We surface around the same time, our hair p
lastered to our heads. Coughing, I reach up to fix my soggy bun, which is pulling at my scalp with its heavy weight.
“
You ass!” I splash at him.
Johnny splashes me back, and it starts a huge war. We chase each other around the pool
, and it’s almost like old times. Old times? We did this at his house a week and a half ago. Time passes by strangely when you’re newly single.
We end up calling a truce after he launches me in the air, and I try to drown him in retaliation. We hang on to the edge of the pool, catching our breath.
The sound of the water gently lapping against the filter kind of makes me have to pee, but not enough to get out and go to the bathroom.
“So, were you, like, reading from a manual on the ten most cheesiest ways to get your girlfr
iend back?” I ask after a comfortable silence.
Johnny is idly treading water next to me. “
Sure,” he says with a smirk. “I checked it out of the library, from the ‘dickhead’ section.”
I laugh, clinging to the lip of the pool. “A really popular section, I’ve heard.”
“Yeah, lots of picture books for those of us who can’t read.” He jerks his head, flipping his wet hair out of his eyes. “Seriously, though, that would have been less embarrassing than what I really did—which was watch a bunch of those eighties movies you love for inspiration.”
I stare at him. “You didn’t.”
He grins. “I did, and you got off lucky. You know, I could’ve put on a leotard and started dancing for my life.”
It’s my turn to smirk. “Oh, my god, that would’ve been epic.”
“Quit picturing it.”
“I can’t. It’s so good.”
Johnny shakes his head. “I should have. At least it would have made you laugh.”
He props his forearms up on the edge of the pool, and I notice him g
rimace slightly at the movement, his right shoulder held stiffly.
I frown at him. “Did you hurt your shoulder again?”
“Nah, it’s fine.” He tries to play it off. “I dislocated it even before the game, screwing around with Jase and Ryan. I popped it back into place—it’s just a little stiff is all.”
“Well, it keeps happening, so I bet you’ll need to have surgery on it. Why didn’t you sit Friday out?”
Johnny snorts. “Yeah, right. Coach is already pissed at me for missing practice. And for breaking his nose. He’s not gonna let me ride on anything.”
“W
ell you need to get it taken care of,” I say sternly, giving him my most serious look. “I know how much it’s been hurting you.”
“It’s fine.”
“But—”
“It’s
fine
, Juliet,” he snaps, annoyed.
My first is response it to punch him really hard in the shoulder, and shout, “Is it
fine
now? Is it?!”
God, what is wrong with me?
Johnny mistakes my disturbed expression for silent anger. He sighs, and touches my arm. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I…I’m just in a shitty mood.”
I study the tightness around his eyes and mouth. “What’s up?”
“Ah, my dad knocked up his girlfriend. He’s been calling Mom, trying to sweet talk her into loaning him money—if you can believe that. What a piece of shit.” Johnny glances at me, bright blue eyes blazing. “What kind of douche bag asks his ex-wife for money to help support the ho he cheated on her with? And you wanna know what’s worse? She’s considering giving it to him.”
He’s shaking his he
ad in disgust. I bite my lip. “She’s probably just thinking of the baby—your little brother or sister.”
“I feel sorry for it already.” His voice is bitter, his eyes full of dark violence. “
He’s not gonna lay a finger on him or her—I can promise you that much. He’s been trying to talk to me lately, you know. Now that he knows I’ve been scouted—and I might actually make something of myself—he thinks he can get in good with me. Like I’ll forget what he did to us.”
Johnny is a million miles away, lost in remembered pain. I rest my che
ek on the rough concrete, studying him. It took a while for him to open up to me about his daddy issues, but I eventually got him to talk about some of the mental and physical abuse he and his mom endured at the hands of his father. It makes me sick, and so sad for him because he can’t deal with it, he kinda just lets all that resentment eat at his insides.
I’m not a psychiatrist—heck, I’m not even that considerate. I don’t have the rights words to say to him—all I can do is get pissed on his beha
lf. Too bad any asshole with a good sperm count can be a father. They should make you have to take a test, and get certified to become a parent.
“So, I have this method,”
I begin hesisitantly. “For dealing with bad memories. I, uh, used to do it a lot when I was a kid, but not so much anymore. It’s kind of…really weird.”
Johnny turns his head, eyebrows raised. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Okay, you know Darren Frazer—the actor? Remember his character from the ‘Bam Sucka’ movies you like so much?” He nods. “Okay, well…picture him in your mind—the way his eyes kinda bulge when he’s glaring. His high-pitched nasally voice. Now, any bad news you’ve ever received—anything mean that anyone’s ever said to you—imagine it in his voice. It makes the bad go away.”
“What?”
He chuckles, confused. “Teeny, I don’t even know…”
“No, trust me.”
I face him, holding on to the edge of the pool with just one hand. “Okay, pretend I’m your father.”
I clear my throat again, preparing to launch into my best
Darren Frazer as Detective Lorenzo Ironwad impersonation—and it’s pretty damn good. I’ve practiced.
“Johnny!” I screech. “Get yo
useless ass over here! I tole you to pick up those toys, boy—don’t make me come over there, and beat the shit outta you! Where yo momma at? Tell her to get her lazy ass in the kitchen and cook me some ‘chiladas!”
Johnny just stares at me for an incredulous minute. Just when I think he’s going to hit me for being so stupid, he burst out laughing instead. He laughs so hard, he almost drowns.
“What the hell?” he sputters through his howls. “That’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard in my life! I can’t—holy shit…”
I wait for him to calm down. It takes a while. Every time it seems like he’s tapering off, he starts cracking up again—until finally, he’s resting his head on the crook of his left arm, looking utterly drained.
“Oh, shit,” he murmurs weakly. “That was so bad. Do it again.”
“I can’t.” I shrink down in the water
self-consciously. “You didn’t think that was good? I spent a lot of time practicing it in the mirror.”
“Teeny, you looked and sounded like a crazy
cockatoo. That was epic. Best therapy ever.”
“Oh…
” I shake my head. “Look, Johnny, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make light of what you and your mom went through. It was horrible—I know it was. I…I don’t know. I know you can’t erase those memories, but maybe—maybe this will give them less power so you can live with them.”
Johnny suddenly grins at me, fierce and beautiful. “
Darren Frazer. That’s probably the worst damn advice anyone could give me, but…oh, my god, I can’t stop hearing his voice in my head.” He starts laughing again.
“I know! That’s what my subconscious sounds like now. You know how I get that weird look on my face when I’m trying to make an important decision? It’s ‘cause
Darren Frazer’s telling me ‘uh-uh, girl—don’t do it!’”
“Oh, damn, now I’m gonna hear that voice whenever Coach yells at me.” Johnny rubs a hand over his face, then looks over at me. “How come I’ve never seen this side of you before?”
I sink to my chin in the water. “I’ve kept it carefully hidden from you. I didn’t want to creep you out.”
“Are you kidding? Everything you do is
precious to me.” He moves closer, touching my cheek and looking intently into my eyes. “I miss you, Teeny.”
His skin against mine causes a raging surge of lust to blow through my system. I’m paralyzed by the strength of it
. Wow, my hormones miss you, too, Johnny.
I can only hope he mistakes my sudden shivering as the result of being in the pool for over an hour. Oh, god, I shouldn’t hold his gaze like that. And I should definitely not let him come so close to me that his chest is brushing up against mine
, and I can smell the light scent of the soap he uses. My body
sings
for him.
I start to speak—but Johnny ducks his head and brings his mouth over mine, effectively shutting me up. His tongue tangles
with mine, and I fall apart. I wind my arms and legs around his body, leaving it up to him to keep us afloat, because at this point, I don’t care. I’ll drown us both before I stop kissing him.
I don’t see stars and hearts, and I don’t have any pretty words to describe what I’m feeling right now as we cling together, devouring each other with our mouths and hands. All I can see are writhing bodies
, and all I can feel is his mouth on me, and his hard body moving against mine.
Oh, god, the way he moves…
“Juliet,” Johnny whispers, trailing kisses down my neck.
“No,” I say, pulling away with my common sense. The rest of me…it stays wrapped around him. “Not here.”
Quick as a flash, Johnny is out of the pool, and hauling my water-logged body out as if I weigh nothing. He picks me up before I can protest, and carries me to what looks to be an adorable little cottage around the other side of the lawn. He manages to open the door with his hands full of me, carries me over the threshold, and shuts the door behind us.
I am only vaguely aware of my surroundings. It’s furnished—that’s all I can tell you. I wiggle in Johnny’s arms, and he gets the hint to put me on my feet.
I shiver, crossing my arms over my chest. “What are you doing, Johnny? We’re half-dressed, and dripping wet…”
He places a hand on my hip, pulls me closer. “
We could be totally undressed, and dripping wet,” he murmurs. He bends down to kiss me again.
I force the image into my head: the laundr
y room, Johnny, the moaning chick…wait, why is it turning me on? I have a strong desire to press my body against his, and prove I’m hotter than Laundry Room Girl—that I can get him just as worked up. Anger and desire fight inside of me, entwining, building into something I don’t recognize and am powerless to fight against.
Johnny’s hand glides over my back, playing with the tie of my bikini top. I
try to push away from him, my breath coming in short pants as though I’ve been running for a while.
“I’m still mad a
t you.” I speak in a weak wobbly voice that makes me want to slap my own face.
“I can make you forgive me,” he says huskily, letting me squirm again
st him.
“Johnny, just let me go.”
“Please, let me do this.” His tone turns pleading as he crushes me against him. He inhales sharply, lowering his head to speak softly in my ear. “I know I screwed up all those other apologies—let me do something for you I know I won’t screw up. I can make you feel good. No strings attached, I swear.”
I close my eyes against his persuading words. “That would be a bad idea.”
“It’s not, I promise you. Please, Juliet. God, you’re so beautiful. Just…come here.”
He grabs my hand and tugs me towards the open bedroom. I don’t even offer any resistance.
I don’t have any left.
The room is dark, the shades drawn over the windows. There is a queen size bed covered by a very flowery comforter.
That’s all I see before Johnny starts backing me towards that bed.
He unties my top, and I let him. He lies me back down on the bed, and I let him. I want him. I want him to
make me feel good, wanted, less lonely. I understand that I can’t turn off my attraction to him in spite of our problems—but oh, how I wish I could turn off my brain. As good as it feels—it feels so bad, too. I wish I was strong enough to not need this, him.
I kiss him back just as desperately as he’s kissing me. My hands are restless. They tangle in his soft s
haggy hair, glide over the muscles in his back, and around to his chest, held inches above me.
Electric blue eyes bore into mine. Johnny supports his weight with one hand braced against the bed. The other hand is trailing down my stomach…lower, lower
…
I
grasp his wrist and pull his hand out of my bikini bottom. I have to wriggle out from under him before I can sit up, snatching a pillow from the bed to hold in front of me in a belated show of modesty.
“What’s wrong?” Johnny asks, propping himself up on an elbow, and gazing at me through half-lidded eyes.
I clutch the pillow to my chest, and try to catch my breath. “I can’t,” I mutter, staring down at a loose thread on the comforter.