Shelf Life (10 page)

chapter eighteen

I change my mind when I turn onto the street Ava programmed into my phone. I can hear the party and I’m still a block away. I find a parking spot between an ancient Chevy Malibu and stripped-down Lincoln whose tinted windows do nothing to conceal the couple going at it inside. Stagnant, smoky air hangs over the house while music with a heavy bass line pumps into the purple night. For a split second I wish Lewis were here with me so I wouldn’t have to do this alone, but I shake off the idea and square my shoulders. Some rebel I am.

Before I step off the curb I send Ava a quick text: “I’m here.” No idea if she’ll get it or hell, if she’ll even remember inviting me. Who am I kidding? She’s probably here with her boyfriend. I won’t know anyone else except Desiree, and she has even less reason to remember me. I’m just about to unlock the truck and drive back home when my phone buzzes: “
Yay! I’ve been waiting for you!”

Swear to God my palms get so sweaty I nearly drop the damn phone. She’s been waiting for me. Ava, the blonde goddess, has been waiting for me. This just might be the best moment of my life so far. The only other one that comes close was making out with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Tonight could obliterate that memory. I take a deep breath to calm my rapid heartbeat and step across the street to the gray two-story house. The front porch is sagging, and
I think it used to be white.

A couple massive guys arm-wrestle on a card table while three girls in short skirts look on, each cradling a plastic cup to her chest. And what nice chests they are. The redhead winks when I pass by, but I’m on a mission.

The house is packed to the rafters. Bodies fill every corner, every piece of furniture, even lingering on the steps leading to a second floor. The temperature’s easily twenty degrees hotter in here than outside, which would explain the sweat smell that’s overpowered only by the permeating scent of alcohol. I don’t usually wear cologne, but tonight I’m glad I splurged on aftershave. That alone sets me apart from half the guys here, including the one whose elbow shoves me into a wall. He looks like he’s about to puke, so I let it go and make my way to the back of the house.

Inside the dingy kitchen, coolers of beer sit on the cracked linoleum floor next to a plastic
kiddie pool filled with fruit and a liquid I can’t identify. A couple girls pluck out some mystery fruit and feed it to each other. Not willing to find out what it is, I move toward the coolers.

“Help
yourself, man,” says a guy an entire foot taller than me. “Food’s out back, bathroom’s upstairs, and basement’s off limits.”

“Um, thanks. Is this your place?” I grab a can of Iron City and crack open the top.

“Yeah, me and three other guys live here.”

“Do you know Ava?”

“Who?”

“Ava. Blonde, kind of tan, tattoo right here.” I
point to my shoulder.

“Oh, yeah.
She’s upstairs, I think. Good luck getting up there.”

Before I can say thank you and get his name, the guy’s out the back door yelling at someone for taking a leak off the porch. I step on a couple people on the way up the stairs, but by the time I reach the second-floor landing, my heart’s thumping out some serious adrenaline. Forgetting where I am, I automatically sniff my armpits to make sure I don’t stink of fear. God, I’m an idiot. There’s a line for the bathroom, but something tells me Ava’s not in there. I suppose I could just text her and ask which room she’s in, but it seems silly when we’re probably only feet apart. Still, there’s no way I’m opening a closed door. A room at the end of the hall is open, so that’s where I decide to start.

The floorboards creak and shift under my feet. I can only feel them, not hear them over the steady thump of music coming from below. At the same time, a sweet smell cuts through the air, similar to cigarette smoke, but not quite. The smell grows stronger as I pass a couple of the closed bedroom doors. It fades once I reach the open one.

Sitting on a bed with her back against the wall is Ava. Two girls lounge on the bed with her, though the slimy guy with his hand on her thigh seizes my attention, and by that I mean I want to break his jaw. Of course, pansy that I am, I do nothing but stare.

“Hey, you made it!” Ava shoves the slimy guy away and pats the spot on the bed next to her. “Come sit by me. Pete, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Pete.” The girls make a few perfunctory noises. Slimy guy frowns, but Ava doesn’t seem to notice. “Mmm, you smell good.”

“Thanks.”

“This your first party?”

“First college party.”

“I see. What do you think so far?” She gestures at my beer while I continue to take in the surroundings. The room is painted a dingy tan and plaster flakes from the ceiling. On the wall above the bed is a poster of John Belushi wearing a sweater boasting “COLLEGE.” Next to it is a plastic sign that says, “Snow Dump. No Parking” with Pete the Penguin below it—obviously stolen—and across the room is a poster of a soccer player with dark hair. The overhead light casts a harsh glow on the five of us while I nervously pluck at the striped comforter beneath us.

“I think I’m glad to be here.”

“And we’re glad you’re here, too.”

I’m on a bed with three hot girls at a party and Ava’s complimenting me. All my blood rushes south, even as my palms grow slick. With my luck, I’ll slide right off the bed and land on my ass. The greasy guy huffs and slips out the door, but the girls stay put, whispering to each other while sipping from the same cup. Just as I get comfortable and turn to say something to Ava, the girls shift and begin kissing each other.

Three things happen. First, I forget my name. Second, I forget how to blink. Third, I get hard enough to carve an ice sculpture. I regain some composure and have the decency to stop staring, though I don’t know where exactly I should look. I settle on the soccer poster and try to make out the name scrawled across the bottom. “Dheeraj” something.

“You like that, Pete? You don’t have to look away. The girls don’t mind.” Ava’s lips brush my ear when she whispers into it, making the hairs on my neck stand up and everything else warm and fuzzy.

“Huh?”

A soft laugh escapes from her. “Haven’t you ever seen two girls kiss before?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on. What do you think happens at Girl Scout sleepovers? It’s not all cookies and milk, Pete.”

My Boy Scout meetings were never this fun. They were filled with sweaty boys picking their noses and farting on each other while the dads talked football.

“Sometimes it’s just easier to get with a sister than bother with a clueless guy, but you don’t seem to be the clumsy type. I bet you got all the girls in high school, right?”

I want to tell her she’s wrong. I want to confess the truth, but I also want to be the guy she’s talking about. I continue to watch the girls as they lift off each other’s shirts. The chick with brown hair’s wearing a baby blue lace bra that barely covers anything. The redhead’s in a shiny black one that matches her panties. I know this because she just slinked out of her shorts. Meanwhile, Ava’s hand continues to work up my leg while giving me a play-by-play. There’s nothing I can do but watch and try to control my rapid breathing.

My one functioning brain cell recognizes this is a set-up—something here is off—but it’s every guy’s dream.
Actually happening. Right in front of me. I could make some excuse, jump in my truck and drive back to the safety of home. It doesn’t have to go any further and this will remain a pleasant memory to jerk off to for the next couple weeks. Okay, months. Then I remember Lindsey’s betrayal, my parents’ disapproval, my stupid younger sister screwing Jay Leaher, and I decide—fuck that. I move Ava’s hand to the bulge in my pants and drink in her sexy sandpaper voice cooing in my ear.

“Look at the way they kiss, Pete. Doesn’t Christina have gorgeous lips? No rush to the finish line, no tongues down each other’s throats, just nice, soft kisses exploring each other’s mouths and bodies. Can you imagine how wet they are? I bet you’d slide right in.” With that, she squeezes my package and throws a leg over my hips. The weight feels good and warm. While I try to figure out where to put my hands first, she wiggles a little.

“Just say the word, Pete.”

“Hmm?”

“Say yes, that you’ll join us, and we’ll show you everything you need to know.”

“Join you? You mean in a, um, a foursome?” The word feels foreign on my tongue. I’m convinced someone slipped
roofies into my beer and this is a hallucination. Come to think of it, the walls are spinning slightly.

“Yes, but we need you to help us out, too.”

If this is a dream, might as well go for it. “Anything.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” she says, and removes a small package tucked into her bra. She pushes it inside my front pocket before reaching
behind her back to unhook her bra. With her lush tits in my face, I forget to ask what the package is. “Girls, let’s give Pete a warm welcome to the inner circle.”

The two girls tug off my jeans while Ava pushes her hands under my shirt and runs her fingers over my abs. I silently beg her to keep doing that.

“Who do you want first, Pete?”

I think I blink a few times. Finally, after clearing my throat I croak out, “You.
Just you.”

Ava smiles and pinches my cheek. “Aren’t you sweet? Girls, you’ll have to play with each other while Pete and I have our own party.” They both jut out their lower lips in a fake pout, but soon
enough, they’re at it again, running their hands up and down each other’s bodies.

This is the best dream ever.

Ava pushes me onto my back, and although I can’t see the girls any longer, I’m getting plenty of eye candy from her. I sigh at the feel of her smooth hands brushing up and down my chest and stomach, and her hair as it skims over my cheeks. When her lips finally meet mine, they taste like alcohol and cherries. The taste intensifies when she nibbles at my lower lip and I push my tongue into her mouth. No longer able to stay still, I cradle her head in my hands, noticing how small she is in comparison. Small and scary. I tilt her head and show her just how much I want her. I may be new at this, but I’m going to make it the best I can.

She groans a little, and my brain shuts off while my body goes on autopilot—it knows exactly what to do. Dr. Kimmel would probably call it animal instinct and I’d have to agree that this is definitely an expression
of innate biological factors. I flip Ava underneath me. Her small gasp gives away her surprise. Hell, I’m surprising myself. Her fingers slide through my hair and latch onto the back of my neck. She pulls me down, kissing me hard while her hips lift to meet mine. “Pete, please,” she says.

“Not yet.” I give her a mischievous smile then lower my mouth to the delicate skin below her ear. My confidence grows when I hear her quick intake of breath and witness her
vasocongestion—her neck and chest flush pink under my kisses. By the time I reach her breasts, she’s thrown her head back. Even the other two girls have stopped fondling each other to watch us. Part of me can’t believe I’m doing this in front of an audience, but mostly I’m turned on as hell.

“I don’t have…”

“Here,” one of the girls stands and opens a drawer in the nightstand. She produces a foil packet and that’s when reality comes crashing down. I’ve seen the lame demonstration with a banana in health class, but I’ve never actually put on a condom before.

“Will you do the honors?” I raise my eyebrow at Christina with the nice lips, hoping she doesn’t smack me.

Instead, she grins. “Gladly, but you’ll have to lose the boxers.”

“Let me do that,” Ava says. She leans up on one elbow and hooks a finger into the elastic. “Oh, my,” she says, eyes widening. “Girls, Farm Boy
here’s hung like a horse!” They giggle and the redhead positions the condom. I watch her technique for future reference, but she takes me completely by surprise when she bends her head and unrolls it with her mouth. I immediately regret my earlier statement that Ava’s the only one I want.

When she’s finished, she winks and moves back to watch. Ava smirks, but that’s not the look I want on her face when we do this. To put her back where I want her, I grab her ankle and bend her leg upward so I can leave a trail of kisses and soft bites from her instep to the crease behind her knee. By the time I reach the inside of her thigh, she’s panting.
“Oh, God. Pete, I can’t—” I cover her mouth with mine and push into her. A sound that’s somewhere between a moan and a scream fills the room while her back arches off the bed.

I grin and keep moving inside her.

Best first college party ever.

chapter nineteen

On the drive home, I thank my lucky stars that Ava’s boyfriend didn’t walk in on us, though I’m pretty sure she won’t remember his name for a couple more hours. Apparently I, Pete Wilson—farm boy and high school loser—am a natural in the sack. The air smells sweeter. The stars shine brighter. And damn if I’m not more relaxed than I’ve been since before the shit went down with Lewis.

The clock on the dashboard reads two thirty-three when I pull in the driveway. The front porch light is on. My sex high begins to fade when I think about the exchanges between me and Mom lately, and despite our harsh words, she still left the light on for me. Maybe it was out of habit, but maybe not.

I have to be up to do chores in just a few hours, so I push it out of my mind and head straight to my room, shuck off my clothes and throw them in the laundry basket. Forget a shower, I’m spent. I crawl into bed thinking about Ava writhing beneath me while her friends watched with jealousy. Despite my need for sleep, I rub one out just before my eyes close.

***

“Get up! We’re drilling and you’ve got five minutes!”

Fuck me.
Is he serious? Of all days, Dad decides to have a bug-out drill the morning after my first college party? Of course, he doesn’t know that, but still. Karma hates me.

Pulling random clothes off hangers, I slip them on while hopping around my room gathering what I need. Under the bed is my pre-packed bug-out bag, and next to it is the box containing my gas mask. I have no idea what scenario Dad’s envisioning, so I sling the straps over my head just in case. Inside my desk drawer sits the Beretta Px4 Storm Dad got me for my seventeenth birthday. Mom had been furious that he spent so much on a gun, but he insisted any kid of his would have at least one brand-new weapon. Sarah had actually squealed when she got her Mosquito with hot pink grips.

I tuck the holster into my belt and check that it’s loaded. It always is, but Dad insists we make sure. Inside my backpack are two extra magazines, also fully loaded, as well as basic medical supplies, a thermal blanket, hunting knife, LED flashlight, compass, a change of clothes, a portable water filter and a bunch of stuff most people outside the military have never heard of.

“One minute!” Dad yells, pounding on the wall as he walks past the bedrooms. My heart pounds a shock of adrenaline through my system, jarring my head awake, but I still want nothing more than to crawl back between the sheets. Sarah looks the same way when we bump into each other in the hall.

“Out of my way, jerkface,” she says.

“You get out of mine,
derfwad.”

“Move it, kids,” Mom says, bringing up the rear. She’s a regular G.I. Jane in her camouflage cargo pants and black T-shirt. Together, we crouch down and quickly move toward the kitchen. Dad’s flattened
against the wall by the door, giving us the signal to move forward. A well-trained unit, we scramble to the door and follow him into the early morning light.

***

An hour later, Dad’s done yelling at us for being slow and not taking things seriously as we trudge back into the house. My head, I swear it’s going to explode if I don’t get some more sleep. The Baretta goes back into its drawer, the bug-out bag and gas mask under the bed, and I kick off my boots just before falling face-first onto my bed.

“The cows are going to explode. Get moving,” Mom barks. I hear her grab my laundry basket and bustle out the door, making sure to slam the door on her way out.

Even with the sheets over my head, I can’t get the image of the cows out of my head, their doe eyes pleading for release. Time to see the girls.

The walk to the barn is surprisingly the same as it was yesterday. I thought maybe last night’s events would make everything different, but no. It makes me a little angry. I mean, last night was huge. Shouldn’t there be some acknowledgment, some nod from the universe to say, “Way to go, man!” Lewis and I used to joke about our v-cards, but now it doesn’t seem so far-fetched.
And the fact that I’m good at it?

I deserve a medal.

I’ll have to settle for a bucket of fresh cow’s milk and manure on my boots.

“Morning, ladies.”
All three shift in their stalls, eager to be first in line. “You’ll never believe what happened last night, but if I tell you, you have to promise to keep it a secret.” The next hour goes by quickly, each cow happily holding still while I tell them my version of last night’s events. They snuff and shift, flicking their tails more quickly at a good part of the story. Or maybe it’s just my ego. Either way, we’re all glad when the job’s over and they can roam the green field until the next milking.

Once inside, I deliver the full milk can to the kitchen so Mom can do her thing.

“
What the hell?
” She charges out of the utility room and into the kitchen with my jeans balled up in one hand. In the other hand is a small plastic bag. “
What is this? Tell me it isn’t what I think it is!
” She shakes it in my face.

“I don’t know! It’s not mine.”

“Then why did I find it in your pocket?”

“My—” Oh, hell no.
“I can explain. There was a girl at the party last night—”

“Party?
I thought you had a project to work on at the library. Now you’re doing drugs
and
lying?”

“No! I mean yes. Yes, I went to a party last night, but no, I’m not smoking pot. She must have shoved it in my pocket.”

“She was close enough that she had her hands in your front pocket?”

I open my mouth for a second then snap it shut. I’m screwed either way, so I decide on the lesser of two evils. “Yes, she had her hands in my pocket. I’m eighteen. I can’t stay your innocent little boy forever, Mom, but I promise you I’m not doing drugs.”

“Did you drink?” I feel my cheeks redden under her glare. “I see.”

“What’s going on?” My stomach lurches into my throat at the sound of Dad’s voice.

“Tell your father what you did, Pete.”

“Mom—” Shame, hot and sticky, crawls up my neck. Mom only knows the basics, and if she and Dad knew what really went down last night, they’d die, come back to life, tell me how disappointed in me they are, die again, and make me feel guilty for eternity for killing their vision of the perfect son…the one who doesn’t bang girls who sell pot and have sex with other girls.

God, and I could kill Ava. The hottest night of my entire life was just a con. I think back to her question of whether we grow any specialty plants on our farm, and it all makes sense. Add in Evan’s warning that I don’t want what she’s selling, and I’m just a fucking idiot.

“What in hell did you do now, Pete?”

Mom gives him the abbreviated version and I watch as his face gets redder and redder.

“Let me get this straight. You lied to us in order to hang out with a girl who put an illegal substance in your pocket.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He tugs on his beard while he and Mom have a conversation without opening their mouths. I hate it when they do that. “You were already on thin ice after the shameful way you behaved with Lewis and Lindsey. We trusted you to use your new freedom wisely, not go behind our backs.” He holds up a hand. “Don’t complain about being eighteen and being an adult. You’ve proven to us that you aren’t ready to have that freedom and you can’t be trusted. You want to be treated like an adult? Act like one. Haven’t we always taught you that?”

“Yes.”

“Next time you have a project to work on, you’ll have to do it at school during the day, or your partner will come here. You will not be going to Youngstown at night and especially not on a weekend. You’ve put us at risk by bringing an illegal substance into our home—”

“Give me a break! You’re such a hypocrite! What about Mom’s raw cheese and butter? What about all the
don’t tread on me
crap you’ve forced down my throat my whole life? Doesn’t that mean drugs should be legalized? Only a socialist police state tries to control its citizens.”

“The fact of the matter is that it
is
illegal, which means we could be prosecuted if found with this shit.” He flings the bag onto the table. “Your future as a veterinarian is over. Our reputation at the farmers market is ruined. If the police think it’s mine, I lose my job at the steel mill. These are the kinds of things an
adult
has to think about. An adult has to think about others, not just himself.”

I’ve had it. I can’t listen to this shit any longer. I turn to go to my room, but a strong hand on my arm yanks me back.

“Being an adult also means dealing with conflict in a mature manner, not stomping off to your room and slamming the door when you hear something you don’t want to. I thought we’d instilled all this in you, but we failed. Since I’m no quitter, here’s what’s going to happen. From now until we think you’ve earned it, you have no freedom. You don’t like it, then move out, but you’ll get no help or money from us. You’re going to act like an adult, work like an adult, and learn to think like one. When—and if—we decide you’re ready, we’ll slowly relax your restrictions.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I can and I will. Your mother and I love you too much to watch you make dumb mistakes. You don’t like it, you’re free to go. There’s the door. In the meantime, you’ll stop pouting, you’ll eat your breakfast, and then you’re working with me until dinner. After that, you’ll milk the cows for the last time and then you can do your homework, but you’re not doing it in your room. You’ll sit right here—” he thumps the kitchen table with his knuckles “—where we can keep an eye on you. When you’re finished, you’ll go to bed. Understood?”

Red and black stars dance in front of my open eyes, swirling into patterns of rage and humiliation. I’ve been pissed at my parents before, but never have I wanted to punch my father in the face.

“Better think about that before you do it, boy,” he says, nodding toward my hand, which I’ve unconsciously clenched into a fist.

I take a couple deep breaths, which do nothing to calm me, but it buys me time and makes my parents think I’m handling this like an
adult
. “Fine. I’ll do whatever you want.” But when this is over and I go to Ohio State, they’ll never see me again. I vow to get the hell out of this town, away from all the shit of the last few months, and I can’t wait to do all the things they’ve never let me do.

If I want to go to a party, I will. Sleep with the wrong kind of girl? Not their business. Hell, I’ll stock my fridge with Coke and
beer, I’ll order pizza from a real restaurant, and maybe even smoke a joint or two just to really piss them off. Maybe I’ll become a fucking communist. One thing’s for sure: I’ll become a successful veterinarian, have my own money, and do whatever the hell I want, when I want, with whomever I want…and their cute friends.

They want to overreact, I can overreact, too.

Dad slowly nods, while Mom has the audacity to sniff and wipe away a tear. I’m not falling for that, and come to think of it, now I understand why Sarah stays away so much. She pretends she’s God’s gift to the rest of us, but maybe she has the right idea. If I’d been more like her from the beginning, I wouldn’t be in this mess. She gets away with murder while I’m held to a higher standard. Tell me how that’s fair? I don’t see her busting her ass around here and being called on the carpet every time she steps out of line.

Doesn’t matter.
I’ll get on Mom and Dad’s good side, and when they think they’ve managed to brainwash me, that’s when they’ll learn the truth.

***

“You look horrible.”

“Fuck you, Evan.”

“That good, huh?” Despite scowling, swearing at him, and burying my nose in our biology textbook, Evan continues to stare at me. If he thinks I’m going to talk about what happened with Ava or give him a chance to say
I told you so
, he’s barking up the wrong damn tree. “Listen man, I won’t dig for details ’cause I can fill them in on my own, but if you want to discuss it, I’m here for you.”

“Here for me? More like make fun of the naïve farm boy for making an ass of
himself. Thanks a lot.”

“Hey, when did I ever make fun of you? Besides, I
can’t make fun of you for doing the same thing I did last year. How do you think I know all about Ava?”

“You said I didn’t want what she was selling. I didn’t think you meant it literally.”

He leans in close. “So which was it, drugs or sex?”

“What?”

“Which did she try to sell you?”

“Drugs.
Put them in my pocket.”

“I’m surprised she didn’t proposition you with that whole white-boy charm thing you got going on.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Wait, what are
you
talking about? She didn’t try to turn a trick with you?”

I shake my head, not understanding. “We, uh, we were together, but I definitely didn’t have to pay for it. She begged me to stay after the first five times.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but Evan’s dark face drains of some of its color and his jaw goes slack. “
Five
times?”