It was psychological hell, and Jake didn’t know what to do.
Enter: Patrice. The ultimate Mother Bear.
“Who is that girl?” she demanded, while Tina strolled along North Beach Road. “Did you give her a ride? You’ve barely got your license. You shouldn’t pick up strange girls.”
“She’s not a strange girl.” Jake refused to talk about it with Patrice.
No problem. His mother called up the school and talked to the teachers, counselors and principal. Then she phoned the Phillips and they packed up and moved back to California.
Jake thought that would be the end of it, but his first conquest still called him from California three nights out of seven and started saying things like she would commit suicide if he didn’t love her. Patrice grabbed the phone and warned Tina that she would institute legal action if she didn’t stop harassing her son.
Embarrassment. Humiliation. That one night of lovemaking became the talk of the school because Patrice made no secret of the fact that her son was desperately wanted by the feminine gender. It was some kind of badge of honor for her, like having him be the captain of the football team or pitcher on the baseball team.
But worse was the fact that Jake was glad Patrice had stepped in. It sure as hell made things easier. Tina finally stopped calling. He’d wondered about her over the years and found, to his astonishment, that his mother knew all about her. She’d made it her business. To date, Tina had married twice, borne a child by each husband, and was currently fighting an alcohol problem.
Obsession. He swore to himself he would be more careful in the future. And when one night he discovered one of the most outrageous, on-the-edge senior girls in his bedroom, he nearly froze with inner panic. It was all he could do to maintain his cool and pretend the reason he wasn’t interested in a little recreational sex was because Mom and Dad were right downstairs.
When Jake complained about the girls, his friend Ryan spoke plainly. “You’ve got it all, buddy. Money, looks and athletics. My dad always said it’d be a problem someday.”
“Yeah, some problem,” Matt Hudson snorted. “Oh, J.J.,” he said in a falsetto, clasping his hands and batting his eyes. “You must do me right now or I’ll kill myself!” And he and Ryan both howled with laughter and envy.
Jake gave up confiding in them, but the situation nearly scared him off girls entirely. He spent most of his time hanging out with Caroline and her wholesome friends. He grew to appreciate Caroline in a way he hadn’t before, and he became aware that her fondness for him was blossoming into romance and better yet, sexual desire. But his previous experience had made him cautious. Fooling around with Caroline would be prime disaster.
Wasn’t there any girl who just wanted a good time, no strings attached?
He was pondering that very issue in biology class one afternoon and when the bell rang he was so turned on he could scarcely think. His flock of admirers waited outside the door but they just made him feel tired and frustrated. Any one of them could be another Tina Phillips.
He wanted something else, something fresh and exciting. Something to think about while he lay on his bed at night. Something to look forward to every morning and let his thoughts touch on throughout the day.
His group walked with him down the hall, chattering like magpies and grabbing his arm and letterman’s jacket, generally being a royal pain in the butt. Briefly he flirted with the idea of taking one of them to bed, but no, that was disaster in the making. He couldn’t just blow them off, however; it wasn’t in his nature. So, he put up with their attention.
And then he saw Sherry Sterling by her locker.
Every time he noticed her, he’d been subjected to a frigidity that could have ended global warming for all time. She clearly hated him. And she’d come out of her shy cocoon to zing him with some sharp remarks that had left him feeling confused and angry and certain he was missing something. This time was no different. She made some remark about the way he spoke.
What the hell was her problem, anyway? He turned to stare at her in surprise. This was the first time she’d dared to challenge him overtly. His admirers glared at her and made rude remarks, but she kept packing up her bags with unhurried regality and suddenly he wanted to crack that icy façade once and for all.
Before he had time to think, he was in front of her, crowding her space, and although a hundred comments flashed through his mind he said only, “My dad and I are going to Pullman tomorrow to a Cougars game.”
In fascination he watched the flush creep up her slim neck and burn her face. She wouldn’t look at him, however, so he stayed where he was, waiting, secretly glad this moment of confrontation had arrived. He’d been longing for it, he realized then. Biding his time. Hoping for an opportunity.
The other girls faded from the site as if they’d magically disappeared. He saw no one but Sherry. Her head was dipped down, her eyes focused with studied concentration on the pile of books she’d stuffed into her bag. Eventually she half turned, lifting those clear, vulnerable eyes to meet his gaze.
He couldn’t remember the rest of the conversation. He accused her of always making snide remarks, or something, but all he saw and felt was her — those eyes, that slightly freckled nose, that lustrous skin.
For an instant they connected. He felt it viscerally, breathlessly. It startled him but he managed to keep it hidden. At least he hoped he did, but then she slammed her locker and tried to leave but the stitching on her bag gave way and books flew everywhere.
Automatically he bent to help her, his arm brushing hers. It felt like the proverbial electric current and he barely had time to marvel at this when she jerked away, nearly over balancing herself. He reached out and grabbed her arm.
It seemed so perfect. He wanted her like none other and now he was holding her and, well, his own youthful cockiness rose to his rescue. He was, after all, J.J. Beckett, and heretofore women were as available as the air he breathed. Smiling, he simply waited for her to recognize that they had something here — chemistry or Karma or just plain old sexual energy. He forgot all his reservations about getting too involved with a girl. He
would
sleep with her.
But Sherry Sterling didn’t respond like he’d imagined. Her eyes narrowed as she slowly and deliberately pulled her arm free. For an awkward moment he expected her to say something, but she merely hung onto her bag and waited for him to leave.
“I’ll try to work on my vocab,” he told her. She didn’t respond, so he was forced to return to his groupies who were waiting in the wings. Confounded, he refused to look back, although it killed him to walk down the hall without her.
Months passed, the end of sophomore year came, then summer, then football season once again. Junior year and he was with Caroline. He’d gotten over that weird thing with Sherry Sterling, or so he told himself, and although his antennae seemed to twitch whenever she was around, he made a pact with himself to stop thinking lustful thoughts about her. He’d been a kid last year. Stupid and eager and somehow attracted to this girl who wasn’t even in his league. Besides, all he wanted was sex, wasn’t it? No strings attached. Sherry Sterling possessed a killer body and time had only added to its desirability.
Enclosed in this self-protective fog, Jake wandered around clueless for weeks, certain he knew how he felt. But slowly he realized that he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Sherry Sterling’s various attributes. Other guys slid her surreptitious looks, only now she was sliding them right back.
What had once been Jake’s secret passion was suddenly everyone’s newest craze: Sherry Sterling, Super-Hot Babe. He heard her name on his friends’ lips. They spoke of her in terms of body parts: eyes, legs, breasts, butt. They repeated clever things she’d said to them — not the cold remark she’d tossed
his
way, but the nice words and compliments that made his friends’ eyes glaze over when they were recounted and enjoyed anew.
Even Ryan was particularly smitten. He babbled on and on about her. About how he hoped she would take a job at Bernie’s Pizza. About how he was working on it. About how smokin’ hot she was.
Jake could scarcely stand it. Time and time again he felt a passionate rage lick through him when some guy mentioned Sherry. Ryan was bad enough, but other guys weren’t as nice about it. Once Jake nearly picked a fight with Tim Delaney, the team’s wide receiver, for making a crude remark about what he would do to Sherry Sterling when he got her into bed. Bets were placed on when that would be.
Jake ground his teeth and reminded himself that it was just guy talk and he didn’t give a damn about any of it.
Homecoming came and Jake threw a dozen passes into Tim’s waiting hands. They were an awesome team on the field, making mincemeat of the opponent and showing up the lazy seniors who were big on bragging but small on talent. Off the field Jake and Tim couldn’t stand each other, however; a battle that had begun long before Sherry Sterling.
Still, for that night they slapped palms like old friends and grinned deliriously at their success. It was great to be on top. To be the best of the best. To be J.J. Beckett, all–star quarterback.
He went to the homecoming dance warm with satisfaction. People paid court to him, and he ate it up. But somewhere during the evening he realized he felt vaguely dissatisfied. Checking around inside himself, he couldn’t come up with an answer to his problem. Here he was with blonde, popular Caroline Newsmith on his arm, his buddies, Ryan Delmont and Matt Hudson, hanging nearby, and Tim Delaney, his worst rival, a friend for tonight at least, as they basked in their shared triumph.
It should have been perfect.
“Hey,” Caroline whispered, reading his mood. “You were awesome out there.”
“Yeah?” He tried to pay attention. She smelled good, her hair shining gold beneath the colored lights. Inhaling deeply, he wondered with a certain amount of alarm why she didn’t stir his blood. Maybe it was a good thing. Sexual involvement with Caroline would be a major problem. She just wasn’t that kind of girl.
But why not? Why not feel just a little healthy lust?
“I’m hoarse from cheering,” Caroline continued, resting her head on his shoulder. “Did you hear us? Annie and I were screaming at the top of our lungs and some older people told us to quiet down. We didn’t, of course,” she added, though she looked scandalized. This was the height of true rebellion for Caroline.
Jake dragged her closer until the contours of her body melted into his. Inside, his own rebellion seemed to be heating up, burning like molten steel. He hadn’t slept with a girl since Tina, and he was beginning to feel angry and frustrated.
He thought,
I want a bad girl…
Caroline squirmed at the pressure, but she tried not to let him know. Instantly he eased up, mad at himself. Just as instantly she relaxed against him again, peering up at him sideways, searching his expression.
“You want to leave?” he asked abruptly.
“I’d kind of like to stay.” Her brows knit in confusion. She was totally at sea about his feelings and that bugged Jake, too.
“I’m over this. I gotta get going.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I can drop you off, or somebody’ll take you home.”
She looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “I can catch a ride with Annie,” she responded frostily, and although Jake should have felt remorse, he was too anxious to feel much of anything but relief.
He drove for hours, the car window down so that the bite of fall air cleared his head, the radio up so that music throbbed and deafened. He circled Oceantides in erratic loops, passing by all the hangouts, consumed with an urgency that was almost violent. For the first time in his life he wanted to drink and fight and indulge in meaningless sex and damn the consequences. He yearned for relief from this nameless demon that rode him.
What the hell was the matter with him?
With a screech of tires he pulled into a viewing spot at the end of Mariner Lane, at the edge of the beach. Tearing off his letterman’s jacket, shoes and socks, he tromped down to the ocean and let the water numb his feet and ankles. Flinging himself into the surf nearly stopped his heart; the water was glacial. Dragging in a choked breath, he didn’t back down. He was on some nameless, self–destructive mission, like lemmings throwing themselves into the sea and he couldn’t help himself.
He bobbed aimlessly, sometimes floating like a dead man, eyes open to a black, cold sky; sometimes swimming against the tide until his arms felt like lead weights and his breath rasped in his throat.
He was so cold by the time he fought his way back to the beach he could scarcely stand. His own foolishness finally penetrated his dull brain, and he marveled that he could have tempted fate this far. Was he trying to kill himself? No. Was he stupid enough to put his life at risk because he felt frustrated and disconnected an unhappy? Yes, apparently.
At the car he couldn’t get the key into the lock. His fingers were yellow–white with cold and his whole body shivered uncontrollably as if it were in its last death throes. He couldn’t move his lips even to swear; his jaw was frozen half–open. Unable to perform this one tiny task that would save him from freezing, he wondered if he would actually die of exposure outside his BMW, keys in his hands.
At first he didn’t feel her presence; he was way too immersed in more physical problems. But suddenly she was there, her coat flapping against her legs, her hair lifted by the wind and moving seductively against her shoulders like sea foam. He stared at her like the village idiot, unable to move, speak or think.
“You went swimming,” she observed. “Probably not the choice I would have made on a night like tonight.”
His teeth chattered in response. The keys rattled in his palsied hand.
Sherry hesitated for the length of one heartbeat, her brows drawn together in alarm and understanding. Extracting the keys, she made short work of the lock but when Jake couldn’t climb inside, she put her arm around his waist and half hoisted him onto the seat.