The Fifth Stage Part 13

"C'mon," Jock slurred over and over.

Lora didn't speak loud enough for me to make out the words, but she didn't seem receptive. I wanted to leap over the seat and save her, 77

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but all I could do was stare out the window into the cloudless sky. There must've been a gazillion stars out that night, but their radiance was masked by a torment that was driving me over the edge.

When we made it to the Tyler's front porch, Matthew gave me a warm goodnight kiss while Jock begged Lora to let him stay the night.

After a few minutes, she planted both hands on his chest and shoved him away. "Not this time, hotshot. Go home and sober up."

He grumbled something about being the only guy in school not getting any, but staggered off, leaning on Matthew as they went toward the car. Jock proceeded to stumble into the yard and throw up. Matthew dragged him to the Thunderbird and dumped him into the pa.s.senger seat. He closed the door and turned to us. "Don't worry. I'll take care of him."

I was glad to be away from the party, but when we locked the front door behind us, I realized that Lora and I were alone for the first time since our afternoon encounter of almost a week ago. I'd yearned to talk with her about it, explain how it made me feel, tell her how I felt about her. But now that the confrontation loomed before me, I wasn't so sure it was a good idea.

I shuffled to the bathroom, splashed my face with cool water, and glared at my reflection in the mirror. What was I, a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t, or something? Why didn't I slit my throat and get it over with?

I dried my face and brushed my teeth, taking comfort in the fact that it would be over soon. I'd go straight to bed, be comatose for a few hours, get up early, and run home. I set my jaw and made my way toward Lora's room. Each step got heavier than the one before as I imagined Lora, my best friend and the source of my worst pain, curled up in bed thinking of Jock.

When I stepped into the room, Lora was sitting on her bed facing the wall, the veiled lamplight casting a crimson glow on her profile. She looked fragile and in need of comfort, but I knew better than to give in to the urge to go to her, wrap her in my arms, and love her.

My frustration was beginning to get ugly, growing stronger and more vile as I realized I'd never get what I wanted. "Have fun tonight?"

I asked, bitterness edging my question.

"No," she said and glanced away.

"Looked like you were. I thought you were going to choke Jock with your tongue."

Lora spun around, eyes narrow and teeth clenched. "Is that what you think? You think I like having him paw at me like that in front of people?"

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She'd never raised her voice to me, and the sheer pitch of it was unnerving. Flabbergasted, I searched her face and saw the same kind of confusion that clouded my own thoughts. "But you seemed so..."

"So what, Claire, so happy to be on the arm of the best athlete in school? So tickled to be his trophy?" She drew her knees to her chin, hugging her thighs against her chest.

I sat down on the other side of the bed. "I thought you were having fun."

She avoided my stare, tracing her finger along the hem of her black pants. "All he wants is a girl on his arm, a girl that's not too easy but might give in and f.u.c.k him. I thought I loved him, but I don't."

With an exaggerated chuckle, I said, "Why not? Everyone loves good old Jock. Everyone knows how perfect he is."

"People don't know s.h.i.t about Jock. Have they ever been left standing outside the stadium in the pouring rain while he ducked out for a beer with the boys? Have they ever had him cuss them out and make them feel like a piece of s.h.i.t for not giving him a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b?" She shot me a quick look, her eyes blazing with hurt. "Everyone thinks we're such a perfect couple, but we're not. Not by a long shot."

"I'm sorry." I leaned closer. I wanted to touch her, but didn't dare. I looked around the room, and when my eyes caught Jock's picture turned facedown on the dresser, I lost my breath.

Lora looked at me, a timid determination etched into her face. She slid across the bed and threw her arms around my waist. "I just get so f.u.c.king confused sometimes." As she rested her forehead on my shoulder, a tear dropped onto my hand.

I wanted to say something, do something, but couldn't. We just sat there for the longest time, rocking like frightened children. It was like a dream, sitting there with my arms around her, her legs touching mine, our faces so close I could feel the heat of her skin against my cheek.

Was it heaven or h.e.l.l? It felt like a little of both.

Lora raised her head, misty eyes half-hidden by a wild shock of dark hair. "You wouldn't treat me the way Jock does, would you?"

"Never." I studied her eyes, memorizing the line of her lips and the curve of her chin. I had never wanted anyone the way I wanted Lora Tyler, not even close.

She looked up at me and stroked my cheek with her slender fingers.

That's when everything in my head went straight to h.e.l.lall my restraint, and more important, all my fear. If I never did anything else, I would kiss her. I put my hand on the back of her neck and brought her lips to mine. She closed her eyes and slipped her tongue into my mouth, 80 exploring metimid at first, then growing confident and a.s.sertive. As I nibbled and sucked at her lips, I focused on everything about her, on the sweet aroma of beer lingering on her breath, the warm smoothness of her tongue, the growing eagerness of her touch.

Lora moved her mouth to my ear. "This is wrong," she whispered, and flicked my earlobe with her tongue.

"I don't care."

She sat back and, holding me spellbound with her stare, freed the top b.u.t.ton of my blouse. Still watching my eyes, she undid another b.u.t.ton, then another until my blouse was open. She sat motionless, and seemed to be studying my reaction. "Do you want me to stop?"

I slid my shirt off my shoulders and took her hand. Just like she'd done with me the week before, I placed her palm over my heart. Lora skimmed her fingers up my chest, across my shoulders, and up to my cheek. She lowered her hands, slid her fingertips along the lace cup of my bra, and unhooked the front fastener. She sat there, staring at me, drinking in my naked skin as if she'd found an oasis in the desert of her existence. By that time, the ache in my untried flesh was almost unbearable.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered, tracing her slender fingers up my arm and toward my breast. My cheeks flushed and my body trembled.

Lora tugged her sweater off over her head, slipped off her bra, and pulled me to her. When her b.r.e.a.s.t.s touched mine, a primal instinct took over. I couldn't seem to get close enough to her. Of their own will, my arms squeezed her tighter till my lungs could barely draw breath. I found her lips again and kissed her with more certainty.

"Can we take off the rest of our clothes?" Lora whispered roughly.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sureI think." She smiled and brushed my hair from my eyes.

As I took off Matthew's cla.s.s ring and put it on the bedside table, I wondered if I'd ever be able to face my boyfriend again. At that point, I didn't care.

Lora flipped off the bedside lamp, and we giggled as we slipped under the blankets. In the less intimidating semi-darkness, I felt freer to tug at her zipper and peel her slacks over her hips, and she became much more aggressive, nearly ripping my remaining garments at the seams until we were both nude and lying a foot apart.

We lay still for a moment, summoning the courage to do things we'd never done, to discover each otherand ourselves. Lora slid closer and pressed her body against me. It was wonderful, her skin sliding

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against mine, the triangle of coa.r.s.e hair between her legs tickling my thigh as we rolled together from one side of the bed to the other.

I studied her, touched her face, her hair, her chest. My body trembled when she rolled on top of me and kissed my neck, inching her way down to my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and back again. But when she guided my hand down her flat stomach toward her most private self, I hesitated.

"I want it to be you," she said.

"You're sure?"

She removed her hand from mine, pulled me to her, and kissed me with the pa.s.sion of a thousand boys. She did want it to be meI knew it. I traced my fingers between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, down her stomach, and into the edge of her pubic hair. I stayed there for a minute, tangling my fingers in the wiry curls, wallowing in the fulfillment of my secret desires. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and kissed me deeply.

"Together," she whispered and slid her hand between my thighs.

I gasped as I found her wet warmth and she found mine.

Overwhelmed, we stopped kissing, stopped moving, almost stopped breathing. By the green glow of her clock-radio light, we stared into one another's eyes, lost in the unbreakable connection that would be with us forever.

"Oh, G.o.d," I whispered.

She smiled. "I love you for this," she said as we began to move in a slow and steady rhythm.

I didn't speak. It would be corny to tell her I loved her more than life, that I could have died at that moment and been happy. Maybe someday I wouldn't be afraid of being trite, but for the moment, I wanted to be better than meto be perfect for her.

We stayed locked together well past dawn until, exhausted, we drifted to sleep. Neither of us found our o.r.g.a.s.m that night, but we didn't need to. Lora and I had touched as lovers, forging a bond stronger than any physical release.

The s.e.x would come.

CHAPTER 16.

The phone rings. It's 3:15 a.m., so it has to be Tonya.

"Didn't I say to call on Sat.u.r.day morning?" I growl as I pick up the phone.

"It's after midnight, isn't it?"

I roll over and accidentally kick Jitterbug. She hits the floor with a thud and whimpers before jumping back on the bed and curling up around my feet again. c.o.c.kers aren't known for their brilliance, but then neither am I. I should've let the answering machine pick up and let Tonya stew till a more reasonable hour.

The cell phone static whistles into my ear. I consider hanging up and blaming it on the phone company, but she'll call right back and keep calling till I answer, so I try to stay awake.

"Where are you?" I ask.

"On my way home. I stopped by Sister Moon's for a drink."

"Sounds like you've had more than one. Should you be driving?"

"I'm okay. Besides, I'm going slow so what's-her-name can follow me."

"Who?"

"Girl I picked up at the bar." She pauses and clears her throat. "You should see her, Claire, legs all the way up to her neck."

"Anyone I know?" I yawn and pry my eyes open.

"She's in town for the insurance convention."

"Oh, my G.o.d! You don't even know her name, do you?"

"Give me some credit, please." She pauses and I begin to think she's hung up, but she adds, "Starts with an A. Don't tell me... it's Andrea... no, Amber... that's not right either. Give me a minute, I'll get it."

I'm starting to fume. It's one thing for Tonya to be so rude as to wake me in the middle of the night, but calling to fill me in about picking up some leggy chick? That p.i.s.ses me off.

"What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?" she asks.

"Oh, s.h.i.t, I forgot. I can't make it."

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"You're not backing out on me again!" The echo over the line punctuates her disappointment and makes me feel like a pig for canceling.

"I'm going to the Kingsleys."

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it. I should've known you wouldn't go."

"Fly, I've got a..." The word date won't come out.