Confessions of a Bad Boy



We don’t talk much for the rest of the journey, both of us comfortable enough with Jessie’s idea of giving each other some time to just relax and enjoy the drive, and the rambling tunes on the radio filling the quiet space. For a while, I can almost believe that things really are cool, that we can really just go back to the way things were.

But then I look over at her, and realize that rationally, reasonably, and objectively, my mind might understand, but my body’s going to take much longer to forget.

Eventually I pull up outside her apartment, and I get out to help her with her heavy bags up the elevator and to her apartment. She opens the door, takes the bags from me, and walks a little way into the apartment before turning back towards me.

“Guess my roommate’s out on another gossip assignment.”

I nod, not sure of what to say, because the only thought going through my head is the fact that we could fuck right here in her apartment and nobody needs to know. Jessie smiles awkwardly at me, and the whole vibe of weirdness between us seems to make one last flourish before we can leave each other.

“So…” Jessie says, lifting her arms and dropping them to her sides in a shrug.

“So…I guess I’ll see you?”

“Yeah. Um…call me?”

“Okay.”

We shuffle our feet and continue smiling bashfully. I wait for her to make a gesture, like closing the door, or stepping back, or for my body to turn around and walk away in the manner that any normal situation would dictate, but it doesn’t happen.

“Well, bye Nate,” Jessie says, opening her arms wide for a goodbye hug.

“See you, Jessie,” I say, taking her in my arms.

We bring ourselves together in an embrace. It’s natural and sweet, innocent and harmless – for about three seconds. Then Jessie nuzzles my neck and takes my earlobe between her teeth, while my hands descend down her back and slide into the back pockets of her jeans. I push her forward into the apartment and she kicks the door closed behind me.

My lips are on her neck, devouring the soft smoothness of her skin there, while her hands grab my sides, pulling me onto her. I let the whirlwind of smells and sensations that make up the playground of her body take me over once again, turning me wild and rampant.

“Ooh, Nate.”

“You like that, huh?”

“No! Your…your…thing!”

Jessie pushes me away from her and points at my pocket. For a second I’m weirded out, until I realize what she means – my phone’s vibrating.

I pull it out and groan when I see the name: Mom. I look at Jessie and shake my head, setting the phone on a side table, already moving in to recapture the momentum.

And that’s when the universe decides to start being stingy with the luck.

“Come here,” I growl at Jessie.

“Hello? Nathan?”

The voice coming out of the speaker jolts both of us apart. I stare at the phone like it’s just turned into an iguana, then back at Jessie. She mouths the words ‘what the fuck’ and I shrug desperately at her, trying to gesture that I had no intention of answering this call when I was seconds away from tearing her clothes off, and that this is just the sort of terrible price humanity has to pay for smartphones.

“Hello? Nate! Are you there? I hear something! Can you hear me?”

I sigh with defeat and bring the phone to my ear, taking the call off speaker.

“Hello, Mom.” I feel my shoulders slump and out of the corner of my eye I see Jessie covering a giggle.

“Nate! Where are you? You haven’t called me in a month! I thought you were dead!”

“Mom, don’t be melodramatic. I—”

“And that’s the first thing you say to me? That I’m being ‘melodramatic’? Fine thing to say to a parent, that is. And I always told people you were the ‘good one.’”

“I’m the only one, Mom. And I’m sorry, I’ve just been really busy. I had to—”

“Of course you’re busy! Too busy to call, too busy to check if I’m alive, too busy to treat your parents with any kind of respect.” Yep, that’s Mom. Once an actress, always an actress. I think she likes working herself up into a tizzy over not hearing from me way more than she likes actually hearing from me.

“I’ll visit you soon, I pro—”

“No need to visit me, Nate. I just called to tell you that it’s your father’s birthday the day after tomorrow. You know how seriously he takes his birthday celebrations. I expect you to be there. If I can soldier through the agony of attending my ex-husband’s soiree, you can certainly make the effort and show up, too. Besides, I’ll need you there for moral support.”

I mouth the word ‘shit’ to nobody in particular.

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

“You always were my favorite son,” she coos.

J. D. Hawkins's books