Crossing (15 page)

Jamie Morrison is the last boy on earth I want catching me down on my knees. He’s been taking advantage of my mouth and my infatuation with him since the eighth grade. And when we were sixteen, he stole my virginity in the cab of that stupid blue truck. I can still feel the hard tap of the window glass against my forehead while he rammed into me from behind.

I get to my feet, set the manila envelope full of poems back in the box, and put the lid on.

“You need a hand with that?” he asks, reaching for the box with the joint nestled between his fingers before I can answer.

I yank it out of his reach. “No, I got it.”

“Damn, Dani. Easy girl!” He chuckles and swats me on the ass.

Something breaks in me.

Chase loved me and thought I was worthy. Liam trusts me and thinks I’m worthy. Devon and Sean. Mom and Dad. Elizabeth, Kristin, Cam, Ursula. I have people in my corner and I’ve tried my hardest not to hear their kind words and encouragement. I’ve tried my hardest not to let them lift me up. Instead, I’ve valued the opinions of strangers and assholes who hate themselves so much the only thing that makes them feel better is to use me.

What the hell am I punishing myself for?

I drop the box and slap Jamie as hard as I can across the face. “Keep your goddamned hands to yourself, you son of a bitch.”

His mouth drops open, stunned. He brings his fingers up to his face, rubbing his jaw. “You’re lucky I don’t clean your clock. Cunt.”

I brace myself for his retaliation, but he just tucks his burnt out joint back underneath his cap and walks to his truck.

After he drives off in the direction of the maintenance building, I take my phone out and bring up Liam’s number. This time I hit send.

Liam answers on the first ring. “Dani, it’s so good to hear from—”

“I love you,” I blurt. “I’m in love with you and I don’t care if you dress like a woman or if you share my shoes or that you’re prettier than I am. I just want you. I need you and accept you and will take you however you are.” I can hear him suck in a deep breath and sniffle. “Are you making that face where I can’t tell if you’re disgusted with me or about to cry?”

“I love you, too.”

Glancing over at Chase’s headstone I mouth, “He loves me too!”

Liam chuckles. “Who’s there with you?”

Apparently, I said that out loud. “I’m in the cemetery visiting Chase.”

“Oh?” he asks, sounding amused.

“I just slapped Jamie Morrison across the face. He called me a cunt.”

“Oh?” Liam says again, his voice tense. “Honey, are you sober?”

“Yes, I’m sober.” I bend and hoist the box up onto my hip with one arm. “In fact, I’m crystal clear. Everything is crystal clear.”

“How many items?” The dressing room attendant at Uptown Clothing Emporium doesn’t even bother looking up from his e-reader.

Liam counts the hangers in his hand. “Seven.”

The guy points to the rack next to him. “Limit is six, leave one item. You can switch it out.” He hands us a plastic card with a six printed on it. “Use the last room.”

We head down the aisle.

“Oh, and if you mess something up, don’t be assholes and hide it, just bring it back to me.”

Liam looks at me sidelong, his eyes wide. “Sure thing, man.”

“The name is Chris.”

“Sure thing, Chris.”

Instead of spending all of the remainder of Winter break in Eugene, we decided to come up to Portland and do some shopping where no one knows us. Portland sure does its damndest to keep itself weird, and Liam and I are loving it. After catching a drag show at Darcelle’s last night, we got to talking with a couple of queens who recommended this place.

Liam drops the tag on the little gold metal hook outside the last dressing room and we go inside. It’s not like we’re at the GAP or anything, so we’re sharing our space with a water heater, a puffy brown ottoman, and an actual full-length mirror in a stand.

I take the clothes from Liam and bend over, laying them out across the ottoman. Liam grabs me by my hips and pulls me back against him. I straighten up and crane my neck, bringing my mouth toward his. He kisses me slowly, taking his time.

“Hi,” he says, his lips lingering over mine. We’ve been staying in a hostel to save money and haven’t had a chance to be together in two days. I both want to rip his clothes off quickly and spend hours doing everything to him that I’ve been thinking about while stuck in a room with snoring backpackers.

“Hi.”

His mouth lowers to my neck as his right hand slips under my shirt and up to my breasts. “I could take you right now,” he whispers into my ear. “Even without dresses, if you want.”

I’m tempted to let that happen, but I want the real him more than I want normal.

I step away and look at him over my shoulder, grinning. “Strip.”

He unbuttons his shirt. “I love you, you know that?”

My heart stops. Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic. It skips a beat. It sticks in my throat. It pounds in my chest. All the clichés happen, up in there. I’m still not used to hearing him say it and knowing that he means it. I stoop down and retrieve the lipstick from my backpack. Liam’s already got eyeliner on.

“I love you too,” I say, facing him. My half-naked boyfriend. Who loves me.

Liam steps on the backs of his shoes and kicks them into the corner by the water heater. Then he takes off his socks and sends them the same way. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, folding them and placing them next to his shirt on the floor.

I go to the mirror and put Perfect Red on in a thick layer, a little flare of heat erupting low in my belly. When I turn around, Liam is completely undressed and ready to play.

I choose a red satin dress with spaghetti straps and unzip it before handing it to him. “I like this one.”

His eyes are hooded and focused on my mouth as he takes the dress from me and steps into it. He turns so I can zip it up. I lead him by the arms over to the mirror. “Do
you
like it?”

He clears his throat. “It’s pretty.” He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes closed. “I can’t believe you’re here with me, doing this. Every other time I’ve been shopping, I’ve had to hurry. I couldn’t get the stupid zippers done up by myself. I could barely stand to look at my reflection in the mirror. This is just surreal.”

I turn him toward me and go up on tiptoe, kissing him thoroughly, smearing his mouth with lipstick. “And memorable too, I hope.”

Sliding my hands down his body, I kneel in front of him.

He looks at me and brushes my hair out of my face. “Dani, you don’t have to. You’re already doing—”

I push the hem of the dress up his thighs. “Do I or do I not get to do with you what I want? I thought we had a deal, Liam Garrett.”

He gasps.

With the dress at his waist, I take his hands, one by one, and make him grab hold of it.

“Watch us in the mirror,” I say, taking him in my grasp and leaning in.

I move my mouth down slowly, the pressure measured, and then pull back, leaving lipstick in my wake. His hips buck forward, which is my desired reaction. Liam rests one of his hands on my head and I glance up with him still in my mouth. He’s enthralled with our reflection. I continue on, confident in this particular aspect of my sex skill set above all others. I’ve had the most practice at it.

When I can tell he’s getting close, I look up at him again and this time our eyes meet. He puts his hand on mine and pulls away. Grabbing me under the arms, he lifts me to standing, his breathing erratic. “You’re too good at that. My turn.”

Liam fishes a condom from my pocket and then unbuttons my jeans, peeling them, along with my underwear, off in a hurry. Thank God for ballet flats is all I’m saying.

“I need you out of that shirt,” he says, his voice breathy and on the edge.

Unbuttoning it slowly, I tease him, until I can’t stand it myself and practically rip it off. Liam’s mouth is on me, yanking the cup of my bra down with his teeth, marking my nipple red with lipstick the way I’d marked him.

I grab his head and rake his mouth up to mine, hungry and demanding. He faces me toward the mirror and then takes my hands and puts my palms against the wall on either side of it. Placing the flat of his hand against my lower belly, he pulls me to him and enters me with a swift thrust.

I’m amazed how much better this position is when I feel wanted. Liam snakes his other hand up to my breasts. My eyes travel to the reflection above my shoulder and meet his. He’s watching me with such an intense gaze I can’t look away. He sees me. Completely. And I see him.

Liam’s fingertips dig into my flesh, while the world crumbles around us, leaving only him and me, right here, right now.

After a moment, he flips me around, hugging me to him and we collapse onto the ottoman.

I kiss him gently on the lips. “Your make-up is a wreck, Mister.”

“So is yours.” He smiles.

There’s a quick rap on the door. “Remember, don’t be assholes!” Chris says from the other side.

Liam squeezes his eyes closed and sticks out his tongue. “Don’t worry. We’re going to buy everything we brought in here.”

“Plus the one that’s out here too?” Chris asks.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“You should man, the color will really bring out your eyes.”

X

“The wind feels weird on my legs,” Liam says, as he switches his purse to the other hand and takes my arm.

“Just wait until you climb in bed.” I wag my eyebrows at him. “Cool sheets on freshly shaven legs is heaven.”

We’re back in Eugene walking to the best restaurant in town, for dinner and an experiment, on the last night of break.

He flips his hair back off his shoulders, his new wig, my belated Christmas present to him, a more realistic chocolate brown than the platinum magenta jobby the drag queens had kitted him out with.

“How do my tits look?” he asks, laughing.

“High and perky, baby, every girl’s dream.” I kiss his shoulder.

We round the corner and approach the entrance to La Trattoria. I reach for the door and hold it open for him. “After you, Lee.”

“Thanks.” He throws his shoulders back, his chest forward and steps into the restaurant.

I follow him up to the reservation desk. The host looks up at us from the seating schematic, his gaze flicking to Liam and then to me. He quickly gains his composure. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes,” Liam says. The host makes direct eye contact and doesn’t look away. “Lee Garrett?”

“Ah, yes. Here it is.” He crosses the name off a list and makes a note in grease pen on the laminated seating chart before picking up two menus. “Right this way.”

Our table is dead center in the restaurant and the place is packed with locals – mostly older people enjoying one last quiet dinner before all the students take over the town again.

The host continues to be kick ass by pulling Liam’s chair out for him first and then coming around the table and pulling my chair out for me. He grabs a pitcher off of a nearby tray and fills our water glasses. “Will you be having wine this evening?” he asks, his hand hovering over the stems, waiting to whisk them away.

“What do you think?” I ask Liam.

He laughs nervously, his eyes shifting around the dining area. “We probably should.”

“Excellent. Enjoy your dinner.” The host smiles and goes back to his command center.

I open my menu and peer over the top of it at Liam. “So far, so good.”

He nods and chews his lip. “What are you going to have?”

“I came here with my parents one time and had the manicotti. That was good.” I scan the menu. “The chicken marsala is supposed to be yummy too.”

Liam closes his menu with a snap and sets it down on the table. He reaches for his water glass with a shaking hand.

I hug his ankle with my feet under the table. “It’s gonna be okay. Deep breaths.”

Our server walks up, order pad in hand. She smirks at Liam. “Was the bet worth it?”

“Come again?” I say, staring at her point blank.

“Oh,” she says, taken aback. “I thought his getup was a lost bet or something.” She pins her eyes to the order pad and mutters, “Sorry.” She looks back at me. “What can I get you?”

“We’ll start with a bottle of the ’09 Rex Hill Pinot.” Acting!

She scribbles that down. “Sure, I’ll just need to see some ID.”

Panic flares in Liam’s eyes.

I hand her mine. “Mine should be good enough, don’t you think, since you insulted my girlfriend?”

She sighs, doesn’t even look at my ID and hands it back to me. “Are you ready to order now or should I give you another minute?”

“Chicken marsala,” Liam pipes up and shoves his menu at her. She takes it and tucks it under her arm.

“Same here.”

She takes my menu and I watch as she goes up to the host and jerks her head back at us. The host shrugs and greets the next customers walking in the door.

Things go pretty well the rest of the evening and we’re in a good mood, deciding to splurge on dessert even though we both cleaned our plates.

Liam leans back and pats his stomach. “I’m about to bust my buttons.”

There’s a large party of businessmen two tables over that starts getting rowdy, the wine flowing freely. One man glares at Liam and clears his throat, saying “fag.”

Liam sits up straight and puts his hands in his lap, his good mood vanishing.

I can’t help but want to give him a dose of insta-happy, so I stand up, practically climb across the table, grab his chin and give him the open mouth kiss of his life.

His shoulders relax and he swipes the pad of his thumb across my lower lip before gazing into my eyes. “Thanks, beautiful.”

Our server clears her throat and I slide back into my seat.

Liam picks up his fork and stabs at the dessert. “Mmm, I
love
pie,” he says loudly, so everyone in the room can hear.

An old lady at the table on our other side leans over and smiles at us. “I do too and the chocolate cream is the best here, in my opinion. You kids should get that next time.”

We smile at her.

She leans even farther toward us. “Honey, if you don’t mind my asking where did you get your handbag?”