Chapter Two

 Comments are off. You don't have to read (though, I'd think that's obvious), but I'm going to put several more chapters up over the next week during my bloggy break :D Just for fun. Chapter One is below.

TWO

            I finger the keychain as I make my way to employee parking. Owning a Porsche is a big deal, but it isn’t a big deal. First off, it’s a Boxster, which means it’s barely a Porsche. It’s also a few years old, like eight. But Dad takes immaculate care of it and it’s fast as hell.

            I jump behind the wheel. The chair is already as far back as it’ll go. Dad and I share the same 6’3” height, but he’s a lot broader than I am. It makes him good at his job. No one ever gives him any crap.

            The engine purrs. I plug my iPod in. Infectious Grooves this time. Two years ago for an assignment in . . . well, I don’t remember what class. That’s not important. What’s important is we had to go to our birth year and find something from that year that we truly loved. I loved the music. Now I have all sorts of early nineties grunge on my iPod. Sarah makes fun of me for it, but she secretly likes it, too. Another hit in the chest. Someone should kick my bits, it’d hurt worse and take my mind off my chest.

            Oh, and “bits.” If you watched as much British TV as I do, you’d call them bits, too. The car slides into reverse and I drive it slowly out of the garage. The speed bumps in this place are murder. Dad never lets me drive his car so I’m determined to be really nice to her tonight, but then I hit the strip and lay out fifty feet of rubber. The opportunity is too good to pass up.

            The wind hits my head, the strip is bright with lights, music blares from random bars, and people are everywhere. I love this. Maybe life won’t suck forever. Now I just have to hope spring break feels like an eternity. Going to school on Monday, if Sarah and Eric are meeting at one another’s lockers, is gonna be torture.

            Suddenly the precious Boxster doesn’t seem so precious anymore. I hit the gas and head toward Boulder Highway to really get some speed on. Not the smartest move on a Saturday night, but I’m feeling reckless. Primus comes on the stereo. Love these bass lines.

            I take a left on Tropicana, and two seconds off the strip, the stars come back out and my music isn’t tainted by anything but the satisfying rumbling of Dad’s car.

            I have to pass my neighborhood before I make it as far south as I want to go. All the houses here look the same. Almost everyone has the same terra cotta tile roof and some slight variation of stucco siding. I slow down through the stoplights, and there’s a girl on my side of the road walking in a scandalously short jean skirt, flip-flops, 5 layers of tanks in different colors and long, black hair. Wow.

            I’m stopped at the light next to her, and she’s staring at her phone, looking lost.

            “You need a lift?” I offer. How brave am I?

            “I don’t think so.” She glances over her phone and chuckles as she shakes her head.

            “You look lost, and I live just around the corner so . . .”

            Her head snaps up. All I see is huge brown eyes. She’s pretty. Like half Indian or something I’d guess. She has that beautiful straight nose and high cheekbones only girls from the reservations seem to have. The car door opens and just like that, she gets in. She doesn’t even pull down her skirt, which is barely covering her--

            I can’t believe this girl is in my car. Well, my dad’s car. But still.

            “Green light.” She points and her eyebrows go up.

            “Right.” I hit the gas and the car jumps out from underneath me. Okay, I gotta take a deep breath so I don’t make an ass out of myself.

            “Whoa, warn a girl, will ya?” She smiles. “So, I never do this. You have to promise me you won’t cut me into tiny pieces and scatter them across the desert.”

            “Done.” I smile. “And that was a rather specific request.”

            She shrugs. “You can never be too careful.”

            “Then why are you riding in a car with a total stranger?”

            “Good point.” She’s smiling, too.

            “I don’t scatter bodies across the desert anyway, too far for me to drive.” I wait for her reaction.

            “And . . . where would you put the body?” She looks around. “Only one seat and I’m sure I wouldn’t fit under the hood.”

            I glance up and down her lean frame.

            “That was not an invitation to check me out.” Her lips pull into a scowl, but there’s too much tease in her eyes for me to take her seriously.

            “Sorry.” Only I’m not really sorry. This is better than any distraction I could have dreamed up tonight.

            “Okay, so I’m with my grandparents while I go to college. I know it’s lame, but it was the only way to go to school and I really wanted to.”

            “Oh.” That came out of nowhere.

            “Here’s my address.” She holds her phone up.

            Shit. I crank the wheel to the right and we just make the turn.

            “Drive much?” She stares as I straighten the car onto the neighborhood street.

            “Sorry. You’re like, almost across from me.”            I glance at her. “Your house, I mean.”

            “Really?” She looks around. “So how does a young guy like you end up in a car like this in a nice neighborhood?” Her pause isn’t long enough for me to answer. “No, wait, don’t tell me. You’re in the mafia, right? And my body won’t get spread across the desert. It’ll get fed to pigs.”

            “Snatch.” It just comes out.

            “Yeah.” She smiles and nods. “Guy Ritchie is a freaking genius.”

            “I didn’t think girls liked that stuff.” I can’t take my eyes off her, even though I should probably be watching the road.

            She laughs. “Then you’ve been hanging around the wrong girls.”

            Sarah. I let out a sigh. I don’t even mean to. I’m pathetic.

            “This look right?” I pull to a stop.

            “This is it.” She makes no move to get out. “I was only turned around, not lost. Just so you know.” Her head spins around, scanning. “Where are you?”

            “That house, there.” I point ahead and across the street. “And to answer your earlier question, this is my dad’s car and my parent’s house.” Really, I don’t want to admit this. I’d be a lot cooler if I didn’t.

            “Okay.” She nods but doesn’t move.

            Should I do something? Say something? Maybe I’m supposed to get her door. I reach for the handle.

            “What are you doing now? Tired? Going to crash?” She runs her hand across her forehead to catch a loose strand of dark hair.

            “Probably going to swim.” It clears my head.

            She doesn’t move, just stares at me. What do I do?

            “This is where you invite the girl next to you for a swim.” She smirks.

            “Um . . .” Wow. “Wanna come swim with me?”

            “I probably shouldn’t.” She shakes her head, but still makes no move to get out.

            “You wanna just tell me what I should say next?” This whole conversation, and this ride with a girl in Dad’s Porsche is completely out of my league, but I can’t stop. It feels good. I haven’t bothered paying attention to anyone but Sarah since at least the beginning of senior year.

            “You could offer me a snack or a drink or something.” She leans toward me, not a lot, just enough to keep me going.

            “I have snacks. No drinks. My dad was an alcoholic and he sees enough at work. We don’t keep any in the house.” Will she think that’s weird?

            “Well, I don’t drink, drink so a Pepsi would be great.” How old is she? And is she inviting herself to my house? And why am I worried about this?

            “I have Pepsi.”

            “Then yes, I’d love to come swimming with you.” Her eyes narrow. “What’s your name? I can’t believe I didn’t even ask.”

            “Jameson.”

            She laughs again, showing me a big smile of white teeth. “So, like, do people call you James for short?”

            “Nope, just Jay.” I’m still in shock that I’m about to take this girl back to my house for a swim.

            “Well, Just Jay, I’m Sky.” I realize that her voice is quiet, smooth, even though it’s filled with tease.

            “Sky?” Really? But now I realize I probably sound like a prick.

            “My mom is into her native roots. So yeah, Sky.”

            “I kinda like it.” Did that save me? “Did you grow up on a reservation and everything?”

            “I’m half Tlingit, from Alaska. We have corporations, not reservations.”

            “Oh.” I’m lost and feel like an idiot.

            “But I grew up in a small village. Does that make you feel better?” She punches me softly on the shoulder.

            “Definitely.” I look her straight in the eye. I don’t know if it makes me feel better or not, but I also know I feel a step behind and don’t want to.

            “Are you gonna drive me to your house, offer me a Pepsi, and get me into your pool?” Again, her voice is still full of tease.

            This is crazy, I think we’re totally flirting, and I’m keeping up. Or I will be soon.

            I laugh in nerves and excitement and hit the gas. Maybe my night won’t be so bad after all.

- - -

            I step out of the house in my swim shorts, with a Pepsi in each hand and towels under my arm.

            “Thanks.” And I swear she checks me out. “So.” She gestures with her hand from my head to my feet. “You look totally comfortable in front of a stranger, almost completely naked.”

            “I’m on the swim team.” And I’m not totally comfortable. I’m just used to being uncomfortable.

            “At your high school, huh?” She lets out a sigh.

            “I’m a senior.” I wonder if she’ll just take off. If I’m too young.

            “Hmm.” She pops her Pepsi, and takes a few drinks.

            I’m not sure what to do with myself. This whole situation feels a little unreal. The backyard is all the same. Large stone patio, scattered lawn furniture, long pool for laps . . . and then Sky.

            “Well, let’s swim.” She stands up, slides her denim skirt off and two of what now looks like three tank tops. Her hair’s past her shoulder blades and she’s standing in my backyard in panties and a barely-shirt. She walks in light, almost sliding steps and jumps into the water without hesitation.

            And because I’m a bit of a show-off, I wait until her head emerges before doing a leaping dive into the water. The warmth hits my skin and immediately dissolves some of the surface tension.

            “Nice. You put me to shame.” She laughs as I come up for air.

            “Do you have a pool?” I ask, trying not to dwell on the compliment.

            She stretches out on her back, floating, looking up.

            “Funny story, actually.” She continues to stare at the sky. “My grandparents do have a pool, but they don’t want to pay for the water or to maintain it.”

            “So you have a pool in the backyard that’s sitting empty?”

            “Pretty much.” She stands up, staying low in the water.

            “That sucks.”

            “You said it.”

            And now I want to ask her if she wants to come swimming again. But I chicken out. Honestly, I have no idea what to say, but we’re both here and floating, staring at the sky, that that feels okay, too. Well, more than okay. Awesome. When I hear the water ripple, I stand. She’s watching me, which makes me a bit self-conscious. I mean, that’s not really fair since I’m totally trying to see as much of her as I can.

            “So, are we going to get together again?” A corner of her mouth pulls up. “Or, have I scared you away forever?”

            “You haven’t scared me away.” Standing in my pool, in my backyard with a girl who looks like . . . I don’t know . . . but she’s gorgeous, she’s wearing barely anything . . . It’s kind of erotic or something. Exciting. Different.

            “Here’s all I need from you, Jay.” She steps closer.

            Closer to me. In the pool. Wearing next to nothing. My heart sprints. “What’s that?” Does my voice sound normal? Because this night feels anything but normal.

            “Be honest. All the time. No matter what.” There’s suddenly a softness to her that I want to see more of.

             I open my mouth to say easy, but then I think about how long I’ve been in love with Sarah and never said anything.

            “Oh, man.” She lets out a sigh. “You can’t do it. That really sucks cause I like you, Jameson.” She starts to swim away.

            “I like you, too.” It just comes out. She’s so relaxed. She’s going to tease me no matter what. Might as well tell the truth.

            “Nice. Maybe we can be friends.” She turns in the water to face me. I wish I could read her better, because the tease is still in her eyes, but her face seems totally relaxed.

            “Friends.” It comes out flat. Did I just say that?

            “What’s wrong with friends?” She laughs.

            “I . . .”

            “Truth.” She points.

            “I’ve been in love with my best friend since tenth grade and like a moron I helped her to get the guy she wanted and . . .” but I don’t want to finish.

            Her face falls. “And it worked.”

            “It worked.” And it punches into me again, just saying it out loud.

            “Sucks.”

            “Yep.”

            She swims to the side of the pool and climbs out. I stand here kind of wishing she’d left on the white tank instead of the black one. And why is it different that she’s in panties instead of a suit? It’s not like one covers more than the other, but it is definitely different.

            “Thanks for the swim.” She sits on a long lawn chair, but doesn’t rest onto it. She’s on the edge, still in her panties, with her elbows on her knees. “It’s still freezing out here.” She pulls a towel over her shoulders.

            It’s March and cold for swimming, but Mom and I use the pool year round. “You’re welcome.” I slide easily out of the pool and sit on the chair across from her.

            “So, this girl.” Her hands are on her shoulders, holding the towel tightly.

            “Sarah.” Who I don’t want to talk about.

            “This, Sarah. You’ve known her a while?” We’re facing one another. Our faces are a little too close for normal conversation and people who just met. Her warm breath hits my face. I love it.

            “We’ve been close for a few years.”

            “But now she’s with someone else.”

            “Yep.” The stupid picture of her and Eric dancing hits me again. I wince at the memory.

            “When did that happen?”

            “What time is it?” I ask.

            “Shit. Sorry.” She leans forward in the lawn chair. Still in her panties and tiny top. And I really should stop thinking about that. “This is going to be a pity kiss, but I promise that if we kiss again, it won’t be.”

            Is she kidding? I’m not sure what to say. But turns out, I don’t have to say anything. Her lips are soft on mine and warmer than me. She opens her mouth. She tastes like cherry Pepsi and I put my hand behind her head to keep her close. Her kiss hits every part of my body, sending shocks waves of the unexpected through me.

            “Okay.” She pulls away. “You are way too good at this to be . . . how old are you?”

            “Eighteen next week.”

            She laughs.

            Am I allowed to ask her age? Probably not. But she’s older, I know this much. Now I just need to play it cool. “So, the next kiss won’t be a pity kiss?”

            “Nope.” She stands up. “And it also won’t happen tonight. Turn around, I’m going to put my dry top on.”

            “You’re just going to strip? Right here?” Okay, I cannot let that thought hit too hard. And next kiss. I really want to feel her mouth on mine again.

            “As soon as you turn around.” She twirls her finger between us to signal me to move.

            I do as asked. I hear the slap of her wet shirt as it hits the side of the pool and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to turn around. Instead I imagine it. I imagine her bare browned back, and small black panties.

            “Okay.”

            I turn around. Her skirt is back on and her wet tanks are in her hand.

            “I’m dry and still freezing.” She chuckles as she rubs her arms.

            “Just a sec.” I jog into the house and grab a hoodie for each of us.

            “Here.” I hand over a sweatshirt.

            “Very decent of you.” She smiles and slides it over her head. It’s huge on her, but she looks squeezable in all the extra fabric. And there’s something about her wearing my shirt that makes me feel, warm, helpful. I don’t know what it is, but the feeling’s good.

            I shiver once with goose bumps and slide the other sweatshirt over my head.

            “You’re gonna walk me home, right?” How does she look fluid, even while she’s just standing still?

            I slide on my flip-flops. “Yep.”

            “I’m glad I ran into you.” She walks to the gate at the side of the house in these gliding movements that make me want to sit and watch.

            “Me, too.”

            “Maybe it’ll happen again.”

            “It’ll happen again.” I’ll make sure it does.

            “See? Look at all this honesty. It practically pours out of you.” She looks over her shoulder.

            “Practically.” I reach out and take her hand. Then stare at the cement sidewalk like it’s no big deal.

            “I’m only letting you get away with this because of your friend.” But her hand squeezes mine.

            “I’m okay with that.” It’s like her being so forward, makes it okay for me to be the same way. I should be this way with Sarah, but I’m not, and I have no idea why this is.

            Sky laughs.

            Maybe honesty really does work.

            We stop at the end of her driveway.

            “Thanks, Jay.”

            “Thanks, Sky.” Do I dare? “How bout my non-pity kiss, now?”

            She laughs. “Nice try. That one you have to earn.”

            And earn it I will.

            But as soon as she goes inside, the little bubble of happiness that surrounded her follows, and my chest is heavy again.

            I turn for home. What will change with Sarah and I? Is she going to be dating Eric come Monday after spring break? Will I see her over spring break? Will she call me tomorrow and give me details about her night that I don’t want? I’m not sure. I’m only sure that it sucks to be asking these questions.