Push (5 page)

“David,” I whisper. “Go.” He continues pushing into me until I shatter in waves around him. The last few remaining morsels of self-doubt have not only disintegrated, they have imploded. All because of him. I open my mouth to say something, but all that comes out is my breath. His face is against my neck, his lips on my skin, and on his last push into me, his breath stutters. I hear both wonder and reverence in the sound.

David leans into me for a moment until our bodies steady. Then, with his hands still on my hips and my legs around him, he carries me back over to the chair and sets me down. I sit there with my head bowed and my hands on my knees, still breathing roughly. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look up. His bare feet and his black jeans are in front of me, and I hear his zipper close. A second later he is kneeling on the floor before me, pushing himself between my open legs and laying his head on my lap. His arms are spread out and hanging off the sides of my hips.

The phoenix is stretched out over my lap, rising and falling as he breathes.

Chapter Seven

Sarah

I am standing on this damn bridge, and it is ridiculously cold, but David thinks this is going to be a great way to get back at my dad for being such a jerk, so here I am. David is still over at my car getting the stuff out of the trunk while I am standing here in the wind freezing my ass off. Damn me for not wearing my parka. My dad is going to completely freak out over our little stunt. I cannot wait to see the look on his face when he shows up.

David has a wicked mind and I love it. We have pulled off a lot of pranks together, but this one is going to be exceptional. It’s going to be even better than when we stole Debra Gilbert’s car from the school parking lot. Man, she was pissed, but it was one of the best moments of my life. She totally deserved it, too. The way she treats Zack is so cruel. I mean, who does she think she is to treat him like that? I told David we should have painted her car orange or something, but he thought that stealing it would be better. And he was right; it was. Watching her bawl like a little baby in the parking lot was so much more than satisfying. I think I actually even saw David smile that day, and I
never
see him smile.

Today’s little act of revenge is going to feel so good. I mean, when David and I got our matching falcon tattoos, it was pretty sweet, but since my dad still doesn’t know about it, I can’t say the revenge factor is as rewarding as I wanted it to be. This, though...this, my dad is going to know about, big-time. And he is going to shit a brick over it. I can’t wait.

Sometimes I cannot believe that David and I have been dating for five months now. Well, I’m not sure you would actually call what we do “dating,” per se, but still, we’ve been together since the fall. No one knows about us though, because my dad would
kill
me if he found out I have a boyfriend. And he would really flip out if he knew I was sneaking out my window nearly every night to meet up with him. The funny thing is that David and I don’t really actually
do
anything together. Mostly we just smoke cigarettes and talk about shit. He’s only kissed me a couple of times. His dad seems like a bigger asshole than mine, so sometimes I think he just wants to get the hell out of his house. Things there seem pretty out of control, and I know how much David likes to keep his life in check. His mom died when he was just a little kid, and it kind of seems as if he’s never gotten over it. I think it must have really sucked.

School is pretty shitty for me. I hate this town, I hate my teachers, I hate the principal, and I especially hate the other kids. David is the only one who matters. I met him right after I moved here. It was the end of summer, and he was hanging out with his friends on the basketball court at school. My mom and dad made me go to some stupid new student orientation, but right after they dropped me off, I left. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of the meeting before it even started. I went outside and sat on the bleachers to have a smoke. I watched them play basketball for a while, and when they were done, David came over to bum a cigarette. The rest is history.

I can’t believe how crazy this is. I look over the edge of the bridge and imagine myself doing this for real. Life would have to be really, really fucking messed up for me to do something like that, though. Even though my dad is a hard-ass and my mom is Martha Fucking Stewart, I know that it’s not going to be like this forever. I know that when I go to college, everything will change. Life will be different, and I can leave all this high school bullshit behind me.

David is really serious about pulling off our plan. As usual, he’s thought of every detail. We even stopped at the hardware store on our way over here, and he made me run in and buy a bunch of rope and some sandbags to make it look as if I’m actually going to do this. And I am trying to make myself cry, which is way harder than it seems. If it doesn’t sound real, my dad won’t believe it, and he’ll probably just stay home. For the plan to work, my dad has to come to the bridge and find me here, with the sandbags on my feet, ready to jump. I muster up some tears and lay it on thick.

“Hi, Dad. I just wanted to say goodbye,” I cry into my cell phone. “I’m on Clawsen’s Bridge right now, and I’m going to jump. Don’t bother trying to save me because you can’t. Goodbye.” By the time I hang up, I am laughing my ass off, but David is serious as stone. But then again, he always is. He needs to lighten up.

David makes me use the rope to tie the sandbags on to my own ankles. He says he’s afraid he’ll hurt me if he does it himself. Plus, when my dad comes, it has to look as if I put them on there without any help. David is going to run and hide in the bushes across the street and videotape the whole thing so we can watch it later for laughs. I finally get the rope knotted tight enough, and now we just have to wait for my dad. I only live like ten minutes from here, so he should be here really soon.

David is standing behind me now, and he is joking that he’s going to push me off. He grabs my hips and gives me a little shove. Jesus. My body bends forward, but he snatches my shoulders and pulls me back just before I fall. I punch him in the arm and tell him he’s a dickhead.

He must be really excited about this because he’s smiling. He’s got his hands on my hips again, joking that he’s going to do it for real this time. I smack his hands and tell him it isn’t fucking funny. He’s laughing softly at his little joke, and it’s starting to really piss me off. I tell him to stop it because it’s freaking me out, but he doesn’t. He keeps pushing me forward and then pulling me back at the last second. What the hell, David? I am beyond angry with him, and I try to back away from the bridge, but the bags of sand are so heavy on my feet. I am yelling at him to let me back into the car, telling him this whole plan is ridiculously stupid, and he is a sick motherfucker for teasing me like this. But he isn’t listening. There’s a gritty look in his eyes, one that tells me he’s enjoying his little power trip.

He pushes me again, but this time it’s a lot harder. I feel my body tipping forward, and when it’s nearly parallel to the water, I feel his hand swipe at my arm as if he’s trying to catch me. Only he doesn’t. Then my heavy feet leave the bridge, and again, I feel his hand grabbing at my ankle, but he misses that, too. Fuck. I am falling. My dad is going to be furious.

Chapter Eight

Emma—Present Day

David is sprawled out across my lap, and I’m not sure what to do next. I don’t know how long I’ve been watching the phoenix rise and fall, but I know that it’s been long enough. I place my hands on his back, rubbing the phoenix softly. I am afraid that such an intimate touch might freak him out somehow, but he doesn’t even move.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” I ask, with more than a touch of irony in my voice.

“No, Emma, I’m not,” he says flatly, his face still pressed against the side of my hip.

“Why not?”

“Because those bastards just saw you lift up your dress, climb on to my lap, and shove your tongue into my mouth. They would fight me to the fucking death for a crack at that.”

“Are you saying you disapprove of what I did?” I ask with a smile that I know he can’t see.

“No, Emma. Quite the opposite. I’m saying I think that
everyone
in the room heartily approved of what you did. Those fuckers out there will try their damndest to charm the pants off you, and I don’t even want them to have the chance. So, no, I’m not going to introduce you.”

“Then I’ll just have to introduce myself,” I say. His body lifts immediately, and he sits back on his heels, looking at me with a smirk. I have to say, he looks pretty damn fine after our tryst. His eyes are relaxed, and he seems at ease with himself...and with me.

“Very funny,” he says, still kneeling on the floor in front of me. “I’m serious. My friends are pricks. They’ll tell you lies just to get in your pants—and half of the lies will probably be about me.”

“Does that mean that half of what you say is a lie, too?” I’m only partially teasing.

“They’re my friends, Emma, but they would gouge my eyes out for a girl like you,” he says. “And, no, half of what I say isn’t a lie. None of it is. I don’t need to lie...I have the tool belt.” He shrugs, and a boyish grin tugs at his mouth. I can tell he’s proud of his little joke. I can also tell he is serious about not introducing me to his friends. I immediately think his reluctance to do so is both complimentary and possessive. And, surprisingly, I am okay with both.

“Mmm...the tool belt.” I sigh in a mock sexual thrall. “Do any of
them
wear a tool belt?”

“Again, very funny,” he says while standing up. He looks down at me, his eyes leisurely rolling over my entire body. It makes me feel shy and excited at the same time.

“I think I’d better go now. Would you mind seeing me out?” I say, mustering the courage to stand up fully naked and face him. He looks almost stunned. Did he think I was going to stay here chatting or screwing or whatevering all night while his friends hang out in his living room?

“Um, sure,” he says.

“Just give me a second to get dressed,” I say. He watches me intently as I put on my bra and my dress. Then I reach down, pick up my panties, and casually hang them over the back of his chair. “These you can keep,” I say. His eyebrows go up, and he grins again, but as usual, his lips remain closed. He turns and opens the bedroom door, stepping aside so I can pass.

I breeze down the hallway and out into the living room. Four of David’s friends are on the brown couches and one is sitting on the floor. David, wearing only his black jeans, is just a few steps behind me. I stride right past his friends without making eye contact. But I know they are all looking at me...and I like it.

“Bye, boys,” I say, pleased with the confidence in my voice. I stop just inside the apartment door and wait for David to catch up. Once he’s next to me, I turn and push him into the wall. I hold the back of his neck and press my mouth to his, twisting against his tongue. He pulls me towards him by my waist. We kiss hard, and for a moment, I consider staying for the screwing and whatevering, but then I remember myself and pull away.

He lets go of my waist, and I walk out.

I contemplate standing outside his door to see if I can hear what they say, but then I decide I’d rather not, just in case it isn’t very flattering. I feel pretty damned convinced that David enjoyed that as much as I did, and I don’t want to hear otherwise. I walk my confident self back down the stairs and into my apartment.

It’s only eleven, and because of my impromptu nap this afternoon, I’m not the least bit tired. I take a long shower, washing David off my skin, and get dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. I spend the rest of the evening camped out on the couch watching reruns of
South Park
and drinking the rest of the mug wine. I think I occasionally hear someone going down the steps and out the front door, but I’m not about to peek out the window and see. I don’t want David to know I’m still thinking about him.

* * *

The sex, wine and reruns cause me to sleep in way later than I had planned. I haven’t checked anything off my weekend to-do list yet, unless you count the few boxes I unpacked yesterday before Michael showed up. After eating a breakfast bar, I set to the task of unpacking the rest of the boxes. When I am done, the only ones remaining are those from Michael—which I shove to the back of my closet and try to forget—and the ones containing the kitchen stuff that I can’t unpack until David is finished.

I spend the rest of my Sunday doing the mundane. Since I can now walk on the kitchen floor, I make a quick trip to the grocery store for some food, beer and more wine, and make myself a late lunch as soon as I return. Part of me was hoping to run into David while I was out, but then I recalled his note saying that he had plans for the day. When I finish washing my lunch dishes, my phone buzzes. It’s him.

Hi.

Hi back.

What r u doing?

Getting my shit together.

Shit?

Unpacking and grocery store. Going to hang pictures now.

Need my tool belt?

He is flirting again. I want to be coy, but...

U left it here yesterday. I’m wearing it right now.

Is that so?

Yep. And it looks damn fine on me, too.

I’ll bet it does.

Where r u?

Boating with the boys.

Any girls?

Do I really want to know the answer to that?

None wearing a tool belt.

So what r they wearing then?

Nothing that matters to me.

What the hell does that mean? That he isn’t looking at what they are wearing because he doesn’t give a damn, or that they aren’t wearing anything at all?

Define nothing.

It means that it doesn’t matter what they r wearing, or not wearing, as the case may b.

Because...?

Because whatever it is, it isn’t u in those blue panties.

U aren’t going to let any of those girls sit on your lap r u?

No, Emma. I am not.

Because I will kick your fucking ass if u do.

I know.

I slide my phone closed and put it back in my pocket. I can’t believe it, but the thought of David on some boat with a bunch of barely dressed women makes my skin sear. Why? I don’t understand how I can be so jealous when we only spent one night together. And shit, it wasn’t even a night. It was barely an hour. But then I remember our conversation about me meeting his friends. He was jealous, too, wasn’t he? Possessive, even. I’m beginning to wonder where this is all going.

I spend the rest of the afternoon clumsily hanging pictures on the walls, ironing my work clothes for the week, and mapping out the bus route for my morning commute. I am excited and nervous about starting my new job tomorrow. As the evening rolls in, I check my cell phone occasionally to see if David texted. There is nothing, and I am highly disappointed in myself for caring so much. I feel like a damn stooge every time I look at my phone.

I make myself some pasta for dinner and finish the employment paperwork that’s due at the office tomorrow. I hate myself for it, but I’ve been listening for noise on the stairs the entire evening. What the fuck is he doing? He can’t still be on a boat; it’s pitch-dark outside. I don’t want to care about where the hell he is, and honestly, it’s none of my damn business. But I do care...and it’s driving me fucking crazy.

I walk back to my bedroom and pull my pepper spray out of my purse. I carry it back to the living room and put it on top of his tool box. Then I get a piece of paper and place the following message under the spray canister:

David—

Next time you are going to be out late with a bunch of half-naked whores
,
please take this with you.
Feel free to use it liberally.
I
know where to get more.

Emma

PS.
Please tell me I don’t have to kick your fucking ass...

It’s midnight now, and I go to bed.