The roll of tape screeched as I wrapped it around the bottle and then set it down, grabbing another can and stick and putting them in her hand to do the same thing.
“And how old are you?” she asked, playing for information.
“Older than you.”
She laughed. “You’re not like sixty, are you?”
Sixty? Did I feel sixty when she touched me?
I stopped what I was doing and got down in her face. “Old enough to vote, not old enough to buy liquor,” I told her. “But I can still get liquor. If you want.”
She just grinned and let it go.
It was amazing she hadn’t figured it out yet, but I was careful to take off the rosary when I met her, and I always showered before I came. I thought it would be tough, not smoking to give myself away, but when I was around her, I just wanted to stay around her. My nic fit wasn’t worth leaving her until I was damn good and ready.
I’d also never worn my mask, because then she would know I was a horseman.
But if I told her I was nineteen, she’d figure out which class I graduated, and with my lurking and scaring her just like Damon did in the janitor’s closet and in the lunchroom, she’d eventually have to face the reality of who I really was, and for now… I liked that she liked me.
I wasn’t trying to get her into bed. I wasn’t trying to prove how tough I was. I wasn’t angry or weighed down or tired of my stupid, fucking life. I was the only place I wanted to be.
Everything was new to her. She was an escape. I could feel anything and feel things again for the first time in her words, her body’s reaction, and her face.
It had been hard to stay away, but I knew I had to. The closer we got, the sooner I’d hurt her or she’d find out, and then it would be over.
It only occurred to me tonight, though, when I saw her get into Anderson’s fucking car, that she was old enough for things, and it was only a matter of time. I’d wanted to wait until I showed myself again. Wait until she got older, but I just needed to get her out of that prick’s car.
I didn’t know if I was ever going to take her to bed, but I definitely knew he wasn’t going to.
I finished up, making seven cans, and I took one into a stall, affixing it to the floor with the wooden stick underneath the seat, which lifted it up just a hair. I secured everything with tape and came back out, pulling her off the counter.
Lifting her up into my arms, I guided her legs around me and held her there, looking up at her.
“You been good?” I asked her.
Mischief pulled at the corners of her lips, and I stared at them, drawn in to the supple skin and how she’d tasted earlier. She tasted like watermelon. It must’ve been a lip gloss. Her cheekbones were more pronounced than two years ago, and her blue eyes more piercing with the mascara she’d started wearing.
She circled her arms around my neck, whispering, “Yeah.”
“You gonna keep being good?”
Her chest rose and fell against mine, our lips inches from each other.
But she didn’t say anything.
“Answer me.” I jostled her. “Tell me you’ll be good.”
She swallowed, but still didn’t answer. Instead, she whispered, “What will you do to me if I’m not good?”
Oh, Jesus. She sounded almost hopeful, and my cock swelled as I stared at her dark pink mouth, her parted lips, and I wanted to take them in mine and taste those fucking crazy words on her breath.
What wouldn’t I do to her…
“What will I do?” I repeated, brushing her mouth with mine as I carried her into the stall. “I’m going to throw you down…” I lowered us, leaning forward as she held onto me, breathless. “And give you…” Lower, lower. “A big…” Lower. “Fat…” Lower… “Spanking.”
And I dropped her ass on the toilet seat, the blaring, banshee cry of the air horn ripping through the theater, splitting my ears.
She screamed and scrambled off the toilet, grabbing onto me and bursting into laughter.
“Oh, my God!” Her face shined, and she looked fucking delighted.
I rolled my eyes, hoping no one heard that out on the street, so they wouldn’t find out my shame.
She lowered herself to the seat again, the horn blasted its shrill cry, and she startled, breaking out in laughter again.
I shook my head, pulling her off the seat. “You’re so gay.”
“Tame compared to what you’re used to?” she teased.
“Yes.”
God, if the guys found out about this… I needed to get her home before she made me T.P. a house tonight.
Maybe someday I’d take her on a real adventure.
Working quickly, I taped up all the horns, including the one in her boss’s office, so when the dancers, employees, and she came in tomorrow, they had a nice little scare.
I packed up all our gear, grabbed Winter, and turned off the lights and my flashlight on, leaving the building.
Once outside, I dumped everything back in the trunk, and moved to open the door.
“Wait,” Winter called out.
I looked up, seeing her head turn as if hearing something.
“The fountain,” she said, moving around to my side of the car. “In the square. Can you take me to it?”
I listened, faintly hearing it, too. I’d forgotten about it. As a kid, I remembered I’d wanted to play in it, but of course, it wasn’t allowed.
Looking around, I noticed the village wasn’t that busy and the traffic was nearly dead. It had to be after midnight by now, and since everyone was saving their energy for tomorrow night, it was pretty quiet. Still, though, I had no idea where the guys were, and there was some noise coming from Sticks. I didn’t want anyone seeing me and calling my name or seeing her with me.
Fuck.
I pulled up my hood and took her hand, leading up the hill to where the small pond with a bridge sat, a large fountain in a garden, and a witch’s hat gazebo off to the right. It was a nice, elevated little oasis from the busy village center.
The water spilling into the fountain grew louder, and she let go of my hand, approaching it. She held out her palms, feeling the spray and smiling, and I wanted to take her and climb in with her right now.
Digging into the pocket of her jacket, she pulled something out, turned with her back to the fountain, closed her eyes, and then tossed the coin over her shoulder and into the water.
“Wanna do one?” she asked me, pulling another coin out of her pocket.
I walked up to her, taking in her little bow tie, her hair, almost white with strands of gold, parted and falling on one side, and her lips, the color of bubble gum. Unable to tear my eyes away, I took the coin and flung it over her shoulder and into the water, never taking my gaze off her face.
Using my shoulder to keep herself steady, she slipped off her flats and hopped up on the rim of the fountain and then let me go, having some fun doing ballet moves and balancing herself.
Her phone rang, though, and she stopped, pulling it out and turning it off without answering it.
“Parents calling?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
She must’ve had a particular ringtone to identify them.
Watching her move, twirl, bend, and dip, I followed her around the fountain as she pointed her toes and flexed the muscles in her legs.
What would happen when she grew up? Who would have her? Where would she move? How would this all change?
And all I knew in that moment was that I would fight for nothing more than to keep her like this. Innocent and happy and pure.
Dancing in fountains.
Wobbling, she suddenly reached out for me, and I stepped up to her, catching her before she fell.
She laughed, putting her hands on my shoulders.
“Training hard?” I asked, lifting up her foot to look at the bruises and redness from her toenails cutting into her skin.
“Always,” she replied.
These were a dancer’s feet.
“Does it hurt?”
She shrugged. “I’m used to it.”
Then she wrapped her arms around me and jumped into my hold, forcing me to circle her waist to catch her. She smiled at me, and I held her like that, refusing to put her down as we just stayed there.