“As well as can be expected,” I respond.
“I just want you to know she loves you so much.”
“She hurt me so much, too.” I stare ahead, focusing intently on the road in front of me.
“I know she did,” she whispers. “Max is lucky. He was too young to know what was going on. And Jon never had time to dwell on it… the poor kid had to take control and do something about it for himself and for you and your brother. Sometimes I think all you could do was watch it happen. Jon could hide things from Max, but not from you. I understand why you’re angry.”
“Good,” I say simply.
“But it’s not healthy, Will. It’s not healthy to stay angry.”
“Well, I’m less angry when I’m not talking about her… or thinking about her,” I warn. It’s not subtle at all, nor do I mean it to be. I don’t want to talk about this. Therapy is on Thursdays. I did my time yesterday.
“Okay,” Aunt Patty says. “You’re right. Especially not when I just put you behind the wheel.” She laughs a little, and I smile to ease the tension. “So. I actually spoke with Laila’s parents earlier. They said we could pick her up on the way home from the airport, if you’re ready to see her.”
“I can’t wait!”
“Her exit’s the second one on the right.”
My right foot presses a little harder on the gas pedal, my excitement to see my girlfriend obvious. My aunt doesn’t correct me, though. When I look over at her, she’s grinning. I know the way to Laila’s house, and get us there quickly.
I don’t even make it halfway up her sidewalk before she comes running towards me through the entranceway.
“Will!”
“Oh, my god, Laila,” I say, nearly out of breath at the sight of her. I hug her tightly when she reaches me, wanting to feel the curves of her body, but aware that her parents are watching us through the windows. I release her with one hand to wave politely at them. “I want to kiss you so badly right now,” I whisper softly next to her ear.
“Not here,” she says back to me.
“I know.” She pulls away to look at me. “Laila, I forgot just how pretty you actually are.”
“Shut up,” she laughs, blushing.
“I’m serious. And my god, I want to kiss you.” I lean in, closing my eyes, not caring that her ultra-conservative parents haven’t moved an inch.
“Will!” she scolds.
I stand up straight and smile at her. She purses her lips. “You know you want to kiss me, too.”
She turns around abruptly, yelling to her mom and dad. “I’ll be home by nine!”
“Have a good time!” her mother calls out to her.
“Nice to see you, Will,” her dad says to me.
“You, too. I’ll have her home on time, don’t worry.”
She takes my hand in hers and leads the way to my aunt’s car. Aunt Patty has taken the wheel, so Laila and I take the backseat. Thank you, Aunt Patty.
As soon as we turn the corner off of Laila’s street, I put my index finger under Laila’s chin and lean in to her as I’d started to do in front of her house. I moisten my lips, pressing them softly against the corner of hers, feeling them form into a smile just before her tongue juts out to meet mine gently and tentatively.
“Cherry Jolly Rancher?” I ask her quietly, savoring the taste that lingers on her tongue.
“You said it was your favorite candy,” she whispers. I recall the conversation we’d had on the phone a few weeks ago late one night.
“You said it was your least favorite.”
“I didn’t eat it for me.” She blinks innocently twice before my mouth is on hers fully, not caring about the candy at all anymore, but completely turned on by her gesture. I want to lick her all over; taste her everywhere.
Aunt Patty clears her throat, startling both of us. Laila pushes me off of her… I hadn’t realized I’d practically crawled on top of her. “Sorry,” I say loud enough for both women to hear as I settle into my own seat. Laila grabs my right hand in both of hers, massaging it soothingly until we reach my aunt’s house.
After I toss my things into the bedroom I’d once shared with Max, I lead Laila through the house and toward the kitchen. “We’ll be in the backyard,” I tell my aunt.
“Be careful in the tree,” she says, knowing exactly where we’re heading. Laila had a passion for nature like no one I’d ever encountered before, and would venture to climb any tree with a limb within reach of her tiny 5’2” stature. The one out back was not, but she’d learned to use me as her ladder, adding the extra two feet she needed to grab hold of the bottom limb. It had taken me awhile to follow her lead. I had to jump to reach it and build some upper body strength to pull myself up, but I got the hang of it eventually, only falling once. The injury sustained was only a sprained ankle, and while it hurt like hell, I didn’t let on that it did. Not around Laila, anyway.
Up in the tree, we had privacy that couldn’t be found in any of the places we were permitted to be together otherwise. While we were allowed in my room when I lived here, Mom didn’t let us close the door, nor could Max be excluded from his room–and he always wanted to be where I was. I’d begged my mother to let me have the craft room that Jon got to stay in the summer he was with us, but she explained that was Aunt Patty’s room that she needed for her personal things, and we had to give her some space.
Laila’s parents had strict rules at her house. We were only allowed in the living room. We were only allowed there when at least one parent was in the room with us. We each had to have our own couch cushion. We were allowed to hold hands–no other touching except a hug hello and a hug goodbye.
Ultra-conservative.
In the tree, we would confess feelings that couldn’t be said in the presence of parents or brothers. In the limbs, we could be tangled in an embrace and no one would have any idea what was happening. Twenty feet up from the earth, we often daydreamed of making out; of going all the way. Somehow, to make that a reality, we’d have to find a place on solid ground. I knew exactly where that place would be.
I offer her my knee and hoist her up to reach the limb, then watch her lithely make her way up the branches. It’s no struggle to follow my girlfriend high up into our secluded spot. I’d been doing push-ups all summer, keeping my arms in shape so I’d be able to make the climb back up the tree, knowing Laila and I would return here.
She straddles a thick limb, the same one she always claims as her own. The curvature of the tree her back rests against seems to have grown to fit her form. She relaxes naturally, wriggling her fingers to signal me to come closer.
I remain a few branches lower, though, comfortable looking at her from a distance. “Your hair’s grown out. It looks fuller, too,” I comment, smiling.
“I got it layered. Do you like it?”
I nod. “You’re so tan, too.”
“That happens over the summer.”
“I guess it does when you hike five miles a day, every day. It doesn’t happen so much in the city where I am.”
“Yeah, you look pale,” she says. “Have you been outside at all?”
“When I have to,” I admit.
“You live across from Central Park! It’s such a waste! You and your books…”
“Lived,” I tell her. “I moved last week, remember?”
“That’s right. But you said you liked your new place, right?”
“I’m not crazy about the location. I liked my neighbors at Livvy’s loft, but I have my own floor at this place.”
“Your own floor?”
“It’s a converted attic apartment, really. I have my own door to leave through, but Mom told me I’m not allowed to use it. I’m not sure she can stop me…”
“That actually does sound pretty cool. Why’d she buy it if she doesn’t like that door?”
“Because everything else was what she was looking for. And the size is really good for the price. I mean, it’s tiny compared to this house, but it’s bigger than our old place.”
r /> “Sounds ideal for a teenage guy, really.” She raises her eyebrows.
“Wish you’d be there with me.”
“You’ll forget about me in no time.”
“I’ll never forget you, Laila. Not possible.” I climb up the other limbs and sit sideways on the large branch she sits astride. She puts her hands through my hair and pulls my head to hers, kissing me gently. “Do you still want to?” I whisper to her, resting my forehead against hers.
“If we can get away,” she says back. “I’m not sure how, or where.”
“I don’t think I can leave here without… having said a proper goodbye to you. I’ve dreamed and fantasized about me and you like that for almost a year. I don’t want to live my life not knowing you… for real. You know?”
“I know. I want you to be my first. I don’t want it to be anyone else.”
“Even though… this is it?”
Her eyes water. “You’ll always be important to me, Will. Always. You already are.”
“No tears, Laila.” I take her hand in mine and kiss the back of it. I brace my feet against another branch to steady myself, place my other hand on a limb behind her, and lean into her body, pressing mine against hers. She wraps her arms around me, inching her hands up the back of my shirt cautiously as her mouth welcomes mine. I rest my free hand just above her hip, my palm flat against her skin and underneath her top.
I remember our first kiss was clumsy and awkward. I had been so nervous about it all night, up until the moment I made my move. And then it was bad. I was afraid it would hurt my chances for a third date. I’d kissed another girl before her. I felt like I knew what I was doing, but we weren’t in sync that first time.
When she’d called me the next day, she told me that was her first kiss. She told me it was amazing. The next time we went out, I took my time kissing her. Knowing she thought that bad kiss was amazing, I wasn’t nervous at all about the second one, and it was so much better. I think we perfected kissing that night.
It was after a school carnival. There was a full moon. It was incredibly windy. We were all alone at the middle school playground down the street, each straddling our own swing, our legs linked at our ankles. It was quiet except for the sound of our feet occasionally digging into the gravel beneath us. At one point, her hair got caught in the heavy links that held my swing. To avoid it pulling her hair out, she had to wrap her arms around me, much like she’s doing now, as I worked to free her fine hair from the metal. I didn’t break a strand.
Slowly, I move my hand up the side of her body, over her rib cage. I open my eyes for a second to see if she’s looking at me; to see if she has any objection. She doesn’t appear to. As I close my eyes, she actually lets loose of me just a little. Not only is she not objecting, she’s making it easier for me. I tuck my hand underneath her bra and move it up and out of the way. She lets go of me, and I pull away, thinking she wants me to stop.
Instead, she lifts up her top and unfastens the bra at the center clasp and smiles. She puts one of her hands on her right thigh, the other on my left one.
“I’m so glad it’s summer,” I tell her.
“Why?” she asks.
“Foliage,” I answer obviously. “We couldn’t do this in the fall or winter. Maybe not even in the spring.”
“True,” she says. “I love our little tree haven.”
“I do, too.” Her hand moves an inch closer to my crotch and my breath hitches in my throat. She’s never touched me. Ever. I’d probably fall out of the tree if she did now. I’d die happy… so I’m not sure I oppose it. “Laila?” I whisper, my throat dry in anticipation.
“Yes?”
“Can I kiss you… there?” I’ve never done that to her. Ever. I brush my thumb over her breast to make sure she understands exactly what I’m asking.
“Can you do it without falling out of the tree?” Two of her fingers walk closer to me. Soon my own appendage will meet hers the rest of the way. I hope that doesn’t shock her. Because it’s definitely happening.
“I think so,” I say with a laugh. Suddenly, her hand jerks away. Guess it shocked her. “You okay?”
She looks down at what she’s done, then gently places her palm against me. She glances up at me with a look of wonder in her eyes. I can’t stop myself from moving against her; to feel her move against me. Shit, I wish we were up on that hill right now. The arm I’m leaning on grows weak as I feel all the focus and energy of my body moving to the place that’s longed to be touched by her for almost a year of my life. I have to stop her, lest I do die before I get to sleep with her tomorrow. That would be such a fucking travesty.
I take her hand in mine quickly, holding it tightly, using both of our hands to move her shirt out of the way so I can press my lips against the flesh of her breast. She pulls her hand away, moving it to the back of my head, scraping her nails into my scalp. That’s nice. My tongue finds her nipple, and I instinctively close my mouth around her areola.
I decide I don’t need the limb anymore, relying on her to steady me. I put each hand on the side of her body to hold the shirt up so I can see what I’m doing. I always wondered if this would feel sexy or… weird.
Fucking sexy. I’m an idiot for thinking it would be anything else. Shit.
“Oh, Will,” Laila moans softly. I try not to suck too hard, but I literally can’t get enough of her. She moves her hand back to my crotch.
Please don’t let me fall. Please don’t let me fall. I’m not stopping. I’m not stopping her. Please don’t let me fall. Please let me have sex with her tomorrow. Please don’t let me fall.
“Who are you talking to?”
I freeze. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yes,” she laughs.
“Which part?”
“Please let me have sex with her tomorrow. Please don’t let me fall.”
“I mean…” I look up at her sheepishly. “Anyone who’ll listen.”
She smiles at me sweetly, moving both of her hands to my cheeks.
“Whatever I can do to let you sleep with me tomorrow, I will. And I’d never let you fall, Will.”
“Okay, then against my better–no, against my bad judgment but my incredibly strong desire–I have to ask you to stop, you know… touching me there. Because I’m about to lose it. But oh my god I want you to touch me.”
“You are so cute, Will.”
“I am tortured and tormented and torn is what I am. And fucking turned on.”
“Well, I am, too.”
I perk up. “Yeah? Did you like that?”
She nods quickly, looking surprised. “Can we do that again tomorrow, too?”
“Of course,” I promise her. She can’t like it as much as I do. No way. I smile and kiss her softly, sweetly. “Can you tell I’ve missed you?”
“You’ve made that point… and then some. Yes.”
I lift her shirt and fumble with the clasp of her bra until I get it fastened. She tugs her shirt back into place and shifts on the branch a little, adjusting herself.
“Tell me what you’re reading about these days.”
“Music stuff,” I tell her. “Fascinating stuff about how your brain reacts to music; how people experience it. Scientific ideas, but also, like, the psychology behind it. It’s really cool.”
“I love how spongey your brain is,” she says. “And what are you listening to?”
“What am I not listening to? Matty loaded up the iPod. You want to listen to some stuff? I can let you hear some examples of the things I’m reading about.”
“Sure,” she says. “It’s probably moderately safer than making out in this tree.”
“Yeah, a little.”
“I kind of want to live until tomorrow, too,” she admits.
“Good.”
After I climb down, I make sure I’m ready to help catch her, even though she can normally make the jump down just fine on her own.
In my old room with the door open, I share my earbuds with Laila. We sit on t
he bed, both leaning against the wall, our knees touching, her hand holding mine. I’d brought a splitter, and thought about giving her the nice, over-the-ear headphones that Matty had let me borrow (and I was hoping he’d forget that I had), knowing the acoustics were so much better, but it was easier to talk to her about the sounds and music with one free ear each. I didn’t figure she’d geek out on the science of it like I did, anyway.
“Wait, hold on,” I say, hearing a part of a song I want her to listen to again. I go back a few seconds with the scroll wheel and press the pause button. “Did you hear that?”
“What, the words?”
“No, no. The fullness of it. The depth. Could you hear how many layers of sound were in there?”
“I wasn’t listening for that.”
“Here, listen again.” I press play, smiling as I watch her, pointing to her earbud as the sound builds and swells into pure symphonic ecstasy. She looks confused. “You can’t hear it?”
“I’m not sure. Describe it to me.”
“It’s… like, round. It’s dense, but with this… this hollow center that lingers with that beautiful echo at the end. It’s blue and–”
“It’s blue?”
“Well, yeah,” I say with a shrug.
“Like, it’s sad? Blue, like depressing?”
“No, like the color.” She looks at me like Matty’s boyfriend, Nolan, had looked at me many times. Matty understood, though. He said he couldn’t assign colors to sounds, but he admitted when I mentioned one, he could totally envision it. Matty understood music better than he knew he did. It was obvious in his vast collection, too, because so much of it is quality music.
Laila shakes her head. “You’re so far over my head right now that I can’t see you from here. You may as well be up in the tree without me.”
I laugh at her. “Okay. I’ll shut up.”
“But I thought the lyrics were beautiful.”
“I don’t even hear them sometimes,” I tell her. “In some songs, they’re superfluous. The lyrics are pretty, but in this song in particular, I don’t think they’re needed.”
“But the song would have very little meaning to me without them. And to you, the song would have very little meaning without the rest of it. But together, the song can be special for both of us.”