Throb (Club Grit) (15 page)

And we did. The first ride we went on was the Ferris wheel, and from up in the air, everything looked so small, so...insignificant.

“You know what’s weird?” I said to Jason as we looked out over the sprawling buildings.

“What?” he said, squeezing my hand, and that’s when I realized he hadn’t let go of my hand since he’d picked me up from Starbucks, not for more than a few seconds, to switch to holding a different hand or to using a different hand to hold mine.

“The fact that this city is so big, and yet it seems like everything important happens in a few neighborhoods. In my life, everything seemed to be centered around Beverly Hills,” I said, looking out and pointing to what I thought was Rodeo Drive.

“Seemed...past tense?”

“I don’t want to go back to Beverly Hills for a while, Jason. I know I can’t have my old life back, so I might as well make a new one for myself. I don’t know what I’m going to do this summer, but I’m going to try and get grounded again. I can’t just dwell on the fact that Keanne and that lifestyle isn’t for me, even though I’d wished it was for the longest time. I just have to move on,” I said.

We sat there in silence for a while until it was finally my turn to break the ice. “Jason?” I asked him.

“Yes?” he said, and I turned to him, but found his face had been on me the whole time.

“When did you...first realize you wanted to go out with me?” I knew the question sounded trite, but I needed to have an answer.

“Honestly?” he said, rubbing my hand in his.

“Yes, I...just sort of have to know,” I said, biting my lower lip to stop myself from turning away, from looking away from Jason and breaking the connection we had. It was hard for me: I had been told not to let people in, and when I did? When I’d let someone into my life that I felt was important, and that who I thought felt I was important to them? I’d been hurt. Keanne had hurt me, and I’d thought I’d wanted him. I loved Jason, and he could hurt me twice as badly as Keanne with only half the effort because my heart was on my sleeve, as easy for Jason to pluck and devour as a ripe fruit on a tree.

“I remember the first time that you came to Club Grit. You were with your sorority, who had reserved a VIP section ahead of time. I’d been told I should expect to make a lot of girly drinks,” he said, and I laughed, giving him a punch in the arm. “No, it’s true! My boss said that you guys would want the stereotypical girly drinks, like Fuzzy Navels and Buttery Nipples –”

“And Sex on the Beach?”

“Not gonna lie, that’s pretty delicious, but anyways, I remember you all came in, and the bottle service girl was serving you guys. The shots spilled –”

“And I was the one that went to the bar, to get a towel for her.”

“Bingo. You talked to some other bartender but your focus was on helping the waitress clean up the mess. Meanwhile, the other girls in the sorority sort of just mulled around, or they went to the dance floor. While everyone else just wanted to get away from the trouble, you wanted to help fix the mess. I haven’t met many people like that, and it’s not an LA thing, it’s just how the world is. Most people don’t care about other people, but you do, whether or not you let others onto that fact. You were the only one that was a woman, not just a girl. The fact that a gaggle of girls has a fake ID that states they’re women doesn’t make it true, you know?”

“Not really.”

“Well, after that, I knew I had to go on at least one date with you, but I didn’t want to freak you out, so I sent over those shots, and you came over to thank me, and I got your number. We texted, we went back together to my place, and I’d meant to stop it, sooner, but I didn’t. I meant to ask you on a date, on a real date, but I didn’t, and I should have. It just got weirder and weirder over time, and we had a routine, so I thought that was good enough. However, it really wasn’t. I knew there was something missing, and when Keanne made the moves on you...” He trailed off, and I didn’t need him to explain the rest, but he did anyway. “I didn’t know what to do, or what to say, to keep you with me. I didn’t want you to think I was manipulating you, and that never tempted me for a second, because I knew the only way that I could really have you, and have your love, would be if I wooed you the honest way, not with lies, tricks, or games. I knew that if I wanted to be with you, it had to be your choice, not something I pressured or guilted you into. Even if you had picked Keanne, or nobody, even, I would have been okay. Sad, but at least happy you picked something that made you happy. The fact you picked me, that I am what makes you happy? That means the world to me.”

“Jason, I don’t deserve you,” I said, biting the inside of my cheek. My heart was throbbing. Why did Jason think I was worthy of his love after I hadn’t seen what was right in front of me for so long? Why did he think I was worth dating after I’d been so inconsiderate of the way he felt for me?

I stopped biting my cheek as Jason leaned in and gave it a gentle kiss. “Believe it or not, Becca, although you still might feel young, naïve, and dare I say, weak? You are more mature and developed than most of the other people your age, male or female. You don’t give yourself enough credit, but the fact you managed to juggle both a prestigious internship, sorority life in Omega House of all places, and keep your grades up is impressive. How many people do you know that can do even one of those things successfully?”

“None. I didn’t even managed to get something for this summer, and I quit Omega. That makes me a quitter.”

“People are allowed to move on, Becca. They’re allowed to open new chapters in their lives, close old ones, and have new adventures. It’s okay to get out of toxic situations. Actually, it’s more than okay. It’s smart, it’s respectable, and it’s a sign you’re looking out for yourself for once. I know how hard you’ve tried to impress your parents in school, how hard you worked to make Omega House a better place, and how that internship with Keanne could have changed things. I really do, but only because I listen to you, and because I’ve been there before, when I was your age. You’re not a failure: you’re just a grown up doing a bit more growing up,” he said, placing a gentle hand behind my hair and pressing his lips onto my waiting cheek.

“So...I guess that’s our first kiss, as a couple, right?” I said, biting his lip gently before pulling away. I took off  my sunglasses off and putting them back in my bag. I didn’t need them up anymore: I didn’t need a shield to protect me from anyone here, up in the air with Jason, and I knew once we were on the ground, the only thing I needed to protect me was the love I had with Jason. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Out of all the people that I’d thought were my friends, that I’d hoped would reach out, only he had actually been there for me through thick and thin. Only he had shown that he truly and really cared.

“Better late than never,” he whispered into my ear before kissing me, and this time, on my lips, a real kiss I’d remember forever.

The chocolate milkshake he’d been sipping had left his mouth tasting cold and rich, and as I pressed my own cold tongue into his mouth, he warmed not only my body, but my soul. I’d had so many burdens I’d tried to carry on my own, and keeping Jason at a distance, to protect him from the baggage, hadn’t worked. Letting him share my load was better than letting him be tortured as he was forced to watch me struggle. I knew, in that moment, that no matter what, Jason and I would support each other.

During the journey of our life, the loads would range from extremely light, like slip messenger bags, to ungrudgingly heavy, like the load of a European backpacker carrying too many souvenirs, but through it all, we’d be there for each other. We wouldn’t let our baggage weigh us down, and through our shared struggle, our bond would grow stronger, through the knowledge that we’d been strong enough to support each other’s weaknesses, that we’d been able to trust and to love, and to move on from bad patches together.

T
HE WEEKS LEADING UP TO FINALS WEEK WAS TERRIBLE. I practically lived at UCBH again, spending most of my time studying in the library between finals, only coming back to the apartment to sleep. Jason had taken up additional weeknight shifts at Club Grit so we rarely saw each other, but when we did? He was my release.

We’d been living together for three weeks and I felt closer to Jason than I’d felt living with the Omega House girls for three years. I don’t know what I’d been scared of: commitment? That seeing each other often would somehow dull the chemistry we had? It didn’t matter, because now, we were together and our relationship was better than ever.

I hadn’t heard from Keanne or from Kim. There was no apology from either, no casual questions asking if I was okay. Neither had deleted me on Facebook, but I also stopped logging on as much. Anyone that really mattered to me, my family and friends from before UCBH, and of course, Jason, had my phone number, and could text or call me. I’d had more time to meet up with friends from home and had done so on weekends, as I was no longer going to Club Grit. The fifty bucks I’d drop on alcohol were better spent on a bus ride to Compton, treating old friends to pints of Ben and Jerry’s, and renting a movie from the video store down the street.

However, I had something special in store for Jason. That Saturday evening, I took the bus down to Club Grit to meet Jason after work as a surprise. As he came out of the club, with a gaggle of club girls trying to get his number as he politely smiled but shook his head and held up his hands, I called his name. “Jason!” I shouted with a laugh, running up to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek, deterring even the most determined of his fan girls.

“Babe, I didn’t expect you,” he said, giving me a kiss on my cheek as well. “How was your night?’ He gave me a once over: I was wearing a large camel trench coat jacket, made of a light beige fabric, tied together with a belt. It was a little large for me but gave me extra length. My makeup was done in a subdued style, my big, brown eyes accentuated by an eggplant eyeliner and taupe shadow that I’d blended into my caramel toned skin. My hair was in a loose ponytail but a gold sequined tie gave it extra class, and on my feet, I was in a pair of plain strappy gladiator sandals, a dark, ebony black against my skin.

“Same old, same old. I finished my paper on Hunter S. Thompson and the effect of gonzo journalism on the modern political schools of thought,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“So I’m guessing you don’t want to watch Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas tonight?” he joked.

“As much as I love Thompson, I could use a break. It looks like you could use one too,” I joked. “And maybe a shower?”

“You saying I smell, toots?” he said, putting on a fake macho accent.

“You dork, you know I like my men dirty,” I said in my best sultry voice. “Come on, let’s put that cab voucher to good use.”

We hopped in a cab and made our way back to the apartment, together. I told him about my day and listened to him talk about the goings on at Club Grit. Having a label had made our relationship so much easier to navigate and operate within. Having a predefined societal construct with do’s, don’ts, conventions, and taboos made knowing what I could and couldn’t do easier, not for Jason’s sake, but for my own. I knew Jason was cool with whatever I did, whether it was order food from a different takeout place or surprise him at work like I had that night, but inside, the doubting, nagging voices that told me I was being “too clingy” or “overly attached” had been silenced by the relationship label. I could do stereotypical girlfriend stuff and not feel weird about it anymore.

When we got home, it didn’t take long for Jason to see the trail of rose petals leading to the shower. They were white and blended in with the carpet, but he still saw them. Teasingly, he took me by the hand and asked, “Where could these possibly lead?” However, when they entered not just the bedroom, but the bathroom, he gave me a sly smile.

Jason lifted me up and put me on the sink’s counter, which was kept free of bottles because clutter didn’t fit with his neat, minimalistic aesthetic. I was never so glad that Jason was a neat freak as I was when he untied my long trench coat and my caramel macchiato colored thighs touched the cool ebony countertops.

I knew what Jason expected: that underneath the trench coat, maybe I was wearing a little black dress, or a sheer white and pink floral sundress. The coat I’d worn wasn’t meant to keep me warm, but to allow me some modicum of modesty, because underneath, I was barely wearing anything. All I had on was a lingerie set I’d picked out for this night.

Usually, Jason only saw me in whatever random set of PINK panties and bra I picked, and rarely did I pick a set that matched, although I always bought the goods in matching pairs. Although I usually looked “cute”, tonight, I didn’t want to look cute. I didn’t want to be some passive, adorable thing that he pursued. I wanted him to know through the fact that I was wearing this sexual armor, which protected me from the insecurities I had about my role in the relationship, that I could be the pursuer. I could be the one that was powerful, that was in control.

I’d picked something from the VS main line this time, a pair of reddish violet lace panties and a bra. The lace thong’s band lay on my hip bones and wrapped around to the small of my back, where one of Jason’s hands was resting. The bra was made of a matching material, a lightly cushioned purple fabric with the reddish violet lace as an overlay, although there was a gentle underwire to push my breasts up and together, creating additional cleavage, evened out by cushioning that provided both comfort and additional rounding from the sides. This left the center of my breasts exposed, rather than covered, and Jason kissed the soft exposed spot, above my solar plexis, gently.

I had never exposed myself to Tony like this, shown him my body in this type of clothing. As I looked up at him for a reaction, resisting the urge to look back and see if my purple eyeliner had smudged, fighting the feeling that I should put the coat back on, ignoring the voice in my head of self-doubt that told me I looked at once too ugly to pull this off and at the same time was acting like a dirty slut who would never deserve a guy like Jason. I found myself both afraid of what would happen when Jason took off the armor that acted like a fairy’s glamour, transforming me into someone from the glossy pages rather than someone who was indistinguishable from the girls he served at Club Grit, and afraid of what would happen if they were left on any longer, if I let them consume me from the outside in, straps starting to feel as if they were digging into my skin and could betray me, strangling and choking at every part of me, not just my neck but my chest and hips. I knew it was stupid and silly, but in that moment, when Jason’s gaze was on me and my gaze was on his eyes, I felt more strong and more vulnerable than ever.