“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and concerned.
Overcome, I lunged forward and threw my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. I knew I was behaving like a lunatic, but I’d spent the whole night thinking about him. I needed him to hold me; even if he didn’t like me, I needed him.
He shushed me, his arms coming around my body, his hand petting my hair. “It’s all right, Jessica. I got you now.”
I had no idea how much time passed as we stood holding each other. I know I snuggled shamelessly closer, eliciting a short, velvety chuckle from him.
And then, just as I was beginning to relax and decide what to do next, he surprised me by saying, “Jessica, I’m not Duane, honey. I’m Beau.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, but before I could react, before I distinguished whether what I felt was joy or disappointment, the screams started.
CHAPTER 3
“Let love find you. Don’t go looking for it. The best way to attract a mate is to post an ad on Craigslist titled, “Have lube, will travel.”
― Jarod Kintz, Love quotes for the ages. Specifically ages 18-81.
Duane
I knew the exact moment I fell for Jessica James. I remember it clear as day.
Even though I hadn’t set eyes on her for years, time and distance hadn’t dulled the memory. The constancy of my regard for Jessica just made her presence now in Green Valley feel transitory, like she was slipping through my fingers.
I was sixteen. She was fourteen. I’d shoved her off a dock into the river behind our house. Instead of screaming or freaking out like a stupid girl, she’d grabbed my leg on her way down and pulled me under too, dragging me out to the middle.
I was in swim shorts, and she was in her Sunday school dress. While we were struggling under the water, she’d pulled my shorts down and off, then escaped. Seeing as how she’d been on the swim team since elementary school, she was the better swimmer, even in a Sunday school dress.
Jessica had climbed onto the bank. Her blonde hair had been wet, tangled around her face, down her back. Her white dress had clung to her body making every young curve visible, and she’d taken off. She’d always been real pretty, but so had lots of other girls. Spitting mad, I ran after her, not caring one lick that I was naked.
I’d caught her easily enough—I was the better runner, faster—and tackled her to the ground. I’d pinned her hands above her head and searched them. They were empty.
“Where are my shorts?” I’d demanded, furious.
Her body had shook beneath mine; she was laughing. She was laughing so hard she could hardly breathe, and I remember thinking she was beautiful.
Then she’d said, “I threw them in a tree.”
I’d watched her, again losing her breath to laughter, and I couldn’t stop my smile. “You threw them in a tree?” I asked, feeling a touch of wonder at her cleverness.
“Yeah,” she’d said, her smile wide and crooked, “you think being mean is enough. Being mean and being smart is better.”
That was the moment. That was when it happened.
Though I grew up seeing her nearly every day, I hadn’t noticed she was a girl—or the existence of any other girl—until I was nearly thirteen. By then it was too late. She disliked me. But she worshipped my brother. He didn’t see her, not really. Not like I did.
Sure, we’d argued since childhood. But that’s what kids do when they’re in a pack of wild children. I’d always liked her, but I fell hard the day she threw my swim trunks into a tree.
Presently, I was sitting two hundred feet from Bandit Lake, staring at the bonfire Beau and I had built hours before and feeling downright sorry for myself. I stood, shaking my head, and pushed the memory aside. I glanced at my cup. It was empty.
Usually I’d take the Road Runner out to clear my head; if I wasn’t going fast then I wasn’t really driving, and that car was built for speed. But I wasn’t going to chance mountain roads when I was two bourbon shots shy of drunk.
I was refilling my cup when Cletus suddenly appeared at the edge of the bonfire and gave me a fright. He was a floating head, his body invisible. I was the first to see him, and he scared the breath outta me. I inhaled sharply and jumped about three feet. He also made me spill the bourbon.
“Dammit, Cletus!” I closed my eyes, concentrated on slowing my pulse.
Then one of the girls screamed. Then another. Soon they were all screaming. I sighed because they were irritating.
Cattle, I thought. It was an uncharitable thought. My mother would have been disappointed. I felt a little pull under my lowermost left rib. Her death was still fresh for me, I couldn’t think about it without hurting someplace.