Puddle Jumping (8 page)

“Will you take me to the dance next weekend?” My heart was about to jump out of my throat wielding a sharp knife to cut the Achilles tendons on the approaching bitches’ feet.

But Colton was just staring at me.

“I’d like you to take me to the dance. Please?”

He chewed his lip. Blinked a few times. Appeared thoughtful.

And right at the moment the first girl made it to us, he gave a shrug. “Okay.”

Triumphantly, I whirled around and mouthed, ‘Too late’.

I was stupidly giddy for the rest of the day. I was victorious.

And then I remembered I hate to dance.

No matter. I would go with Colton and we would be together in public and it was really all that mattered.

Harper let me borrow a dress and I let her do my hair and makeup before driving over to meet him so our parents could take our pictures. Parents are so weird about that kind of stuff anyway, and my dad was giving him the sly eye while the moms ran around taking pictures and talking about how cute we were. And all the while, Colton . . . more handsome than ever before in a suit . . . a black suit and white shirt . . . hair meticulously combed, blue eyes wide . . . never stopped looking at me.

He didn’t need to say he thought I looked nice. I saw it in his face.

The red dress I wore made me feel pretty. Colton’s stare made me feel downright beautiful.

By the time we walked through the doors of the gymnasium, music blasting and lights popping from camera flashes and little disco balls hanging from the ceiling, I thought my hand would fall off. Colton was squeezing it so tightly; I swear my fingertips were turning black.

Yet, he endured. I made sure to walk him through the crowd of sweaty dancers and by the tables of kids who thought they were too cool to be there. We waved at our friends but continued walking because Colton was seriously experiencing too much stimulation, so I did what I figured would be best.

I pulled him outside to the white tent behind the building. It was lit with pretty white lights and the girls who decorated had hung Japanese lanterns across the ceiling. It was cute. It was cheesy. It was romantic in a funny way, and I couldn’t help but smile as I led him out there where the music was lower, the lights were softer, and only one other couple was hanging out, drinking soda.

I turned and looked up into his face, moving my arms up to his shoulders and started swaying a little. Just side to side. I’m a terrible dancer, but these things are special and I wanted the memories with him.

He was stiff, as usual, but I didn’t mind. His hands didn’t really know where to go, so I placed them on my hips and rested my cheek against his chest, just closing my eyes and inhaling how amazing he smelled with his shirt starched and some kind of deodorant that smelled like lickable-boy.

He seemed
too
quiet and I wasn’t really sure what to do about it. I was just as nervous as he was, you know?

I lifted my head to see him staring down at me and I could only offer a shy smile and a laugh. “Colton?”

“Yes?”

I tightened my linked fingers around his neck. “Tell me about Monet.”

So he did and it was music to my ears. To my heart. He talked so passionately about the things he loved and I ended up resting my head against his chest to hear him speak through his sternum, all low and rumbling.

Bass and baritone laced between heartbeats and short breaths.

Suddenly . . . he stopped.

My head shot up and I looked at him, curious as to why he went silent. Of course I asked because that was how it had to be.

“Why’d you stop?” My throat was all dry because of the intensity between us. Like the air had suddenly gone thin and was replaced with pure energy.

He looked at me and then away a bunch of times and somehow I just knew what was about to happen, but my brain and hormones were off kilter and I just stood there like a moron waiting for him to speak.

Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned forward, his forehead kind of pushing mine back as he breathed quietly outward onto my face. I closed my eyes and just let it happen.

He kissed me.

Warm and soft. Gentle at first until his lips had acclimated to mine. It wasn’t like any kiss I’d ever experienced before because my knees felt nonexistent and I wanted to fall, taking him with me in a pile on the ground so I could curl into him and never let go.

He was shaking and then grew more confident as I parted my lips and caught his in between mine.

We both pulled away at the same time. I must have been bright red and he, I know, he was flushed, all hard breathing and starting to sweat a little from the tension. But I didn’t care. He’d totally kissed me. And it was amazing.

I didn’t even mention the fact he was pretty much feeling up my left boob with his thumb. I just moved a little and maneuvered it away so I didn’t draw attention.

“We should do that again,” he mumbled and looked away into the white lights above my head.

I just held him tighter while I whispered, “Any time.”

* * *

I’ve said it before but it bears repeating: Colton is very literal. I told him he could kiss me anytime. He did just that. It was cool on the one hand because he wasn’t one of those guys who was an asshole and had to look out for his appearance in front of others. It was a drawback on the other because sometimes he did it without warning, like in the middle of a conversation.

I often wonder if there’s judgment directed at me because of the physical relationship I have with him. If there’s a stigma attached to me that I’m taking advantage of him.

I’m not, if you’re wondering.

Like I said, no matter what a doctor once said about him, he’s still a teenage boy. And that’s pretty standard across the board, if you catch my drift.

What I’d like to really stress about this is when you love someone, their differences fall away. I don’t look at him and see anything but
him
, and how sweet he is. I know how my stomach erupts in excitement when he simply holds my hand. How my heart reacts when we kiss. I know, above anything else, that when we’re together, it’s because we both want it. Not because of any other reason.

The one thing I wish I could explain to people is he’s not what they think he is. Words he’s been branded with could never describe him. He’s not special. He’s extraordinary. To me.

And I feel like I am, too, when I’m with him.

* * *

I was glad we had gone to the dance together because it was basically a back to school thing, being only six weeks into the year. The next dance was Homecoming, and I’d learned Colton was going to be attending the opening of one of his shows that night, so he wouldn’t be able to make it at all. Mrs. Neely invited me to join them and the decision was easy to make.

One night after I ate dinner with his family, we went up to the art room and I took a look around at some of his newer pieces while he cleaned up from dinner and changed into some clothes that could be ruined if paint flew. I really loved the way he looked in his painting clothes. He was at ease. Comfortable.

The art room above the garage was his safe place and I still couldn’t believe he trusted me so much to let me in.

That he was going to trust me to watch him work.

I wandered through the room looking at the canvases when I remembered he had that one painting in the corner that had been trashed. It wasn’t there anymore so I continued to walk the outer walls and move the art around so I could see them more clearly. My attention was on some of the more abstract ones and I was flipping through them carefully when I stopped cold.

I was staring right into a perfect replica of my face.

“Holy shit on a stick.” I probably said it louder than intended because I heard Colton’s feet pause in the hall before they came to rest behind me a foot away.

“I couldn’t get the eyes right,” he’d said quietly and I turned around to look at his face, completely and utter flattered and breathless at what I held in my hands. “The other one. I couldn’t get the eyes right. That’s why I broke it.”

“It’s perfect,” I whispered and turned to look back over at the picture. “You made me look really pretty.” The words were hard to say but they were true. He’d captured something with his brush I’d never seen in myself through the reflection of a mirror.

“I believe I got the symmetry correct this time.” His feet shuffled a little on the carpet.

After a moment, I turned back to him and offered a smile, unsure why there were tears in my eyes. But he noticed them and looked a little caught off guard.

“Did it upset you?”

“No.” I wiped the ridiculous tears away and shook my head.

“Is there something I should do?” It was that question that made my heart crack down the middle and I started crying for real, just overwhelmed with all the feelings I was experiencing and not quite sure of them myself. “Lilly?”

I had finally gotten up the nerve to ask the question I wanted the answer to “Am I your girlfriend?”

“Of course.” Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

His answer made my heart soar and I just sort of stepped forward and blinked up at him . . . and asked him to kiss me.

T
hat little shy smile of his pulled up one of his cheeks and he met me halfway, dipping his face to plant a kiss on my lips. Once. Twice. And the third time, I got brave and pulled on the back of his neck and opened my mouth to . . . ya know . . . slip him a little tongue.

I was in the moment and wasn’t thinking clearly, so it hadn’t occurred to me he might think it was gross or whatnot, but he’d pulled back a little and frowned, making me feel weird and self-conscious.

“I’m sorry. Was that gross?” I asked, wanting to melt into the floor and just die.

He shook his head slowly and then looked at me for a second. “I’d like to try this after you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Oh my God. So embarrassing.

Now, if he were any other guy, I would have probably hit him. Somewhere. Face. Arm. Nuts. But he was
Colton
and he was brutally honest about everything and had no filter to stop it, so my only reaction was to laugh and step back, assuring him I would brush my teeth next time.

Then he caught me off-guard again. “My mother keeps extra toothbrushes in the guest bathroom for my grandparents when they visit.”

I couldn’t get down the hall fast enough. His parents were still downstairs and they’d never had a reason to come up to the room before, so I wasn’t worried about Mrs. Neely catching me freshening up. What I didn’t account for was Colton coming to watch me from the doorway.

“Are you checking to see if I brushed correctly?” I joked and then realized he actually was when he intently watched me rinse. I felt like maybe I needed one of those little white mirrors on a stick the dentist uses so he could count my fillings.

I smiled and pointed at my teeth. “All clean. Will you kiss me now?” He just stared at my mouth and I felt dumb asking, but it was getting claustrophobic being in that little space. He took a step into the bathroom, making me take a step back to settle against the sink. I’d invited him in, so I’m not sure why it shocked me as much as it did. I guess it was just the way he was coming at me.

I was used to him holding his hands by his sides or gripping onto the belt loops of my jeans. But this time he held my cheeks in his palms, firm and rough while he moved in to kiss me again. I had no qualms about slipping my hands up into his hair to fist it because I knew he liked being touched a little harder than most.

My tongue flicked out again and his snuck out a little to touch it and somehow, somewhere in the universe, a switch got flipped on because he was really into it within seconds. My whole body reacted and I angled into him to hold on for dear life as he attacked me with his mouth, over and over again in unrelenting sweet torture.

Then it happened.

His hands weren’t on my face anymore. They were on my chest and he was groping me so roughly I had to pull back and I’m pretty sure I said, “ow,” because he was immediately off me with his back against the wall looking as if he had done something wrong.

“Did I hurt you?”

I shook my head and then nodded once. “It was a little too hard.” My mouth almost felt bruised and I faintly tasted blood. “But it’s okay.” I wanted to assure him so he wouldn’t be scared to try it again. “Come here,” I motioned for him and he stepped forward so I could shut the door behind him.

“Are you aroused? I am.”

I did actually laugh at that because he was so blunt sometimes I had no other choice but to do so.

“Yes.” I pulled him closer and took his right hand in my left, squeezing it to let him feel safer. “Very.” I was a ball of excited girl and he was my boyfriend and, yes, we were in the bathroom at his house . . . but it didn’t matter.

I stepped up on my tiptoes and kissed him firmly again, his hand still in mine. His eyes closed and he stiffly kissed me back.

“Relax, Colton,” I whispered between kisses. It took a moment before he did and once he had loosened up and gotten into the rhythm of kissing again, I parted my lips inviting him in for the next step.