Honeysuckle Love (22 page)

“Yes.”

“Good. Are you eating enough for dinner?”

“I think so,” Clara replied.

“Are you eating healthy things like vegetables?”

“Are canned vegetables healthy?” Clara asked.

“They’ll do.”

“Then yes.”

“All right. Are you too tired from working and then coming home and having to cook and take care of Beatrice?” Ms. Debbie asked.

“Beatrice can take care of herself. And yes, I’m tired, but not exhausted,” Clara replied.

“Beatrice cannot take care of herself, Clara. You know that. She needs you despite her little grown-up ways,” Ms. Debbie said.

Clara nodded.

“How are you doing at school? How are your grades?”

“We’re doing just fine at school,” Clara said. “Straight A’s.”

“What about having no hot water? Is it getting too hard to heat water for bathing?” Ms. Debbie asked.

Clara hesitated before answering. “It’s time-consuming,” she admitted. “Bea hasn’t been washing her hair as much as she should. I thought about showering at school sometimes but I can’t risk certain people finding out.”

Ms. Debbie put away the last pot then turned to face Clara. “Honey, why don’t you and Beatrice take showers here at night?”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Clara said. She turned away because she felt the familiar stinging in her nose, the prelude before warm tears.

“You’re never a bother, Clara,” Ms. Debbie said gently. “Will you do this for me? It would make me very happy if you and Beatrice would start showering over here.”

Clara could not bring herself to look at her neighbor as she nodded.

“Good,” Ms. Debbie said. “Now go get your sister and your shower things.”

Clara wiped her face and nodded again. She walked to the door and reached for the handle then suddenly turned and ran towards Ms. Debbie. She wrapped the old woman in a desperate hug, crying into her shoulder as she felt Ms. Debbie’s chubby arms go around her to hold her close. Ms. Debbie stood there as long as Clara needed to be held, stroking her back and whispering funny things into her hair until Clara was no longer crying but laughing instead.

***

“I get frustrated giving you compliments,” Evan said running a hand through his dirty blond locks.

He and Clara were sitting on the couch in the finished basement of his parents’ house watching television. Clara came over after school and told him she could stay only until the end of Beatrice’s play practice. At first she was hesitant to come over. She wasn’t ready to meet his parents because she knew she would have to lie to them when they asked her questions. But thankfully they weren’t home. Both were still at work, and Evan’s brother was in play practice with Beatrice.

“You’re so cynical,” Evan went on. “You think I always have some ulterior motive, like the only thing I care about is getting into your pants.”

Clara blushed and grinned. “Well, isn’t that true?” she asked. “You are a boy, after all.”

Evan rolled his eyes. “Actually no, it’s not true. I like you. I think you’re pretty. You have a weird sense of humor, and I like it. I like the way you care for your sister.” He paused for a moment. “I imagine you’ll be a very good mother someday.”

Clara’s heart clenched tightly, a constriction she was not ready for, and she instinctively placed her hands over her chest. She let out a shallow breath wondering how someone’s words could affect her so much.

“Hmm. You liked that one,” Evan said smiling. It was a bit of a smug smile. “I got you with that one. What will you say now, Clara?”

She couldn’t say anything. She felt she couldn’t breathe and tried for a long, deep inhalation of air. Her heart relaxed then, and she drew in the air hungrily, releasing it slowly.

She looked at Evan.

“I don’t know how to have a boyfriend,” she said softly. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before. And you’re so nice to me. I don’t understand it when there are so many people at school who aren’t nice to me. I started thinking that I was just that person who people weren’t nice to.”

Evan snaked his arm around Clara’s waist, and she jumped. “Those people are assholes. You know that, right?”

Clara nodded.

“And you don’t have to know how to have a boyfriend,” he continued. “You just need to let me be one to you. You want to keep pushing me away, but I won’t let you.”

He tightened his arm around her, forcing her to lean into him. He rested his cheek on the top of her head.

“I’d very much like to kiss you if you’ll let me,” he said softly.

Clara’s heart raced. She wanted very much for him to, but she was scared. She’d never kissed a boy, but she knew he had probably kissed plenty of girls. And more. She would come off as inexperienced and ridiculous. She wondered if she should just be honest with him. If she blurted it out fast, then she couldn’t take it back. It would be there in the open for him to decide what to do with.

“I’ve never kissed a boy,” she said. She turned her face away, but he placed his hand on her cheek and forced her to look at him.

“So what?” he asked.

“I’m afraid I’ll be terrible at it,” she confessed, her eyes lowered so that he could only see the blackness of her long lashes.

“Well, then I guess we’ll just have to practice,” Evan replied.

She grinned and looked at him. “Don’t make light of it.”

“Oh, I’m not,” he replied and drew her face to his.

His lips barely brushed her own, a getting-to-know-you brush. Her lips were so full and soft, and he struggled with the desire to kiss her hard, to plunge his tongue into her mouth just to watch her eyes go wide with shock. He fought down the urge and continued his gentle examination, raining light pecks on her lips until he thought she was used to the feel of his mouth on hers. He pressed his lips more firmly to hers, taking her lower lip in his mouth and sucking gently. She mimicked him by doing the same to his upper lip, and he thought he would die at the realization that he was teaching her. It was empowering, and he had to check himself.

He forced her lips apart gently, finding her tongue with his own. He wasn’t sure how she would respond. He hoped she wouldn’t draw back in fear, and was happy to discover that she liked it. She let him explore her mouth. His tongue glided over the back of her upper teeth, feeling the slight crookedness of her incisor. He loved it.

She drew back, clasping her hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Evan said. “Did I do something you didn’t like?”

Clara was too embarrassed to say it. She looked down at her lap.

“I love your teeth, Clara,” Evan said gently.

“I wish my parents could have afforded braces,” she replied.

“Why? Your teeth are beautiful,” Evan said. “And anyway, straight teeth are so incredibly boring. Isn’t that something Beatrice would say?”

Clara smirked. “Maybe, but she’s got straight teeth.”

Evan smiled.

“She’s lucky.”

“You’re lucky,” Evan corrected. “Because you’re unique. And I find your teeth incredibly sexy. And I’d really like to kiss you again. And run my tongue over your sexy teeth.”

Clara buried her face in her hands. Evan let her sit there for a moment before he peeled them away. He didn’t wait for permission but pressed his lips to hers again.

He twisted his fingers in her hair—God, her hair!—holding her captive as he kissed her harder, letting his tongue plunge in and out of her mouth, sucking on her lips hungrily until he elicited a moan from her. It vibrated in his mouth, and he doubled his efforts, feeling the dull tingle of sore lips and not caring.

He laid her gently on the couch, leaning against her to feel her breasts crushed underneath his chest. He moved his mouth to her neck and kissed her tenderly. He licked it, moving the tip of his tongue up and down her soft skin until tiny goose bumps broke out on her right arm. He ran his hand over her arm lightly, tickling her, and she squirmed underneath of him. She felt the growing moistness between her legs, in disbelief that a kiss could provoke such a response. She squirmed again, this time spreading her legs slightly to give him room to put his thigh in between them. She wanted his thigh in between them, feeling her body detach itself from her brain, her hips moving against him without her conscious consent.

He pulled gently on her shirt to reveal her collarbone. He kissed it and ran a finger over it softly. He looked at her asking the unspoken question, and she nodded. She was so happy she wore her prettiest bra. He lifted her shirt just above it, drawing back to look at the pink ribbons. He noticed the front clasp and looked at her again. She grinned.

“Clara,” he breathed. He placed a hand on her breast and felt her arch her body up to him. He pushed his thigh up in between her legs and heard a sharp intake of air before she let out a breathy “ahhh.”

He removed his hand and pulled down her shirt. With great effort he sat up, pushing his hand through his unruly hair and breathing deeply.

“Was it something I did?” Clara asked. She sat up, too, feeling confused and rejected.

“God no,” Evan replied. “I just . . . you’re really sexy and I think we should stop.”

“Why?”

Evan looked at her incredulously. “Jesus, Clara. You’ve only just had your first kiss!”

Clara felt her face flush.

“I really like you. And I don’t want to move too fast,” Evan said. “Do you know how hard that is for a guy?”

“I didn’t know I would feel this way,” Clara said quietly.

“Exactly,” Evan replied, laughing lightly. “That’s how people end up having sex who’ve just met!”

Clara smiled. “I liked it.”

“I know you did,” Evan replied. “So did I.” He looked at her, imagining what he had done to her, in between her legs. He imagined that she was soft and wet, and he wanted to take her pants off, put his hand between her legs, put his mouth on her.

“My God,” he said frustrated, clutching the sides of his head.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “Clara, I should take you home now.”

“I drove here,” she reminded him.

“Oh yeah. That’s right.” He shook his head. “You should take off then.”

“I don’t want to,” she argued.

“Clara, if you don’t go now then other things will happen that we’re not ready for. I should be able to restrain myself. I really should. But I don’t think I can. Not now anyway. Can you understand that?”

“Yes.” She grinned. It was a wicked grin, and she thought it was the first time she ever grinned like that.

She felt the transfer of power, but it wasn’t the same as when they sat talking in the cafeteria. This power was dangerous and reckless. She could do anything with it, and a violent shudder coursed through her at the thought of it. She thought she could make him come undone if she reached out to touch his arm. A shock. A jolt into another universe. What would be his response? Would he throw her over his shoulder like a barbarian and take her to his room? Would he tear her clothes off and then tear into her like a starving wild beast? What could she do with that touch, that power that flowed through her? She thought she could make him do anything. Bow down to her. Crawl behind her. Kiss her feet after she kicked him with them. For that moment she was Bathsheba Everdeen, and the wicked smile returned, playing on her lips in a cruel way that made him impossibly hard and impossibly frustrated.

“Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking and go,” he ordered, grinning painfully.

“Okay,” she said.

***

“Mr. Brenson says I have a singing career on my hands, Clara!” Beatrice screamed in the car.

“Bea, take it down a couple of notches,” Clara said. She wasn’t focused on her sister at all. All she could think about was Evan’s lips on her, the tingling she’d never felt before, the desire for him so great that it made her body feel like jelly.

“I’m the best singer in the whole school!” Beatrice went on as loudly as before.

“Well, I already knew that,” Clara replied.

Beatrice walked around the house constantly singing, and Clara loved it. Her sister’s voice was soothing and sweet. She remembered back to her birthday. Beatrice was the only one who sounded good singing Clara’s birthday song, but it was hard to hear over Ms. Debbie’s screeching notes and Evan’s voice completely lost to the song’s melody. Beatrice definitely had the gift of song, and Clara’s heart swelled with pride for her sister. She couldn’t wait to watch her on stage in a few weeks.

Ms. Debbie was standing on her front porch waving at the girls as Clara pulled into the driveway. Clara wondered if it was coincidence that Ms. Debbie was outside at the exact moment they came home or if she was waiting for them. More likely the latter, Clara decided, and she didn’t want to go through another tug-of-war conversation with her neighbor about electricity.

“Ms. Debbie!” Beatrice yelled as she climbed out of the car. She ran over to her neighbor to tell her about play practice.

Clara hung back collecting book bags and a few groceries from the trunk. She waved to Ms. Debbie then bolted into the house. She was tempted to lock the door, but she’d lock out Beatrice.