.”
Truth was, Allison was a great drinking partner. Where Jenna would stop short of two beers, Allison went head-to-head in the race to finish a 12-pack. She said her tolerance came from years of keeping up with the boys, and that it just felt good to be buzzed.
There was another advantage to hanging out with Allison — her brother was a beer delivery guy. All she had to do was beg a favor from him and we’d have free beer. My allowance didn’t allow for the pimping of a 12-pack each week, but there was no way I could wait because I needed something more than my parents’ wine to get me through the week. Allison’s brother was a dream come true.
With the logistics for getting beer figured out, there were only a few weeks of summer left before we would return to school. This would be Christian’s senior year, and I cried at the thought of having to endure two years of high school without him. Yes, I was thinking that far ahead and assumed we would be together. But at the rate we were going in the dating department, it might as well be three years. Thoughts of Allison’s warnings and Hillman’s comment about “the threat” also made me feel more anxious about what was to come.
Chapter 8
I fell to the floor with no sound than ks to the loopy rug covering the hardwood. It was like the first time I’d ever pushed up on my tummy as a baby, straining to bring my neck and head high enough off the ground . Everything was wavy, like during an earthquake, and covered with a thin film of Vaseline across my eyes. My arms pulled me across the rug until I was at the wood .
From there I was able to slide more easily , my hands using their sweaty stickiness to pull my frame like a serpent across the room. I made it to the dark hallway and just climbed and clawed with every bit of strength toward something, somewhere. I was almost to an open door, and planned to slide into whatever room that was and find a hiding place, until a foot slammed down on my leg and stopped me.
≈
“My Dad wants you to do another mural,” said Christian, kicking back on the couch and flipping through television channels. We had spent the afternoon filling up on chardonnay. Gone were the makeout sessions and when we did kiss it was short-lived, stiff , and impersonal. As Christian went further away in the physical sense, I chased him right back, insisting on the decent courtesy of a goodnight kiss or a little hug.
Whether his son wanted to really be with me or not, the opportunity to paint another mural for Dr. Rusch was too tempting to pass up. I enjoyed doing the first one, and loved calculating how much beer the money would buy.
“Sure. I’d love to. Should I give him a call tonight?”
“No, let me tell him,” he said, landing on a rerun and putting his arm around me. I was ready for the usual nothing of the gesture. After all, what could I expect when my boyfriend no longer wanted me?
Christian’s hand moved off my shoulder and onto my boob. I held my breath, excited about the prospects of the simple grope, but anticipating disappointment. Would he stop there? Would he want to go a step further?
He reached under my blouse and I responded like a dry sponge in a pool of water, soaking up the warmth of his skin next to mine. I brought my hands under his shirt and held on to his muscular flesh.
“Do you want to go to your room?” I hoped he would say yes and we’d escape to the broom closet. Instead, his hand escaped my blouse, and I cursed myself for ruining the moment.
“Not right now,” he said, looking at his watch and then at me. “I need to get you home.”
“But it’s only 3:30!” The sun was up. The sky was blue. We’d had our hands on each other just a moment ago.
“I need to meet someone at the track.”
He was using the exercise excuse again!
“But you trained yesterday. Can’t you spend some time with me?” I tried
Truth was, Allison was a great drinking partner. Where Jenna would stop short of two beers, Allison went head-to-head in the race to finish a 12-pack. She said her tolerance came from years of keeping up with the boys, and that it just felt good to be buzzed.
There was another advantage to hanging out with Allison — her brother was a beer delivery guy. All she had to do was beg a favor from him and we’d have free beer. My allowance didn’t allow for the pimping of a 12-pack each week, but there was no way I could wait because I needed something more than my parents’ wine to get me through the week. Allison’s brother was a dream come true.
With the logistics for getting beer figured out, there were only a few weeks of summer left before we would return to school. This would be Christian’s senior year, and I cried at the thought of having to endure two years of high school without him. Yes, I was thinking that far ahead and assumed we would be together. But at the rate we were going in the dating department, it might as well be three years. Thoughts of Allison’s warnings and Hillman’s comment about “the threat” also made me feel more anxious about what was to come.
Chapter 8
I fell to the floor with no sound than ks to the loopy rug covering the hardwood. It was like the first time I’d ever pushed up on my tummy as a baby, straining to bring my neck and head high enough off the ground . Everything was wavy, like during an earthquake, and covered with a thin film of Vaseline across my eyes. My arms pulled me across the rug until I was at the wood .
From there I was able to slide more easily , my hands using their sweaty stickiness to pull my frame like a serpent across the room. I made it to the dark hallway and just climbed and clawed with every bit of strength toward something, somewhere. I was almost to an open door, and planned to slide into whatever room that was and find a hiding place, until a foot slammed down on my leg and stopped me.
≈
“My Dad wants you to do another mural,” said Christian, kicking back on the couch and flipping through television channels. We had spent the afternoon filling up on chardonnay. Gone were the makeout sessions and when we did kiss it was short-lived, stiff , and impersonal. As Christian went further away in the physical sense, I chased him right back, insisting on the decent courtesy of a goodnight kiss or a little hug.
Whether his son wanted to really be with me or not, the opportunity to paint another mural for Dr. Rusch was too tempting to pass up. I enjoyed doing the first one, and loved calculating how much beer the money would buy.
“Sure. I’d love to. Should I give him a call tonight?”
“No, let me tell him,” he said, landing on a rerun and putting his arm around me. I was ready for the usual nothing of the gesture. After all, what could I expect when my boyfriend no longer wanted me?
Christian’s hand moved off my shoulder and onto my boob. I held my breath, excited about the prospects of the simple grope, but anticipating disappointment. Would he stop there? Would he want to go a step further?
He reached under my blouse and I responded like a dry sponge in a pool of water, soaking up the warmth of his skin next to mine. I brought my hands under his shirt and held on to his muscular flesh.
“Do you want to go to your room?” I hoped he would say yes and we’d escape to the broom closet. Instead, his hand escaped my blouse, and I cursed myself for ruining the moment.
“Not right now,” he said, looking at his watch and then at me. “I need to get you home.”
“But it’s only 3:30!” The sun was up. The sky was blue. We’d had our hands on each other just a moment ago.
“I need to meet someone at the track.”
He was using the exercise excuse again!
“But you trained yesterday. Can’t you spend some time with me?” I tried
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