Authors: Anna Cruise
Aidan offered me another. I shook my head.
“Lightweight,” he teased. He opened it himself and took a drink.
I felt myself relax. My stomach was heavy, like I'd just swallowed a bowling ball, but I felt lighter than I had in ages. I tried to remember the sinking depression that had threatened to drown me only an hour earlier, but it had disappeared. I smiled for no reason, a wide grin that stretched across my face.
Aidan leaned close to me. “Are you
drunk?
”
“
I don't know,” I stage-whispered back, stifling a giggle.
He grinned at me then and I noticed
—really noticed—how gorgeous he was. I picked at my nails so I wouldn't be tempted to reach out and touch his thick, white-blond hair. I looked away from his blue eyes so I wouldn't be caught staring at him like some love-sick puppy. I couldn't believe I was sitting with Aidan Westwood. Not just sitting with him. Drinking a beer with him, hanging out.
“
Shit.” He swore under his breath.
I did look up then. “What?”
“Cops. On the stairs.” He rummaged in his shorts pocket and pressed something into my hand. “Chew this and swallow. And follow my lead. Got it?”
I nodded. With shaking hands, I unwrapped the piece of gum and brought it to my mouth. I bit my cheek twice as I chewed it. Two flashlights bobbed across the darkened beach, drawing closer. I watched the people I was sitting with. I overheard snippets of conversation and noisy shouts of laughter. Maybe no one else knew the cops were closing in. Or maybe they didn't care.
The flames from the fire cast flickering shadows, blurring the faces of the men who bore down on us. One was heavier, stuffed into his uniform, and the other was tall and thin. Younger, I thought.
“
Looks like you've got yourselves a party.” The stern voice remained anonymous behind the glaring beam of light. The tall one scanned our faces and the sand, lingering on the empty cans surrounding us.
“
Whose are these?”
A couple people spoke up
—no one I knew—offering various responses. IDs were produced and inspected by both officers.
The flashlight blinded me once again. “You. How old are you?”
My voice squeaked as I spoke. “Fifteen.”
“
It's past curfew. Your folks know where you are?”
Aidan spoke. “She's with me. She's my sister.” He fished out his own wallet and handed over his license.
“Sister?” The light moved to Aidan and the younger cop studied him. In the dimmed light, his face was suddenly visible and he didn't look much older than the people I was sitting with. The light bobbed from Aidan's almost-white head to my dirty blond ponytail. “Right.”
Aidan's voice was calm, steady. “Our folks are out of town. Dad didn't want her home alone. Boyfriend situation, if you know what I mean. So I'm stuck with her tonight.” He offered a believable sigh of frustration.
The cop turned his steely gaze on me. “Is that the truth?”
I couldn't look at him and lie. I focused on the sand instead. “Yes.”
“Look at me,” he commanded and I raised my eyes. “Is this your brother?”
I stared past the flashlight, into his eyes, and willed myself to say the word again. “Yes.”
“You have ID?” he asked me.
I shook my head, hoping that would be the last question he had for me.
But he wasn't done. “Have you been drinking? Any of these yours?” He shone the light on the empty cans.
Aidan's leg pressed into mine. “No,” I said.
It was the cop's turn to sigh. “Get her home,” he instructed Aidan. “Now.”
“
Yes, sir.”
A couple people reached into the cooler and poured out the contents of the remaining beer cans. Seemingly satisfied, the two officers left.
I sat ramrod straight until the flashlights disappeared down the beach. They weaved up and down as they made their way over to the only other bonfire. Once I was sure they were gone, that they weren't coming back for me, I sagged against Aidan, limp with relief.
“
What a buzz kill,” he muttered. “God, I hate cops.” He straightened me then, his hands on my shoulders. “You did good.”
I didn't think lying to a police officer was something to be proud of but I didn't say this. Instead, I just stared at him, directly into his frank, assessing eyes.
His voice dropped. “You sure are cute when you're scared.”
“
I am?”
His slow, easy grin made my heart beat a little faster. “Uh-huh. I kind of get this overwhelming urge to protect you.”
I didn't feel protected at all with him. “Protect me? How?”
“
I was hoping you'd ask.” He bent closer and kissed me, a soft kiss that tasted of beer and cigarettes.
I didn't care. I kissed him back. He slid his hands from my shoulders to my face, cupping my cheeks as his lips moved against mine, forcing my mouth open.
“...going in for the kill...”
“
Get a room.”
Aidan pulled back. “Shut up,” he said good-naturedly to his friends. To me, he said, “Come on.”
I was still reeling from his kiss. It wasn't my first. Kevin Dawson had relieved me of that stigma the summer before my freshman year. He was Jada's cousin, blond and gangly, visiting from Texas. I'd spent days anticipating it. Unfortunately, it sucked. Being kissed by him had felt like being attacked by a St. Bernard. I'd pushed him away, wiped the drool from my face and decided never to kiss him again.
Aidan's kiss was different
—heated, expert, thorough. I couldn't think about anything else.
Aidan nudged me. “Come on,” he repeated.
“Where are we going?”
“
I'm taking you home,” he said. “I promised. Remember?”
He held out his hand and helped me up. He didn't let go, not as we walked across the sand and back up the stairs to the boardwalk, and not as he led me to his black Volkswagen bug, an ancient car whose engine sputtered to life under the greatest of protest.
“You didn't need a ride,” he said as he pulled up in front of my house two minutes later. He shifted the car into neutral and let it idle.
“
I know. I told you, I could have walked.”
“
Right,” he said, a smile on his face. “But then we wouldn't have been able to do this.”
He reached for me and, before I could think or respond, he kissed me, his lips open, his tongue touching mine. I closed my eyes and everything fell away
—everything except the feel of his lips, hot and urgent, and the taste of his tongue, that foreign cocktail of smoke and beer.
My arms slid around his neck, drawing him closer just as he slid his hands under my shirt, his fingers trailing lightly along my ribs, inching higher to cover my breasts, caressing them through the lacy fabric of my bra. I shrank back but he laughed against my mouth and pulled me to him.
“You are so sweet,” he whispered as his hands sought me out again.
This time, his fingers slipped under my bra and this time, I didn't shirk away. I let him kiss me and touch me, reveling in the feel of his lips and hands. And, moments later, when one of his hands trailed gently down my stomach, whispering down my leg and back up again, gliding along my inner thigh, pulling my underwear just off-center, I didn't stop him.
“Touch me,” he urged, guiding my hand to his crotch. His fingers moved inside of me. “God, I want you.”
It took a minute to register what he was doing, what was happening. I reached for his hand and stopped him, this time for good.
“I need to go,” I said, squirming away from him.
His breathing was heavy, labored. “Now? You're leaving now? But –?”
“My mom.” I tried to catch my breath, to swallow down the heat that radiated inside, that threatened to take on a life of its own. “She's probably waiting up for me.”
There was nothing further from the truth but I had to get away. I was afraid of what might happen if I stayed, of what I would let him do to me.
“Megan.” His voice was raw, his expression harsh. “You're really gonna leave me like this?”
I hesitated before nodding. “I have to...I have to go.”
He shifted his hands to the steering wheel and gripped it hard. “OK, good girl.” His breathing had evened out. “Next weekend, then. Can I see you next weekend?”
“
I don't know.” I just wanted to get away. Home, despite the misery housed there, seemed awfully appealing at the moment. Safe.
“
I'll find you,” he said as I stepped on to the sidewalk. “Monday. I'm not letting you off that easy.”
I didn't say anything, just hopped out of the car and slammed the door shut. I raced up the steps and into my house and let the darkness envelop me. I closed the door and sank against it, sliding down to the floor. What the hell had I just done?
I cradled my knees, holding them tight to my chest, and sat still for a moment. The tile floor was cool and my skin puckered with goosebumps. I rubbed at them, trying to warm myself before standing up and making my way down the hall to my room. I paused, glancing at the closed door a few steps away. My mother's room. Dark. Silent. What was she doing in there? Did she wonder about me—did she think about me at all? I didn't think so—she was too wrapped up in herself, too consumed by her own sadness and despair to be concerned with mine.
I sprawled across my bed and closed my eyes. The images from my evening played like a movie in my mind. I had gotten drunk for the first time, lied
—not once, but twice—to a police officer, and gone to third base with a guy I barely knew. I grabbed my pillow and covered my face with it, willing it to snuff out the images, hoping it would smother all of the reasons why I had just done the things I'd done.
FIVE
Aidan kept his promise and cornered me at lunch on Monday. I was making my way to the bench I usually sat at with Jada when I saw him. His eyes focused on me and I felt the butterflies rise up in my stomach as he sauntered toward me. I gripped my lunch bag with one hand and pulled on the bottom of my shirt with the other as he moved closer. My hand drifted to my hair and, of its own accord, raked through the tangles, fluffing out the back.
“Hey, good girl.”
Stripped of his vices from the weekend, he looked innocent, his blond hair and blue eyes painting an almost cherubic image. My stomach did a little somersault.
“Hi.”
I was only steps away from Jada, far enough so that I couldn't sit down but close enough so she could hear everything. She watched us, a bewildered expression clouding her face. I hadn't mentioned how I'd spent the remainder of my Friday evening.
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “So. I want to see you again. This weekend.”
I studied a crack in the pavement.
“Megan.” His voice was soft, pleading. “Please? Go out with me.”
I looked up then, at his tousled hair and smiling face. I thought of the last moments we'd spent together on Friday night and I swallowed back the butterflies that tickled the back of my throat. He rocked back and forth on his heels while he waited for me to respond.
“I don't know,” I faltered.
“
I'll be good,” he promised. “A date this time. A real date. Please?”
I didn't answer right away. Friday night had definitely not been a date. I wondered what his idea of a date would be, especially after what a simple ride home had morphed into.
“Megan,” he lowered his voice. “I
really
like you. There's something about you...” He smiled again and I felt my resolve fading. “You're just so...good. Sweet.
I
feel good when I'm with you. Please?”
I sighed. “Where to?” I couldn't believe I was actually considering it.
He thought for a minute. “Scotty's having a party this Friday. His birthday. We could go there.”
A party. Music, food, lots of people. I could handle a party, I thought. It certainly beat staying home.
I bit my lip. “I'll think about it.”
“
I'm just going to keep asking you,” he warned. “Wear you down. I'll call you. Ask you every day at school. Say yes now and get it over with.”
I smiled.
He grinned, too. “We'll have the best time. I promise.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Tell me your number.”
I hesitated for only a second before giving it to him.
“Sweet,” he said as he punched it in.
I felt my phone vibrate but I didn't reach for it. I knew who was calling me.
“Now you have my number, too,” he said.
I nodded. “OK.”
He looked at me for a moment longer, then turned in Jada's direction. She was still staring at us and he waved. “Looks like we have an audience. Better go tell your friend all about it.”
Jada's eyes were huge as I approached the bench. “What was
that
about?”