The sudden reminder of his leaving date makes my shoulders slump.
‘What?’ he asks.
I shrug and give him a weak smile. ‘Nothing.’
He doesn’t buy it and leans over, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. ‘What’s up?’
I don’t want to bring it up, to talk about his leaving and what it might mean for us, because we’ve only been seeing each other for five days. We’re not even officially dating. I’m not going to ruin the day by worrying about tomorrow.
‘Tell me where we’re going now,’ I say brightly, hoping to distract him.
He refuses to tell me so I settle back and enjoy the ride, letting the wind blow through the truck and whip away all my anxieties. I look across at Kit while he drives, one arm resting on the windowsill, and take a mental snapshot. Then I remember I have my new iPhone and pull it out to take a real photo. He glances across at me when I point the phone in his direction and smiles. I scroll to the photo on my phone, and see myself in some not too distant future doing the same thing, staring at the image of Kit driving, smiling at me, and I know I’ll strive to recall the detail of this day so that I can relive it, struggling to remember the feel of his lips on mine. A dull ache expands in my chest and a solid lump rises up my throat and I look out the window, trying to straighten my face out.
We’re heading into the city, I notice. I get a little flutter in my stomach thinking about what Didi said about Kit taking me to a motel. Is that the plan? No. Even as I think it, I dismiss the idea. Given how slow he’s taking things, I don’t think that’s on the cards. A part of me slumps in quiet disappointment. The thought of having sex with Kit makes my heart beat faster. I can’t stop thinking about it. I want to sleep with him, but I’m also scared, because I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep with him and then act like it was nothing. If I have sex with Kit, it will involve more than giving him my body, it will mean giving him my heart. And he’s leaving.
He’s leaving and I don’t want him to leave me heart-broken.
He’s going to leave you like that anyway, a voice in my head pipes up.
He turns to look at me then, smiling, and I realize it’s true. Whether I sleep with him or not, I’m going to be heartbroken when he goes. So you may as well sleep with him, the same voice says.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Kit asks.
I feel my cheeks starting to blaze red. ‘Nothing,’ I mumble.
He raises an eyebrow at me. ‘I recognize that look,’ he says. ‘You were thinking about kissing me.’
‘I was not,’ I argue. I was actually thinking about having sex with you, I want to say, but I don’t.
‘Whatever you say,’ he smirks.
17
Kit
For an actress, she can be lousy at pretending. I like that, though. I like that she doesn’t hide her feelings around me. Around her family she always wears a mask, but I can always tell how she’s feeling just from the tone of her voice or the look in her eye. Maybe I’m just getting better at reading her. Or maybe around me she just doesn’t feel the need to pretend and can let her barriers down.
Right now I can tell she’s thinking about me leaving. It’s playing on my mind too – the more time I spend with Jessa, the harder it gets to contemplate going anywhere. I’ve never felt that way before. I’ve always counted down the days, excited to be on the move again, anxious to get back to my unit, to feel the adrenaline rush of doing my job and doing it well. But now I’m willing the days to slow down, to stop rushing by so fast. I find myself staring at the calendar, mentally checking off the weeks left, even figuring out how many dates that might allow me with Jessa – if that’s what these secret meet-ups even are. Are we dating?
I feel like it would be wrong to make things more formal between us because how is that fair on her if I’m leaving? It’s not like we could date while I’m away. I’m not even sure how long I’ll be gone for. Or what the comms will be like wherever we’re going.
Riley manages it with Jo, my inner voice argues. Yeah, but look at Jo. Look how unhappy she is. I don’t want that for Jessa. I want her to be happy. I want her to go to college and have fun. She deserves that after all the misery her father lays on her. And if she meets another guy while she’s there? I muse broodily. I hate the idea of that. Can’t stand even to imagine it. But what right have I to expect her to wait for me?
I pull the truck into a parking space right beside the beach and push all these thoughts aside. I want today to be perfect. ‘Did you bring your bikini?’ I ask. She nods, staring out the window. ‘I love La Jolla,’ she answers, jumping out the truck.
‘We’re not staying,’ I say.
She frowns at me, her bag halfway to her shoulder. ‘We’re not?’ she asks.
‘Nope,’ I say, pointing at the row of red kayaks on the beach. ‘We’re going kayaking to the sea caves.’
Her face lights up and I get a rush, that feeling I always get around her when she smiles at something I do or say. It’s addictive. It just makes me want to keep doing more and more, finding new ways to make her smile. I have a few ideas about things I want to do to her to make her more than just smile. I have fantasies that involve hearing her scream my name, but every time I go there I have to cut myself off. The slowness is killing me, but it’s the only way. I don’t just want Jessa for her body. I want all of her. And besides, there’s a novelty factor in taking it slowly. I’m enjoying the intoxicating tension that’s building up.
Turns out that kayaking is a lot of fun, but it’s even more fun when you get to stare at Jessa in a bikini while you paddle. I hardly notice the sea lions I’m so busy ogling. It’s a good thing the water is freezing cold and she has her back to me. This time I got to slather her with sunscreen without anyone watching and so I made the most of it, insisting on covering her whole body, including her legs and arms.
I watch her pointing out a pod of dolphins and grin.
‘Better than school, huh?’ I ask.
‘So much better,’ she says, grinning back at me. ‘I could be stuck in algebra right now.’
‘I’ve a math problem for you,’ I say. ‘We have five more hours left before I have to drop you back home. How many of those hours can we spend kissing?’
Jessa flicks water at me. ‘Maybe four and a half, depending how fast you can paddle us back to the beach.’
I make it in record time, leaving the rest of the group for dust. Heaving the kayak up onto the beach, I help Jessa hop out and then pick her up and carry her up the beach while she fake protests. I head to a spot out of the way of prying eyes and lay her down on the sand, hovering over her. She lets out a yelp as water drips onto her stomach, but her arms are already pulling me down, her lips already parting, her eyes already closed.
I rest my weight on my arms and lower myself down until I’m lying on top of her, one leg thrown over hers, pinning her in place. Her breasts press against my chest. She runs a hand down my back. I shiver as she pulls on my neck as though she wants all of my weight on her and I relax my arms a little and press down on her even more. She draws in a breath.
We’re skin to skin for the first time, and her lips, when I finally taste them, are coated in salt and tantalizingly warm against the cool of her skin. Instantly I get hard. Painfully so. I try to shift my weight so she isn’t fully aware of the fact, but she grabs my waist and holds me in place, lifting her hips up so she’s pressing herself against me. Shit. I let out a groan at the feel of her, of her fingers digging into my sides, of her body rocking against mine. I let my hands travel the length of her body, brushing the edges of her breasts before trailing them up her thigh.
She throws her head back and I kiss the base of her throat, licking the salt from her skin. Fuck. She keeps pushing against me and it’s taking every ounce of control I possess not to lose control. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a girl, and the heat from Jessa’s mouth, the press of her fingers and the sound of her sighing when I run my fingers along her thi
ghs is pushing me to the limit.
With a huge amount of self-possession I break away and heave myself off her, then flip over onto my front. I rest up on my elbows and stare at Jessa, who’s lying with one knee bent up and her arms sprawled by her head. She looks like a half-ravished siren – her hair is spread across the sand, her cheeks are bruised red, her chest is rising and falling fast. I place my hand on her stomach and feel the muscles tremble as she takes a sharp breath in.
‘You’re going to get me arrested,’ I murmur, leaning over and kissing her belly.
She holds my head on her stomach and I roll so I’m lying perpendicular to her, my head resting just by her hip. Her fingers stroke my hair and I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the surf and the call of gulls. I’m so fucking happy right now I wish I could freeze-frame this moment and stay in it for the rest of my life.
‘You know,’ Jessa murmurs after a few minutes.
I’m drowsy, my heart only just slowing to a normal rhythm. I turn my head a little to let her know I’m listening.
‘I used to dream about this,’ she says.
That captures my attention. I lift my head and see she’s thrown one arm over her eyes to shield them from the sun. I move so I’m on my side facing her, my hand resting on her hip.
‘I used to imagine that one day you’d notice me,’ she continues, her eyes still hidden from me. ‘And we’d hang out like this in public.’ She raises her arm a little and squints at me with one eye open.
‘You did?’ I ask, surprised. I had no idea.
‘Yeah,’ she says, smiling softly. ‘When I was about fifteen. Remember that summer? Just before you and Riley joined up?’
I nod, stroking my hand from her hip to her waist. I think it’s the part of her body I love the most . . . so far. I haven’t explored all of her yet. I’m sure there are other parts I’m going to like just as much, if not more. ‘You liked me back then? I was a punk.’
‘You still are,’ she laughs.
I catch her hand in mine and pull her arm away from her face, pressing it into the sand and then kissing her. ‘I was an idiot for never noticing.’
‘I was fifteen. I had braces and no boobs. I’m not surprised you didn’t notice me. And besides, you were busy with some other girl. Mercedes I think her name was. It broke my heart watching you two together.’
I rack my brains. Mercedes? Oh my God. She’s talking about my cousin’s friend. Some girl from Baltimore who was visiting for the summer. Yeah, I think I had a fling with her. I don’t even remember if I slept with her or not. Jeez, Jessa has a scarily good memory.
I try to remember what Jessa looked like at fifteen, but the only memory I can dredge up is a time we went bowling together. She didn’t smile once all night or say a word. She hid behind her hair and I remember thinking she looked a little like Cousin Itt from The Addams Family.
The truth is I hardly noticed Jessa at all until Riley dragged me to see some play she was in. I guess she was about sixteen. The first five minutes she was on stage I didn’t even realize it was her. It was only when Riley whacked me in the stomach and asked me whether I understood a word Jessa was saying that I figured out that the golden girl on stage who had me mesmerized was actually my best friend’s sister.
She owned that stage, and when I got to my feet to applaud at the end and saw her smiling as she took her bow, I remember wondering what it would be like to kiss her. But the day after the play ended she was back to being the quiet, introverted Jessa of old, as if the character was a costume she’d been wearing and had now set aside.
Now I know that that’s the real her and the quiet Jessa who hovers in the background and hides herself from the world is the costume, the armour she wears in order to protect herself from her bully of a father.
‘Sorry,’ I say again, tracing figure eights around her belly button, enjoying the way her stomach muscles flutter in response. ‘If I’d have known . . .
‘No, don’t apologize,’ Jessa says, smiling at me. ‘I hid it pretty well. I didn’t want Riley to guess. Or you, for that matter. I knew you wouldn’t be interested.’
I shake my head at her. This is exactly what I’m talking about. ‘You’re good at that, aren’t you?’ I say.
‘At what?’ she asks.
‘At hiding the way you feel.’
She cocks her head at me and a hurt look crosses her face. I get to my knees and pull her up so she’s facing me. I take both her hands in mine. ‘Never hide the way you feel from me, OK? I want to know everything you’re thinking and feeling. If you’re scared. If you’re unhappy. If you disagree or don’t like something I say or do. You don’t need to hide it from me. I want to know. I don’t want there ever to be any kind of untruth between us.’ I’m not your father, is what I want to add. You don’t have to hide who you are when you’re around me.
She looks startled and I’m not even sure where I’m going with this, so I kiss her hard on the lips, snatching her words and her breath.
18
Jessa
Kit tells me to stay where I am and runs back to the truck to get something. When he’s gone I muse on what he’s just said to me about always telling him everything. And what did he mean about me being good at hiding how I feel?
I guess there’s some truth in that. I’ve learned to mute myself around my father, to hide my anger at him, my hurt at my mom for putting up with it and not standing up for herself or us, my feelings of betrayal towards Riley for enlisting and leaving me to deal with Mom and Dad all by myself. Maybe I hide my feelings because I don’t feel that they’re justified. Didi would claim that no feelings are unjustified, that they are what they are and that I need to unpack the thought processes behind them in order to deal with them, but I’m scared of what might come out if I do that. It might be like opening Pandora’s box.
The only time I feel I can truly be myself is when I’m on stage. Or, I’m realizing, when I’m with Kit. At school I’m the good Catholic straight A student who never messes up. At home I’m the good, quiet, studious and respectful daughter who doesn’t cause trouble. On stage or with Kit, though, I get to throw off all these identities and inhabit another person. I can be angry, passionate, funny, tragic, playful, seductive, powerful. I guess it’s ironic that the only time I’m ever myself is when I’m not myself. My usual self, anyway.
Kit’s walking back towards me across the beach smiling at me, and as I watch him I feel a warmth spreading through me that isn’t just from the sun. It’s that unfurling feeling I felt before, like a flower is blooming inside my chest.
‘OK,’ says Kit, sitting beside me and unpacking a picnic basket. He lays out several containers on top of a blanket. ‘You hungry?’ he asks, taking the lid off one of the containers. Inside are the same type of pastries he brought when we went stargazing. In another are some bread rolls. He hands me one.
‘Try it,’ he says.
I take a bite. ‘Wow,’ I say, brushing crumbs from my lips. ‘This is amazing. Did you make it?’
He nods, grinning.
‘It tastes like a cloud. Like a sugary cloud.’
‘Try this,’ he says, handing me a thick wedge of Spanish potato pie.
He holds it while I take a bite. It’s so good I snatch the rest from his hand.
‘Kit,’ I say, licking my fingers. ‘You’re going to make someone a great husband one day.’
He smiles and rolls me onto my back, holding me by the wrists.
‘How about boyfriend?’ he asks.
I freeze, uncertain what he’s implying. He stays hovering over me, staring down at me.
‘Yeah,’ I venture, ‘you’d make a good boyfriend, I guess.’
‘You guess?’ He tickles me under the ribs and I buck against him, trying to get free. He holds me tighter.
‘OK, OK, yes, you’d make an amazing boyfriend.’
He kisses me, and once again my body responds instantly, melting against him, a magnetic pull from deep inside me drawing me towar
ds him.
‘Want to find out just how amazing?’ he murmurs in my ear, before kissing my neck just below my jaw, an area of skin that seems especially sensitive, and, given how often he kisses me there, something he seems to have figured out. My breathing stalls. All I can do is nod.
Kit pulls back to look at me, his eyes sparkling. He kisses me, keeping his eyes open. I do the same, struck dumb by the fact that we seem to have segued into being boyfriend and girlfriend without any awkwardness, without tiptoeing around the issue. It’s just a fact. Bold and obvious. And every doubt and anxiety about what I mean to him and whether I’m just another girl who means nothing to him gets swept away.
When we stop kissing and draw breath, I’m humming with happiness. I can’t stop smiling. I can’t wait to tell Didi. I feel like I want to shout it from the rooftops, brand his name on my skin. I want everyone to know. I’m Kit’s girlfriend. I always used to scoff in private about girls who defined themselves in association with a boy, but now I get it. Then I remember I can’t tell anyone about us.
‘Guess we have to keep it quiet,’ Kit says as though he’s read my mind.
We’re lying on our backs, holding hands, staring up at the sky.
‘I guess,’ I say, wishing we didn’t have to.
Kit rolls onto his side to face me. ‘For now, at least,’ he says. He props himself up on one elbow. ‘I know I’m leaving in three weeks.’
I put my finger against his lips. ‘Shhhhh,’ I say. I don’t want to think about that or talk about it.
‘So I know it’s only going to be a short-term thing.’
I frown at him. ‘Shhhhh,’ I say again.
He closes his mouth and nods before rolling onto his back again. He brings our clasped hands up to his lips and kisses the back of my hand.
‘I’m going to be the best boyfriend you ever had,’ Kit says.
‘You’re the only boyfriend I’ve ever had,’ I answer drily. And if my dad finds out about him he’ll be the only boyfriend I ever do have.
Kit turns his head. ‘Really?’ he asks.