“Can I have some of that?” Even though I can’t think of anyplace I’d rather be than right here with Alex Kosta, I’m angry. Eating some of his moo shu chicken feels as if it’s a perfect Fuck you, Mom.
“Sure.” His eyebrows pull together as he looks at me. My eyes hurt and I feel as if I’m going to cry. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I just—I need to use the bathroom.”
I sit on the closed toilet lid and try to shove my mom out of my head, but it’s hard when it feels as if she’s out there somewhere watching me, judging me. And my head is a jumbled mess because I want to be with her again. I do. But living with Greg is better than I thought it would be. I have a real bed—even if it’s in a trailer—and home-cooked meals, and little boys who touch me with sticky fingers and call me Peach. I enjoy having a job, even though I’m still not sure if I enjoy the job I have. All of it makes me feel as if I’m being disloyal to Mom. As if I don’t care. And that’s not true at all.
“Hey, Callie.” Alex’s voice is on the other side of the thin wooden door. “I forgot to tell you that to flush you need to pump the red handle first.”
“Okay, thanks.” I blow out a breath and look at myself in the dirty mirror on the wall. The eyeliner Kat applied is smudgy, so I run my knuckle beneath my lower lashes to clean it up a little before opening the door.
I can see the concern in his eyes, but I ignore it as I spoon some of his moo shu chicken onto a pancake and pretend I’m totally fine. “So why does Kat hate you?”
“She, um—she had a crush on me for a long time,” he says. “Even back when we were kids. I knew about it, but she’s too young for me.”
“I’m the same age as Kat.”
“That’s different,” he says, but doesn’t elaborate on what the difference is. “A couple of years ago, she asked me to take her to homecoming and I turned her down. I told her I’ve always considered her like my little sister.”
I wince.
“Yeah.” He scrunches up one side of his face. “Didn’t go so well.”
“I can see that,” I say. “She wouldn’t talk to me after she saw me share my lunch with you the other day. I don’t really get that. I mean, if she’s happy with Nick, why does she care what you do?”
Alex shrugs. “She doesn’t want me anymore, but she’s still mad that I didn’t want her. Best I can tell, it’s a girl thing.”
“I have a feeling I’m not very good at being a girl.”
He leans over and his scruffy face tickles my neck, making me squirm. His voice is low as he says, “You—are exceptionally good at being a girl.”
We share all the food. Alex eats half of my egg roll, and I find room for a moo shu pancake filled with chicken and plum sauce, rolled into a little Chinese burrito. And after the empties are stowed in the trash, I settle against him again to finish watching the movie. Except I have a hard time paying attention when his thumb is wandering across my collarbone and his lips keep touching my hair. At least I think they do. It feels that way. When I lift my face to look at him, he kisses me and the movie fades to background noise.
Alex works open the buttons on my shirt, kissing me between each one. When it’s on the floor, he slides my tank top over my head. He tugs off his own T-shirt and sends it to the growing pile of clothes, then pushes me backward until I’m lying on the berth. My jeans and underwear come off together and I lift my hips so he can slide them down. He kneels down on the cabin floor and strokes his thumbs along my thighs, easing them apart. His lips brush against the inside of my knee.
“What—” The words clog my throat and my heart ricochets around my chest like a drugstore Super Ball. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Callie.” His jaw grazes my skin and the stubble from four days of not shaving raises goose bumps across my entire body. His grin says he’s pleased with himself, but the muscles in my thighs are stone as I await the words that Frank always said. That it will feel good. That I’ll like it. Except Alex says his own words. “If you tell me to stop, I will stop.”
He touches me with his fingers. So gentle. As if I’m something so fine. I’m scared and shaking so hard and he keeps asking me if I want him to stop, but I don’t want him to stop. Then he touches me with his mouth and I melt.
When his body finally moves up over mine, my cheeks are damp with tears because I never believed it could feel good or that I would like it. Right now, in this moment, the absence of shame is shaped like Alex Kosta and I don’t want to let go of this feeling. Of him. Ever.
“All good?” he asks quietly, later, when he’s cleaned up and we’re half-dressed. The TV has reverted to the movie menu, prompting us to watch the movie again.
I nod against his chest, and this time when I feel his lips against my hair, I know for sure. “All good.”
I dream about Alex.
He comes into my room and I’m wearing a Hello Kitty nightgown. I’m seventeen—not a little girl—so it barely covers me, the bottom ruffle falling just below my hips. He lifts the hem, but I’m not afraid because it’s Alex, who whispers that he’s not going to hurt me. Except when he touches me he turns into Frank, who laughs his phlegmy smoker’s laugh and tells me he always knew I liked it. That no one will ever want me because I’ll always be his special girl.
I break free from the circle of Frank’s arms and stumble out of bed. I snatch up my shirt from the floor and pull it on, holding it closed with my fist, covering myself as I look for my jeans. “Where are my pants?”
“Callie.” Someone is saying my name. It’s not Frank’s voice, but I ignore it anyway. I have to get out of here. Away from him.
“I need to find my pants.” The words are soaked with tears and desperation.
“Callie.” Reality snaps into focus as Alex grabs my shoulders. “What the hell is going on?”
I blink once. Twice. My heart rate is crazy fast and I touch his face to make sure he’s real. “It was only a nightmare.”
“Only?” He brushes his fingers along my cheek and they come away wet. “You were crying in your sleep.”
“It was pretty terrible.” I dry my eyes on the collar of my shirt.
“Do you, um—do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” My skin feels as if ants are marching beneath the surface. I don’t want to think about the dream, let alone share it. Not even with him. Especially not him.
“You probably think I’m the weirdest girl you’ve ever met.”
“I think …” He rests his chin on top of my head and there’s a kind of security in the hollow of his neck. “… that we all have stories we don’t tell. If you want to share it, you will. Or, you won’t.”
“Thanks,” I say. “What time is it?”
“Not sure. Three, maybe?”
“Three? Are you sure? Shit. I’m so dead.” I wriggle into my jeans and stuff my feet into my sandals. My cell phone has dozens of voice mails and text messages from Greg, Kat, and even Connor. This is so bad. “Shit.”
Alex dresses quickly and grabs the keys to his truck. “I’ll drive you.”
“Drop me around the corner?”
“All things considered …”
“Yeah.”
Under any circumstances the ride to the house would be short, but tonight it feels even shorter. Alex pulls alongside the curb around the corner and looks at me. “I feel like a dick for making you deal with Greg by yourself.”
“You’re not.” I lean over and kiss him quick. Because if I linger, I will have even more reason not to want to get out of the truck. “And I’ll be fine.”
“Here.” Alex slips something into my hand, and it isn’t until I’m away from the truck that I look down and find a plastic-wrapped fortune cookie in my hand. I’m tempted to open it right now, because what I need most is good fortune, but there’s no time.
I round the corner, and when I reach the house all the lights are blazing and Greg is sitting on the front-porch steps. He springs forward when I come through the gate and I brace myself for an explosion. Instead, his arms wrap around me.
“You scared the hell out of me tonight.” His hug is both fierce and gentle, the same as the tone of his voice as he speaks. “And I’m so angry that I don’t trust myself to have a rational conversation. Just—thank God you’re okay.”