If I Tell Part 5

He reached for me, took the bottle from my hand, and leaned forward in slow motion. I watched his head move toward me. His full lips pried mine open. They were soft and wet. I tasted smoke. I inhaled the smell of beer on his breath.

He pulled away from me, sighing and smiling. "I've wanted to do that for a long, long time."

An alarm rang in my head, but it was fuzzy. How far was this going to go? I didn't say anything. For a minute, I dropped my eyes and enjoyed being wanted.

He leaned down and pressed his cheek against mine. "You okay? I mean, is this okay?"

I didn't answer, which seemed to pa.s.s for shyness. He stood and pulled on my hand. "Come on. Let's go somewhere a little more private."

I wondered if Nathan could take away my emptiness. I held his darker hand and allowed myself to be led stumbling toward the stairs, pa.s.sing couples dancing or making out. Nathan slid an arm around my waist when I tripped. He led me up the stairs into a dark bedroom.

"Jaz," he whispered. His hand touched my hair, and he rubbed it gently between his fingers. He looked almost sinister in the dark. "You're so beautiful."

My eyes slowly adjusted to the blackness. A dresser was covered with clothes and pushed up against the wall. Behind a tiny door to the right was a small bathroom. And in the middle of the room a big bed mocked me.

"Marnie's room," Nathan whispered and licked my neck.

I guessed he'd been there before and I had an urge to laugh at how ridiculous we were acting. Making out and sneaking off to Marnie's messy room in the middle of a drinking party. He kissed me again on the mouth, sticking his tongue in deeper. I tried to feel a little bit of the glow I'd felt earlier. Zilch. Nausea zipped from my stomach to my throat.

I pulled away, my buzz fading. I opened my mouth to tell Nathan I'd never gone past kissing a boy from a different school in eighth grade. A boy who later told me it had been a dare to see if he could get the skinny black girl to kiss him. He'd won twenty bucks, thanks to me.

Nathan shushed me before I could get out a word and pulled me toward the bed in the middle of the room. A cheap floral bedspread covered it, the colors faded and worn. Like me. I wanted to curl up in a little ball inside the covers.

Nathan kissed me again and I resisted, but he didn't seem to notice. He pushed me back so I was sitting on the bed. I tried to squirm away, but he chuckled and bent over, making funny noises in his throat.

"Don't be shy. It's just me." The weight of his body pressed on top of me. His necklaces dangled down against my skin. "You want this. You want it."

Did I? Was this what I wanted?

Claustrophobia strangled me. My stomach lurched with nausea. I pushed my hands against him but he resisted. His ribs poked against my skin. My hip bones ached as he crushed against me.

"No, Nathan. I don't want to," I whispered.

He groaned. "Oh, baby, you do. This is exactly what you want. It's okay. I love you. I love you."

My eyes closed. This was all my fault. I'd gotten myself into this mess with my own stupidity. I held back tears and shame as he struggled to undo my tight jeans.

"No." I reached down to push him away.

"It's okay," he interrupted. "You're beautiful. Let me see you."

He grabbed my wrists and held them back. I shook my head.

"No," I said but it came out weakly, without conviction, and he didn't hear me. No one heard me. G.o.d. I was such an idiot. I deserved this. I gritted my teeth, and tears spilled down my cheeks. I was alone. Violated. Exactly what I deserved.

"No," I said louder. "I don't want to." I brought my knee up. Not enough to hurt him but enough to alarm him.

He groaned and moved back. "Hey." He stopped struggling and collapsed on top of me. "What the h.e.l.l?"

I stared at the ceiling. His full body weight took the breath out of me, and I pushed to get him off. He rolled over and up onto his elbow. His dark skin, even darker in the shadows, made mine look pale, almost white. I stared at it, aching.

"What are you playin' at?" He sat up, rubbing his bald head.

I blinked back fresh tears and bit my lip but didn't answer.

He pushed himself off the bed, shaking his head. "You're a tease." He swore as he zipped up his pants. I didn't even know they'd been undone. "You're lucky, you know. Not everyone would stop after the way you were leading me on."

I swallowed hard to keep bile inside. "Thank you," I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster.

"s.h.i.t." He shook his head again and coughed. "I forget how young you are sometimes. Seventeen."

I sat up and hugged my arms around myself.

The corner of his top lip turned upward. He reached for my hand. "Not many chicks are still innocent at your age. I kind of like it. I guess I can wait for you. For a little while."

I pulled away, pretending to scratch behind my back.

"Don't worry. This wasn't a onetime thing," he said softly. "I'm into you."

I shook my head quickly back and forth. No. It was definitely a onetime thing. Alcohol induced. I wanted no part of doing that again. My head swam from the amount I'd drunk. So much for forgetting my problems. I'd just made them worse.

As I got up, the charms on my bracelet clanged softly against each other. I hoped dead people couldn't see what was happening. Grandpa Joe would have keeled over at my behavior. Well, keeled over again.

"You need a drink?" Nathan asked.

"No," I said quickly. "Go on down. I'll be there in a minute or so." My cheeks flamed, and I willed him to go away.

He leaned over to kiss me, but I turned my head so he kissed my cheek. "I'll meet you downstairs," I repeated.

"Sure. Okay."

He reached for my hand. "We'll finish this."

I flinched. As soon as he closed the door, I ran to the bathroom, barely reaching the toilet before the contents of my stomach spewed out.

Great. Just great.

After cleaning up, I tiptoed through the hallway to the kitchen back entrance. My bare feet hit cold pavement and I winced. It didn't matter. Grandma would kill me, but I'd rather go home shoeless than face anyone inside the house.

I stumbled, my fuzzy head struggling to focus in the cool of the night air.

I concentrated on walking forward, shivering and wrapping my arms around myself. The pavement was a cold reminder of what a bad idea running away in my bare feet was. I had more than two miles to walk. In a T-shirt and jeans and no shoes.

Stupid. I didn't even have my cell. I'd left it in my backpack in Nathan's car. The lights from an oncoming car shone behind me. I hunched my shoulders, trying to be invisible and willing the driver not to notice me.

The headlights glowed bright. A surge of panic raced through me. The car slowed as it approached.

chapter five.

The car pulled up beside me. I picked up my pace until I was on the verge of breaking into a run.

"Hey. Slow down. You're going to freeze to death," a voice yelled.

"Get lost," I snapped without looking up. Great. To top off my night, I'd be killed on the side of the road by a serial killer or something. I tried to remember if there'd been any reports of killers in the news.

"h.e.l.lo? I'm trying to save you from freezing to death."

I recognized the voice.

"Jackson?" I stopped walking and peered into the driver's seat of the car. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm a regular knight," he said. "Come on, get in." He put the car in park.

I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered, but I didn't move.

Jackson stuck his head out the open window and peered at my feet. "You don't have shoes on. Come on. Get in the car."

"Congratulations," I told him. "You win the award as the most observant person on the planet."

My feet stayed firmly on the ground even though my mouth was flapping in the cold Washington wind. We hadn't had any snow in a while, and it was a pretty warm year, but the air was still cold.

He swore softly under his breath and then opened his car door, shot out to the road, and stood in front of me.

He put a hand gently on my back. "I'll take you home, okay?" He pushed, but I dug my toes into the cement, resisting him, and shook my head back and forth.

"You're not a very agreeable drunk," he said. "You're shoeless and freezing, so come on. Let's go." He guided me toward the pa.s.senger door. The warmth in the car tempted me. He opened the door for me and I scooted inside, wisely keeping my mouth shut, and stayed put.

He went around and slid inside the driver's door. When he got in, he pulled off his hoodie and handed it to me.

"Here," he said as he started the engine. "You look frozen."

I took the hoodie, hugging it close for warmth but not putting it on. It smelled clean. Not like Nathan and his cheap cologne. I hugged it tighter.

"I'm not drunk," I told Jackson and sneaked a look sideways at him. "Well, not anymore." My foggy brain felt sluggish but coherent.

He twirled his earring. "Your boyfriend is an idiot for letting you run around in the cold like this. And you must be drunk. I haven't heard you talk this much since I've known you."

I lowered my head, not bothering to inform him that Nathan was so not my boyfriend.

"You two have a fight?" he asked.

I shrugged, my teeth shivering from the cold. He reached down and blasted the heat, and I fought the urge to spill my guts. Babble to him about what I'd done. And why.

"How'd you find me?" I asked instead of answering.

Jackson shoulder-checked, but the road was empty, so he pulled the car out onto the road and drove on. "I saw you sneaking out the back door in your bare feet. And stumbling a little. So I followed you."

I leaned my head back and snuggled with his hoodie. I wanted to cry, but I knew that if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. I pushed my teeth into my bottom lip and blinked quickly. "I didn't even know you were there," I mumbled.

"I just got off work and heard about the party so thought I'd pop by before I went home." He pointed to the floor in front of me.

I looked down. My black-and-white-checked running shoes were tucked at the back of the floor mat.

"How'd you know they were mine?"

"Lacey saw me searching the shoes and told me the sneakers were yours. I'm not Sherlock."

"Thanks," I mumbled and slid on the shoes, grateful he'd at least spared me the wrath of my grandma for losing my "ridiculously priced running shoes."

"So. Where do you live?"

I gave him my address and sank back against the seat, wishing I could disappear inside it.

"You shouldn't drink so much," Jackson said.

"I don't." I hiccuped, and a semi-hysterical laugh slipped out. "Well, not usually." I chewed my bottom lip.

He made a sound in his throat like he was clearing it. After a minute he spoke. "You're a little young, aren't you? For a party like Marnie's?"

"I go there all the time. I have friends." I swallowed tears again. Some friends. "How did you even know about Marnie's? You're young too." Anger raised my voice an octave.

"Me?" He grinned. "I have ways of finding things out. Besides, I'm eighteen, almost nineteen. That's the legal drinking age in Canada."

"We're not in Canada." I glared at him. "Did you go to Marnie's to deal?" I sucked in my breath. Way to play it cool, Jaz. My inhibitions about speaking my mind had apparently vanished. Luckily, instead of pulling over and pushing me out the door, he laughed. The high-pitched sound hooted from his lungs like an off-key horn.

"Ouch," he said. "You heard about my ill.u.s.trious past. Afraid it's true, though. I have a record and everything."

I frowned. Was it still true? Did he mean he was there to deal drugs? "Is Marnie your girlfriend or something?" My brain was putting words in my mouth. And spitting them out loud.

I shuddered at a flash of her bedroom. Her bed. I closed my eyes, hating myself, and projected my disgust at Jackson. "She's old. And she seems s.l.u.tty. But I guess that appeals to a boy like you."

He grabbed at his heart. "Whoa. What's that supposed to mean? A boy like me?"

I stared out at the darkness in front of us. The liquor swirling through my blood made me an a.s.s. Marnie had never done anything to me. Neither had he.

"Nothing," I said. "Sorry," I mumbled as an afterthought. He didn't deserve my anger. It wasn't him I was mad at.

He chuckled, though. "She's not my type."

Yeah. True enough. I'd seen his type at the coffee shop. Blond. Giggly.