Remember My Name (6 page)

I glance down. Okay, it’s
obvious. I’m not sure I can explain my way out of this one. Luckily, I don’t
have to. Before I can look back up, he leans over and plants his lips on mine.
I freeze at first, but I don’t know why.

Whatever the reason for my
hesitation, he doesn’t stop, and his lips slowly massage mine to life. His eyes
are closed. Now mine are too, and I’m kissing him back. Is this really
happening? What about him being straight? I’m afraid to ask in case he suddenly
remembers and kicks me out.

His hand lifts the edge of
my t-shirt and sneaks inside, palm to my stomach. Almost immediately, he pulls
away, but his hand stays where it is. “You’re shaking,” he says, concern in his
eyes. “Do you want to stop?”

He’s right. Involuntary
shivers are sweeping over my skin. “I’ve never done this before… with a guy.”

“Me neither. I’m sorry, we
can stop.” He begins to withdraw his hand, but I catch him around the wrist.
The subtle shaking in my hand doesn’t stop, but my grip is firm.

“No,” I say. “Keep going.”

Sporting a devious smile, he
whispers in my ear, “Yes, sir.” And just like that he’s back, the warmth of his
lips and now his tongue on mine. Cautious but steady, his hand works its way
up, over my stomach and up to my chest, dragging my shirt up with it. I want to
reach out and touch him back, but apprehension holds my hands motionless.

His free hand glides over
the back of my head, his fingers weaving through my hair. His mouth slides off
to the side, continuing along my jawline. At the same moment, the first of his
fingertips touches my left nipple and an instinctive sound comes from deep in
my throat.

Matt retreats once more, his
brown eyes flashing over me. “You like that, huh?” An impish grin plays across
his lips, the same ones that were all over me a moment ago.

“Hell yes.” The words scare
me the moment they’re free. In theory I’ve figured out what I’m into, but I’ve
never done it before in practice. It might be that or maybe just the tingling
in my fingers from hyperventilating, but part of me is terrified at what’s
happening. I don’t want him to stop though.

Apparently he doesn’t want
to either. “Come ‘ere, cowboy,” he says, his hands moving up along the outside
of my t-shirt until they’re just under my armpits. Firmly gripping the sides of
my ribcage, he deftly rotates me so I’m lying on my back. His knees planted on
either side of my waist, he surveys me like a conquistador.

His butt is hovering just
above my hips. A thread of panic laces the edges of my voice. “You probably
shouldn’t, um, sit down or anything.”

He’s got that same grin, the
one that’s amused by my nervousness. “Because of that?” He glances at my
crotch. “Look, I have one too.” He flicks a finger at the tent pole straining
against the fabric of his own shorts. Something about the way he’s looking at
me causes a subtle shift in the battle going on inside me between scared and
turned on. Then the humor evaporates from his tone, leaving him with just a
smile. “You’re cute, Jacks.”

Heat rises in my face the
moment the syllable steps off his tongue. “Don’t call me that,” I force out the
words, pushing him off me roughly. “I have to go.”

“Whoa,” he says, his eyes
growing wide and raising his hands like I pulled a knife on him. “What’s
wrong?”

I jump off the bed and
adjust myself, aware that he’s watching my every move. “Nothing, I just have to
go. I’ll see you later.” Before he can answer, I run out of the room and down
the stairs.

The wind blasts my face as I
ride out of town. What the hell just happened? My fingers still have that pins
and needles feeling, and my heart is racing. I want to be mad at him for
pulling that shit on me, but the truth is I loved every minute of it. At least
until he called me
Jacks
. I wasn’t ready for any of what happened, but
that was definitely too much.

It was the first time I’d
ever done anything with a guy. And… damn. It was so weird how my body reacted
– not my dick, I expected that. The shivering though… it’s like deep
inside some part of me was seriously afraid of what I was doing. But neither
the wrath of God nor that of my father came down. I don’t actually know if Dad
has a problem with that or not. People seem to like him and he’s a sharp guy,
but I’m the one who has to live with him. If he does have hang ups about two
dudes messing around, I don’t want to find out what he’d do.

An instant before the bug
makes contact, I see it zooming toward me. It’s big and green, like a goddamn
grasshopper or something. It nails me right in the cheek before tumbling away
in my rearview mirror. It stings, bad, and the little bastard probably even
left a welt.

As I ride on, I’m thankful
for the coolness of the wind against me, soothing the painful spot on my cheek
as well as the turmoil inside.

When I pull the bike into
the garage, everything looks the same as when I left, other than the sun being
lower in the sky. Inside though, a whole lot has changed.

Ditching the helmet and
glasses, I run my hand over the bump on my cheek. It’s sore and probably bright
red. I’ll have to check in the mirror. Sighing, I cross the yard to the house,
letting the ratty screen door slam behind me.

Hours later as I curl up
under the sheets of my bed, I let the memories of the day sweep me away.
Matt
.
His name swells up inside me as I replay every second from when I pulled up at
his house to the moment I ran out the front door. He didn’t text me or anything
afterward. I kind of thought he would, even though I haven’t texted him either.
What would I have said?
Sorry dude for bailing, I just got a little nervous
how hard my dick got when you were kissing me.
Hah, that would be rich.
Actually, he’d probably get a kick out of it. The more I get to know him, the
more of a good guy he seems to be.

The image of his easy-going
grin held in my mind, drowsiness finally wraps me in its arms. Strong, lean,
tan arms.

Jackson

The next morning begins
slowly for me. Dad shouldn’t still be home, but he’s waiting for me at the
kitchen table when I get downstairs. “Morning,” he says, looking up from his
laptop.

I hope I’m not the reason
he’s home. “I thought you were working today,” I say evenly.

“I was just catching up on
some inventory planning before I head in,” he admits, shutting the computer.
“Coffee?”

“Sure.” I take a seat across
from him while he gets up to pour me a cup. Someone peering into our lives
might be confused why he’s serving me, but I get it. He’s not one of those new
age parents that believes in being their kids’ best friend or keeping them
entertained at all times. Actually he’s about as far from that as he can get.
But he offered the coffee to me, so he’s going to pour it. Dad is old school
like that.

He sets a steaming cup in
front of me, already mixed with just the right amount of cream the way I like
it. We don’t have many mornings like these, but after living with someone for
so long, you get to know each other. Not just their favorite movie or work
schedule, but all the little quirks and pet peeves that make someone who they
are. And after knowing all that stuff about Dad? Most of the time he’s fine,
but he’s not someone you want to piss off. Or disobey.

“We’re almost out of cream,”
he says.

“Damn,” I groan, refusing to
let that lessen the good taste of the coffee. He’s not
really
worried
about the cream because he drinks his coffee black. It’s actually just code for
it being my turn to go grocery shopping next. Like a lot of chores, we trade
off. Of course when I go, I always make sure to forget a few things. I keep
hoping that he’ll tell me he can just handle the shopping from now on. Maybe I
should feel guilty about that, but teenagers are expected to devise clever ways
to shirk responsibilities, right?

Only now do I notice that
Dad has been watching me this whole time. “You’ve hung out with that guy Matt a
few times.”

“Yep,” I say. “He’s fun.”

He takes another sip of his
coffee. “I’m glad you’ve found a new friend.”

I’m not entirely sure, but I
think I detect the slightest emphasis on the word
friend
. “Yeah, me
too,” I say, hoping he’ll drop it. One of the things I do really like about Dad
is that he doesn’t force conversation. He’s perfectly content to sit here in
silence with me.

I’m not afraid to admit that
I’m an introvert. Being around people all the time is exhausting. When I
consider it, it’s not really a surprise then that my hobbies all involve me
being alone. Reading, napping, even swimming… they’re all things that are best
done alone. Although now that I think about it, curled up with Matt for a nap
wouldn’t be so bad.

At my stomach’s protests, I
get up to make myself a bowl of cereal. Dad usually doesn’t eat breakfast, so
he just keeps sipping his coffee as I putz around the kitchen.

Eventually our mugs are
empty and my bowl just has a dribble of milk left in the bottom. “Plans today?”
Dad asks.

“Not sure,” I say with a
noncommittal shrug. I need to at least see Matt before he flies out tomorrow.
I’d be happy with a lot more than just seeing him, assuming that he’s not too
put off about me jetting yesterday. It doesn’t make sense to me what happened
in his room. He said he was straight and made a point of rebuffing my advances
on more than one occasion. I enjoy being with him – a whole lot more, now
– but I could really use an explanation.

“You don’t have to tell me
what you’re up to, but…”

“Yeah?” It’s a struggle to
keep the defiance out of my voice. At seventeen, I’m getting a bit old for him
to monitor my summer days, at least when I’m not working for him.

“Straighten up your room a
bit? It’s a disaster.”

I nod. “Sure, if I have
time.” I would feel bad telling him that the prognosis isn’t good, so I quickly
clear my spot and run up the stairs to track down my phone.

*     *     *    
*

Before I’m even off my bike,
Matt pushes open the screen door of his house, a hand quickly smoothing out his
dark hair. Locking up the helmet and tossing the safety glasses over the
handlebars, I look up to meet his eager eyes.

“I’m glad you came.”

“I said I was going to.”

He looks me up and down, as
if expecting to find something different from the last time he saw me. “But
after you bolted, I wasn’t sure.”

“I’m here now.”

His smile falls as he
realizes he might have said too much. Scraping the tip of his shoe against the
pavement, he speaks quickly, “So I thought we could walk to this place down the
road and get something to eat. You didn’t eat lunch yet, did you?”

“Can we hold on just a
minute?” I say, feeling guilty for shooting down the enthusiasm in his
expression. “What the hell happened to you being straight?”

“You really don’t sugarcoat
stuff, huh?” Without waiting for me to respond, he says, “All right, here’s the
thing. I’ve never really been interested in a guy before. I mean, maybe a bit,
but not like
really
. So this is new for me. I was confused at first, and
then I was pissed. But I thought, what the hell, why not? I like being with
you, so here I am,” he finishes out of breath.

“Wow.”

“Is that all you’re going to
say?” He sounds nervous.

I shrug, looking up into
those adorable eyes. “Uh, I like spending time with you too?”

“Is that a question?”

“No,” I laugh. “I like
spending time with you. I think we should do more of that.”

“So what do you say to
lunch?”

“Sounds perfect.”

I follow him across the
street, matching his stride once we get to the sidewalk. Somehow he manages to
make even a plain white t-shirt and khaki shorts look sexy. With my gaze
sliding from his arms up to where his pecs press against his shirt, I don’t see
the uneven section of sidewalk ahead. My foot catches the edge of the concrete
and I stumble. I don’t fall, but my face gets hot. I should probably keep my
eyes on what’s in front of me.

“So where are we going?” I
ask.

“Just a little burger place
I want to take you to.”

Something about the way he
says it make me wonder. “As in, take me out?”

A guilty smile awakening at
the corners of his mouth, he nods. “I felt bad that things went so, uh… fast
last time. It wasn’t really fair, because you didn’t know what was coming. So I
thought this could be like, a real first… date, I guess. Sorry, that sounds
dumb,” he finishes, the tips of his ears reddening.

“Wait, so you were planning
all along on ambushing me in your room?”

“Yeah, sort of.” He grins.

Damn him and his disarming
good looks. “You’re terrible,” I say, shoving his shoulder. I’ve never had a
guy take me out before, but I kind of like the idea.

There isn’t anyone in the
restaurant except for a few old couples scattered at different tables, but Matt
directs us to a booth in the back. “Embarrassed to be seen with me?” I tease.

He rolls his eyes. “Not on
your life. I just want to have some privacy.” He slides onto the plastic bench
seat across from me.

It’s barely a minute before
the waitress comes over. I recognize her as a girl from school who graduated
this year, but I don’t know her name. Her hair is long and dark and plain, and
she’s kind of okay looking I guess. For a girl, anyway. “How’s your summer
going, Matt?” I keep forgetting that he’s just two years older than me and
probably knows people from my school.

“It was good. I’ll have a
third pound burger with waffle fries. No cheese on the burger.” He says it like
it’s the end of the conversation with her, which makes me feel warm inside.
That, and he’s touching my ankle with a shoeless foot. His toe traces a circle
around the ball of my ankle. I glance up at him from the menu.

“And what about you?” The
girl directs this question to me.

“Huh?”

Her resulting laugh is an
irritating noise that sounds like a horse with pneumonia. “What would you like
to eat?”

Matt’s foot is moving upward
past my knee and making it hard to concentrate. “Um, a half pound
cheeseburger–” I gulp, swallowing the word I was about to say. Forcing
myself to ignore what he’s doing now, I give him a look that says
stop it
.

“And?” She taps her pen
against the paper.

“Uh, with seasoned fries.
Extra fries, too, actually.”

“Sure,” she says, making a
quick note on her waitressy pad before walking away.

Matt is smirking at me, but
at least his foot is behaving itself now. “You seemed a little distracted
there.”

“Ha-ha. I wonder why that
was.” I sneak a glance under the table. His foot is tucked safely back in his
shoe.

When the food comes out, he
raises his eyebrows as the waitress deposits a plate with a huge burger and
fries along with another plate of fries in front of me. Only when the waitress
says, “Enjoy your food, boys,” do I remember that Matt said he was paying.
Sheepishness bucking to the surface, I venture a guilt-laden look at him. His
expression isn’t unhappy, but his eyes are wide. “You’re really going to eat
all that?”

Shaking the red plastic
ketchup bottle nozzle-down, I squirt a huge swath into the corner of the plate
of fries until the stream sputters to an airy end. I hate that sound, but I
love ketchup. “Definitely. I feel like I’m always going hungry.”

“If you have enough room
inside to put all that away, I believe it.”

The rest of our lunch is
passed with voracious chewing but otherwise in silence. Afterward, Matt leads
us toward a park a few blocks away. It makes me feel weird to admit it, but I
like that he paid for me. It made me feel taken care of. No one has ever paid
for me like that before except Dad, which obviously doesn’t count.

“You didn’t actually eat all
your fries,” Matt points out as a squirrel skips across the sidewalk in front
of us.

“That’s because you ate the
last of them.”

“I was afraid you were going
to mow through all of them and get sick, and our date would end early.” He
grins while turning off the sidewalk into the park.

“Whatever, I would have been
fine.” It’s annoying when people try to tell me what to eat or how much. Matt
doesn’t answer. My irritation rising, I add, “I’m in really fucking good shape,
you know.”

Hastily shaking his head,
Matt brims with deference. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Then more quietly, he
says, “I
know
you’re in really good shape.” Of course he does, because
he’s seen me with my shirt off.

Taking a deep breath, I nod
and point toward a bench mostly secluded by bushes in the corner of the park.
We’re alone here, but that doesn’t stop me from looking over my shoulder as we
sit down. Our knees are touching, but nothing else. A wind picks up, surrounding
us with the peaceful rustle of poplar leaves.

“I wish you didn’t have to
leave so soon,” I admit.

“I know. It sucks.” His hand
is resting on his knee, just inches away from my own. I risk another glance
behind us. The park is still empty. Traversing the distance between us, I bring
my hand to a rest on top of his. Our eyes meet – his brown, mine blue.
His hand rotates and his fingers rise up through mine like the tide,
irrepressible and irresistible. His lips parting slightly, he looks at mine and
then back upward.

I give his hand a squeeze.
“So this is technically our first date, right?”

“That’s right,” he says, the
intensity in his expression diminishing only a little.

The corners of my mouth pull
upward. “I thought a gentleman was supposed to wait until the end of the date
for the kiss.”

His eyes gleam with a
mischievous quality. “Who says I’m a gentleman?”

I force back a laugh,
pretending to pull away from him. “Well, I only date gentlemen.”

“I thought I was your
first.” He grins, his eyebrows rising together.

“You are, but that doesn’t
mean you don’t have to play by the rules.”

“Rules, huh? What happens if
I break them?” He nuzzles my neck. His hair tickling my face, I start to pull
away again, but the second before we break contact, he pecks me swiftly on the
cheek.

“Then there will be
consequences,” I say, linking my index finger over the collar of his t-shirt
and drawing him closer.

His eyelids already drifting
down, he follows without restraint. “I can’t wait to find out what those are,”
he breathes, filling the disappearing space between us with his sultry voice.
Just like the other day, kissing Matt feels so natural, so
good
. Despite
being in a public park, my sense of caution is being eroded by the young man
across from me, by his lips and his tongue. They’re ganging up on me, combining
their strength to drag me to a place where the rest of the world doesn’t exist.