Killing Season: A Thriller

“I’m on birth control.” She tugged at his board shorts and slid them down over his knees. He took them off, then the wifebeater. She told him by action that she was more than willing.

Ro closed her eyes. The boy could kiss. Each one of them was sweeter than the last. She could make a meal on them. She dug nails into his back, she bit his shoulder. If he felt any pain, he didn’t show it. The sex was just something to get over with. But the kisses . . . the way he took her face in his hands and kissed her all over . . . the way he whispered that he loved her. She wanted all of that to last forever.

His breathing quickened along with his rhythm. When it was over, he lay on top for a moment, her hand clasped around his sweaty waist. Eventually he rolled off and they lay on their backs, his eyes wide open staring at the ceiling. His breathing was still audible.

She knew Vicks well enough to know he wasn’t a talker, so she helped him out. “Would you mind getting me a washcloth?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything.” He got up and stubbed his toe. She reached over and turned on the light and saw that he was embarrassed by his nakedness. When he tried to cover up, he looked down and then jumped back. His groin was coated in blood. He wiped himself off on his sheet. “Why didn’t you tell me you had your period?”

“Because I don’t have my period.” His head jerked up, staring with wide eyes. Ro smiled. “Surprise, surprise.”

He covered his mouth. He was frozen on the spot.

“Vicks, the washcloth?”

“Right.” He disappeared into the bathroom and came out a minute later. He had taken the time to wet it with warm water, and also brought her a dry towel. He crawled back under the sheets. His face was white. “I’m . . . sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t like it?”

“No, of course I liked it . . . I loved it. I’m . . . are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She rubbed the washcloth between her legs. The warmth soothed the burning inside. “I mean, it hurt, but it didn’t take all that long.”

He turned red and covered his face with his hands. “Oh God!”

She kissed his shoulder. “Ben, it’s fine. We’ll learn together.”

He finally screwed up the courage to look at her. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Are you really okay?”

“Psychologically I’m fine. Physically a little sore but that’s to be expected. How are you?”

“Okay . . . I think.” He paused. “I’m glad you told me afterward. Otherwise I would have been even more terrified. I thought at least one of us knew what we were doing.”

She laughed. “It doesn’t take a lot of conscious thought.”

He laughed back. “You’re right about that.” He paused again. “Why are you on birth control if . . . ?”

“Reasonable question,” Ro said. “I had a boyfriend back home . . . kind of a clone of JD.”

“Football player?”

“Yeah, a BMOC—tall, good-looking, smart. Anyway, I always thought that we’d be doing it senior year. You know . . . get it out of the way before I went to college. I can’t think of a worse experience than having your first time be with a hookup. But then my considerate parents decided to uproot the family. He wanted to do it before I left.”

“Naturally.”

“Yeah, naturally. But at that point, I decided I didn’t like him enough. Then we went to New Mexico and I met JD right away. I thought, well, he’ll be the one. So I kept taking birth-control pills. But then that didn’t happen . . . and we got together.” She patted his head. “Looks like you won the lottery.”

“Better than the lottery.” He kissed her again. “Waaaay better than the lottery.” He raised his eyebrows. “Wanna do it again?”

“Aren’t you the randy one?”

He fell on top of her. “Talk about randy. I saw what you have on your iPad.”

“You peeked at my personal junk?”

“You left it on when you went to the bathroom, and yes, I admit that I’m extremely nosy.” Ben kissed her nose. “I must say I blushed when I read the prose. However . . .” He lifted up a finger. “If you have anything specific you’d like me to do, I’m very open-minded.”

She played with his curls, rolling them around her finger and watching them bounce when she removed it. “How about . . .” Bouncy, bouncy. “How about if you just kiss me . . . and we’ll let nature take its course.”



They got up early. Actually, they never went to sleep. Ro donned a pink cable-knit sweater and some skinny jeans that she tucked into knee-high boots. The pants felt too tight around her sore crotch, but some things couldn’t be helped. Vicks had put on a sweatshirt and jeans. With her heels, Ro’s height was lips level with Ben’s and that was all that mattered.

Breakfast was juice and toast, and then they went out to greet the day. The Bay Area, which was customarily shrouded in mist, was stunning in the daylight. It was around nine in the morning when they climbed through the Berkeley Hills, pausing to take in the panoramic view of the town and the ocean below. They saw the orange color of the Golden Gate Bridge spanning across the water, the bay throwing off a million diamonds in the sunlight. It was enough to convince her to apply to colleges in California. How wonderful to wake up and breathe the brine in the air.

They walked hand in hand, wending a pathway through the hills until they hit the Cal campus. Ro had expected to be out of breath, trudging up the incline, but her lungs felt full with each inhale. When she remarked upon it, Ben said, “You’re at sea level.”

She punched his shoulder. “What a smart guy.”

They walked up Telegraph Avenue, where dozens of vendors were setting up shop on the sidewalks—selling everything from vintage vinyl records to bumper stickers that extolled the virtues of anarchy. The street was lined with alternative retail stores: head shops, metaphysical bookstores, places selling comic books and anime, and tables with heaps of used clothing. Message Tshirts were everywhere: in stores, in stalls, and being sold by random people from the trunks of their cars.

And they say that reading was dead.

Ben’s expression was one of awe, taking in the sights, the lens of his eye snapping pictures like a camera. Ro tugged at his hands to hurry him along. They hadn’t even gone onto the campus proper.

“Do you believe this?” he told her.

“In what way? Good, bad, indifferent?”

“Just in the sheer number of people here.”

“You really are a country boy.”

“Metro area of Albuquerque is like eight hundred thousand.”

“Spread out over a big space. How many people live in New Mexico?”

“Around two million.”

“California has like forty million people. It’s a country. Let’s go.”

But he continued staring at the stalls. He stopped in front of a leather artisan. The man was in his fifties with a gray ponytail and a gray rabbi beard. Ben said, “Lilly made me this beautiful silver buckle for Christmas. I should get a belt.”

“Shit!” Ro said. “I meant to call Lilly and thank her for the ring. It’s really gorgeous.”

The old ponytailed man looked up at them. “You want a belt?” His cloudy blue eyes went to Ben’s face. “What pants size do you wear?”

“Thirty.”

“Yeah, right,” Ro said.

“Maybe twenty-eight.”

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