All the Way (4 page)

“Seriously?” I figured he was making half this stuff up.

“Swear to God.”

I giggled and looked up at him. “Is there anyone here who meets your demanding standards?” I asked.

“I'm looking at her,” he said, giving me the dimple grin.

The line at the concession stand was so long, we finally gave up and went back to our seats empty-handed, which meant that by the time the game was over, I was starved.

I figured Joey would say something about going to Alforno's for pizza—it was a Norton ritual to go to Alforno's after practically every sports event—but he didn't mention it. He just walked me to his car in silence, opened the door, and popped in a CD mix of old metal rock.

“You want the top down?” he asked, only half seriously. It was early April, still not exactly convertible weather in Ohio.

“Not really, although the stars are great tonight,” I said, bending my neck to look out the windshield and up at the sky.

Joey nodded. “I know a great place to see stars,” he said, pulling out of the parking lot.

Honestly, I probably knew right then what he had in mind, but I guess I didn't want to spoil my first real date all year. Besides, I wasn't opposed to the idea of parking and letting him kiss me, maybe make out with him for a little while. And I was kind of curious: Where
did
kids from Norton go to park and make out, anyway?

Answer: the lake. There was a deserted parking lot on the far side of town, on the banks of the lake, with weeping willow trees hanging down, drooping their branches into the water. When we pulled up, the moon was in just the right spot to make a perfect crescent reflection, sparkling in the starlight.

Joey flipped off the CD and tuned in K-Rock on the radio. They were playing a new single by Jack Johnson. Very mellow and romantic.

“Come here,” he said, jerking his head like he wanted me to come over and rest mine on his shoulder.

I looked down at the gearshift and hand brake sticking up between us.

“Ummm . . .” I shrugged. “Like, how?”

“You want to get in the backseat?” he asked. “I could put the top down. It's not that cold tonight—we could snuggle under the blanket.”

I cocked my head to the side and gave him a skeptical stare. “I don't think so.”

“Oh, come on,” Joey said, really offhand and casual. “We don't have to do anything. Just look at the stars. Okay?”

He saw a little look of indecision creep across my face and took that for a yes. Before I knew it, he had unlatched the canvas top, pressed a button, and the roof was peeling back to reveal the starry sky.

“Okay,” I said, shivering slightly now that the top was down. “Where's that blanket, anyway?”

I climbed into the backseat while Joey fished a red wool Ohio State University lap robe out of his trunk.

Then he slid over the edge of the car and into the backseat beside me.

Let me tell you: the backseats of Mustangs are small. Tiny. Minuscule.

I leaned against him to get warm, and he spread the blanket across us. In a few minutes I wasn't shivering anymore.

“There's Orion,” I said, looking up at the stars and seeing the diagonal three-star formation that represented the belt in a constellation that was supposed to be a hunter. Like you could ever see the whole thing—but I knew what it was called, because my dad used to show me this stuff when I was little.

“There's Carmen,” Joey said, not even looking at the sky, just turning my face up to his with one hand on my chin.

Then he kissed me—a really soft, slow, polite kiss. No tongue. Just his soft, wet lips gently pressing against mine. The Beatles were singing “I Want to Hold Your Hand.” Joey reached under the blanket and covered my hand with his.

The kiss was spectacular—just the kind of kiss you want on a first date. My heart raced, wondering what he was going to do next.

Answer: nothing. He just sat there, looking at me, not moving or trying to kiss me again. It was like he was waiting for something, but I wasn't sure what.

I closed my eyes and hoped he'd kiss me again.

Yup. That's what he was waiting for.

The second kiss was just like the first, except a little more passionate.

Wow,
I thought. I hadn't realized how much I'd been missing this stuff.

I opened my eyes and leaned my head back when it was over, gazing up at the stars with a goofy smile on my face. This was great: a date with a cute, funny guy, followed by parking under the branches of a weeping willow tree and staring up at a starry sky.

A minute later, Joey's hand slid up my arm to rub my shoulder. Then he leaned in to kiss me again. As he did, his hand slid sideways, toward my boob.

“I don't think so,” I tried to say, although it came out sounding like “think so” because I had to pull away from his mouth first. At the same time, I sort of twisted away from his hand.

“What's wrong?” he asked, sounding all hurt.

“Nothing,” I said. “I just . . . you know. Let's not get carried away, okay?”

“No problem,” he said, leaning in to kiss me again, this time without trying to feel me up.

For the next ten minutes, we just sat in the car kissing. I could tell Joey was getting really worked up because he was breathing harder and harder, but he took it really slow, not trying anything more for a long time.

Finally he pushed his tongue into my mouth and at the same time reached for my boobs again. This time he managed to use both hands. I'm not sure how.

I pulled back, but he didn't stop.

“Hey,” I said, trying to slide away from him.

“What's wrong?” He sounded angry.

“Nothing's
wrong
,” I said. “I just don't want to do that yet, okay?”

Joey pouted, but he tried to turn his pout into a cute little-boy smile. “Okay. You say when.” He paused, just looking at me for a minute with his pouty little grin. “How about now?”

I laughed but shook my head. “Aren't you hungry? Maybe we should go get something to eat.”

Joey just shook his head and casually slipped his hand between my legs and up under my miniskirt.

“God!” I said, pushing him away. “Stop it! I told you, I'm not ready for that.”

“Christ,” Joey said. “What are you doing here if you don't want to make out?”

“I thought we came to look at the stars,” I said angrily.

“We
did
that,” Joey said. “Now it's time for something else.” He bent his head toward me, but when I started to back away, he put his hands up in the air, as if to say, “I won't touch you.” Then he kissed me again, like the first kiss, soft and slow and sweet.

But of course it was just a game to get me to drop my guard. A minute later he had his hands under my top. When I pushed him away from my breasts, he went straight for my legs and slipped his hand under my skirt in no time.

“Dammit!” I said, pushing him away and trying to stand up in the small, tight backseat. “That's it. Take me home.”

“Don't be a tease,” he said, grabbing my butt. “You know you want it.”

I wanted to smack him, but I restrained myself. Instead, I turned to see how the hell I was going to get out of that car.

Of course I had to bend forward to open the car door, which I'm sure he loved because it undoubtedly gave him a great view up my skirt. But I didn't care—I just wanted out of there. I pushed the door open and squeezed out, then slammed the door shut.

“You're an asshole,” I said, staring at him for just a second, hoping he'd apologize or at least try to make nice and drive me home. But he didn't. He just sat there, leaning against the backseat with his arms draped across it, like he didn't plan to move anytime soon. And he glared at me—like
he
was the injured party or something!

Furious, I whirled around and hiked out of the parking lot. I couldn't believe this.

When I was partway down Willow Drive, I heard his car engine start up.

Okay, at least he's sorry, I thought. He'll pull up beside me and explain that he lost his head because he's so pissed at Molly for dumping him, and he took his anger and aggression out on the wrong person. He'll seem so sincere that I'll climb into the car and he'll drive me home, and he won't even try to kiss me good night. Then he'll call me the next day, and we'll go out again, and this time he'll be the perfect gentleman. A week later, he'll ask me to the prom . . .

The sound of his Mustang roaring past me, spitting gravel, without even slowing down one bit, snapped me out of that lunatic daydream.

So much for my fantasies of going to Norton's prom. Maybe going to my old school's prom with Ben Sarber the spitter wasn't such a bad option after all.

 

 

 

Thank God for Uggs, that's all I can say.

At least my feet weren't
too
sore from the three-mile walk home. I happen to know it was three miles because I clocked it in my mom's car a few days later, just to settle an argument with Ariel, who claimed it couldn't be more than a mile, tops.

I probably could have called Ariel and asked her to come pick me up, but I was too mad to even think of it.

Anyway, I guess the walk was sort of good for me—it must have worked off some of that adrenaline, because I wasn't quite as furious by the time I got home. I mean, sure, I was pissed at Joey. He'd been a complete ass on so many different levels. But some guys are animals. So what else is new?

When I got home, I didn't call Rachel to give her all the gory details about my date. I figured the news could wait till the next day.

On Sunday morning I slept late instead of going to church with my parents. It was the one time the house was totally quiet—no circular saws buzzing, no nail gun banging away—and I liked to take advantage of it. When I finally dragged out of bed at 11:30, the house was still empty, so I took my phone into the upstairs bathroom, filled our new spa tub with my favorite White Musk Bubble Bath, and got in. I soaked for a while. Then I called Rachel. The phone rang only once, and she answered without even saying hello.

“So how was it?” she asked. Of course she knew my caller ID.

“
Urghh
. Pretty much awful,” I said with a sigh. “No, that's not right. It was fun for a while, but then he turned into Pushy Groper Boy, and I had to walk home all the way from the lake.”

“Hold on, back up. That's like the summary on the back of the DVD,” Rachel said. “I want the whole movie. Give me details.”

I leaned back in the tub and replayed the whole date fast-forward in my mind.

“Well, he was sweet at first,” I said, thinking about the early part of the evening. “And it was a definite rush showing up at the game with such a hot guy. And the whole school was there, and I mean
everyone
was checking us out. But I think that was part of his agenda, using me to make Molly jealous, although we had fun and laughed a lot . . .”

“So do you like him?” Rachel said. “I mean, did the Groper Boy thing kill the deal? Or are you going to go out with him again?”

“I had to walk home from the
lake
!” I repeated, my voice rising. “What, are you crazy? No, I'm not going out with him again!”

“Calm down. It was just a question,” Rachel said.

“Yeah, okay. But no way. He was way over the boundaries. And besides, did I mention that I had to walk home from the
lake
?”

“Yeah, that sucks,” Rachel said. “Where is that lake, anyway?”

“Far. Miles.”

She was quiet for a minute, and I knew what she was thinking: I was back to square one for a prom date.

“I know,” I said. Rachel and I were so close, we didn't even have to talk half the time. We had some kind of freakish telepathy going on. “But maybe this will work out better than you think. I mean, maybe now that I've been seen at the game with Joey, I'll be on other guys' radar screens, and someone else will ask me out now, you know?”

I was thinking of one guy in particular: Tyler North. I'd been into him since the first day I walked into Mrs. Raymer's English class, but I don't think he knew I was alive. At least he never seemed to notice me until Saturday night. Then I saw him checking me out at the donkey basketball game.

“It's a definite possibility,” Rachel agreed. I could almost hear her nodding.

“That's what I'm hoping,” I started to say, but right then I got call waiting. “Hang on . . .” I clicked the Flash button on the phone. “Hello?”

“Oh my God, Carmen,” a voice said on the other end of the line. “Oh my God.”

It took me a minute to even figure out who it was. Ariel. She didn't sound like herself, she was being so dramatic.

“What?” I had no idea why she was so upset.

“Oh my God. You haven't seen it?” she asked.

“Seen what? What's wrong? What are you talking about?”

“Joey's Joint! It's all about you,” she said. “About what you guys did last night.”

I sat bolt upright in the tub. “What do you mean, what we did?”

“Just read it,” Ariel said. “Oh my God. He's such a jerk! I can't believe he'd use you like that, and then write about it, too.”

I was dripping wet, with bubbles all over me, and I had Rachel on the other line. My heart started pounding, because from the tone in Ariel's voice, I knew this wasn't going to be good. Joey's Joint was famous—everyone at school read it all the time. So if he'd written something about me, it was definitely going to affect my life.