Birdie (11 page)

Birdie

The pounding on the
front door is insistent from the start. I glance at the clock. It’s eleven-thirty. The party can’t be over yet. What is he doing here?

Another pound. “Birdie! It’s Wes.”

I sink further into bed and press a pillow to my ear, muffling the knocking. I don’t want to see him right now. I don’t want to see anyone right now. I’m so close to graduating. I’m so close to leaving. I’m so close to freedom. I let him leak in a little too far and now my chest hurts and I hate it. It feels like when I looked out the window in front of me and saw that the Ford Ranger was gone.

Yet another pound. I yank the pillow off my head and glare at the door as if my look could cut through the wood and shut him up.

“Birdie!”

When his voice hitches in concern with that last call, I drag myself up and shuffle out into the hall. I know him. He won’t leave until he can look me in the face, tug on my hair, and make sure I’m okay. I’ll give him that. Then I’ll fade out of his life slowly. He won’t even know I slipped away until I’m gone, onto a new life.

I open the door. His expression is intense. I wait for his concerned question, arming myself with my response so I can send him on his way and have a peaceful night alone.

“About a month ago, we were on the roof just lying there,” he says and I blink rapidly because this is not what I expected him to say. He continues. “You asked me what the stupidest thing I’d ever done was and I told you all about that girl from junior high and the mixed tape I made.”

“I remember,” I answer.

“Tonight that became a distant second to the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. The stupidest thing I’ve ever done is hesitate when you needed me. When everyone was looking at us and I felt the scrutiny and buckled. The stupidest thing I’ve ever done is let you leave tonight with Garret. The stupidest thing I’ve ever done is never tell you how crazy in love with you I am when all I want to do every second that we’re together is
tell
you how crazy in love with you I am.”

He is breathing hard. His eyebrows wrinkle together in thought and he looks past me into the trailer. “Is Garret here?” he asks and I shake my head. His body doesn’t relax, his focus just shifts back to me, searching my face.

My prepared response is gone. It crumbles as Wesley’s declaration hits me, piece by falling piece with each word. His blue eyes shine at me and I open and close my mouth wordlessly like a fish. I don’t know what to say.

He stops waiting for a response. In a swift moment, he ducks his head and crashes his mouth to mine. His hands grip my waist, fisting in my nightshirt and pulling me close. His kiss is fevered and a want I’m scared of courses through me. In another swift moment it’s over and he takes a half step back to give me some room. His eyes are a mix of desire and caution and he purses his lips.

He opens his mouth to say something – apologize, explain, comment on what just happened perhaps. I don’t know. I’ll never know. Because in that moment, I launch forward and kiss him back. I need that feeling again, the heat of his lips moving with mine and the pulse that jolts through my heart when his touch goes to places no one else is allowed to go.

Without breaking from me, he moves us into the trailer and shuts the door. My back hits the wall and we disturb the only thing Tim has hanging up in the place, a framed original Rocky movie poster. Sylvester shakes behind me and threatens to fall. I push away from the wall and lead Wes to my room.

“Birds,” he says, closing in behind me and standing near as I shut my bedroom door. His voice is a husky whisper and he’s breathing into my mess of hair. He pulls it away from my shoulder and rests his mouth on my neck briefly. I shudder in pleasure. “Are we about to do what I think is going to happen?”

I nod silently. I still haven’t said a word since he spilled all his feelings.

“Are you sure about this? I want to. God, I want to. But only if you’re completely sure.”

I am completely sure. My heart is pounding so hard but the fear of the desire I had when he first kissed me has melted into a heat in my veins I’ve never felt before. There is nothing that comes close that I can compare to this feeling. I want it to last.

He takes his wallet from his pocket and opening it, peers inside with a question on his face before his pulls out what he’s looking for.

A condom.

Since we were friends up until five minutes ago, I know that condom wasn’t for me.

This realization colors my expression and my mouth turns down in a frown. Wes glances at me in that moment and shakes his head.

“It’s not what you think,” he says. “I’ve had this in here for a while. Yes, I used to keep one on hand but I…” he’s having his own realization. His eyebrows come together as he works out a timeline in his head. “I haven’t used it since we met.”

He comes closer, approaching me slowly. “We don’t need this tonight. I am perfectly happy with tonight the way it is. Beyond perfectly happy.”

I slide off my shorts and underwear and look at him. Look at his mussed up hair, especially the front where he can’t keep his hands out of it when he’s frustrated. Look at the dimple in his chin that appears when he bites his lower lip, the way he’s got it tucked in between his teeth now as his eyes roam to the exposed areas of my body. Look as his blue eyes meet mine when his gaze finally returns to my face. He sees something in my eyes because his expression goes from concerned to pure joy. And then we’re a tangled mess on my bed. He can’t get his clothes off fast enough and I can’t stop exploring the pieces of his body that he’s exposing.

He laughs when I run my fingertips down his side as he puts on protection. “That tickles.”

I smile and do the same to the other side. He responds by trapping my hands above my head and that action suddenly turns our light exchange serious. His face is inches from mine, the length of his body covering my own.

“I meant what I said,” he says quietly. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time; I just didn’t know it was okay to be. I didn’t know it could happen so fast but still be so real.  I didn’t know this friendship I needed was me trying to satisfy these feelings. And I didn’t know the ache I’ve been carrying around was because it was not enough. Friendship is not enough. Part of you is not enough.”

I try not to tear up at the emotion that wells inside my chest. I lift my head and kiss him and he returns it, deep and passionately. I open my knees slightly and he settles between them. I feel him nudge into me and he pauses, searching my eyes for permission. I nod and he pushes in further. It’s painful and I clutch his arm in surprise. His movements are slow and he rubs a thumb over my cheek, his eyes never leaving my face, watching me for silent direction. The pain ebbs and makes room for a warm sensation spreading through my body.  I gasp at the feeling and he moves a little faster and deeper as he sees my face relax.

Just as I settle into the rhythm, his eyes squeeze shut and his face wrinkles like he's in pain. I reach a hand up to his face and I'm about to ask if he's okay when he spurts out a grunt and relaxes on top of me. I feel all of him relax and realize suddenly it's over as he falls out of me.

"Oh, God," he says, grabbing a fist full of sheets on either side of my head. His face turns red and he won't look at me. He buries his face in my neck. "Oh, God, oh, God, oh God..." It's a painful wail, not at all the ecstasy-filled joy I hear when it's said in movies.

"That was...nice." Those are my first words to him after everything that was said and done tonight.

His head whips up and he winces, sucking air through his teeth. "Oh, that's like the worst thing you could say to me right now.
Nice.
"

"No, ‘that was fast’ is the worst thing I could say," I counter lifting his leg off mine and rolling over so I can sit up on my knees. "Nice is the second worst thing."

His ears are red with shame. I can see the humiliation in the clench of his jaw. I keep my stare on his. I’m not backing down. I know him. Apologizing and patronizing will make him feel worse.

"You're killing me, Smalls,” he finally says.

I smile because I feel like my friend is still here. Despite the monumental shift that happened in our relationship in just the last fifteen minutes, the Wesley I talk to everyday is clutching his heart, truly embarrassed about lasting a mere five minutes, and using
Sandlot
quotes to help evaporate the thick of it. I can see his need to want to please me in his expression underneath his humiliation and it warms my chest. Despite his utter embarrassment, tonight for me was perfect.  I place my hand over his.

"We'll split a pint of butter pecan and you have to take one of those Cosmo quizzes with me."

Wesley rolls his eyes and flops back on the pillow dramatically. "Jesus, I was worse than I thought. My punishment is multiple-choice Cosmo?"

I think about the way his eyes never left my face and those moments when I felt closer to him than I thought possible. I still see it on his face as he mocks astonishment. His eyes are still cutting through to mine, full of all the feelings he described to me tonight. The effect rolls a wave through me and it feels like my stomach bottoms out.

"No, Wes, it was like I never thought it could be."

The sentence is so raw from my mind and I can only imagine how fully my expression betrays my thoughts because in that instant his look pierces me and he rolls up onto his elbows suddenly serious.

"Take it like a man," I say, slapping the Cosmo from my nightstand on his chest and I bound up to retrieve the ice cream and two spoons.

Birdie

“
I’m going to break
up with Rachel.”

It’s the morning. The early sun is bright in my window and with its strong light it brings up the reality of what happened last night. My stomach clenches. Wesley is rolled on his side, watching me. His eyes are alert. Mine are still adjusting. He must’ve been watching me sleep.

I sit up, my heart a nervous fire.  I search his eyes for a sign of humor, but his face is blanketed with a completely serious expression.

“Why would you do that?” I demand.

“Because I love you.”

“So?”

Wesley gives a half chuckle like I’ve lost my wits.  “What do you mean ‘So?’ I can’t be with her. It’s unfair. Not with how I think about you.”

I heave a sigh and squeeze his bicep, giving him the best joking smile I can muster while fighting panic at his declaration. “Just be a normal guy and get your frosting on the side, Wes.”

He yanks his arm away from me angrily.  My smile drops.  This will not be so easy.

“What is wrong with you?” His voice is steel. I shift nervously.

“I just don’t do relationships,” I say. “I told you that.”

He shakes his head slowly, like he’s trying to comprehend a monkey rejecting bananas.  “What the
fuck
are you talking about? We are friends already. We just had sex. We are now friends who have sex. Guess what? Welcome to a relationship!”

He bolts from the bed and starts whipping his clothes off the ground, shrugging into them in a hurry.

I watch him while he does this.  “Last night was amazing. But really, think about it. We’re only eighteen. You don’t love me.  You haven’t lived yet. You don’t know what love is,” I retort, wrapping the sheet tighter around me. My chest squeezes.  I hate the words he’s tossing into the air. They are dangerous, meant to link me to him. It’s a terrifying thought. What if I get drunk on that link? What if I start to need it? What if it suddenly goes away, how far will I crash? There are too many things lined up to hack away at it, starting with my own insecurity and ending with the picture our lives are supposed to be ten years from now. 

“Shut up, Birdie.” He’s finally dressed and he’s heaving, like all the effort spiked his heart rate. We stare at each other a moment. My voice doesn’t work.  Already, his proclamation is affecting me. He told me to shut up and I have in fact done just that.

“You’re really messed up,” he finally says, dragging his hand through his mess of hair. “I get it. You’ve spelled it out for me more than once. But don’t tell me what I feel. Ever. Okay?”

“Okay.” The word is a whisper.

“Freak out if you need to, Birds. It’s ok. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon to help Tim with your truck.”

He crosses the room, bends down, and plants a kiss on my mouth, cupping the back of my head with his hand.  He pulls away and looks at me.  “Gotta go. I love you.” Then he kisses me quickly on the forehead, turns, and leaves.

Wes

There are moments in
life that are so perfect it swells inside your chest and it almost hurts letting it out. But let it out you do. The perfection comes out of me in sweet, painful bursts through my stupid grin, my palms tapping on the steering wheel, in my voice as I sing along to Everlast as I drive to the diner. Everything is a high.

She loves me.

She didn't say it. Not even close. But she pursed her lips in that line when she desperately wants to hold something in and her eyes hit me with it so hard I almost couldn't breathe. I'm so glad I can read that girl. I love those eyes.

The morning brought exactly what I thought it would. Just like when we became friends, she began to retreat. She started running to the safest place she could. She tried to joke off last night.

But I’m ready this time.

I know how she ticks. We already did this dance and found our way to a damn good friendship. I’m ready to go again, only this time, I want all of her. I want what I saw in her eyes last night.

My truck swings into the parking lot. I’m ten minutes late. It’s unlike me and I can see Nadine squinting at me through the windows, puzzled.

“I’ve been covering your tables,” she drawls as I rush into my apron. I tie off the string behind me and peck her on the cheek.

“You’ve got my tips this first round of customers,” I promise her.

She won’t turn me down. With two kids she’s raising on her own and a revolving list of boyfriends, cash is something she never turns down. “You’ve got counter and window tables,” she throws in. She’s testing me. No one likes working the counter because the loner tickets don’t leave much in the way of a tip. But my high is still gripping me and my smile is broad.

“Steep price for ten minutes, but deal.”

Nadine lets out a low whistle.

“Must’ve been one hell of ten minute window. Mr. Jacobs is on the counter so you’ll be handling His Highness’s picky order.”

I glance to where she nods. Mr. Jacobs, notorious for his detailed ordering and criticizing of service, still comes in every Saturday morning. Today is no exception as he’s perched at the end of the counter studying the morning paper.

I grin to myself. “Those ten minutes were worth a whole diner of Mr. Jacobs.”