Norma Jean (3 page)

That was a fun conversation to have this afternoon. Stacy wanted to know what the hell had happened and I lied through my teeth. I’m the perfect liar so she didn’t even suspect I wasn’t being truthful.

I pretty much told her that I was so tired the night before, I went into the wrong room to lay down. When I woke up this morning, Chance was on top of me and she was giving us a death stare. I mean she knows us so I don’t think she would have even believed me if I told her what really happened.

She left about an hour ago for work. I’m sitting in the living room watching Macy play with her toys while I slowly run a finger over my lips. I can still feel him there. I can still feel his fingers in my hair and his hips between my legs. I have been kissed before, but not like that. It was insane! I just hope he was too drunk to remember what the hell happened.

Around nine I put Macy down for the night. I got all my homework done while she took a nap this afternoon. So I decide to sit in front of the television and watch Pawn Stars. I like to laugh at the people who seriously think they are going to get full price for their item. It’s a pawn shop! They have to make a profit and these people act like that isn’t common sense.

Headlights pull up into the driveway and I feel my breathing get labored. No freaking way. I hear a car door shut and ten seconds later the front door opening. I hope
it’s Stacy. Please let it be Stacy.

When he steps into the living room I can’t help but get light headed. Why does the boy have to look so damn good? His hair is pulled out of his face and tied behind his head. The sharp planes of his face stand out more and his hazel eyes search me out in the room. The look he is giving me has this strange effect on my body. Like there is a fire running through me taking away any thought I have that doesn’t include him. Or the way he feels on top of me. Or the way he kisses like a starved man.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” I whisper out. I’m not stupid or a prude. I know what that look means. He wants me. What bugs me about it though is why? Why treat me like complete shit for months and then all of a sudden decide I’m worth heated glances and drunken make out sessions on a couch.

“I know.” Only two words. No explanation for why he is here. He hasn’t ever talked much in all the years I have known him. He speaks in short sentences and looks. His eyes are so expressive you don’t really have to hear him speak.

“Then why are you?” I say louder than I did before.

“I want to know what happened last night.” He says in that deep velvety voice.

“You know what happened last night.” The confusion on his face tells me he doesn’t remember everything. But the heat in those eyes tells me he remembers something.

“I really don’t.” H
e steps all the way into the living room and I take in his white polo that fits tight across his muscular chest. His wool pea coat is hanging on his arm like he just took it off. His dark wash jeans hug his legs showing off the powerful muscles he has hidden behind the fabric.

I decide to be bold. Something I have picked up on since the first d
ay he hurt me. I have this overwhelming need to hurt him too, all of a sudden. I want him to live with this pain I have. I want him to live with pain that I have caused him and I know just how to do it.

You’re like yeah right. Just hear me out. I’m not an idiot nor am I blind. I see the way he looks at me. I know he follows me with his eyes everywhere I go. I know he feels guilt for what he put me through and I thought for a while that’s what it was about. Like he wanted to get my forgiveness or something. After last night I know he is attracted to me. He shouldn’t have shown me his cards because I’m ready to play a grown up game.

I will make him fall in love with me. Then I will rip his heart out of his chest. It’s the perfect revenge.

I get up off the couch and slowly make my way over to him. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as I approach. He s
hifts uncomfortably on his feet and it sends a small thrill through me that I make him nervous. “You want me to give you details?” I ask sweetly when I get within inches of his body.

He nods his head slowly like he can’t figure out what I’m doing. I really don’t know what I’m doing but I have read enough books and wa
tched enough movies to get the gist of it.

“You came home last night really drunk. You came in here while I was asleep and got down on your knees in front of me.” I pause to run my finger down his shirt. “I woke up to find you hovering over my face and as I asked you what you were doing, you leaned in and kissed me.” I start to whisper this next part as I guide my hand around his neck. “It was soft at first, gentle even. Then I ran my fingers through your hair and pulled. After that you were suddenly on top of me with your hands in my hair and kissing me like you would drown without my lips. Then you pulled my legs around your waist and started grinding.” I stand on the tips of my toes and say the next part softly against his lips. “Softness to hardness.” He visibly shudders and I smile on the inside. I pull away to finish the rest of my story. “Then you puked all over the living room floor. I got you up to your room and spent an hour down here cleaning up the puke. I went to make sure you weren’t drowning in anymore and that’s when you pulled me in the bed with you. I tried to get out but every time I almost got away you would pull me back under you. You know what happened after that.”

His face is pulled into a look of disgust and I wonder what he is more disgusted by. Puking or kissing me. “That’s really gross. I’m sorry you had to clean up my puke.”

“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for your mom, because I know you would never have cleaned it up.” I turn away from him and go back to sit on the couch.

“Thank you.” Is all he says. He continues to just stand there almost lost in thought. I want to give him a snarky comment but I hold back. I’ll have to be nice to him to get my plan underway.

He finally comes out of his thoughts and moves to join me on the couch. My body starts to feel electrified when he sits right beside me. We are touching from the shoulder all the way down to our knees. I want to be immune to him but I know I never will be. That kiss last night made sure of that. Hormones are a bitch.

I change the channel on the TV to some romance I have no interest in watching. I want him to get whatever he has on his mind off of his chest. “Just say it. The suspense is killing me.”

I turn my head to look at him. His head is tipped down and he is studying his fingers like they hold all the answers. I decide to give him an olive branch and tip his head up with my finger on his chin. I catch his eyes, “Just say it. I’m not going to hold it against you.”

He scrapes his top teeth over his bottom lip and I start to tingle. Yes, I just said tingle. I’m ashamed of myself since it’s like the most girly thing that has ever left my mouth. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t know why I feel this way. We don’t know each other. You hate my guts. Not that I blame you, but why would we make out and…like it?”

I chuckle and really I didn’t think he would be so dense about it. “It’s called attraction. Though I don’t know why you’re attracted to me. I remember a time when you called me zithead every day for weeks.”

He flinches and I get a sense of satisfaction at his discomfort. “I was young and stupid. I didn’t know how to handle things and you were the easiest target. I know that doesn’t make it right but I wish I hadn’t said those things. You didn’t deserve it.”

I want to tell him he’s damn right I didn’t deserve it but I refrain. My heart even warms to him a little with the “I wish I hadn’t said those things,” comment. Wanting to take them back shows a feeling of guilt. I want him to feel guilty. I want him to hate himself as much as I hate myself. “I’m over it. It was years ago.” Lie.

His hazel eyes look deep into mine. I see hope swimming around in there and I can only wonder what he sees in mine. “I just want you to forgive me.” He doesn’t add “so I can live easier”, but I know it’s what he wants. He should know I would never forgive him.

“You can work on it. Maybe one day I will.” Lie. He gives me a half smile and I feel myself show him one in return. This might be easier than I thought.

I turn my head away from him and back on the TV. And like the guy he is, I feel his hand creep up on to my thigh. His fingers twine with mine and I shiver at the feel of his breath on my neck. I turn my face slowly towards his. He is so close to me, it kind of freaks me out. I don’t get this close to other people. I don’t want them to get a good look at my face. He rubs his nose along mine and says, “Kiss me.”

I admit my breathing becomes panting at his softly spoken words. “Why?” I ask looking right at his lips. They look soft yet firm and I have phantom feelings ghost across my own at the memory of last night.

“Because I want to remember it.” Butterflies go off in my stomach. I don’t know where those came from. I don’t want butterflies. I just want the lust, using him is just as bad as what he did to me. But I refuse to feel anything but lust and hate for him.

Chance

I can see she wants to with the way she is breathing and her lustful eyes staring at my lips. It’s truly amazing the color of her eyes. I have never seen it before except on her mom’s face. I didn’t think they were her real color until I looked it up online. Elizabeth Taylor was famous for them. It is so unbelievably beautiful on this girl. This girl who I spent years hurting because of my own pain. She doesn’t think she is beautiful, but she is. Oh she is.

I finally get tired of the waiting game and place my hand on the back of her head, threading my fingers through her hair. I push her lips to mine and move them softly against hers. She places her hand on my shoulder and clutches my shirt. I groan in the back of my throat as she
slips her tongue into my mouth. They tangle together and I find myself pushing her down on the couch with my upper body.

I just wanted it to be soft and innocent, this is not. It’s like she pushes every button I didn’t know I had. She moans when I put most of my weight down on top of her. I want to take off this shirt and see what her body looks like. She pulls the holder out of my hair and gently tugs on it bringing a little bit of pain and pleasure.

I groan when she slips her hands under my shirt and slides them up my torso. I take my hand from her hair and slip it under her shirt. I hold myself up with my other arm so I can take full advantage of this. Her skin is so soft and it erupts with goose flesh as I slide my hand back and forth over her flat stomach. There is a dangly belly button ring and I gently tug on it making her arch her back. Both of her legs wrap around my waist and I fight to not thrust my dick against her warm jeans.

“Take off your shirt.” She whispers against my lips and I don’t hesitate to lift up and tear it over my head. She takes her time to look over my chest and stomac
h and when she licks those swollen lips I groan.

“What are you doing to me, smalls?” I say right before I start kissing her again. I finally lose the battle of not thrusting against her. I think my brain is about to run out the door and my dick will take over. I’m not ready for this. I have made out plenty of times don’t get me wrong, but this is different. She is different. I’m so lost in what we are doing, someone could walk in right now and I wouldn’t know.

She starts pushing me off of her and I feel like I a kicked a puppy. “Macy.” Is all she says when I give her a confused look. That’s when I hear my niece crying. Norma scrambles out from under me and shoots off the couch. “Coming baby girl!” she lets out in a calming voice as I sit on the couch trying to catch my breath.

She disappears around the corner and I wait to hear her go up the stairs before I pull on my shirt and leave the room. Instead of heading after her to see Macy, I head for the front door picking my keys up off the end table. Macy is still crying after I shut the front door. It hurts to leave her crying like that. Though mom would never let Norma take care of her unless she knows what she is doing.

I jump in my old white Ford and back out of the driveway. I try not to think about what just happened, but my brain has other ideas. I don’t want to remember that she tastes like the sweetest chocolate or that she smells like pomegranates. I don’t want to remember the way she feels soft in all the right places and she fits perfectly under me, like she was made to be there. I admit that I am freaking out. I’ve never wanted to devour anyone like that before. It doesn’t help she wasn’t wearing those awful glasses so I could read her eyes perfectly. Or that she was actually nice to me, well somewhat.

Before I know it I’m pulled up into Creed’s driveway. He has a party going on, as usual. His house is pretty much the only one we can party at. His dad died when he was eight and his mom is doped up on pills most of the time. Hell she even parties with us sometimes. I used to think it was cool when I was 16. Now I think she is just a neglectful mother with serious issues.

I find Creed in his bedroom staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t party as much anymore. It’s all about the show with him. It’s almost like he can’t stand for anyone to see he doesn’t like this shit. I don’t most of the time. I got into a huge fight with my dad yesterday and needed something to make this pain go away.

“Contemplating why the sheet rock is smooth?” I ask him seriously.

“Wondering why my mom needs to fuck herself up so much. I spent all night with her in the bathroom.” He sighs and rubs a hand down his face. “She’s down there tonight drinking vodka like it’s water after taking 2 oxycodone. Life is not that bad.”