Deep Green: Color Me Jealous with Bonus Content (3 page)

Anyway, on the way home, Timothy decided to stop at the park. “Just to walk around and get some fresh air,” he said.

“It’ll have to be a quick walk,” I told him, since it was already close to ten.

Well, the moon was out and everything seemed pretty romantic, and I was actually enjoying myself. We were just walking along, holding hands and doing a little bit of smooching here and there, and suddenly—like, what hit me?—we were just really going at it. I mean, his mouth was all over my mouth and it was like we were just starving for each other.

And somehow Timothy had me pushed up against the trunk of a tree. Not in an aggressive way though. Just really, really passionately. And to be honest, I was getting into it too. I liked the feeling of his body pressed against mine. It was exciting and I could feel those hormones rushing through me. Okay, I wasn’t exactly thinking “hormones” at the time. I was more like thinking,
Oh, man, oh, man!
But suddenly I remembered what time it was. Plus I was feeling, shall we say, a bit overwhelmed. I kind of pushed him away (no easy task since he’s about a foot taller than I am) and, catching my breath, told him, “Timothy, I have to get home. Now!”

“Oh, baby,” he moaned in that deep voice that literally gives me goose bumps. “Don’t do this to me.”

“I’m sorry, Tim, but seriously, I’ll get grounded if I’m not home by ten.”

“Grounded?” He sounded kind of irritated now. “You gotta be kidding.”

“Yeah. I know it probably sounds lame to you since you’re a senior and probably get to do whatever you want. But remember, I’m still a sophomore and my parents are determined to keep me under their thumbs.”

I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him back onto the path. “Come on, let’s go.”

He was pretty quiet on the short drive to my house, and I could tell something was bugging him. Then he parked his car, turned off the ignition, and looked at me.

“Hey, I’m sorry, Jordan,” he said in a quiet voice. “I guess I was kind of a jerk tonight.”

“That’s okay,” I told him, reaching for the door handle.

“No, it’s not.” He leaned over and kissed me. “Really, I’m sorry.”

Then he walked me to the front door, and it felt like things were pretty much back to normal when we said goodnight. Now, if only my parents weren’t sitting in there watching the clock.

“How was the movie?” asked my dad as he looked up from his book, which as usual was a thriller. My dad works for the city and I suppose he reads thrillers to break up the boredom.

“Okay,” I told him, relieved that he hadn’t mentioned my curfew. Then, suddenly, I felt self-conscious, as if he somehow knew what Timothy and I had just been doing in the park. And maybe he did. I mean, he used to be a teenager once himself, like a long, long time ago. But somehow I still find this hard to believe. Just the same, I decided to avoid the chance that he might start some kind of inquisition.

“How was your date, Jordan?” my mom called from the kitchen. I went in there and found her at the big oak table, paintbrush in hand as she peered down at a nearly finished painting.

“It was pretty good,” I told her as I searched the interior of the fridge for something to eat. As usual, there was nothing terribly spectacular in there, so I settled for an apple.

“That looks nice,” I told her as I looked over her shoulder at the painting. As I’d predicted, it was the fall flowers in the milk can.

“How’s Timothy?” she asked as she set down her paintbrush and turned to look at me.

“Okay.” I took a bite of my apple and attempted to look nonchalant.

“You know he’s a lot older than you, Jordan.”

“Just two years, Mom.”

“I know, but that’s a lot at this stage of your life.”

I frowned at her. “Dad’s like five years older than you.”

She smiled. “But those are dad years. That’s different.”

I took another bite of my apple, slowly chewed, and then said, “So, what are you getting at?”

“Just that I don’t want to see you getting in over your head.”

“Over my head?”

“With Timothy.”

“What exactly do you mean?”

“Oh, Jordan, you know what I mean. I don’t want you getting so involved that you get hurt.”

“How would I get hurt?” I was starting to feel slightly defensive now. “If you’re really that worried about his age, Mom, well, think about this: Timothy’s a lot more mature than boys my age. I mean, Timothy really cares about me. It’s not like he’s going to do anything to hurt me.”

“Well, I hope not.” Mom smiled. “And I want you to feel free to talk to me about this, Jordan. If there’s anything I can do to help you, or if you have—”

“I’ve got homework,” I told her quickly. I sensed we were about to go into the sex-talk arena again. And believe me, I did
not
need to go there tonight—at least not with a parental unit leading the discussion. I mean, I do love my mom, but sometimes she just doesn’t get it. She thinks everything is about sex and “just saying no.” But really, it’s not that simple. Ask anyone.

I went up to my room and tried to do my homework, but my mind just kept wandering. I really did want to talk to someone about what happened with Timothy tonight. It’s not like it was that upsetting or anything, but I just wanted a sounding board. I realized that I obviously couldn’t call Shawna. I mean, how tacky would
that
be? I considered my other friends, like Ashley or Amber or even Jenny, but then realized I just don’t feel that close to them yet.

I considered my old (or is it ex?) best friend, Kara Hendricks. We were still close when school started this year, and then she sort of pulled away when I made cheerleader. I tried to bring her into my new circle of friends, but it was like she just couldn’t handle it. We drifted apart. But I have to admit, I still miss her sometimes. She was always a great listener and I knew she cared about me—not because of who I was or who I hung with, but simply because we’d been friends for like forever. I wondered if it would be totally lame to call her now. I mean, after all, it was past ten thirty, and she and I had barely spoken in weeks. But then I wondered, why not? What could she do now that she’s turned into this flaming Christian Jesus freak? She has to be nice, right? And so, without having to look it up, since I still know it by heart, I dialed her number.

“Sorry to call so late,” I told her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“No. I just need to talk. Do you mind?”

“No, that’s okay. I’m the only one still up. I was just watching this news show about how this guy in Vermont, who’d been adopted at birth, accidentally married his birth sister.”

“Gross.” I shuddered.

“Yeah, tell me about it. So, what’s up, Jordan?”

I could hear the curiosity in her voice, like she was trying to figure out why I was suddenly calling her up right out of the blue. “Well,” I began, “I went out with Timothy tonight.”

“And?”

“Well, we were having a really good time and we stopped by the park—”

“To make out?”

“Well . . .”

“And?”

“Yeah, we were making out. And, Kara, it was so cool. I mean, I have never felt like that before. It’s like I’m on fire when he touches me, and my head literally starts to spin.”

“Kind of like that girl in the old
Exorcist
movie?”

“Very funny.”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“Anyway, it’s like Timothy would probably just keep going, you know? I mean, like I can tell he really wants more.”

“And what do you want?”

“Well, I don’t know. I guess that’s why I feel sort of confused. I mean, I
do
want more. But then I think maybe it’s not right. And . . . oh, I don’t know, I just really needed to talk to someone.”

“Uh-huh.”

I could hear this crunching noise. “Are you eating something?” I asked her.

“Just some stale Cheese Nips that Bree left out on the coffee table. They’re pretty pathetic really.”

“Oh. So, what do you think, Kara?”

“About you and Timothy having sex?”

“Sheesh. You don’t exactly beat around the bush, do you?”

She laughed. “Well, isn’t that what you’re talking about?”

“I guess.”

“Okay, this is what I think: I think I wouldn’t want to have sex with a guy that I’d only been going with for a couple of weeks. For that matter, I might not want to have sex with anyone that I wasn’t married to.”

“Really? You honestly believe you’ll wait that long, Kara?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve been getting lots of offers lately.”

“But seriously, do you really think you could wait until your wedding day?”

“Maybe.”

“Is it because you’re a Christian now?”

“Maybe. I still have a lot of things to sort out, Jordan. But I think Jesus says to take it one day at a time. And fortunately I don’t have to make any sex decisions today.”

“Well, I don’t either. I just wanted someone to talk to. And you’ve always been a good listener.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ve patched things up with Shawna.”

“Yeah, I noticed you two were hanging out last week. That’s good to hear, Jordan.”

“She says that she’s over Timothy now, but it’s hard to tell if she really means it.”

“Do you think you could get over him that easily?”

I was stumped. Could I?

“I mean, you’ve only been going with him a couple of weeks, Jordan, and here you are, ready to jump into bed with him.”

“I’m not going to jump into bed with him!”

“Well, you know what I mean. Do you think you’d get over him as quickly as Shawna did?”

“I don’t know. The truth is, I think I like him more than Shawna ever did.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I never told you because I knew it would sound so lame, but I had a crush on him for most of last year.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. And I can tell he has really deep feelings for me too.”

“After only a couple of weeks?”

“Yeah. It’s like we’re meant to be. It’s hard to explain, but it just feels so amazing when I’m with him.”

“You mean horny?”

I rolled my eyes. Maybe this call had been a bad idea. “
Nooooo
. It’s more than that, Kara. Maybe you’d understand if you had a serious boyfriend.”

Kara didn’t respond, and suddenly I wondered if I’d hurt her feelings. “I’m sorry, Kara. That was really low. Are you still hanging out with that kid from art class? What’s his name?”

“Edgar?”

“Yeah. What a weird name.”

“Did you know his full name is Edgar Allen Peebles? His mom’s name was Raven, like in that Edgar Allen Poe story.”

“I’m sorry, Kara, but that is just too weird.”

Kara laughed. “I think it’s kind of cool. But for your information, Edgar and I are just really good friends. And that’s good enough for me. In fact, I’m thinking if I ever were to get serious with a guy, I’d rather we were just good friends first.”

“I don’t think that’s even possible, Kara.”

“Anything’s possible with God.”

“Oh, brother.” And on that note, I decided to bring this dead-end conversation to a halt. I can’t believe I went looking for love advice from Kara. She may be sweet and actually pretty smart, but believe me, that girl is totally clueless when it comes to guys.

four

J
UST WHEN YOU THINK YOU CAN FINALLY RELAX, LIKE LIFE IS ACTUALLY
returning to normal, the roof totally caves in.

Shawna and I had been doing just fine, thank you very much. We’d been hanging together for a couple of weeks, not best friends exactly, since the thing with Timothy was still sort of between us. But I could imagine us becoming best friends again eventually, and I wanted for us to become best friends again, because I really do like her. (Okay, I
used
to like her.)

Anyway, despite our incredible losing streak in football, we cheerleaders ended the season on a happy note, and even Amber acted like she was proud of Shawna and me for patching things up. Life was good.

But life as I knew it ended last night. Let me explain.

To celebrate the end of our lackluster football season, Ashley Crow decided to have a party at her house on Saturday night. Her parents had conveniently left town for the weekend to visit friends in Clayburg. And, of course, they assumed that their only daughter would be mature and responsible while they were away.
Not
.

Let me tell you, Ashley is one gutsy girl. I would never dream of trying to pull off something like that if my parents were gone for the weekend. For one thing, my younger siblings would squeal on me. But besides that, I just don’t have that kind of nerve. Still, I have to say I admired Ashley for her verve. (I think that’s French for “boldness,” although I dropped French after only one term, so I can’t say for sure.)

Anyway, to my recent relief, Shawna had been showing some interest in Brett Hawkins (our good-looking but not-so-talented quarterback). Of course, I was encouraging her along these lines. I mean, first of all, Brett is a great guy. Oh, he’s not Timothy, but he’s not exactly Edgar Peebles either, if you know what I mean. Naturally, I thought that if Shawna had a new boyfriend, it would really improve our friendship and, well, sort of lighten things up all around.

So, on Saturday, Shawna and I went to the mall together and had a really great day. I even let her buy this totally cool sweater that I had spotted first. It was the only one in the store in size small, and I really, really wanted it. But I could see that Shawna wanted it too, so I just backed off and let her get it. Talk about self-sacrificing. Although, I do think it was just a little too snug on her and would’ve fit me perfectly. Not that I’m real skinny, because, believe me, I’m not. But Shawna’s quite a bit taller, so anyway . . . but I digress. The thing is, I let her get it. My first mistake.

Then we came back to my house and hung out some more. I’d gotten this new Avril Lavigne CD that we wanted to listen to while we did our nails and good stuff like that. And really we were basically having a great day.

Now, because Brett and Shawna had not officially hooked up (although it was looking good last night after the game), I had told Shawna she could go to the party with me so she wouldn’t have to show up alone. Which meant I had to tell Timothy he’d just have to go stag and meet me there. My second mistake.