Young Annabelle (11 page)

I leaned towards him and whispered, “Let go
of my hand!”

His gaze didn’t leave the screen as he
answered. “Nope, I’m good.”

“You’re good? What about me? I’m not!” I
hissed at him.

“Shush!”

My eyes widened. Did this guy just shush
me?

“I’m trying to watch the movie,” James
continued in a whisper, eyes still glued to the screen. He probably
couldn’t even look me in the eye because he felt like a fool,
acting like a big idiot.

“
You did
not
just shush me,” I growled, offended. I decided to take my
chances and tug my arm back; maybe he was even more engrossed in
the movie now – I hadn’t been watching it for the last several
minutes, but every so often I heard a scream, a crash, and a body
part getting sliced off – there couldn’t be that many people left
to die.

“Ow!” I yelped as he tightened his grip yet
again over my poor, sweaty hand. “You’re hurting me!”

“You’re in pain?” he asked softly, continuing
to watch the movie play out.

“Yes,” I declared, “my hand’s hurting.” I
gently moved my fingers in his grasp.

He turned to look at me. “I’ll make it
better.”

I was unconvinced. “Yeah, how are you gonna
do that?”

A final scream blasted from the speakers and
the screen went black as the credits rolled up.

“Like this,” James informed softly.

“Like…?”

He raised our hands and shifted his grip,
holding on to my wrist now. He brought my hand to his lips and
kissed it. I stared at him, dumbfounded, while his lips lay for
eons on my skin.

I wasn’t sure what to do.

Total system crash.

What’s my name again? Where am
I?

I couldn’t think of anything. The system
responsible for all information had shut down. The only thing I
knew was that his lips were really soft and felt so good. Sweaty
tremors rolled along my body. I did my best hide the affect his
lips had on me, so I stiffened and sat up straight.

“Better?” he murmured against my skin, his
warm breath caressing me.

Thank God for touching… I’ve never felt like
this before…

My eyelids drooped low as his warm breath
lingered on my skin. My body shivered in reaction and I struggled
to exhale.

Just breathe.

His lips parted from my hand, just an inch
but it was enough for me to snap back into reality. My eyes jerked
wide open.

Do I feel better? Honestly?

My hand felt nothing but pleasure now. If it
hurt, it was a good hurt, one I’d welcome again if James always
responded like that.

“Better?” I muttered slowly. My mushy brain
only had the repeat function on.

“Yeah baby, better?” His tone gripped the
marrow of my bones. His hold around my wrist tightened as if he
didn’t want to let go, or he worried I had some intention of
letting go.

Not in this lifetime and, Jesus, he called
me baby, again!

The lights came back on, his green eyes
pierced, shining bright under the harsh lights of the empty
theatre.

Holy shit, we’re alone!
I stared down at the empty
seats, then slowly turned back towards him. His hand tightened over
mine letting me know, yet again, he had no intention of letting go
anytime soon.

“What are you playing at?” I stared at our
clasped hands in despair; it didn’t make sense that he’d want to
touch me like this.

What does he really want from
me?
My mind flitted back
to our earlier meeting in the hallway at school.
Doing
it?

I felt a small shiver glide along my back
at the thought of the two us doing anything more than just holding
hands. I was practically falling off a cliff as it was. If we
kissed, I’d faint. Anything else…
Doing it!
I’d just die.

“Don’t over think this,” James told me
quietly, his voice sounding vaguely amused.

How can I
not
over think this!

I was stuck in an analytical nightmare. The
line was drawn in the sand. I needed to choose right here, right
now, which side I wanted to stand on. To go with it or return to
acting like an offended bitch to him.

Damn it!

It feels too good!

My body tried to convince my brain, supplying
the majority of the evidentiary support it needed to proceed on
this ‘just go with it’ path.

The credits finished and the screen turned
off. James got up from his seat and pulled me with him. Still at
the mercy of his tight grip, I trailed behind, practically jogging
to keep up with his long strides out of the theatre.

Damn his legs are long…Wrapped around me
and…STOP!

“Where are we going?” I asked breathlessly. I
tried to shake off the almost dirty thought as he led us
outside.

“I’m taking you home,” James stated, not even
bothering to look behind at me.

“You are?” I practically squealed.

“Yes. Now, which way do you live?” He came to
a halt on the sidewalk in front of the cinema complex.

Maybe I don’t want you to take
me home!
I should have
spoken my mind, but I caved instead.

“Umm left.” Even to myself, I sounded
bewildered.

He pulled me to the left but we didn’t head
out of the plaza, instead we went to the parking lot. With his free
hand he pressed the button on the car key remote. A few feet away,
the lights of a large, black SUV blinked red.

I stared in amazement.
Wow…strange that I dreamt this
was his car…

“That’s your car?”

“Yes,” James answered curtly.

I felt my body cool in response to his tone.
Some courtesy would have been nice, maybe more than one word
snapped out in annoyance.

Yes. Now. Move. You woman, me
man. What is his problem?
I fumed. Asshole was beginning to trump cute
again.

What am I, a little wheelbarrow he thinks he
can drag anywhere he wants?!

I tried to tug my hand back, but his grip
remained tight. He stopped suddenly, a few feet away from his car,
and I skidded to halt, slamming into his chest as he turned
around.

“Stop trying to pull away!” He tilted his
head down to order me; I was plastered against him. The warm
Florida wind breezed around us; it played with his slicked back
hair, throwing it over his forehead.

There’s the James I
know.
A soft giggle
escaped me as I watched his hair dance. His green eyes softened at
my sound. I took his relaxed expression as my chance to escape his
grasp. I stepped back, off his chest, and tried to pull my clasped
hand away but his hand instinctively tightened as his arm tried to
pull me back in to his orbit.

“What?” James asked lightly, oblivious to my
struggle to be free of his hold.

“You might need that other hand to fix that
wild hair of yours,” I suggested before grinning in disbelief at
his persistence to keep my hand.

A sly grin stretched slowly across his
face.

Oh God! Now what?

“Don’t worry about it. I’m good with either
my left or right hand…it’s always good.” He smoothed his hair away
for his face with his other hand as he made his explanation.

It took me a second…

What?
I gazed down his arm to our clasped hands.
Left hand or right
hand, it doesn’t matter– Oh God!
I got it.

“You let go of my hand right now!” I
demanded, horrified at what he was insinuating. I jerked my hand
back as if he was a flesh-eating zombie, but he never let go, just
pulled me closer to his body.

Jesus, I might as well have signed a year’s
lease with the way he’s keeping a hold of me. This is
ridiculous!

“Let go!” I demanded, lowering my voice as I
noticed my face was mere inches away from his.

This is not good!

How was this happening? I was a strong girl,
why couldn’t I pull away from him?

I know why! I know why!
The voice me my mind called
out, raising her hand enthusiastically. My brain pointed to her for
the answer.
You don’t really want to let go, you like his skin on
yours, it makes you feel too good.
She sat back down and grinned slyly,
knowingly.

James dragged me to the passenger side of the
car, opened the door and guided me in with his hand on the small of
my back. Every vein in my entire body felt a surge of electricity
course through it. That small touch ignited powerful feelings that
were as foreign to my body as low-fat tofu was.

Why am I thinking about
tofu?
I asked myself as
I fumbled with the seat belt. It finally clicked in just before
James made it to his door. My eyes took the moment to focus on my
jellyroll peaking out over my jeans. I quickly sucked it in as his
door opened.

Just don’t breathe!
I ordered myself. I smiled
politely as he got in, buckled up, and started the car.

“What’s your address?” He started playing
with the buttons on his GPS before I uttered a word.

“7890 Terrace Lane Drive,” I answered
neutrally. But on the inside I was so happy my calm tone hadn’t
betrayed my excitement. Now if I could only keep it up until I got
home. I tugged the ends of my cardigan together so I could exhale
and let my gut stay comfortably hidden behind the shield of the
cardigan. I let go of the breath I was holding and felt my stomach
fall off the edge of my jeans. A sly glance down proved the
cardigan successfully hid the bulge. The fabric lay nicely over my
jeans, hiding all my imperfections.

I breathed a small sigh of relief.

You see, it’s okay. Just act
calm. Be cool.
All will be okay.
I needed the reassurance.

He smiled as he punched in the address.

Uh oh, that smile! What is he up to?

“What?” I asked him. I wanted to know what he
was thinking about now because I’d begun to notice a pattern with
him: whenever he remained quiet but smiled for no reason, it wasn’t
for no reason.

“You don’t live too far from me,” James
answered, sounding satisfied.

I wasn’t wrong about the pattern; his mind
was definitely somewhere naughty.

“So?” What was his point? I wanted him to say
aloud whatever it was he was thinking. I wanted to fight with him
about it.

“It’s just something to think about…” His
voice rang with possibility.

“Actually, it’s nothing to think about, so
don’t get any ideas,” I replied, folding my arms across my chest. I
meant business now.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be sneaking through
your window anytime soon.” His grin spread across his face. He
stopped at an intersection and turned to me.

Anytime soon?!

I needed to put a stop to him. He was going
way overboard with the dirty talk, or whatever it was. The only
thing I knew was that I was uncomfortable as hell with the idea of
him sneaking through my window.

“Dude, even if you wanted to you couldn’t,” I
answered. “My room’s on the second floor, so it might be a little
difficult for you seeing as there’s no tree to climb.” I turned to
the window. Neutral tone: check.

“So your room’s up top, good to know.” He
rejoiced at figuring out another clue.

What!
I spun around to face him, my eyes wide, mouth
open.

“It doesn’t matter,” I snapped, “even if you
could fly, you’re not invited anyways.” Neutral tone: uncheck. It
was beyond my realm of expression at the moment.

So there!

“
Not invited
yet,
” he responded matter-of-factly. The light turned green and
he made a left.

“Whatever,” I sighed breathlessly, feeling my
energy beginning to dwindle. I wasn’t going to fight him on this
because he wasn’t going to get anywhere near my room anyway.

He followed the speed limit and at the rate
we were going I’d be home in less than ten minutes. I watched the
setting sun through the window, in a few more minutes it would be
gone completely and I’d be stuck in a car with James. Alone. In the
dark.

Breathe!
I urged myself.

Change the subject. Maybe I
should bring up something he likes?
I pondered, stealing a peek at him from the corner
of my eye. Perhaps if I brought up a neutral, light, fun topic I
could see a different side of him, someone besides the boy who
loved to bring up dirty innuendos every chance he could.

Baseball!

“So… How was baseball training?”

He took his eyes off the road for a second to
grace me with a glance, smiling.

“It’s going pretty good. I’ll probably be
batting in the first game.” His eyes returned to the road but his
voice sounded happy.

Baseball makes him happy. Noted!

“That’s cool.”

“Yeah, I’m the newbie. But Coach thinks I’m
the shit. Not that I blame him, I’m pretty amazing.”

Obviously not humble.

“Well, congratulations.” I didn’t know what
else to say. I didn’t want to rain on his parade even though the
way he kissed his own ass made me want to shut him down,
Annabelle-style.

But I didn’t.

“Don’t congratulate me now. Do it after I win
the first game by slamming an awesome home run.”

“You ever hear the phrase ‘there’s no ‘I’ in
the team’?” I asked in awe of his idea of his own self-worth. He
obviously thought he was some sort of superstar.

Definitely not humble.

“Besides, I don’t do sporting events,” I
added.

His eyes shot back and forth between the road
and me, narrowing in his confusion.