Perfectly Messy (12 page)

I nearly choke on an apple slice. Crap, Laura. She loves to run away with words. Thankfully, Jennifer laughs. I’m still surprised that Jennifer dared to tell Laura about Trish, especially with Laura being from the south. I have no idea how that conversation went but, clearly, Laura’s embraced it.

Jennifer nods back towards the table. “If you want a piece of them, I’m not stopping you.”

“No need,” Laura sits up straighter, emphasizing her southern accent. “I’m a lady, thank you.” Now I’m laughing. Laura is the opposite of ladylike. She’s already downed over half the pie.

“Well, then do you mind sharing more than a quarter of the pie with Jen and me?” I ask, scooping up a huge bite. She shoos my hand away.

“Excuse me? Did you make this pie?”

Jennifer opens her mouth to fight for me.

“Oh, don’t even try to make a case for you cooking this, Jen.”

Jen falls silent. I reach across with my fork, trying to slide past Laura’s guard. Fail.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Laura says teasingly. She scoops up the pie tin as she stands. “My pie.”

I lift my eyebrow. “Point proven.
Not
a lady.”

“Oh, hush up,” Laura says with a wink as she weaves her way through the courtyard over to Luke. She passes a table of guys with Marissa perched on the end. Marissa plays with her hair and occasionally moves the sweater off her shoulder so she can massage her neck. Her eyes catch mine. My gut drops and I chicken out, breaking her glare. Seriously. Why does she keep doing that? All week she’s been trying to catch my attention. It’s driving me crazy.

I pretend to stretch, really checking out to see what the heck Zach’s up to. He’s on his phone again. Did they break up? I guess I haven’t seen them smashed up against the lockers for a while.

Marissa’s flirting squeal rings through the courtyard. Jennifer covers her ears.

“Does she have any idea what she sounds like?”

“Yup.” I cover my ears as she does it again. “She knows it’s super high-pitched but,” I pause as some guy wraps his arm around Marissa’s waist for a side hug, briefly brushing her ass. “It’s never failed her.”

“Uh. And
that
is why I don’t like guys.”

“They’re not all bad.”

“Justin’s a freak of nature, you know that.”

“Yeah, I lucked out.” I know I have my stupid goofy grin across my face. I really did luck out with Justin. Like, pigs flew. Stars aligned. I have no idea what I did right to get such a perfect boyfriend. I don’t deserve him, but, God, I’m so happy to be with him. I dare not doubt the laws of the universe. Jen’s lucky too. She has Trish. They’re always so sweet together. I love that Jen and I can gush about our loves to one another. No one else wants to hear that stuff.

“How’s Trish? Is she coming out with everyone tomorrow night?” It’s crazy awesome to have my own “everyone.” Laura, Luke, Jake, Justin, me, Jen, Trish, and sometimes the guy from Justin’s Psych class, Ian. When I was friends with Marissa, I was fooled into thinking I had a group. But really, we just hopped from table to table annoying people. I’m surprised Marissa runs the act solo now.

“Nah, she can’t make it.” Jen sighs, finally looking at me and not up at the sky. She picks at her fingernail polish, just like the night she told me she was a lesbian. I’ve learned since that rarely will Jen ruin a manicure.

“What’s up?”

“She’s pulling away. Taking longer to return texts, phone calls.” She shakes her head. “Ever since I mentioned coming out together at the winter formal. She’s just… changed.”

“Has she come out at her school yet?”

“I thought so? I mean, her friends know. Just like my friends know. Her parents know… I don’t get it. It’s really confusing.”

“Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“A few times. But she kind of shuts down.”

Jen scrapes all the purple off her thumb nail. “I’m afraid she’s going to dump me.”

“Really? Are you sure you’re reading this right?”

“Yeah. I dunno? I’m trying to keep things consistent but special too. Little surprises here and there. Honestly, do you think I’m coming on too strong? Or not strong enough?” She nods over to Marissa. “I don’t do things like that. Maybe I’m doing it wrong?”

“Do
not
use Marissa as an example, trust me.”

“How do you balance the act with Justin?”

“I don’t know. It sort of just unfolds.” It’s natural. How do I explain this? “I let things just happen with Justin. I acted so long in my friendship with Marissa. There isn’t enough energy left for me to act with him.”

“Yeah,” Jen says as she gazes over at the empty brick wall.

I reach over and squeeze her arm. “It’ll work out, Jen. It will.”

When she looks back at me, her eyes are red. “I love her. I mean, I think I love her. How do I even know what real love is? Crap.” She wipes a tear away, making sure her mascara is still set. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay. I don’t think any of us do.” Watching the doubt on Jennifer’s face rattles me. What am I saying? Don’t I know if I love Justin?

I search my heart and everything feels solid. Yes, I love him. I do.

But Jen’s right. How is love defined? What if we have no idea what we’re doing?

The bell rings then and Jen forces out a smile, grabbing her books. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” I yank myself out of my own black hole of thoughts. There’s nothing pretty down there.

“Have fun at English. I’ll tell Justin you say hi in Calc II. Oh, crap! Justin! His birthday is in a few weeks. What are we going to do?”

I smash my hand against my face as my gut drops. I’ve never dated a guy on his birthday before. Let alone a guy I loved. And his eighteenth birthday? It’d be easy to say I’ll just throw a huge drunk party. That’d be the cliché way. But Justin’s not like that. Plus, I know his family will want to help celebrate too.

“Aw, don’t stress about it too much, Luce. Ask him what he wants to do. If it’s Justin, it’ll be pretty easy. Trust me.”

“Right. I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

“Yup.”

“Call me if you need to, okay?”

“I will,” she says as she walks away. I want to throw my backpack at the guy who just looked at her butt. Seriously?

***

Saturday morning is starred on my planner from now through the end of the year. Justin’s evenings are still crammed full. Post-secondary sounds like a nightmare. Paul also insists that Justin show up at all of his dad’s public appearances, and Justin’s been helping organize a huge fundraiser for the Twin Cities branch of the Leukemia Society. That’s sucked away two Friday evenings, but he needed to be there. He lights up when he talks about the kids he meets when he volunteers. It helps him connect with Jackson again.

I miss Justin a lot. When accidently bumping into to one another at Subway on Tuesday brought us more time together than we’d had in weeks, he swore that from now on early Saturday mornings are for us. Crawling into Justin’s car this morning brought back all the memories of carpooling to work together last summer. Tensions were always high during our morning drive, and this morning the tension during the ride was so insanely high it was ridiculous. Of course, now the tensions there because I want to kiss him rather than slap his ego silly.

I hold my coat closed as I walk with Justin into the coffee shop. The chill nips at me. In less than a week, the freezing cold trampled the perfect fall weather.

Justin opens the door to the coffee shop. The roasted bean smell immediately infiltrates my clothes. Crap, shouldn’t have worn wool. I’m going to have to air this thing out before re-wearing it at school.

I wave at Ian who’s setting up his guitar in the back corner. He’s been fun to get to know. He’s an endless surprise. A broad shouldered, football-esque looking guy, who’d rather read or play music than discuss sports. Maybe he doesn’t feel compelled to care about sports because he’s homeschooled? Either way, it’s nice to meet a guy who doesn’t raise sports up on a pedestal.

Not that Justin only talks about sports. He may talk about a game, but he doesn’t seem compelled to throw out professional athletes’ names. People always expect us to have a lot to say about basketball, but really, we rarely talk about it. Especially professionally. It’s nice that Justin is just the “there’s sports on TV” type guy while he does something else. I don’t think I could dedicate every Sunday morning to football. Thankfully, even if Justin was like that, he’s not the type of guy who’d expect me to sacrifice three hours a day. Heck, he’s so busy, I doubt
he’d
sacrifice three hours a day to watching a game if he could.

Justin squeezes my hand while he orders our drinks. No, Justin would rather spend that three hours with me. And that’s why he’s amazing.

“What?” Justin nudges me with his elbow.

“Just thinking.”

“Do you want a scone too?”

“No,” I beam back at him as we walk toward our regular booth. “I’m just happy.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm, hmm. I love spending time with you.”

“I know. I can’t wait for winter break. I may have to be careful that you don’t get sick of me.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’ll see you every day.” He holds my gaze. His dimples deep from the crease in his smile.

My chest warms with the thought of spending every evening in Justin’s arms. We rummage through our bags, pulling out our laptops to tackle essays. English for me. Psych for him. We’ve discovered that as long as we’re in public, we’re pretty good at studying together.

But his basement?

No productivity there. We’ve tried sitting on opposite couches or using headphones. But, inevitably, one of us just gives into the hormonal rush. Let’s just say we’d get A’s in making out.

“Why are you blushing?” Justin taps on my notebook.

“Me? Blushing? Never.”

“Seriously…” His foot rubs up against my leg. “What’s going on in that head of yours today?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” I say with a sly grin.

The angle of Justin’s chin sharpens as he tries to figure me out. He didn’t shave this morning, so he looks even older than near eighteen. He’s just so…
smokin’ hot
… without even trying.

“That.”
Justin nudges me again and leans in. “That look. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Oh?” Driving Justin crazy is one of my favorite things to do. Well, crazy in the good way. And, as he slides out of his side of the booth and into mine, I’m pretty sure I’ve taken this the good way.

He leans in, his breath warm on my ear and his hand on my leg. “Do you want me to ask them to change the order to go? Study somewhere else?”

I answer by touching his jaw, feeling the prick of his stubble. How is it possible he’s this sexy at nine in the morning on a Saturday?

“Well, that answers that.” He slides out of the booth, crossing quickly to the counter to change our order.

“Why aren’t you packed up?” he teases as he returns with our drinks.

“I like watching you.”

He pulls my laptop and notebook toward him, sliding them into my bag for me. “Well, I’m holding you personally responsible if I bomb this essay.”

I drop my little game, knowing how important grades are to him. “Okay, okay. Come on.” I tap the seat next to me. “We can study. For real. I’ll stop looking at you like that.”

He weaves his fingers through mine, pulling me up and out of the booth.

“Never stop looking at me like that. You promise?” he whispers with his hand on my lower back, leading me toward the door.

“I promise.”

“You know grades mean nothing to me compared to you.” He waves goodbye to Ian in the corner as he opens the door. “The cleaning crew is at our house this morning, so…”

“Oh? Does that matter? I mean, we’ll just be writing papers.” I wink at him.

“Those looks are going to end me.” He opens the passenger door, reaching across my body to help buckle me in.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.”

He gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

I reach out and turn over his hand to draw circles on his palm. His Adam’s apple goes up and down with a groan. He pulls off the highway, onto a frontage road, and into a deserted park. These parks are never deserted in the summer. Hmm. Okay, winter, maybe you do have something to offer?

“So, what’s your essay about?”

Justin takes my palm to his mouth, and starts kissing it.

“Theory?” I ask, trying not to sigh as he leans closer, his kiss traveling up my arm. “Psych statistics?”

He tugs me closer to him, his hand on my thigh. I give in when his kisses reach my lips. There’s an intensity there I’ve never felt before. Whoa. He lowers my seat, angling on top of me. The warmth spreading through me makes me suddenly aware that this is our first make out session without parents roaming on the floor above.

Oh God. He’s driving me wild. The way his lips explore mine, the way his chest is so solid beneath his shirt.

I open my eyes, somehow finding myself maneuvered into the back seat. My heart flips, while butterflies crash and play bumper cars in my gut.

He kisses my throat, down to my collarbone.

The blood whooshes in my head. How far does he want to go? Am I ready for this?

His lips return to mine and everything in me burns. Those hands find their way under my shirt, resting on my stomach. The touch is heavenly and warm.

Yes. I want more. I’m ready.

But for what?

I don’t know… I don’t know. What is he comfortable with?

What am I comfortable with?

Everything?…No?

“I don’t know,” I answer out loud, gasping the moment his hand cups my bra.

Crap. No. I didn’t mean stop. Did I?

But he does. Justin, like a gentleman, pulls back.

“Sorry...” He sits up, running his hands through his hair. “I… You’re just…” He shakes his head. “You’re my kryptonite. I’m not strong enough to keep control.”

I sit up, pulling my hair back into a bun. “No, I didn’t mean that exactly. My mind was going a million miles an hour. I loved every moment of it, honestly.” I reach out, touching his hand.