A Thin Line (3 page)

I glance through the brochure again, liking the destination more and more but not yet willing to admit it. “We have about five months to plan this thing. But... maybe we can make it work. I’ll check it out and some other places and we can talk again.”

I add #1 to my list and write,
Research St Lucia resort- dates, pricing.

“Whatever. That’s my contribution. What do you think we should get them for a wedding gift? Are they registering?”

“Morgan said they have everything they need.  They want us to come to the wedding as their gift.”

“Still, maybe you could work Morgan and I’ll work Nate and see what we come up with. Let everybody know so we can all be thinking about it. Write that down.”

I start to do as he suggests, but stop, rip a piece of paper off of the tablet and slide the pen across the table. “I’m not your secretary. Make yourself a list.”

To my surprise, he picks up the pen. In neat, block letters, he writes:
#1: Call Angie - tell her to go fuck herself.
Pleased, he sits back and lets a laugh escape his lips.

“Cute,” I say, slipping my note pad into my bag. “I’m not going to be doing all the legwork here. We’re both working on this, so you get a to-do list, too.”

“I have a to-do list. It just looks a little different than yours.”

I push my chair back and stand, sliding the straps of the bag over my shoulder. “I have to go. I have a lot of work to do. I shouldn’t be this happy to get home before ten o’clock.”

“Aight,” Preston answers, stirring his watered down drink. “Good seeing you.”

“Right.” I head toward the exit, then in the direction of my car.

“Angie!” I stop and slowly turn toward Preston’s voice. He’s wearing his jacket and jogging across the parking lot. “It’s dark out here. I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I can see my car from here. I’ll be fine.” I keep walking, leaving Preston standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

“It’s like you don’t want me to be nice to you,” I hear from a few steps behind me. “You wouldn’t know a nice man if he was sitting in your lap.”

I want to ask him if he knows a nice man, but I don’t take the bait. I expect him to keep shouting arguments and summations at me but he doesn’t. I don’t hear the clicks of his shoes on pavement, so he’s not behind me and he hasn’t gone back inside. I get into my car, put the key in the ignition and turn it. My car sputters to life and as I drive away, I pass him standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, watching me leave.

Preston and I have a lot of history. We weren't always like this, at each other's throats, tossing barbs back and forth across a table in a public space. Once upon a time, Preston and I got along really well.

Really,
really
well.

I'm an only child, which is cool with me. I never needed siblings because so many kids were on our block. Preston and his sister, Ava, are about my age. Troy was Preston's shadow. Morgan's family lived a few houses down the block. She's the only girl, the youngest, the princess. The McCord's had two rambunctious boys and sweet, gentle Nathan. He was always rescuing a bird that had fallen from its nest or inspecting someone's scraped knee. His dad, the Sr. Doctor McCord, was our pediatrician for years.

We were naturally drawn together and became the best of friends, especially Morgan and Nate. Those two were thick as thieves and you hardly ever saw one without the other.

That meant Preston and I were together a lot. I rode bikes and dug in the dirt and played touch football in the summer and basketball in the winter. I was always up for a game of HORSE in the driveway or softball at the park or taking our bikes on the various trails around our neighborhood. I was one of the guys to Preston.

Until puberty hit.

The summer we turned thirteen was crazy. The difference from the sixth grade to the seventh was like night and day. Newly coursing with hormones, my body completely transformed. Overnight, I woke up with breasts instead of the flat chest I was used to. My mom said it was ‘fast' for a girl with my build to be out without a bra on, so I had to start wearing one instead of throwing on a t-shirt.

Gangly, awkwardly thin arms and legs developed some shape, my hips began to curve and all of a sudden I had an ass. I wore form fitting jeans and dresses that barely kissed my knees and my legs, long and golden brown, were showing.

We all planned to walk together, the first day of school. It was either that or have our moms drive us and by seventh grade we weren't having that embarrassing show. I hopped down the stairs with my backpack, wearing new jeans that hugged my hips, heeled sandals that showed off sparkly toes, and a white blouse that wasn't too tight but was tight enough.

I was running late, like normal, and in a hurry to get out the door.  When I reached the landing, my mother leaned over to whisper in my ear. "You shouldn't run down the stairs like that. You're really... bouncy."  She angled her head at Preston, who was waiting by the door.  His mouth was open and he was staring. Hard. 

So was I.

It's funny how you can see someone every day and not notice how much they've changed until it's forced on you. Preston was taller, by at least an inch. His hair was cut close, nicely edged, dark and wavy. He had pecs. His arms had a little bulk to them. And his voice, when he said, “Hey. You ready?” was growing rich and deep.

We thumped down the porch steps, eyeing each other without trying to look like we're eyeing each other. Preston's jeans were new, the denim still dark indigo blue. He wore a belt, a baby blue knit short sleeved shirt and spotless brown shoes. He smelled good, like his dad had given him a spritz of cologne before he left the house.

"You look nice," I said to him, while we picked our way down the sidewalk.

Preston mumbled, "Thanks. You too. Cool shirt."

"You mean cool boobs." He laughed. I wasn't used to that laugh yet. I definitely wasn't used to how the sound of it made me shiver but at the same time warmed my insides.

"Kind of," he answered, hiding a shy smile.

"I didn't ask for them. They just showed up." I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to Preston. "Do I look stupid? Will boys laugh at me?"

Preston looked me over, head to toe. "You don't look stupid. You look...kind of hot."

I laughed. He laughed. The gap between his front teeth made me feel like he was the same old Preston. "Shut up," I said, slinging my bag over my shoulder and walking again.

"You asked."

"I know."

"I mean it."

A quiet moment passed. That feeling... what was that? The flutter in my stomach and the shy smile that crawled across my face...that never happened before. "Thanks," was all I could manage, because I could barely breathe.

Preston... my friend... was cute.
Really
cute.

I wasn't the only one that noticed. A few inches of growth, a nice head of hair to pair with his eyes and smile meant that he'd been declared the most desirable boy at West Orange Junior High. Preston didn't know what to do with his newfound popularity. A gaggle of girls would show up at his locker and drag him off to sit with them at lunch, where he'd eat and nod and laugh, all the while looking over his shoulder at me and Nate and Morgan at our table.

I didn't mind most of the girls, because we'd all gone to school together so they were my friends, too. But there’s always one bitch, and I hated this girl with a passion.

Stacey Fullmer was one of those girls that decided she wanted something or someone and was annoying as fuck until she got it. She was pretty, but she got what she wanted because everyone was afraid of her. She decided that year, that what... or
who
she wanted was Preston.

Once she claimed him, it was hell on Earth for anyone else. Lunch invitations were hers and only hers to give. She brought him treats and hogged his free time. Preston found her amusing. She was the kind of girl he seemed to like—nice body, spitfire personality, pushy, thought a lot of herself.

Preston's relationship with Stacey was off and on throughout junior high. Off a lot. He liked being seen with her but didn't want to be chained to her. She wanted to control who he hung out with, including his friends. She couldn’t top us practically being in diapers together so this made me and Stacey mortal enemies, forever in battle for Preston's attention. I wasn't worried about it. I saw the way he looked at me.

One night, when our parents were out to dinner and a show together, Preston came over to wait the night out at my house. He put on a zombie movie and it was probably something I'd think was stupid now, but it was scary for an innocent fifteen year old. We sat on the couch next to each other, the flicker from the TV playing with the shadows in the room and driving my anxiety through the roof.

"I can't! I can't watch this!"

The dragging of feet and moaning and the blood curdling screams was terrifying. With my hands clamped over my eyes, I begged Preston to turn the movie off. He laughed, but I heard the ‘zap' sound of the TV flipping off.

I picked up on the tease in his voice when he said, "It’s just a movie."

I gulped back the tears that had been threatening. "I'm sorry, that scared the shit out of me!"

"You're okay," he said, and gave my thigh a pat. But then left his hand there and began to rub, ever so slowly, ever so softly.  I didn't want him to stop, so I didn't say anything.

He grew bolder, stroking my thigh from my knee to the bottom of the shorts I wore. Every touch of his hand was like an electrical current shooting up and down my back. I'd gone out with boys but they didn’t make my heart race and my chest tighten and I never wanted them to kiss me like I wanted Preston to lean over and kiss me.

And then, right when I thought I would explode if he didn't... he did.

At first it was like kissing my brother. Dry, awkward pecking on my lips. I started to giggle and he pulled away. I grabbed his face and brought his lips to mine and planted my mouth on him. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and a felt him groan as he moved even closer, tipped his head and opened his mouth. My tongue twisted and swirled with his and it felt less like kissing my brother and more like scratching an itch I never knew I needed to scratch, but now that I had, I couldn't stop.

After a few minutes Preston leaned into me; I twisted myself around so I could lay down. I studied the pockmarks in the popcorn ceiling while his lips moved across my cheek and down one side of my neck and up the other side. My mind was racing, screaming with hope that he might try to touch me.

As if he read my mind, a hand crept beneath my t-shirt. Fingertips fluttered over my stomach and settled over one breast in a thin bra. He kneaded softly, carefully squeezing and when his thumb happened to brush over my nipple, the sensation made my body jerk.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," I answered, shaking my head violently.

He flicked my nipple again and I could feel his smile when I moaned and writhed beneath him. "Does that feel good?"

"Mmmhmm."

"You know what feels good to me?"

"What?"

He shifted, pressing himself into me. It felt like he had a tree trunk down the front of his pants.

"Oh! Does... does that hurt?"

"No. It feels really good. Especially with you."

That made me want to kiss him some more. We laid on the couch, kissing and touching and giggling for a long, long while. I glanced at the clock on the VCR, the LED numbers glowing in the dark room.

"Get up," I said, pushing his shoulders. “My parents will kill us both if they catch us.”

He sat up, then leaned over to the edge of the couch and turned on the lamp. For the first time, I was seeing him in all of his horny glory. His hair was no longer cool waves but had shrunken back into dry, tight naps. His face was flush and the crotch of his jeans bore the unmistakable sign of arousal.

I didn't imagine I looked any better. I smoothed my hair and pulled down my t-shirt. We grinned at each other, almost embarrassed at what we'd spent a good hour doing.

"Better get going. I need to shower or something before my folks get home." Preston got up and headed toward the door.

"So... see you tomorrow?"

He had reached for the doorknob, but stopped and turned around. "What's tomorrow?"

"Well, my parents have their monthly meeting at the dealership. They always go to dinner afterward. They leave around seven, usually."

"Okay."

"So, if you wanted to come over. And study. Or whatever." I smiled.

"Oh."
Light bulb.
His face lit up as he caught my hint. "Study, yeah. I'll come… study."

"Right. So see you tomorrow."

"Yeah. Seven?"

"Seven."

The door closed behind him. I leaned up against it and exhaled like I'd been holding that breath all night.

***

I tossed and turned that night, snoozing for about an hour and then my eyes would pop open and my mind would be full of Preston, dreams of him kissing me, touching me... doing much, much more to me made my whole body pulse. I tossed my blanket and sheet aside and lay there, letting the night air sooth my raging hormones.

What was I going to say to him the next day at school?

And tomorrow night? Would we...did he even want to?

Did
I
want to?

I sat up and tucked my legs up under me, sitting cross-legged in the middle of my bed. I stared out the window at the blanket of darkness outside. What was he doing? He could sleep like the dead, anytime and anywhere. Was he knocked out? Or was he awake like me?

I got out of bed and tip toed over to my desk, reached behind the computer and flipped it on, wincing at loud it was when it was booting up. Once it was on, I clicked on the AOL button in the bottom left hand corner of the window and waited for the modem to squeal. Thankfully, my parents also slept like the dead and their bedroom was downstairs at the other end of the house.

Once AOL connected, the familiar voice boomed over the speakers:
You've got mail
. I smiled, recognizing Preston's email address. He'd sent it about an hour ago.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Thought you might be up. Guess not. If you wake up, message me.

P.

My heart beat out of my chest and my hands shook so hard, I couldn't seem to click the button to reply. When I finally got a new email open, it was only to write, "I'm up."  I signed it, pressed send and waited for a reply.

And waited.

And waited.

Just as I was getting sleepy again and was about to sign off, I heard the sound of a door opening-AOL's indicator that a contact was now online.

preid1:  couldn't sleep either?

angiec: slept a little. kept waking up.

preid1: what's waking u up?

angiec: thinking about stuff.

preid1: like earlier tonight stuff?

angiec: yeah. you?

preid1: yeah. not mad at me r u

angiec: no. i had fun

preid1: ok. cool. me too.

angiec: you thought i was mad at you?

preid1: i didn't know. didn't want u to be. u r my best friend. besides nate.

angiec: aw. :) i'm not mad.

preid1:  thought about that for a long time

angiec: yeah?