37 Things I Love (In No Particular Order) (11 page)

Cara turns her head lazily on the air mat. Her thumb moves against my skin. “You okay?”

“Just don’t let go,” I say.

*   *   *

THE AFTERNOON
is perfection. We drift back and forth, fingers entwined, until the sky grays over in a matter of minutes and the air brushing over our wet skin turns us cold.

I lift my shades and stare at the green tree tips brushing the pale sky overhead, not hard enough to scratch away the bunching clouds.

“It’s gonna rain.”

“Yeah.”

The air, now muggy and still, promises a summer shower to break the heat of the day. We paddle to the edge and roll from the rafts onto the concrete rim of the pool, trying to avoid a full resubmerge.

We stow the rafts in the pool house, which is really just a tiny shed where the chlorine level is regulated, and run inside.

We retreat to Cara’s bedroom. I wave a polite hello to her mother as we blow through the family room. Mrs. Horton smiles at me. “Nice to see you again, Ellis.”

A moment later, we’re safely ensconced behind Cara’s closed door.

“Let’s get out of these suits,” she says, stripping to the waist. I get an eyeful of small perky breasts and a flat stomach before I turn away to give her privacy.

“Sorry. I’m not very modest,” Cara says. “I won’t look while you change.”

“I have to go to the bathroom anyway,” I say, throwing the towel over my arm and grabbing up my clothes in one fist.

“Down the hall.” She points, but I remember.

I let myself out and turn down the hall, only to find myself face to face with Evan. He’s just stepped from his room into the hallway. He does a kind of multitake, where he sees me, sees my suit, recognizes me, analyzes my overall look, and comes to a conclusion. I see it all pass over his face, because apparently he’s as surprised as I am.

Then he smiles, and I want to look over my shoulder because this is the way guys smile at Abby. Never at me.

“Ellis Baldwin,” Evan says, “I was just thinking about you.” Which is an obvious lie if ever I’ve heard one.

“Oh, hi.” I blush. It never occurred to me that I might run into him here, at his house. Duh.

“Going for a dip?”

“Already dipped.”

“Too bad. I would’ve come down to hang.”

“Maybe next time,” I say, to be polite. Evan nods like we’ve just made a plan.

“So…,” he says, grinning and leaning his forearm on the wall in a weird way. Is he
flirting
with me?

Cara pokes her head out of her room. “Bug off, jackass.” To me: “Is he bothering you?”

“Naw. We’re friends,” Evan says.

“I have to pee,” I say, dodging Evan and the ugly glares the two are shooting each other. I close the bathroom door soundly behind me.

23

Touch

So simple and yet so rare.

EVAN’S NOWHERE
to be seen when I come out of the bathroom a few minutes later. I’ve changed back into my tank top and long shorts, so even if I do see him, I’ll be able to handle it better.

I scurry back to Cara’s room, let myself in, and close the door. Home base. No tags. I breathe, relieved.

Cara stares at me sullenly from her little desk stool. She uses her toes against the foot rung to turn herself in slow circles. On each pass I get a dark Look. I wonder what I did wrong.

“What?” I say, wanting to peer over my shoulder again, except I know there’s nothing behind me but door.

“Are you into my brother?” she says, looking piqued.

“Um … no. I don’t know.” It’s nice to be looked at. “I don’t think so.”

“Is that why you came over? Are you using me?”

I frown. “No. Definitely no.”

She relaxes a bit. I feel like maybe it’s okay to come a little closer. I sit cross-legged on the carpet and lean against the bed.

“This’ll sound stupid, but I actually forgot he might be here.”

Cara smiles a bit. “So, you don’t want to date him?”

I consider. “No. I mean, no offense, but he can be kind of a jerk. Anyway, I don’t like his crowd.”

Cara gives me a funny look. “It’s kinda your crowd, too.”

“Yeah, I know.” I tangle my fingers in her dust ruffle, while she turns on the round stool slowly, eyeing me. We leave the rest unsaid.

*   *   *

“LET’S WATCH
a movie in here while we eat dinner,” Cara says. She has a decently large flat-screen monitor attached to her laptop, and the computer can play DVDs. “You can pick the movie.” She shows me her collection, then rattles off the titles we’ll find in the family room, in addition to those she’s willing to steal from Evan.

“Are you allowed to eat in your room?”

Cara tilts her head, thinking. “I guess so. It’s not a rule or anything. Anyway, my mom will probably let me do anything I want while I have someone over.”

“Oh.” Maybe that’s because Cara doesn’t have many people over. “Well, I’m glad to be the someone,” I say. Mega cheesy. I just want her to know I’m glad to be here instead of … pretty much anywhere else I could be.

Cara smiles at me. “Smells like meat loaf,” she says. “Okay?”

“Great by me.”

“Wait here.” She runs away, and I contemplate movie titles. Something upbeat. Something fun.

*   *   *

“OH GOOD,”
she says. “That’s new. I haven’t watched it.”

Cara drags her monitor onto the dresser and situates it so we can see it if we sit side by side on her bed. We lean against the headboard, pulling the plates onto our laps.

She claps the overhead light off, and there is just enough glow from the windows and the closet and the screen that we can see to eat.

When the food is gone, we lean over and put the plates on the floor. Cara leans across my lap to do it, resting her arm like a bridge on my thighs. When she pulls back, she doesn’t pull back all the way, so her hand is still on my leg. And we’re just sitting there, watching the movie with her fingertips touching the fabric of my shorts in a way that’s not altogether unpleasant. Casual. Friendly. Like it’s okay to be all up in one another’s space because we like each other.

After a while like that, she says, “Do you want to lie down?”

“Yeah.” I’ve been leaning against the headboard, and it would be nice to lie down. So we scootch and adjust the pillows. The sides of our legs are pressed together, and Cara takes my hand in hers and holds it on top of her stomach. Our heads are near, on the same large pillow, and every once in a while, when we breathe in at the same time, our shoulders touch.

I almost cry a little, because I never think anyone wants to be this close to me. When I sleep at Abby’s, we’re in the same bed, but we always make sure to have our own space. The other night when she was drunk, we fell asleep together because she didn’t know any better, but I did, and it feels good, having someone beside you.

The credits roll before I know it. The sky is dark, and I’m going to have to go home soon. I don’t want to leave.

Cara rolls toward me, draping her leg over mine. Her cheek hits my bare shoulder. The hand that isn’t entwined with mine comes across and rubs my stomach. This time, I actually cry. Small tears that leak out the corners of my eyes because what’s happening now is not at all what I thought or what I expected.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“I don’t know,” she says. “It’s my first time.”

She slides her hand up until it wraps around one of my boobs, which is suddenly at attention. She hooks her finger over the fabric of the shirt, right in my cleavage, and tugs until the strap slides down off my shoulder and my whole boob is exposed. Then she rolls farther, up over me, never meeting my eyes, and grabs my nipple in her mouth and holds it with her tongue.

Oh, God.

Then there’s a moment where her knee slips between my legs and her mouth is … where it is … and our hands are intertwined, and I can feel her shuddering breath.

Then Cara raises her head and looks at me. I don’t know what my face says. I don’t even know what I want it to say.

“That’s what he did to her,” she says. “In the movie.”

“Why did you do that?” I say. Because I can’t say anything else.

She comes up on her knees, right at my side. She licks her lips, and I look away. “What?” she says.

I scramble up, and a little away. “Why did you do that?”

She’s confused. She runs her hand through her hair.

“I mean, why did you think it would be okay?”

Silence.

“It’s—it’s not okay?” She scrambles to the far corner of the bed. “But—you came over,” she says. “We held hands.”

“And?”

“What was I supposed to think?”

“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “That we’re friends.”

Cara’s face crumples. She looks devastated. “That’s so mean,” she says. “Why would you hold my hand, and say I make things better, and say you’re my someone? Why would you do that when you know…”

I think back over the afternoon. The things I did and said. And how if you look at them how she must have been looking at them … “I’m really sorry, Cara.” I shake my head. “I didn’t know … really … I mean, you’re gay, I guess?”

She stares at me, incredulous. “You didn’t
know
?”

“How was I supposed to know?” Suddenly, I realize my boob is still out. I hastily put my shirt back where it’s supposed to be.

“She never
told
you?”

“Who?”

She stares. Drops her head in her hands.

“Abby?” I say. “Abby knows?”

“Oh, my God,” Cara exclaims, leaping up to pace the room. “I can’t believe she never told you. Why do you think you guys stopped hanging out with me?”

“That can’t be why.” Really, it can’t.

“Why? What did she tell you?”

Silence.

After a while, Cara nods. “You never even asked, did you?” She says it like it’s just dawning on her what a stupid fucking pawn I am. Like this is new information. “You just went along. You never cared.”

“I cared. I care.”

“Yeah,” she sneers. “All those calls and e-mails really let me know it.” She wipes her mouth, like she’s wiping me away, and I hate how finished with me she looks.

“I could say the same,” I snap. “It’s not like it’s been the easiest two years for me, either. At least your family is normal and your fucking life is intact.”

“Says you.”

I roll my eyes. “Looks pretty good from here.”

“Well, it would.”

I don’t know what to say.

Cara storms across the floor and yanks the door open. “Get out of my room.”

I do.

She slams the door in my face.

*   *   *

I STAND IN
the hall with my hand on Cara’s bedroom door. The thing is, I don’t want to go. The thing is, I enjoyed myself today. I had more fun with Cara in a couple of hours doing nothing than I’ve had in forever with Abby doing anything.

The thing is, I liked what Cara did to me with her hands and with her mouth. I wouldn’t have stopped her going a little further.

I reach in my pocket.

Thumbs fly over my cell phone keypad.

PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

24

Rash Decisions

Sometimes they turn out for the best.

I RUN DOWN
the stairs, making for the front door. Inevitably, I pass through the front hall, which leads past the family room.

Evan rolls off the sofa when he sees me. He pops into the hall.

“Headed out?”

What does it look like?
“Yeah,” I say. “It’s late.” I glance back at the stairs, like there’s an option there, or like maybe she’s coming after me.

“Say, I was wondering,” Evan says. He traces a groove in the tile with one bare toe. “Are you going to the graduation dance?”

“I’m a sophomore,” I say automatically.

He looks flustered. Embarrassed. Something. “I know. I meant—if you’re not going already”—deep sigh—“do you want to go with me?”

“Oh,” I say. I look back at the stairs, but quickly blink away. “Um. Is Cara going?”

Evan scoffs. “With who? She doesn’t even
like
anybody.”

I say nothing. Cara hates me now anyway. If I do this, it’ll be over between us forever; I won’t have to worry about what comes next. And it’ll get Abby off my back if I agree to a date for Friday.

Sometimes there’s an easy fix to everything.

“Yeah, sure,” I say, smiling up at Evan. “Sounds like fun.”

Evan grins. He is pretty cute, to be honest. I could do worse.

He leans in to hug me, like this will seal the deal. His thick jock arms fold around me. I let my cheek fall against his chest, all firm and muscled. Not a bad feeling, but not what I was hoping for.

Not enough to make me forget.

Not enough to make me sure of anything.

And not enough to touch the thousand stronger sensations already swirling through me.

I pull away. “I have to get home.”

“I’ll drive you,” he offers. “Otherwise you’d have to take the bus, right?”

“Thanks.”

Evan slides his feet into a pair of flip-flops, pokes his head into the kitchen to tell his mom he’s off.

“Bye, Ellis,” Mrs. Horton calls. “Come again soon.”

“Bye,” I say, and nothing more. I don’t have the heart to tell her that I won’t be coming back.

Evan swings open the front door and lets me go through first. Then he trots ahead of me to hold open the car door, too. This surprises me a little. Maybe he’s a gentleman at heart, despite much evidence to the contrary.

Evan sets the stereo to the local hip-hop station and lowers the windows so we get a nice breeze. He drives fast and smooth. We ride without speaking for quite a while, and I’m glad. The air and the music make me feel far away, like nothing can touch me, and I almost wish that we would never stop moving so that nothing behind us can ever catch up.

“I’m going to State in the fall,” he says finally, drumming the steering wheel at a stoplight.

“Yeah?” I think I heard that. “Cool.” I wait a beat, turning my face to the window, but the light is still red. Maybe I’m supposed to converse now. Since he’s making an effort and stuff. “You excited?”

“Yeah. Should be cool. Come visit me sometime, if you want.”