I Made You My First (9 page)

I wondered in that instant how he could
not
know I was crazy about him.  Hadn’t I given him plenty of signs?  I wanted to stop him.  I wanted to explain what he was doing to me.  I really wanted to apologize for not being any good at relationships. But I didn’t.  I wasn’t sure how to start.

“When Judy called me, she sounded upset.  I was really worried about you, Jurnee.  I hated thinking you were hurting.  If I felt anything, it was concern for you, and I wanted to know what I could do to help.”  He smiled at me and I smiled back, giving his hand a soft squeeze. 

I remained still for several moments and then I reached out for his shoulders, and slowly pulled him down on top of me.  He complied gladly and was on his hands and knees, hovering over me.  “Thank you for coming for me today,” I whispered.  He looked into my eyes and smiled.  I could feel my heart melting inside my chest. 

He leaned down, kissed me on the forehead and said, “Anytime, Miss Sampson, anytime.”  I lifted my head up for
 a kiss on the lips, but he rolled me over, pulling me until we were both on our sides.  We lay there, staring at each other for a long time.

“Tell me about your dream,” I finally said. 

His eyebrow rose and he sat up on his arm and gave me a sexy grin. “Um, I’m not sure that
now
is a good time to be talking about that.  It could very well get us into trouble.”  He smiled, touching my nose lightly with his finger.

“Well I had a dream of my own and I’ll gladly
tell
you mine if you’ll
tell
me yours,” I giggled.

“You had a dream?” he asked.  I could tell that I had his interest.  “What was your dream about exactly?”  He was looking at me in anticipation.

“I’m sorry, Irish, I
could
show you but I’m unable to tell you.  It’s rated X and with me being a lady and all,” I gave him a naughty grin just to mess with him.  In reality, my dream would have been lucky to get a GP rating, but he didn’t know that.  He rolled over on his back, crossing his arms above his head.  I stayed on my side but scooted up against him, leaning over him.  He looked frustrated, but not the same
frustrated
I was going for.  I kissed the side of his face lightly, and then lifted up to look at him.  He lay there staring at me.  I leaned back in and kissed his neck, slowly, lingering, leaving a trail of wet kisses from top to bottom.  Again I lifted myself up and his eyes instantly flicked up to meet mine. 

A smile formed on his lips and he said, “You’re so incredibly sexy.”
 

“Why thank you, sir, you aren’t so bad yourself,” I whispered.
  He looked like he was going to say something, but I really wanted to be the one to initiate what
might
happen then.  I wanted to be the aggressor.  “Irish, please,” I begged, “I want you.” 

Instantly he was up on his elbows, turning his body toward me.  “Jurnee, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
  His face was suddenly serious, and with a sense of urgency he carefully pushed me onto my back.  He was on me in an instant, pressing himself against me.  He took my arms and pinned them above my head and attacked my mouth.  Adrenaline or passion, I’m not sure which, pulsed hard through my veins.  I kissed him back roughly, and began thrusting my tongue in and out of his mouth, trying to show him what I wanted.  I wanted him to take me and I wanted him to do it right then.  Suddenly he released my arms; he slowly and unexpectedly sat up, and realizing the position we were in, became silent. 

Looking into my eyes he said, “Jurnee, I can’t do this.  Not like this.”  I felt him crumble down next to me.  I tried to catch my breath.  My heart was pounding fiercely. 

Looking at the sky, I tried to find words, “Is it that you can’t do it
here
at your house or do you mean
with
me?
”  I heard the pathetic tone in my words.

He rolled onto his side and I felt his hand searching for mine.
  “Jurnee, I want to make love to you and hold you in my arms all night.  I’ve thought about nothing else for more than two years.  You’re the
only
person that I
would
make love to,
here
, but I want to make love to you when we don’t have someone waiting for us or listening to us.  I want to wake up next to you.   I want it to be special, something that we’ll look back on as one of the best days of our lives.  This isn’t just a
hook-up
,
Jurnee, not for me anyway.”  I couldn’t speak; I had no words. I really wanted to apologize for my behavior.

I felt a warm tear roll down my cheek, then his finger on my face.  I lay there mentally playing back his words.  He wasn’t judging my behavior and he’d said the
L
word three times; I’d counted. 

He was leaning his face into mine and I could see his eyes looking sweetly at me.

“You don’t have any idea how incredibly difficult it was to make myself stop, do you?”  His smile was apologetic.  I reached for his hand and placed it between my legs.  Irish’s eyebrow flew up and he gave me the most puzzled look. 

“Just leave it there for a minute,” I warned. He was not only confused but began
 rubbing the inside of my thigh, softly up and down.  I smiled at him.  “Now maybe I’ll be able to get past first base in my
dreams
,
at least.”  I laughed with him. 

He kissed my lips.  “I promised to get you home,” he whispered. 

“I know.” 

Judy had already gone to bed when I got home the night before.  She was working three days a week for a law firm downtown.  She wanted to be a paralegal when she grew up.  She’d already graduated and was doing an internship. 

I envied her for knowing what she wanted to do.  I still had no clue.  I’d graduated from college when my parents passed, and I was in North Carolina six months after that.  Other than some sporadic babysitting jobs, I’d pretty much just hung out with my aunt and uncle.  Aunt Jean loved to sew and make patchwork quilts.  That was one of the few things she could still do.  We spent a good amount of time just talking and sewing.  When the weather was agreeable, she sat on the porch in her wheelchair and instructed me on the way to tend to her flowers and garden.  Because she had several nurses to help her with the biggest part of her day-to-day care, I felt as if I got the best part of her.  I loved to sit and listen to stories about her and my mom when they’d been young.  I’d heard many of her stories several times but I never tired of hearing them again.  My aunt was a great storyteller.  She could never replace my mom, but she held a special place in my heart and I loved her dearly. 

A note was propped up against the coffee pot.  I poured a cup, grabbed the note and went out to the patio. 
Need to pick up my car after work today. Call me if you need anything.  Love ya, Judy, and P.S. You still snore!

I laughed.  My mind wandered while I sat quietly, drinking my coffee.  I thought about everything that had happened yesterday, but kept going back to the fountain with
Irish.  I’d almost begged him to
take me
right then and there and he’d turned me down.  Either I wasn’t good at throwing myself at a man or he wasn’t a good
player
.
  I replayed again what he’d said to me,
“I want it to be special; something we look back on as one of the best days of our lives.”

Of all the things he’d said, this was the one thing I kept hearing.  I wished I’d asked him what he meant.  Before meeting Irish at the airport last Friday, I hadn’t known he even existed, yet last night it almost seemed as if he were waiting to consummate our two-year relationship the
right
way.  Could a person really care about or love someone he didn’t even know two years ago?  Is that what Irish had been doing?  Maybe those talks about me with my brother were really more detailed than Irish had admitted.  If he’d been having these feelings for me since my parents’ funeral, why had he waited until this trip to reveal them to me?  I’d been to San Diego many times before.  What made him wait until now?  What had been different?

Just then my phone beeped, breaking my concentration. 
My phone is in my jacket
, I thought.  I jumped up to find it.  With phone and cigarettes in hand I went back to the patio.  I opened my cell.  Four missed messages. 
I’d need another cup of coffee first
, I laughed to myself. 

First message: eight-thirty pm
.
This is your brother.  Give me a call when you get this message.
  I hadn’t heard my phone go off last night.  He must have called while I was at the fountain with Irish.  Oh great. 

Second message: eleven-thirty pm.
I miss you already.
 

Third call: six-thirty in the morning
. 
Jurnee, this is John. Please call me.  I really need to talk to you about something
. 

Fourth message: seven-fifteen in the morning.
 
J.C., I just wanted to say good morning and let you know that I should be home at about three-thirty.  Love you.
   

John had called twice.  That was unusual.  I’d made several vacation trips without hearing a word from him.  He knew when I was there because my aunt always called and told him.  I’d asked her many times not to, but I knew she would.  I wondered if John was calling about Auntie.  I opened my phone and punched in his number. 

It only rang twice before I heard him answer, “Hello, this is John.”   I felt relieved hearing his casual tone.

“John, this is Jurnee.  You called?”  I’m not sure why, maybe habit, but I felt my face scrunch up waiting for him to answer.

“Yeah, so when did you get in?  Auntie called me last night and said that you were out here.”  What a liar.  He knew I was there, and he knew when I’d arrived.  I bit my lip, thinking of what I
should
say to that.  “Jurnee, are you there?” 

“Yep, I’m here,” I said.  I took a deep breath.  “What did you need, John?  I was just getting ready to get in the shower,” I lied.

A long pause and then he said, “Well yeah, hey I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner Saturday, for your birthday.  My friend’s the head cook at George’s at the Cave so it’s pretty good food.  Would you like to go?” I instantly  felt my whole body cringe.

He’d caught me off guard, but I remembered what Irish had said about a party.  “Um, John, you know that my birthday’s not until
next
Tuesday, right?”  I waited.  I wanted him to work a little.  I wished I could’ve seen him squirming.