Old Enough to Love... (Just One of the Guys) (42 page)

“Zach?” I spoke above a whisper.

It was weird. He instantly opened his eyes and glanced around my room. “Hey. What are you doin?” He stretched and rubbed his eyes then ran his fingers through his hair. “Have you already showered?” He seemed surprised.

I nodded. “I need to talk to you.”

He scooted to the edge of the bed. “OK. Can I shower or brush my teeth first?” he laughed.

I handed him his phone and his brows lowered. “It was vibrating downstairs and…I checked the messages. I’m sorry.” I hung my head. “I wasn’t trying to be nosey and I do trust you.” I paused and he smiled at me. “Maybe a little nosey.”

“Em. You can check my messages any time. I have nothing to hide from you. Who were they from?”

“Your mom. You need to call her by the way. And…Jackson.” My eyes watched him for a reaction. His shoulders fell slightly and I think he was watching his own reaction.

“OK. What did it say?”

“You read it.” I nodded toward the phone.

He pushed some buttons and smiled once. He shrugged. “That’s just my friends. They made fun of me because I wanted to get back…to you. The whipped remark was them being stupid.”

“I know. But…what website?”

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath in and opened them as he released the air.  He must have noticed the computer screen behind me because he tilted his head looking at it. “You looked it up?” His voice cracked when he asked and a panicked look crossed his face.

“I tried. I don’t know which one it is. I’m
guessin the Who’s Who you’d be proud of so unless you went on a Zimbabwean tour, work for NASA on the side or are a scorekeeper then I haven’t found it yet.”

He cleared the frog in his throat. “I thought we agreed to wait until May. Am I wrong?”

He was right. “I think I’d like to see these pictures.”

“I can’t show you
just
those pictures, Em. Let’s wait. We have so much to look forward too—your track meets and prom and graduation. Remember, you wanted to take me down the Rogue River on that jetty.”

He really didn’t want me to know. 

“If you want to jump in the shower and brush your teeth, that’s fine. I’m going to peel this orange and drink my soda. I’ll wait for you.”

He stared at me—a quiet surrender—and his jaw locked. He stood and walked to the bathroom and closed the door. I opened the soda and took a swig closing my eyes as it fizzed in my mouth. 

About ten minutes passed before the shower went off and the door opened. He wore a pair of shorts with no shirt. His hair was wet and water droplets still ran from his shoulders. The thought of making love to him before finding out his terrible secret crossed my mind especially given the way he looked at this moment.

“Can I say one thing before we do this?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Everything you’re going to see or read happened before I met you. I’ve never been disloyal to you and I never will. We were stupid and out of control. I was drinking a lot.”  He released a long breath.

“I don’t know what to say because I don’t know what we’re talking about. I’m assuming it has to do with girls.” He looked away from my eyes.

“Promise me…one thing…that’s all I ask.” His eyes were on me now.

“I’ll try.” I hoped I could.

“Don’t kick me out of here, don’t make me leave…I swear, I’ll give you space. I’ll leave you alone, but let me stay.”

I shrugged. “OK. I don’t want you to leave.” I smiled.

He moved the mouse to the one that read www. scoreboard or something or other. He clicked on it and took my hand in his firmly. I smiled when I saw all four of their pictures pop up.
Travon. Will. Jackson. Zach. Each of them distinctively different, but all of them hot. Zach was the hottest by far.

SCOREBOARD

The race is on!

Under Zach’s name, it read Playa 1.  He moved the mouse over his picture and stopped.

“Can I just tell you? Would you take my word, if I just told you what we did?”

“You can tell me, but I still want to see it.”

He suddenly shoved his lips to mine, kissing me more forcefully than ever before. His lips, tight at first, then softening as he slowed and the kiss came to an end. Then he softly pecked me three times before pulling away. This wasn’t good. He clicked on his picture. A list of names popped up. Girl’s names.

Jessica— 11/21  16  BJ

Marley— 11/23  15  BJ

Lisa— 12/4  16  VS

Susan— 12/17 puma  BJ, S

Kristi— 12/17 puma  S 

Madison— 12/31  16  VS, BJ

Mindy— 2/7  15  S

Jenn— 2/14  19  BJ

Taylor— 3/8  MILF  BJ, S, M

Carly— 5/26  16  VS

Maria— 6/10  23  BJ M

Kathleen— 6/29  17  VS

Paula— 7/4  17  S

Abby— 8/16  17  S,BJ

Olivia— 9/19 Cougar—S, BJ

Rachel— 11/22 16 BJ

Brandy— 12/17 15 BJ, S

Erin— 12/19 19 S

Lauren—12/20 16 BJ

Mackensie—12/21 22 BJ

Estelle— 7/17  17 S, BJ

What? A list of girls names who I knew nothing about except the last one. “Tell me what it means. Explain it to me.” I whispered the words.

His eyes were closed and he shook his head. “It means nothing. Literally.”

“Tell me,” I gritted through clenched teeth.

“The BJ stands for blowjob,” he said matter of fact and his hand tightened on my wrist.

“What I did last night?” I questioned.

“Yes,” he spoke softer than a whisper.

I’d never done that before and he’s had it done…1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11…no wait…he had had it done…by 13 girls?? I was fourteen? Instinctively, I put my palm over my mouth.

“And the S—that stands for sex?” I was going to cry. There was no doubt about it.

“Yes.” His voice was a little louder.

“Yes? Like you
scrogged
all these girls?” My voice raised and I locked my fingers behind my head.

“Uh-huh.”

I felt like I’d been kicked in the chest. His hands were suddenly on my shoulders. I flinched away from his touch and he retreated. “What’s a cougar?” I couldn’t look at him.

“It’s an older woman.”

I felt my face contort into an awkward expression. “Older? What does that mean?”

He covered his face with his palms and breathed heavily. “It’s a woman who’s at least forty.”

I rested my forehead on my fingertips as my head spun and vomit seemed to work its way up my esophagus. “Oh my God. That’s like my mother!”

“Emma. Listen to me.” He grabbed my shoulders.

“What’s a MILF, a puma?  What’s the M stand for?” I caught myself shouting and tears pooled as the words came out.

“Emma, Please.”

“Tell me!” I yelled, slapping his hand away from me.

He fell back onto my bed. “A MILF is a mom I’d like to fuck, a puma is a late twenty, early thirty.”

“And the M?  Is that a mom?”

“No.  It’s married,” he whispered.

“Oh God,” I shouted and grabbed the trash can next to my desk, and it came, the Dr. Pepper mixed with bits of orange and maybe bile from my stomach. I hung my head over the plastic can with spit dangling from my mouth. He grabbed my hair and pulled it back. My throat constricted and I couldn’t breathe.

“Breathe, Emma,” he whispered.

“I can’t.”

“Yes. You can.” He rubbed my back and I dry-heaved once more wrenching my gut before I could sit up.

In and out, I thought to myself sitting back in the chair. I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Tell me the V. I think I know, but I want to hear you say it.” I feared I’d vomit again. I could hear myself whistling.

A long minute passed before he answered. “A virgin.” His voice trailed off.

“You…had sex….with four virgins?”

He stood up. “Not one of them was under sixteen.”

I chuckled sarcastically. “Did you love any of them?”

His eyes narrowed. “No.”

My chest was constricting at the thoughts going through my head. “How could you do it then? You went after girls because they were virgins? Oh my God.” My lip trembled. He’d been with so many women. Nothing I did was new to him. I was a conquest for his scoreboard.

“No! That’s not what it was like.”

My body felt weak. I felt weak, pathetic. He’d experienced the world and I’d experienced nothing. He’d had twenty-something women…married women and ugh. He moved toward me. He felt sorry for me.  I was the girl who could barely breathe on her own.

“Don’t touch me,” I warned and he took another step. “Get out of my house.”

He retreated.  He was leaving. That was for the best.  He stopped at my desk and snatched up my inhaler then turned toward me shaking it.

“NO!” I hit his chest with my fist and he didn’t flinch. “I hate you,” I said coldly and tried to shove him.

“No. You don’t. You hate what I did. Now use the inhaler.”

My teeth clenched together and I refused. I was being stupid. I knew I needed the
albuterol. My breaths were short and coming quicker.

“Come on
Em. Take it.”

Being stubborn was one thing, being this stupid was another.  I’m not sure I was done making my point, but my chest was about done.  I knew this because the lack of oxygen had left my arms limp and light-headedness had crept into me. 

His arm wrapped around my waist and moved me to the bed. My head rested on his shoulder for its final time; as he slid the inhaler between my already parted lips, I wondered if he saw the irony in what was happening. As he compressed the tube and the mist entered my mouth providing my lungs with relief, he was essentially giving me life. But it was a life that I knew I would live without him now. The irony of this situation was that he was saving me and emotionally killing me all in a few moments.

A long, slow breath came to me on its own. The revelation came to me all at once too. Maybe it was the suddenly clear mind. 

I plopped down in front of the computer. “How do I add a name?”

“What?”

I hit the computer screen with my finger. “Add my name. Do it now. Type in Emma…March 17…15…BJ.”

“Stop,” he said dryly.

“When I see it again…I better be on there.” I walked out of my bedroom and down the stairs.

After she left the room, I fell back onto her bed and stared at the ceiling fan circulating the air. As the breeze blew over me, I prayed.  I hadn’t prayed often. I prayed that night in juvenile detention.  I prayed the day we moved.  I prayed the day I saw blood coming from her head and I couldn’t tend to her.  I prayed the night I sat in jail.  I prayed now. I prayed for God to make things right, not even knowing what that meant.

Deep down, I’d known all along I wasn’t good enough for her.  The things I’d done. The things I’d seen. The things I’d been a part of.  I wanted to change. I wanted her to see that I was everything she needed and wanted me to be.  I didn’t think that would ever happen, not now.

The little red inhaler in my hand gave her life.  I simply wanted to make her smile. To make her feel safe.  To make her feel special.  I had failed miserably and done none of the above. God, if she only knew…

Forcing myself up and off the bed, I stared at the messed up sheets from the night before.  I’d never slept with a girl, I mean actually slept.  Never had a desire to stay with one. The thought of never sleeping with her again… I shook away the thoughts.  What I did last night was downright playing dirty.  I knew she wouldn’t stop me from going down on her, and I never predicted she would reciprocate, but there was no way in hell I was turning her down. The innocence in her touch, the passion in her kiss, the love in her eyes…I’d never felt any of that before.  She believed in me.  She believed in me more than I did.  Maybe more than anyone else.