Truth & Dare (17 page)

Kelly was in my face next, hugging me. “Well, that totally backfired,” she said and I smiled, dazedly.

“No,” I said, “actually, it didn’t.”

When we got back to school, after turning in our uniforms and packing up our instruments, Chris pulled me aside. “I want to see you this weekend,” he said. “I don’t think I can go two days without kissing you.”

I flushed with pleasure; I’d just been thinking the same thing.

“Come over to my house tomorrow night,” Chris said. “We’ll watch a movie and hang out.”

“Okay.”

“When’s your curfew?”

“Well, I have to go feed my aunt’s cat at some point,” I said, just remembering that I had to drag out to the Redlands tonight to do just that. Maybe I could guilt my mom into doing it for me since I’d just endured the most humiliating night of my life and now had an aching ankle. “But I don’t really have
a curfew.” I’d never had a reason to stay out late before.

Chris’s handsome face split into a grin. “Excellent.”

At sunset the next day, I limped up to Chris’s front door. I had gotten my mom to feed her sister’s cat, so I had the whole night to spend with Chris—a thought that sent my mind spinning a million different fantasies. None of which involved clothing.

I could hear drums pounding from one of the rooms upstairs and my heart followed suit. I rang the doorbell. Mr. Harper answered, looking just as goofy as ever. I wondered how someone so strange could have created a son as sexy as Chris.

Speaking of whom, Chris bounded down the stairs and tugged me up in his arms—right in front of his dad. I patted his back awkwardly, not wanting to look like some sort of slut in front of Mr. Harper.

“I missed you,” Chris said in my ear.

My heart melted and I forgot all about Mr. Harper.

“Me too,” I said.

Chris began to lead me up the stairs to his room.

“Keep the door cracked,” Mr. Harper called after us.

“Okay, Dad,” Chris mumbled. We rounded the corner on the second floor.

“And the lights on!”

“Yeah!” Chris rolled his eyes at me.

Chris’s room was small and cluttered with computer games, books, folded laundry, drum pads, and drumsticks. His twin bed was squashed into the far corner and a TV sat on his dresser across from it.

It was obvious that we would be sitting on the bed.

“Nice room,” I said, fidgeting.

He snorted. “It’s a mess, but it works.” His eyes flickered to the bed and then fixed on the rack of  DVDs next to his computer desk. He cleared his throat. “What do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care.”

Chris grabbed a random title and stuffed it into the DVD player. He sat on the edge of the bed, skipping past the commercials. I sat next to him, carefully, making sure not to get too close. I became aware that we hadn’t so much as touched each other since entering his room. I wondered if he was as nervous as I was. It was the first time we had been completely alone.

On a bed no less.

I grabbed one of his pillows and propped it against the wall, leaning back, watching as Chris adjusted the volume and crossed the room to the light switch. He hesitated for a moment and then flicked it off and shut the bedroom door.

My body felt so numb and shaky I might have been having a mini seizure. He crossed the room in the darkness and came to sit next to me.

Still no touching.

“Won’t your dad get mad about the lights?” I asked.

“You can’t watch a movie with the lights on.”

Apparently if he did get mad, Chris didn’t care. I didn’t mention the door.

The movie started, but I couldn’t have been less interested.

The silence between us seemed to beat at my ears and a thick electric tension grew between our bodies. I was aware of every movement he made, wondering when he would at last reach over and touch me.

Thirty minutes into the movie and my heart had not given up its frantic pounding. I wanted so badly to cuddle into Chris’s side, but he still hadn’t so much as held my hand. I
didn’t want to be the one to make the first move.

An hour in and the tension was so thick it was almost a solid object between us, electric and nerve wrecking. I was
hyper-aware
of him, his arms folded tightly, his lips pressed together in a straight line, his eyes staring vacantly at the screen.

He seemed to notice I was staring at him because he turned. His eyes caught mine and locked there.

“Liv …”

That was it. The moment his lips broke and he said my name, I couldn’t take it any more. The need to kiss him was so intense I couldn’t think of anything else. I grabbed his face and kissed him fiercely, elated when he responded by kissing me back, just as eagerly. He pressed me back on to the bed, his hands roaming everywhere, his lips never leaving mine.

I was scared when I felt his hands at the buckle of my jeans, but I wanted it at the same time. I let him touch me, relishing in the feeling of my heart pounding next to his. I could almost feel it through my shirt, feel his breath mingle with mine …

Things were going fast. My shirt came off. Then his. His jeans were on the floor before I could blink and mine were around my ankles. Nothing was said; neither of us had to discuss what it was we wanted—our bodies spelled it out for us. We were close to naked on his bed, kissing and fondling, driving each other crazy …

And then a knock on the door brought us back to reality.

I was so surprised I almost screamed.

Chris flung himself off the bed, cursing.

“Put your clothes on!” he hissed.

I obeyed, buckling my bra, struggling with my jeans and trying to find the right holes to put my arms through in my shirt. Less than thirty seconds later and I was decent, if disheveled.

Chris glanced at me, making sure I was dressed, turned the light on and opened the door.

His dad was standing there—not angry as I had been expecting, but snickering with his eyes on his watch.

“What do you want?” Chris snapped.

“Oh, nothing,” Mr. Harper said lightly. “I just wanted to see how long it’d take you two to get your clothes back on.”

I winced, putting my face in my hands.

“Twenty-three seconds,” Mr. Harper said, tapping his watch. “Not bad.” He gave his son a clap on the shoulder and strolled back down the hall, guffawing to himself.

Chris’s back was rigid as he closed the door with a sharp snap and came back to the edge of the bed. I scooted up next to him, laying my chin on his shoulder.

“I guess it’s kind of a good thing,” I murmured after a while. “I don’t know if I would have been able to stop if he hadn’t …”

“I know I wouldn’t have.”

I gulped.

“Do you even have …” I didn’t want to say the word condom. It felt so real saying it aloud. It was one thing to be swept away with the moment in the darkness of his bedroom, but to discuss having sex out loud, in the light—it felt way too serious for something that had only been going on for a week.

Chris shrugged. “My dad gave me one when I turned thirteen, but I wouldn’t hold much stock in that.”

I wouldn’t either.

“Do you want me to take you home?” Chris asked with a sigh.

I shook my head. I never wanted to leave him.

“Let’s finish the movie,” I said.

“I haven’t even been watching it.” Chris shot me a guilty grin, which I returned

“Start it over. We’ve got all night.”

The next month that passed was like one big game of foreplay. Football games turned into fondling sessions, movie theaters became two-hour kissing sprees; the car, his bedroom, school hallways … we made out everywhere like a couple of
sexed-up
idiots.

But we were very careful, after that first time, to keep our clothes firmly on our bodies. Though we never discussed it, it seemed that we were both waiting for the two-month marker to try having sex again.

The second month was achingly long, filled with more torturous football games, movie nights in his room, and dark car rides home at one in the morning. We even went back to the beach before the weather turned too chilly, although he didn’t make me skim board, claiming I was enough of a hazard to myself without adding water to the picture.

I began to wonder just how I’d gotten so lucky. Chris and I seemed to fit together perfectly and denying myself the pleasure of expressing just how much I loved him became more and more difficult, the harder I fell.

The night we went for it again was the night of our two-month “mini-versary.”

We’d just gotten out of a movie and were walking to his car.

“You have something in your hair,” Chris said, reaching up to grab what I assumed was popcorn or M&M’s from my hair.

God, I was so dysfunctional. Couldn’t I at least eat without spraying myself with food? It was, after all, a basic human function.

But as Chris picked out whatever was in my hair, he
suddenly kissed me, sending a bubbly feeling through my veins. When I opened my eyes, he was holding a little silver ring in his hand. The metal was shaped like a pair of hands clasping a heart, with a delicate crown on top.

“It’s a Claddagh ring,” Chris said. “When you wear it with the tip of the heart facing away it means your heart is free, available. And when you wear it like this …” He slipped it on my right hand with the tip of the heart facing inward. “It means your heart’s been captured. You’re taken.”

I gazed up into his eyes, touched.

“I thought you might like it.”

“I do!” I breathed. “I love it. I love you.”

It was the first time I’d ever said it out loud. I hadn’t even realized it at first, it felt so natural. But I knew that the “L” word sometimes scared guys and I was instantly petrified that I’d made a terrible mistake. That Chris would yank the beautiful ring back off my finger and run screaming from me.

But he did pretty much the opposite.

He cupped my face in his hand and smiled.

“I love you back.”

In the car, we played our favorite game: stoplight make-out. By the time we got close to my house, I was more than ready to give in to him at last.

As we kissed in my driveway, I pulled back for a moment.

“It’s still early,” I said. “I don’t have to go yet.”

One of his signature wicked smiles crossed his face. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well …” I let my hand travel down his flat stomach. His eyes widened.

“But, we have nowhere to go,” he said, groaning.
“This sucks.”

I pulled away, thinking hard.

“Your place is out,” I said. “I’ve been caught with my pants down one too many times to try that again.”

Chris snickered. Though we’d kept our clothes on since that first time, his dad still had the nasty habit of coming to “check on us” once every fifteen minutes.

“What about your room?” Chris asked.

“Not unless you
want
my dad to kill you,” I said. My parents were easygoing about me and Chris, but they weren’t that chilled out.

“What about a hotel room or something?” he suggested.

“I don’t know any hotels that’d rent to teenagers. Plus, I’m broke.”

Chris deflated. “Yeah, me too …”

We dissolved into silence, wracking our brains.

“Could we just … do it in here?” Chris asked tentatively.

“Oh yeah, that sounds super comfy.”

“Naw, come on. We can lean the seat back and the windows are tinted. Nobody would see. Besides, where else have we got?”

I wavered. “Well, maybe if we found someplace quiet.”

Chris’s face suddenly lit up.

“I know the perfect spot!”

He threw the car into drive and shot off down the street. It wasn’t until we passed a pharmacy that I remembered something vital.

“Umm … Chris?”

“Yeah?” I could hear the excitement in his voice.

“You weren’t planning on using that old condom your dad gave you, right?”

It was clear from his silence that he either hadn’t thought about it or that was exactly what he’d been planning.

“We need to get some new ones,” I said.

He gave me a pleading look.

“I’m not taking any chances!” I said indignantly. “Pull into the next pharmacy you see and go get some.”

“Why do
I
have to do it?”

“Because you’re the one with the penis.”

“You’re the one with the
womb
,” he retorted.

We glared at each other at the stoplight, trying to make the other one give in. Finally, I sighed.

“We’ll both go in,” I said. “That’s the only way it’s fair.”

He scowled for a second and then said, “Yeah, I guess so.”

He pulled into a twenty-four-hour Walgreens and we scurried out, holding hands a little too tightly to be normal.

We went inside and straight to the Family Planning aisle, which held the condoms and—ironically—the pregnancy tests. I guess that was so you could properly visualize the consequences of not using a condom.

We stared at the wall of contraception before us, slightly awed.

“Well?” I asked. “Which one do we pick?”

Chris gave me a sarcastic smile. “Extra-large of course.”

I snorted. “Oooh, how about vibrating pleasure?”

“Let’s not get complicated, here,” Chris said practically.

I giggled.

“Whatever is the strongest anti-baby condom is what we want,” he said firmly. “See any that says anti-baby?”

“No, but I see ‘ribbed for her pleasure.’” I giggled at his withering glare.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” he accused.

“No, I am, I am.” More irrepressible giggling.

“Trojan Gold,” he said, taking a box. “Extra thick.”

I covered my mouth with my hands, blushing and snickering incessantly.

“Will you stop that and help me choose?” he said, exasperated.

I tried to calm myself, but only ended up snorting loudly and dissolving into more laughter.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“You’re the one who wanted to do this.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m stopping.”

He gave me a narrow look. “How about grape-flavored?”

I burst out laughing, and this time he joined in. We went to the counter with the Trojan Gold in hand and flushed like crazy when the cashier gave us a knowing wink.