not
skinny dipping with you.”
He grins and lets his heated gaze appraise my body. “As fun as that would
be, who said anything about skinny dipping?”
I glance down at the dress I’m wearing. “You want me to swim in this?”
He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“Cut that out. You don’t get to be all flirty if you’re not going to
follow it up with something long-term. Stop sending mixed signals.”
“Fair enough. Let’s go.”
I place my hand in his and let him lead me outside to the pool. The
temperature’s perfect for a midnight swim—comfortable, and not too humid.
Crickets and katydids sound off in the night. A trail of glowing lights help
pave the way to the pool.
When we reach the chaise lounges, I remove my heels and jewelry, and
claim a spot. Eric slips his tee over his head and tosses it onto the chair
next to mine. He deftly unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his legs. I
focus my attention on the water in front of me. It’s calming. When I turn
around to face him again, I try to ignore the fact that he’s standing before me
in a pair of navy boxer briefs.
So much for the calm factor.
He digs
through his jean pockets and pulls out a Zippo and a joint.
My eyes widen. “Eric, what are you doing?”
“Relax. No one’s out here.”
“Where’d you get that?”
“I bummed one from Levi’s party.”
I’m not oblivious to the fact that he smokes occasionally, but he’s never
brought it around me. I honestly don’t know how to feel about it. Half of me is
curious to find out what all the hype is about, and the other half is filled
with a nagging paranoia. He studies my reaction and slips the joint behind his
ear, his lips curving into a sly grin.
“Sometimes I forget how innocent you are.”
I look down and feel my cheeks heat. I hate being perceived as a
goody-goody. I want to be fun and carefree, not uptight and self-righteous.
There’s got to be a happy medium, right? It’s not like anyone’s ever died from
smoking pot. And I’m a firm believer in trying something at least once. As long
as you’re not hurting anybody, what’s the big deal?
The sound of Eric’s voice cuts through my dilemma. “If it makes you
uncomfortable, I’ll hold off until later.”
I shake my head and flip my hair over my shoulder. “No, it’s fine. Can I
try?”
“If you want to.”
He throws his jeans on the chaise longue and beckons me over.
My legs move until I’m standing two feet in front of him. He retrieves
the joint from behind his ear and rests it between his lips. He flicks the
Zippo until a burning flame sparks to life and leans forward to light the tip.
I glance around and quadruple-check to make sure no one’s watching us. He takes
a hefty drag, holds his breath for a few beats, and flips the cap shut. He
turns to blow the smoke away from my face.
He passes me the joint. I examine it carefully. “How do I do this?”
“It’s simple. Take a hit and hold it as long as you can.”
Sounds simple enough.
I look into his eyes and slip the joint between my lips. Timidly, I
inhale. A deep burn spreads through my chest. Feels like my lungs are
incinerating. I hold it for all of two seconds before I’m coughing profusely.
He chuckles and snatches the joint from my fingers. “If you’re coughing
on your first time, you’re doing it right.”
I grip my chest. “How can anyone enjoy that?”
“You get used to it. Just wait until the effects set in.”
My mouth tastes like moldy ass. I don’t know which is worse, the taste or
the smell. He takes a second hit and offers me another drag. I accept. Might as
well reap the benefits and make it worth the experience.
I inhale and pass it off. “How much do I have to smoke in order to get
high?”
“Since it’s only your first time, a couple hits will be plenty.”
“Thank God.”
He laughs and finishes off the joint in a matter of minutes. I mosey over
to the edge of the pool and dip my toes in the water, secretly thanking my
lucky stars that I wore a red dress tonight instead of a white one.
“So I was thinking—”
My sentence is cut off when Eric barrels into me from behind and
catapults us belly-first into the pool. Cool water revitalizes every inch of
me, temporarily washing away all my troubles. I’m weightless and free. My dark
hair billows around me and my dress clings like a second skin.
I break the surface and suck in a deep breath. Before I can rip Eric a
new one, he submerges himself, grabs my legs, and yanks me back under. I try to
fight him off but he spreads my thighs apart and pulls me toward him until
they’re wrapped around his torso. He plants his hands firmly on the small of my
back and brings us both up for air.
“What did I say about the flirting? Do you not pay attention to anything
I say to you anymore?”
“Not really,” he responds.
I know it’ll hurt so much more in the long run, but I can’t make myself
stop wanting this. I love our close proximity and the feel of his hands on me.
I love the way he’s looking at me—like he can’t make himself stop, either. It’s
addictive and maddening.
He reaches up and uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away the mascara
streaks under my eyes. I mentally chastise myself for not applying the
waterproof kind.
“Have you decided what you’re going to major in once college starts?”
I shake my head. “I want to pursue fashion, but it’s not practical. I’m
thinking business for starters, then design school. I’ll need to know the
business side of things anyway, so I may as well put myself through that. Once
that’s behind me, I can focus on what I really love.”
“Just promise me you won’t give up on your passion. I don’t want society
polluting your mind. You’ve wanted to design for so long.”
“I won’t. It’s important to understand the ins and outs of starting my
own line. I want to learn every aspect from top to bottom. Hopefully it’ll pay
off in the end.”
“It will,” he assures me. “You’re one of the brightest people I know and
you have an amazing eye for detail. No doubt you’ll be successful in whatever
you do.”
A slow smile spreads across my face. “You’re the best confidence booster,
you know that?”
“Ditto,” he says, then kisses me on the lips without warning.
My heart swells. I stop him. “No kissing allowed! Do I have to spell it
out for you?”
He laughs. His hands squeeze me tighter, making me feel even more
exceptional. On a crude note, I’m certain he can feel me nipping out.
Whatever, he loves it.
I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happens, but somewhere along the way,
time lapses. It feels like we have forever and a day to experience this moment.
I lean forward and kiss him this time, despite all my reservations. This time
it’s gradual. We forget about everything and focus solely on getting lost in
each other. Our tongues collide, sending shivers up my spine. His lips are
slick and smooth, moving effortlessly with mine. My fingers tangle in his wet
hair. He grips my backside and presses me closer. A low moan rips through my
throat.
I know we’re prolonging the inevitable, but for a brief moment I’m able
to pretend like I’m not expecting anything more. I allow the illusion to
manifest and carry me through. What if I never feel this way about anyone else?
What if nobody understands me like him? I don’t believe in soul mates, but I do
know there’s only one Eric.
Conflicted, I break the kiss and rest my forehead against his, listening
to the sound of our ragged breaths.
“Now who’s sending mixed signals?” he asks, humor gleaming in his eyes.
Instead of answering him, I fall back into a floating position with my
legs still secured around his waist. I spread my arms out and stare up at the
starry night sky.
I unhook my legs from his torso and crouch down to blow bubbles on the
surface of the water. Reminds me of being a kid and blowing bubbles in my
chocolate milk. Eric splashes me in the face, causing a serious case of the
giggles.
I hold onto the edge of the pool and try to catch my breath. “I think I’m
high.”
Both his brows shoot up. “Ya think?”
“I feel weird.”
“Good weird, or bad weird?”
“Different weird.”
“Excellent clarification.”
“I know, right?”
We spend the next several hours swimming, philosophizing about nothing,
gorging on peanut butter pancakes, watching hilarious YouTube videos, and
listening to Alanis Morissette on repeat. Eric begged for a different band
choice, but I vetoed his request. He wouldn’t stop flirting. The score had to
be settled somehow. Around 3:00 a.m. we crash on his couch. Walking all they
way to his bedroom seemed like too much work. I’ve never slept so well.
* * *
All in all, it was a fantastic start
to the summer. We made unforgettable memories and conquered milestones
together. We kept our complicated situation under wraps, stealing forbidden
kisses when no one was looking. We thrived on the secrecy at first, but the
more we messed around, the harder it became to fool ourselves into thinking we
could make it out unscathed.
Still, Eric wouldn’t budge when it came to crossing that boundary, which
I took to mean we were going ultra slow. I thought if given enough time, he’d
eventually commit. Imagine my surprise when he landed his first official
girlfriend (not me) by the time autumn rolled around. Devastation doesn’t even
begin to cover how I felt.