Authors: Audrey Bell
Truthfully, I had been curious as to whether Jack actually
would stop by that night. And I was oddly anticipating it, even though I
thought it was a terrible idea. My fingers drummed on the countertop. The
responsible thing to do would be to tell him that this was insensible, that it
could never work, and that I wasn’t the kind of girl who could handle dating a
boy like him. Or any kind of boy at all.
But, eight came and went, and I
gnawed on leftover chicken, getting ready for classes to begin. It looked like
he wasn’t coming. I was about to change into my pajamas when there was a knock
at the door. I froze, then strode purposefully to the door and opened it.
Whatever I had been thinking of
saying went right out of my head when I saw him. “Hey,” he said. He wasn’t
smiling, though his eyes were twinkling, and he bit his lip when he looked at
me. When he was standing this close to me, I had to look up into his face,
which made him seem both taller and more handsome.
“Hi,” I said, and then I remembered
I was annoyed. “It’s almost nine.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Do you
have a curfew or something?”
“We have class tomorrow.”
He smiled. “Does that mean you turn
into a pumpkin at midnight?”
I looked at him blankly.
“Vampire? Or, no, werewolf.
Tonight’s supposed to be a full moon. Can I come in?” He walked into the
apartment, not waiting for an answer, and looked around. “Nice place.”
“I didn’t say you could come in,” I
said.
He smiled. “You’re funny.”
“That wasn’t a joke.”
“No, I mean, you’re funny. Like,
you were super-hot in the parking lot and now you’re super-cold.” He glanced at
me. “I’m talking in degrees of emotional warmth, not physical attractiveness.
You’ve been consistently hot throughout, in terms of attractiveness.”
“Is that supposed to be a
compliment?”
He chuckled. “Not really. Although,
with most girls, you can say pretty much whatever you want if you conclude by
saying they’re hot.”
“You must know some pretty dumb
girls.”
“I do,” he said. “But, I know you
now. That’s got to cancel at least two dumb girls out.”
“It doesn’t work like that.”
“How do you know what it works
like? Are you the police of dumb girl cancellation?”
“No, but it doesn’t work like that.
Nobody gets to cancel anybody else out.”
“Maybe they do. Maybe every stupid
person you know cancels out every smart person you know and every good person
you know cancels out every evil person you know.”
“That’s right. That’s probably why
everyone forgot about Jesus and Hitler, and just remembers their un-cancelled
out contemporaries Average Jane and Average Joe,” I said.
He laughed. “I meant people I
actually knew. Did you actually
know
Hitler? Maybe you
are
going
to turn into a vampire at nine o’clock.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You want to do something. Not go
on a date?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s…” I looked
around my apartment. “Go do something.”
I grabbed my coat from my bedroom
and came back into the living room. Jack was studying a photograph on the wall.
It was a picture David had taken one early spring morning when we’d gone
walking by the lake. My back was turned to David and you could only see part of
my face.
“Cool picture. That’s you, right?”
I nodded. “David took that.”
“David?”
“Roommate.”
“Ah.” He smiled and raised his
eyebrows. “The one who dared you to kiss a stranger?”
“Yes.”
“David sounds like the man. The
last time I encouraged girls to make out with strangers like me, I almost got
arrested.”
I smiled and tucked a strand of
hair behind my ear.
“So, what exactly constitutes a
not-date?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Isn’t this your
idea?”
“You don’t know?” he laughed. “How
the hell am I supposed to know if you don’t know?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Going
for a drive or something.”
“A drive!” he laughed.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s
go for a drive.”
He followed me out of the apartment
and down the stairwell to the parking lot.
I stole a look at Jack. He caught
me staring and smiled back.
“So,” he said, as I got into his
car. “Where do you want to drive to?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Around.
I could use ice cream.”
He didn’t say anything about how
cold it was or how far we were from Ben & Jerry’s or how it was probably
too late to go anywhere. “I could do ice cream.”
There was a long awkwardly silent stretch
of time, after which I demanded, “So, why did you want to talk to me anyways?”
“Why did you kiss me in the parking
lot?” he asked playfully.
“I told you. David dared me.”
“Right. But then you said you chose
me. Why?”
“I was drunk.”
He laughed. “You weren’t that
drunk.”
“Was that your only question?” I
asked. “Because, I can assure you that we have nothing in common. And I can
also assure you that whatever you’re looking for, you’re not going to find it
with me.”
“You don’t know what I’m looking
for.”
“Not this.”
He stole a glance at me. “Okay, so,
what is this?”
“It’s none of your business,
really,” I said. I ran a hand through my hair.
“So, first you’re annoyed I only
have one question, and now I’m not allowed to ask questions.”
“I’m not that uptight,” I said,
although I was certainly acting like it. “You’re allowed to ask questions. Just
not,
okay, so what is this
? Because I really don’t know.”
He laughed. “Fair enough.” He
looked over at me. “Why don’t you ask me a question?”
“That’s okay.”
“Oh, come on. Surely, there’s
something you want to know. You’re a reporter.”
There were plenty of questions I
wanted to ask. But there were plenty of other things I could already tell from
looking at him. Only half of being a good reporter was asking the right
questions. The other half was noticing details, so you wouldn’t have to ask
them.
“Okay,” I said. “What’s your mother
like?”
He looked over at me quickly.
“Seriously?”
I shrugged. “You don’t have to
answer it.” I turned my head and watched the road through the window.
“No, um…” he thought for a moment
and cleared his throat. “She’s very warm. And….she worries a lot. She’s very
sweet about it. She seems vulnerable. She worries so much about me that I start
worrying about her.” He smiled, a little bit sadly.
“Are you an only child?” I asked.
“No. I have a brother. He’s older.
You?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, I’m an
only child.”
“What’s that like?” he asked.
“Not as bad as they told you.”
“So, you’re not a lonely narcissist
who can’t get along with anyone?”
“Oh, no, I’m definitely that,” I
said. “I just don’t fear independence.”
He laughed. “I can tell.”
“What’s your brother like?”
“Perfect,” he said. “Totally,
completely, un-fucking-believably perfect. It makes me nauseous. Really.” He grinned
at me. “He never even beat me up. Perfect.”
I laughed. “You must hate his
guts.”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I don’t
actually. Well, in high school a little bit. But not anymore.”
I smiled.
“He’s…serious. You’d like him.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, you seem kind of serious,”
he said. “He’s a doctor for the Navy. He’s in Afghanistan now.” He rubbed his
chin.
“God. How long as he been there?”
“Not too long,” he said. “He went
to the Naval Academy and then to Harvard Medical School and now he’s a trauma
doctor over there. I think it’s been about a year and a half now. He says it’s
okay. He’s pretty safe, because he’s a doctor. He’s not that close to combat.”
He smiled. “So, that’s what my mother is like. And my brother—as a bonus. What
else you got?” he asked.
I tilted my head sideways. “What do
you fear?”
He laughed. “You’re not holding
back. Let me see. Eels. And jellyfish. Can’t stand ‘em. But I think I’m most
scared of never figuring it out.”
“What out?”
“Myself,” he said. “You know, never
figuring out what’ll make me really happy. That kind of thing. What are you
most afraid of?”
“Probably dependency.”
“Dependency on what?” he asked
curiously. He grinned. "Drugs?"
“People.”
He let out a short bark of
laughter. Then he looked at me. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah.”
“Dependency on people is the thing
you’re most afraid of? You realize that dependence on other people is like the
way the world spins, don’t you? You didn’t build your own car and write your
own textbooks, did you?”
“I didn’t say it was rational. I
said I was scared of it.”
“That’s why you won’t go on a date
with me?”
“No, I won’t go on a date with you
because I don’t want to go on a date with you,” I grumbled.
Or anyone else,
ever
.
“Alright. So, how does this work?
Are you moving towards going all
Into the Wild
post-graduation? Heading
out into the woods and living alone?”
“No,” I said. “I meant emotional
dependence more than anything else.” I shrugged. “It’s just my answer. I know
it doesn’t make sense.”
“You’d rather be alone forever than
need anyone?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m good at being
alone. I like being alone.”
“Wow,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“That makes you happy? Being
alone?”
“Yes, actually,” I said.
“And what about sex?”
I could feel the flush creeping
down my neck. “Excuse me?”
“What about sex? People are sexual.
They have needs. You have needs.”
“Listen, I’ve had sex. And I wasn’t
impressed.”
He shook his head, biting back a
grin.
“What? I’m being serious.”
“He wasn’t doing it right then.”
“He did it just
fine
,” I
said, thinking back to how I lost my virginity in high school in Luke’s
parents’ guest house, and how it had been mostly awkward and painful and way
too bright in that room. It had gotten better, somewhat, but it had never been
amazing.
“No, he definitely did it wrong,”
he said. “Which is criminal. I could fix that though.”
“Excuse me?”
He looked at me. “I mean, if I were
so lucky as to have the chance to sleep with you, you would be, you know,
impressed.”
“You’re extremely arrogant.”
“Right back at you.”
“How am I arrogant?
“What kind of person gives sex one
chance and decides it’s not for them?”
“This kind.”
He smiled. “But, that’s a little
arrogant.” He was teasing, mostly. “I mean, you’re so sure of yourself, you
think sex is overrated.”
“I didn’t say it was overrated. I
said I wasn’t impressed. I’m just telling you what’s true. I had sex. I wasn’t
crazy about it.”
“When?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Tell me when.”
“That’s an extremely personal
question.”
He cocked his head. “You don’t have
to tell me, then. I just think he was doing it wrong.”
I took a breath. “Junior year.”
“Was the last time you had sex?”
I flushed.
“Damn,” he said. He looked at me.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make fun of me.”
“I’m not,” he said. He shook his
head. “Honestly, I’m not at all.” He met my eyes. “Did you have a bad
experience or something?”
I took a breath. “No. The sex was
fine. But I broke up with the boy and he told everyone I was easy.” I shrugged.
“I didn’t sleep with anyone else after that. I didn’t want anyone to think he
had a point.”
“I’m sorry. That’s bullshit,” he
said.
“It’s really not a big deal. It’s
ancient history,” I said.
“Well, I could see why you might
not want to date people after that.”
“It’s got a lot less to do with him
than you think,” I said. “I don’t have the time, and monogamy doesn’t exactly
run in my family and—”
“You don’t want to depend on
anyone?”
“Exactly,” I said.
He nodded seriously. “Yeah, see,
the thing about that though, is that people who don’t ever want to depend on
anyone, people who don’t ever want to be touched, they don’t jump into a
stranger’s arms in the rain. Even on a dare.”
I met his warm, brown eyes. They
searched me and I looked away. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but
sometimes they do.”
He jerked the wheel and pulled off
the road.
“
What
are you doing?”
He put the car in park wordlessly.
“Excuse me?” I repeated, staring at
him. “I barely know you. Pulling over on the side of the road is a serial
killer move.”
“I’m not a serial killer.”
“What are you doing?”
He undid his seatbelt and leaned
across the seat and kissed me again. Without asking, without anything that
seemed like a warning.
He kissed me deeply and instead of
pushing him away, I leaned in.
I was surprised at the whimper that
escaped my lips as he moved his mouth down my neck. I was surprised at the way
my spine arched towards him and the way I wanted him to slide his warm hands
farther down my ribs to my hips. When his hand slipped under my shirt, cool
against my hip, I put my hand over it. “Wait, stop.”
He pulled his head back and looked
into my eyes. “You want me to stop?” He kept his hand there, spread on my
hip—not a particularly sexual or private place, but it made me shiver.