Better Late Than Never Page 9

  “And not here with you? Did you guys break up?” I ask, folding my arms across my middle as a sort of shield.

  Some shield…

  “We, uh, didn’t,” he barely pushes out, his eyes unfocused. He runs a hand through his hair, seemingly frustrated. “Do you want to talk about her, or do you want to dance?”

  “I want to kick you in the balls,” I respond sweetly.

  This gains me a twitch of a smile from him and my heart flips at the sight of it. This boy…

  “After we dance,” he says, and pulls me closer to him.

  His hand settles at the small of my back and just as I place my hand in his, fate bursts through the speakers. Both of our eyes clash when the song starts and as the crooner’s voice continues to lilt in our ears, our gaze shifts to our hands.

  I have never noticed it before, but now I see how perfectly my hand fits in his and how well we move together. It’s as if our bodies know we are home.

  We slow dance to two songs, but all I can focus on is the first. If Kyle isn’t mine, then why does my heart say that he is?

  Kyle and I step outside for some much-needed fresh air. We saw the stares and heard the whispers but could hardly care less. We tend not to care about others when it’s just us.

  We walk in comfortable silence until we are out on the baseball field, his domain. I smile, thinking of his last game and how good he was.

  “What’re you smilin’ about?” he asks, bumping into me.

  “Your last game,” I answer. “You were really good. And I saw those scouts checking you out, superstar.”

  He beams at my words but doesn’t say anything in return.

  “So, Henderson State or Duchannes[1] U for the fall?” I inquire, trying to savor this time we have together.

  He sighs and I sense that this subject makes him tense.

  “Talk to me,” I press, bumping into him the same way he did me.

  “Dad wants me to go to Henderson,” he tells me, pausing in thought.

  “But…” I prod.

  Henderson has an excellent baseball program, with most of their students going pro after they have completed their studies; some, even during their tenure. Plus…

  It’s closer.

  “You’ll think I’m dumb,” he confesses. “God knows I’ve heard that enough from Dad.”

  And there it is.

  He and his Dad don’t always see eye to eye on his future and they have gone weeks without so much as a word to each other. The only thing they seem to agree on is baseball, and sometimes, barely even that.

  I stay quiet knowing he will eventually tell me. We end up at the bleacher seats and he helps me climb up in my fancy dress and heels. He doesn’t let go of my hand when we sit down at the top row. Even when he feels my slight shiver, he takes his jacket off and wraps me in it, then takes my hand again.

  It’s just us – Savi and Kyle. Best friends first. Best friends always.

  After seconds of staring into the starry, eternal sky, Kyle bares himself. “I think I wanna go to Duchannes.”

  My whole body tenses and he feels it too. His shoulders sag and he swallows, waiting on my response.

  Tears in my heart, I ask, “Is that what you really want?”

  He sighs. The weight of his internal battle, heavy. “It’s complicated. I’ve always wanted to go to Henderson, but Duchannes just feels like freedom, you know?”

  Freedom away from his Dad.

  “I just…I dunno what to do.”

  He releases my hand then rakes his fingers through his hair. I know there is probably more to this, but tonight isn’t the night for me to explore it like a purple-haired Dora the Explorer.

  “Listen to me,” I say, turning to face him and tilting his face down to me. “Whatever you do…Henderson, Duchannes, go pro, become a Chippendale, whatever.” That earns me a smile. “Kyle, whatever you do, I’m going to be right there with you, cheering you on like some weird not-really-goth-but-kinda cheerleader.”

  He just stares at me with a lopsided grin on his face while I talk. The moon is casting a glow behind him and he looks like something straight out of one of those romance novels my grandma reads while she fans herself.

  I really want to tell him to run away with me and live in the mountains where we only need clothes in the fall and winter, but I keep my mouth closed. A boy can only take so much oddity and no more.

  “All I want is to see you happy, Kyle. If going to Duchannes makes you…”

  I don’t get to finish my statement. His lips are on mine in an instant, hard and bruising, but I take it. I take all that he gives and throw it right back. I pull him closer to me, caution to the wind, and I let him devour me. Kyle and I will always be unfinished business. The rejection of a few days ago dissipates like a thin vapor and all I can think about is our connection; about this very moment.

  The moment he walked into the auditorium tonight, I think we knew this was inevitable. Fight as we may our feelings, the Universe always finds a way to bring us back right here.

  In each other’s arms.

  My lips find his neck and I’m licking and sucking. He cups my breast and squeezes and I moan in the back of my throat. Having him touch me always sets me ablaze. There is just something about when his lips and hands come in contact with my body that makes me lose my mind.

  I climb on top of him, my dress bunching up to reveal my legs, and I start undoing his tie as his lips glide down my neck to my collarbone. His hands slap against my thighs and he lifts me while standing. I squeal, and we both start laughing.

  Wrapping my legs around him, I stare into brown, almost black eyes. I feel his cock through his pants, rigid and ready, and our laughter dies immediately. Kyle lays me on the bench, hovering over me. My breaths come in quick bursts and I can hardly stand when he delays what should have happened so long ago.

  He kisses me softly and then our tongues meet, igniting a fire in us both. His hand finds its way beneath my dress and able fingers trail a hot path up to my underwear.

  Did I wear sexy panties or the granny ones?

  Kyle pulls away from me and stares into my eyes. I want to look away, feeling stripped and beautiful all at the same time, but I can’t. Not when he looks at me like he wants to eat me.

  Yes, please!

  “Don’t close your eyes and don’t you dare fucking look away,” he commands. “I want you to look at me when I make you come.”

  A whimper slips through my lips and my eyes flutter for half a second before finding his and obeying him. Shifting my panties to the side, Kyle runs a finger down the seam of my pussy and smirks at how wet he finds me.

  Our location falls away, and so does any reality that does not have us in it. I am feeling everything, all of him.

  And when he shoves a finger inside of me, I feel pain too.

  I slap a hand over my mouth to quiet the scream of surprise and pain. My best friend, and now lover, pauses mid-stroke and just…stares, dumbstruck. He withdraws his finger slowly and my eyes roll back in my head – it feels so good, but the discomfort still makes me shift slightly. I brace for him entering me once again, but nothing happens.

  Cracking my eyes open one by one, I see him looking at me in bewilderment. I wonder what’s wrong, but then I remember that I failed to tell him one important thing.

  I am still a virgin.

  Though not by choice.

  Bewilderment turns into interest and then determination. I bite my lip because I know what that means.

  He is going to be my first.

  And he knows he’s going to be.

  And he would be, had his phone not gone off right then and there.

  Seriously, Universe?

  I realize his cell phone is in his jacket pocket and I fish it out, glimpsing Becky’s name on his Razr’s screen. It douses everything on fire inside me, extinguishing our moment just like that. Memories slam into me and it’s all I can do not to hate myself for being back in this position.

  Shovi
ng the cell phone into his chest, I push him away and sit upright, disappointed in my damn self. How desperate can I be?

  I hear him curse before answering, “Hey, Becky.”

  I start down the steps, but he grabs on to my hand. I would fall into his arms, just let him do what he wants, but I refuse to be the other woman. And I refuse to share him.

  Shaking out of his hold, I take my time going down the steps in these heels. I don’t look back at him. I don’t, because if I do, I’ll let him stop me again and I will break my promise to not play second fiddle. I will break my promise of not accepting whatever morsel of affection he gives me.

  Because I deserve more than he can give.

  Head held high, I walk back to the dance and into the arms of my best friend’s cousin and arch nemesis. All eyes are on me and I feel my skin crawling with shame and an overwhelming sadness. The whispers are back in earnest: “Wha’d’you think happened?”

  Too much and not enough.

  Grayson sees the tears in my eyes, curses and scrubs a hand down his face, but he doesn’t ask me a question. He knows that the only person who could make me cry is Kyle, and I know if he weren’t caught up in taking me away from here, he would find his cousin and kick his ass.

  There comes a time when you have to walk away from things that continually break and hurt you.

  And I just walked away from my best friend.

  Chapter Eight – What Doesn’t Kill You Will Probably Make You a Whore

  Savi – Present

  BESTIE BOYD SCOFFS and rolls his eyes. “Is he an idiot?” he exclaims, scrubbing a hand down his face. “This story is stressing me the fuck out.”

  Boyd grabs a shot glass, pulls a bottle of aged whiskey from the shelf, opens it, and pours himself two fingers. He knocks it back in one go and I grimace for him. My mouth waters for another shot, but my head tells me to pack it in. Taking a sip of my water, I nod grimly.

  This story really is stressful and depressing.

  “So, was that the end of the friendship?” he asks, belatedly realizing his mistake. “I’m a fucking idiot. Of course it wasn’t the end since we’re here now – you shit-faced and heartbroken and me, handsome and playing damsel in distress.”

  He winks at me and I can’t help it, I giggle. I know very well what he meant, but I feel like fucking with him.

  “Well, you are pretty enough to be a damsel, sugar,” I tease, winking right back at him.

  “Oh, fuck you,” he snaps at me jokingly, sticking up his middle finger. “I would make a good damsel, though, but only if you save me.”

  I know he’s flirting. I know this is probably my chance to finally free myself of this obsession I seem to have with my best friend. Instead of seeing where the flirtation goes, I take a huge gulp of water, skirt over his comment and continue my stressful, depressing story.

  It is easier to torture myself than to move on with my life right now.

  Which is pretty stupid, but we can bash me later…

  Savi – Past

  September 2007

  After the dance, the friendship between me and Kyle became practically non-existent. We would share long stares between each other, stares that would have both of us turning away in pain. There were moments that we would wind up in front of each other, having the world of things to say, life to catch up on, but we would just walk away.

  I still attended his games, albeit, always hidden. He still checked in to make sure I was okay – walking past and peering into whatever classes I had to see if I was there, and talking to my parents. Well, mostly my dad. This was the first summer we spent apart since we met. And it sucked.

  It was a shame; such a waste, really. Two years of being inseparable, two years of Pop Tarts and purple soda destroyed by feelings. Fucking feelings.

  While this separation has sucked on one level, things were looking up on another. Boys were noticing me, and I was noticing boys, which is why I am currently fussing with my dress in my bedroom mirror.

  I am going on a date! A date-date!

  His name is Rex Lawton, a senior and debate club President who I’m pretty sure will run for president in the future. We have been hanging out after school in the art room for a few weeks since the Summer Fling. I don’t even think he had ever been in there before, and I was kinda weirded out as to why he had been there so much; not that I wasn’t attracted to him…in an odd sorta way.

  He’s cute…if you like blonde haired, blue eyed, squeaky clean guys. He’s very strait-laced, has never been in a fight, and thinks political debates are his idea of fun. Which makes me wonder why he asked me out in the first place since we couldn’t be more opposite.

  He is a few inches taller than my five foot five and is an avid wearer of light-colored plaid shirts. I think it’s neat that he has found an angle and is sticking to it, and that’s probably where our similarities end. I do feel like splashing some black on him occasionally, but I have a strong feeling that he would freak the fuck out.

  Slapping on my sexiest underwear under my pink, polka dot halter flare dress, I look at myself in the mirror once again.

  “You are going to get laid tonight,” I tell myself. “Your v-card is a liability.”

  I have heard a few things about the strait-laced Rex that has me most intrigued. He may be stuffy in public, but word on the street is that he is a beast in bed. And although I am heartbroken, I now live by the motto: “What doesn’t kill you will probably make you a whore”.

  With one last air kiss to my reflection, I leave my bedroom and head downstairs. I walk into a very tense living room as my date sits waiting for me. He jumps up as soon as he spots me but sits back down with a look from my Dad. I want to laugh out loud at my Dad’s attempt at being intimidating.

  It’s working, though. Go figure.

  “Hey, Rex,” I hail, waving to him. “Daddy, I hope you’re not trying to scare my date off.”

  “What does he have to be scared of? He’s a good, honest boy, isn’t he?” Dad grills, staring Rex down.

  “Of course he’s a good boy, Daddy. Which is why he’s going to marry me first before he bangs me,” I deadpan, walking over to a suddenly ashen-faced Rex.

  My Dad chokes on whatever he wanted to say and starts coughing harshly. Smiling, I go closer to Rex who is choking the life out of a bunch of roses that he had brought for me.

  “Are those for me?” I ask, taking them from him without even asking.

  Inhaling the fresh scent, I smile, realizing that no one has ever given me roses before – not even my Dad. Probably because I am not a roses kinda girl and everyone who knows me, knows this. Rex does not…yet.

  Mom enters the room with a vase half full of water and takes the roses from me, dropping them in. She lays it on the coffee table and looks at me for a moment before reaching forward and fluffing my boobs. Mortified, my surprised eyes turn to Rex who is transfixed to my now zhoozhed up cleavage. Mom feeling me up definitely has its perks…

  Pun intended.

  Dad clears his throat and levels a hard stare at Rex who quickly turns his head to the very interesting fish tank in the corner.

  I laugh and shake my head at my Dad. He can be such a spaz sometimes.

  Rex and I head to the front of the house, arm in arm. He opens the door and ushers me through first. Such a gentleman.

  “You get her back here by ten o’clock,” Dad instructs behind us. “No kissing or any of that other stuff.”

  I roll my eyes as we head down the steps toward Rex’s black BMW.

  “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady,” Daddy admonishes. He knows me so well.

  One last kiss on my cheek, boob fluff and warning later, Rex and I are off.

  The theatre is ten minutes away from my house so the ride there is mostly quiet, except for the soft sound of a rock band singing about seeing things behind blue eyes. Rex glances at me a few times but doesn’t say anything to me, just grips the steering wheel tighter. I wonder if he can see the intentions
behind my blue eyes…

  Finally, we get to the mall and are in line for the movie. Teens are excited, ready to see the movie we are all in line to see. It is already a box office hit, or so Grayson says in the text I’m reading.

  “Thank you for agreeing to go out with me,” Rex whispers in my ear.

  His deep voice makes me shiver and think that there is no way he is going to heed my Dad’s warning. That is soooo fine with me.

  The whole movie, Rex holds my hand, and although I hate that kind of thing, I let him. We share an extra-large, extra-buttery popcorn but drink our own large sodas. We whisper throughout the movie about what we think will happen next and snicker when it does. We roll our eyes at some points, but tense when the on-screen couple kisses. Somewhere toward the end of the movie, I find myself curling around his arm, a natural action the more comfortable I became around him.

  When the credits start rolling, we stay put. I enjoyed tonight, go figure. More than the movie, I enjoyed being in Rex’s company. He is sweet, fun…and staring at me like he wants to devour me. Our heads lean in slowly, as if by some cosmic force. The chatter of the exiting crowd fades away. The rolling credits cease to exist. My Dad’s warning is vapor now, dissolved in this very moment.

  Rex’s hand is at my neck. He grips me tightly and I close my eyes at the firmness of his hold. When our lips meet, there is a sizzle in my stomach that blooms out and warms my skin. His tongue is tentative at first, as is mine, but then we find a rhythm. My hands are on his blazer and his hands tangle in my hair. It’s hot, downright scorching, and behind my eyelids I see lights.

  Damn!

  “Hey! You two! Break it up,” we hear a voice shout from behind Rex.

  We split apart, heart racing and look in the direction of the flashlights shining on us. So, that is where the lights came from…

  “Movie’s over,” the gruff theater usher announces. Duh. “Take this kissy face elsewheres.”

  Rex stands quickly and checks his watch. “Shit, we need to get out of here. It’s almost ten o’clock.”