“I mean, is it dress up or what?” I bought this amazing black dress that I can’t wait for Jordan to see me in. It has a flowing, crinkly skirt and a low back.
“You don’t have to dress up,” he says. “But you can if you want.”
“And what about after?” I say, leaning in close to him. “What are we going to do after?”
“What do you mean?” he asks, grinning. He shifts in his chair and moves closer to me.
“I mean are we going out to a club or anything?”
“A club?” Jordan throws his head back and laughs. “You want to go to a club?”
“Of course,” I say. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Um, because you don’t dance?”
Hmm. This is true. But I feel like dancing tonight. “We’re in Miami,” I say. “Isn’t that what people do in Miami? Besides, I do so dance.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“It’s my new thing,” I say. “Dancing is my new thing.”
“Oh, really?” He leans in close to me and puts his forehead against mine. “Since when?”
“Jordan,” I say, “are you trying to say I’m a bad dancer?”
“No,” he says. “Of course not.”
“Good,” I say. “Need I remind you that my dancing was the thing that attracted you to me in the first place?”
He tilts his head to the side, then kisses me lightly on the lips. “That is true,” he says. “You’re a very hot dancer.”
“I know,” I say. “And tonight I’m going to be a dancing machine.”
“Okay,” he says, kissing me again. “But you have to promise you’re not going to dance with anyone else.”
“No one else?” I say. I cock my head to the side, pretending to consider. “But what if some really cute guy asks me to?”
“No,” he says. He kisses me again, a little more forcefully again. “I want you all to myself.”
“What about girls?” I ask, smiling. “Can I dance with girls?”
“Only if I can watch,” he says, grinning.
“Eww,” I say. “You’re dirty.” I push him playfully, but he grabs my arms, and this time, I kiss him. He kisses me back, and his hands are in my hair and on my face.
“We have to stop,” he says, after a few minutes, pulling away. But I can’t help but think about what would happen if we didn’t stop, if we just kept on kissing, if we just kept going and didn’t stop.
“I don’t want to,” I say, trying to pull him close to me again.
“We have to,” he says, giving me another light kiss on the lips.
“We don’t have to do anything,” I say.
He laughs. “We’re supposed to be going to the beach,” he says. “With B. J. and Jocelyn, remember?”
“Yeah,” I say, sighing.
“And if we don’t go, they’ll probably end up killing each other.”
“True,” I say. “I don’t want to be responsible for the deaths of our friends.”
“Then come on,” he says. He holds his hand out, and I slide my palm into his. “But later,” he whispers huskily, “you’re mine.”
You have no idea, I think. I follow him happily up the stairs to where Jocelyn and B. J. are waiting.
jordan before
33 Days Before the Trip, 7:07 p.m.
“Seriously, they do have naked beaches here,” B. J. says, grinning. He’s wearing camouflage shorts and a T-shirt that reads “Hi! You’ll do.”
“Perfect,” Jocelyn says, pulling off the pink tank top she’s wearing and exposing the top of her white bikini. “So you’ll have no problem if I go topless.”
“No problem at all,” B. J. says, grinning again.
“Great,” Jocelyn says. “So you’ll have no problem with all the guys on the beach staring at me.” She crosses her arms across her chest with a satisfied expression on her face. B. J. frowns, and Courtney and I look at each other nervously.
B. J. and Jocelyn are, at their best, volatile. They have this weirdness between them that tends to come out at horrible times. On prom night, they got in this huge fight in the limo about Katelyn Masters, a girl B. J. used to hook up with freshman year. In the midst of the fight, B. J. went to change the radio station, and Jocelyn screamed, “If you touch that music I’ll break your fucking fingers!” I’m beginning to think that Jocelyn is quite crazy, although Courtney assures me it’s just something B. J. brings out in Jocelyn, that she’s usually sane.
“You’re not going to be exposing your boobs to every guy on the beach,” B. J. says. We’re all in Miami, at my dad’s friend’s house, standing in the room Courtney and I are sharing. We were getting ready to go out to the beach, and then B. J. made the remark about boobs, which has obviously put a kink in the plan.
“Why not?” Jocelyn asks. “You’re so intent on seeing everyone else’s boobs, and you’re all excited about the naked beaches.”
“So?” B. J. asks. He takes the baseball cap he’s wearing off his head and throws it onto the bed, which is not a good sign. In my experience, when B. J. starts removing any kind of clothing, it can only lead to bad things.
“Actually,” I say, “it’s private beach property outside, so there probably won’t be that many people around.”
“So let’s go! Do you have your sunscreen?” Courtney asks brightly. She pulls a bottle of Coppertone out of her bag and squirts some into her hand.
“I don’t!” I say. “I don’t have my sunscreen!” I’m almost shouting it. I sound like a tool, but it’s what needs to be done if we want to save the situation. Otherwise, Jocelyn and B. J. are going to be fighting all night and ruining our good time.
“Jocelyn?” Courtney asks, holding up the bottle. “Do you need some sunscreen?”
“Yes,” Jocelyn says calmly. “Actually, I do.” Oh, thank God. Situation diffused. Score one for Jordan and Courtney.
“Here you go,” Courtney says, holding out the bottle. Jocelyn takes it, then reaches behind her back, unhooks her bikini top, and starts slathering the lotion on her bare boobs.
“Jesus!” B. J. screams. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Courtney looks at me, and I quickly look away from Jocelyn’s boobs.
“I’m getting ready for the beach!” Jocelyn says. I move to the other side of the bed and sit down facing the wall. The last thing I need is seeing my girlfriend’s best friend’s bare boobs. That can definitely not be good, especially since she’s also my best friend’s girlfriend. This whole thing is getting very incestuous, what with Courtney’s dad banging my mom and everything.
“Um, I think we should go,” Courtney whispers in my ear.
“Probably a good idea,” I say.
“So, we’re going to go,” Courtney announces, as B. J. screams, “PUT THAT BACK ON IMMEDIATELY!”
We walk out of the room (OUR room, I might add—B. J. and Jocelyn have their own room, but of course they elected to start their naked fight in ours) and onto the beach.
Once we’re settled into the sand, Courtney and I look at each other and start laughing.
“They are so fucked up,” I say, leaning back on my towel. The sun is starting to set, which means there probably wasn’t too much reason for sunscreen. “Good diversionary tactic with the sunscreen,” I say.
“Thanks,” she says, smiling. She’s wearing a purple bikini and black sunglasses, and I reach over and pull her sunglasses off her eyes. “Come here,” I say, pulling her close to me.
“I’m so glad we’re not them,” Courtney says, snuggling into my arm.
“Ya think?” I say, kissing the top of her head.
“They’re so crazy,” she says. “They’re not honest with each other at all. It’s like they almost get off on messing with the other person’s head.”
There’s a sick feeling in my stomach when she says the word “honest” and I try to ignore it.
“Yeah,” I say. “They’re all screwed up.”
“Not like us,” she says, pushing me down on the sand. She
gets on top of me and starts kissing my neck.
“Whoa, whoa,” I say, turning away. Her long hair slides across my chest. “You want to make out on the beach?”
“There’s no one around,” she says, and I pop my head up and look down the beach. She’s right. Way down, there’s an old guy walking his dog, but they’re moving in the opposite direction from us.
She starts kissing me again, on the mouth this time, and my hands are in her hair and on her face. Every so often she pulls away and looks at me, and her eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Then suddenly, she’s looking at me intently and whispering something, and I’m so caught up in her that I don’t hear what it is.
“What did you say?” I murmur into her hair. She slides her body off mine and settles in next to me.
“I said I want to be with you,” she says into my chest.
“You are with me,” I say.
“No, I mean, I want to make love to you,” she says, and my eyes spring open. Whoa.
“Whoa,” I say. I prop myself up on my elbow and look at her. “Court, that’s…”
“I know,” she says, smiling. “I know it’s a big deal and all that. And Jordan, I’ve thought about it, I really have.” I believe her, too. She’s definitely an analytical sort of girl, and I know she wouldn’t take something like this lightly.
“Are you sure?” I ask, dumbfounded. It’s not that I don’t want to. Believe me, I do. There are times when Courtney and I are doing our math homework and making out that I feel like I’m going to go insane from wanting her so bad. But anytime we’ve even talked about it, she’s made it pretty clear that she wasn’t ready.
“Yes,” she says. “I’m sure.” She frowns. “You don’t want to?’
“Of course I want to,” I say truthfully.
“Good.” She starts kissing me again, and her tongue is in my mouth and she tastes and feels so good, and I can feel her body pressing against mine and I’m so turned on that I almost lose my head.
“Wait,” I say. “You want to do it right here?” How is this happening? Somewhere along the line, Courtney has become sex crazed, and now wants to have sex on the beach.
“If you want to,” she says.
“You don’t want your first time to be on a beach,” I say.
“I don’t care, as long as it’s with you,” she says, her face flushed. She starts kissing my neck. “Hey, Jordan?” She pulls away and looks right at me.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.” She’s looking in my eyes, and she’s waiting for me to say it back, and I want to. I feel it. I do love her. But then I start thinking about her dad, and how I’m lying to her, and suddenly, I know I can’t say it. I shouldn’t say it.
“Thanks,” I say, swallowing. A look of confusion crosses her face, and for a second, I don’t think I’m going to be able to do it. But I look away from her before I can get caught up in the moment. “We should go inside.” She climbs off me, and I still don’t look at her, because I know I won’t be able to take the look on her face. “And check on Jocelyn and B. J.” I stand up and brush the sand off my shorts and start walking toward the house. And after a second, I can hear Courtney following me.
courtney the trip
Day Two, 2:37 p.m.
I’m having a breakdown in a random Burger King bathroom. This is upsetting for a few reasons, not the least of which is that it’s happening in a bathroom. I mean, a breakdown at any time is not something that one should be excited about, but to have one in a public rest room is definitely doubly upsetting. And it’s not even like one of those nice public bathrooms that you see on TV, with attendants and breath mints and real monogrammed towels. It’s a Burger King bathroom. And not a particularly clean one, either.
I take a wad of toilet paper off the roll and blow my nose loudly. The most disgusting part of this whole thing is that I’m sitting on the toilet while I do this. Because there’s no top to the toilets. So I’m actually sitting on the toilet. Without my pants down, of course. Who knows what kind of disgusting germs are transferring themselves onto my skirt. I’m probably going to have to burn it after this. Which is horrible, because I’ve never even worn it before. In fact, the only reason I’m even wearing it now is because I wanted Jordan to think I was dressing up for Lloyd. Which is really screwed up. I don’t know when I lost my sanity, but it’s not a good feeling.
I throw the toilet paper with my snot on it into the toilet and flush. I just need to take a deep breath. The trip is half over. That should make me feel better, but really, it doesn’t. It makes me feel worse, because the past couple of days have seemed like a lifetime.
I head out of the stall and start washing my hands at the sink. The bathroom is deserted, which is good because it would be embarrassing for someone to see me looking like this—eyes red from crying, ketchup stain on my cute new shirt, and my hair a mess from when I kept running my hands through it in the stall in an effort not to touch anything germ infested.
“Court?” Jordan’s voice comes from outside the bathroom.
“What?” I say, trying to make it out like I didn’t just go running from his car crying and into the bathroom.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“Okay,” he says. There’s a pause. “Was it…Are you upset about the food? We can go somewhere else?”
He thinks I started crying over fast-food burgers. He can’t be that stupid, can he? He obviously knows I’m upset about him, and he’s just trying to be nice. Great, pity. Just what I need.
“No, the food was fine,” I say. “I think I’m just a little upset about seeing Lloyd.”
“Why would you be upset about that?” he asks, sounding confused. Good question.
“Not upset about seeing him,” I say. I wet a paper towel and use it to wipe my face off. It feels scratchy and kind of gross, but I put up with the momentary discomfort so that I can look human again. “Upset because I haven’t seen him for a while.”
“You just saw him two days ago,” he says.
I throw the paper towel away, pull my shirt down a little bit so that the ketchup stain is less noticeable, and emerge from the bathroom. He’s leaning against the wall, his hair wet from the rain, and he looks really, really, cute. And really, really worried about me. I will NOT start crying again.
“Yeah, well, when you’re in love with someone, two days can seem like an eternity.” I toss my hair defiantly over my shoulder and start walking toward the door. My attempt at haughtiness is overshadowed by the fact that the shoes I’m wearing (cute sparkly purple flip-flops with butterflies on them) are drenched from the rain, and so every time I stomp, my shoes squish.
“So, wait, now you guys are in love?” Jordan asks, sounding confused.
“Yes,” I say definitively. “And since you really care about your new girlfriend, I’m sure you understand how two days without seeing someone can really seem like a long time.”
“Yeah,” he says, not sounding sure. “But Court, I really doubt you’re in love with Lloyd.”
“Whatever, Jordan,” I say. “Not to sound like a brat or anything, but you don’t really know me anymore. I’m a new woman.”
We’re in the parking lot now, and I open the door to his TrailBlazer and pull myself into the passenger seat. He gets in and starts the car. I pull my seat belt on and decide it’s time for a new attitude. No more crying.
“Let’s go to Middleton,” I say. “I can’t freakin’ wait to get there.”
Jocelyn calls two hours later, while we’re stuck in traffic. I’m looking through a magazine that I bought at a rest stop and reading an article about what to do if you get dumped. It’s actually not helping me much, because I’m pretty sure it’s satire. The article, not the magazine. It basically says that once a guy dumps you, you should cease worrying about what he thinks of you, and that you shouldn’t try denying your psychotic urges, because it’s not natural. It says that if you feel like you want to s
talk him, you totally should. If you want to break into his email account, do it. Drive-bys? Harassing his new girlfriend? Totally allowed. It’s quite scary, actually. The article, I mean.
I flip open my phone. “Whaddup?” I say, tossing my magazine onto the floor. I’m totally over my nervous breakdown. You’d think I’d feel good about this, but I don’t. For some reason, it makes me uneasy, like the fact that I got over it so quickly just means that something worse is going to come. It’s like I’m in some sort of denial mode.
“So he wasn’t hanging out with Katelyn,” Jocelyn says, sounding smug. Which makes no sense, because in order to sound smug, you have to be right about something. And since Jocelyn thought that B. J. was cheating on her, and now she’s found out that he isn’t, she shouldn’t sound smug. She should sound sheepish.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“He caught me stalking him,” she says breezily.
“He caught you?” I ask, wondering why she’s not more upset. I feel Jordan shift in his seat next to me. I look at him suspiciously and when he catches my eye, he nervously adjusts the rearview mirror.
“Yes, he caught me.” Jocelyn sighs. I hear the sound of splashing in the background, and music. Loud music.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“At a pool party,” she says.
“Hold on,” I say, pushing the volume up on my phone in an effort to hear her over the background noise. “How did you end up at a pool party?”
“Hailie Roseman invited me,” she says simply. “So B. J. drove us here.”
“No,” I say. Is she drunk? “I mean, how did you get from stalking B. J., to getting caught, to ending up at Hailie Roseman’s pool party?” I don’t even think Jocelyn is friends with Hailie Roseman, a junior who I always suspected Jordan of hooking up with, even though he constantly denies it.
“Oh,” Jocelyn says. “That’s actually why I’m calling.” Duh. “See, B. J. found out I was stalking him because Jordan told him it was me.”
“Oh, really?” I say. “He told him it was you?” Jordan shifts in his seat again, then reaches over and starts flipping through the satellite stations. He clears his throat.