yard, under the tree, in the place farthest from my parents’ bedroom. I couldn’t get enough of him; my body kept screaming more, more. When it got warmer and the days stretched longer, we went out to the field behind the garage and spent long late afternoons after school lying on a blanket, making out. I remember my fingers trailing their way under his t-shirt, reaching for the buckle of his jeans, wanting more, wanting so much more, even then.
I swallow. “No,” I murmur.
* * *
A s quiet and shy as I usually am, I was the reason Dax and I got together the first time.
Once the shocks on my car got fixed, I didn’t have to see him again, except as a face in the hallway, whenever he decided to grace the school with his presence.
But from that very first ride with him to school, I was hooked. I’ve never taken drugs, but because of Dax, I understand the addict. Before him, I’d never so much as had a conversation with a guy, much less a smoking hot, dangerous one like Dax. As threatening as he was to all my friends, he was magnetic to me. I was silent during that first ride to school with him, because my heart was firmly planted in my throat. Still, I kept taking glances at his hand on the stick shift, at the dark hairs on his arm, leading their way up to his muscular forearm, thinking, I could get used to this. God, let me have a chance to get used to this.
As we approached the high school, he asked me what class I had first, and I responded Honors English. And then he said, with a challenge in his eyes, “Do you ever get tired of just reading about things?”
That was it. All day long, I replayed those words over and over again in my mind. Truth was, I was tired. Tired of being the good girl and doing everything everyone told me. Everyone knew Katie Donahue was going to fall in line and do as she was told.
And I wanted different.
The next afternoon after my shocks got fixed, I drove to the garage and told him I needed an oil change. The grin he gave me told me he was so onto me. I know oil changes don’t take very long. But he gave me an in-depth tutorial while I sat on a stool by the workbench, watching him work. I watched his hands moving expertly under my car, for the first time in my life, all I wanted was those grease-stained hands on me.
Now I sit here in a car with Dax as an adult, watching that muscular forearm of his, this time tattooed with the tail of a serpent. He upshifts onto Interstate 84, and I feel like I’m a teenager again.
I sneak a look at him. He has his baseball cap on backwards and mirrored sunglasses on, and he’s chewing on gum from the blow pop he just finished. His jaw is more defined, covered with more stubble, and he’s definitely filled out.
But that same thrill surges through me as it always did, only this time, so much more intense.
“So what’s the fire, Katydid?” He says, making my body quiver as he says my name. “You must be important, if they can’t do without you for one day.”
“Not really,” I say, tapping my feet along to Maroon Five. He’s letting me listen to my station, which I guess is as much of an apology for last night as I’m going to get. “I forgot to do something. I’m kind of . . . not my boss’ favorite person right now.”
“That right?” He laughs. “What is he, an idiot?”
I smile along with him, because yeah, Fowler is an idiot. It’s nice to hear someone say it out loud. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve known Katie Donahue for a long time. And there ain’t a single person who’s got anything bad to say about you,” he says, peering at me over his sunglasses with those mesmerizing green eyes. “So your boss must be an idiot.”
I shrug. Then I say softly, “Nevaeh and Juliet would have bad things to say about me, I’m sure.”
“Who?” He’s confused. “Oh. Those friends of yours?”
“They’re not friends anymore. They haven’t been since . . .” I stop, feeling a twinge of heartache over that day.
I swallow. “No,” I murmur.
* * *
A s quiet and shy as I usually am, I was the reason Dax and I got together the first time.
Once the shocks on my car got fixed, I didn’t have to see him again, except as a face in the hallway, whenever he decided to grace the school with his presence.
But from that very first ride with him to school, I was hooked. I’ve never taken drugs, but because of Dax, I understand the addict. Before him, I’d never so much as had a conversation with a guy, much less a smoking hot, dangerous one like Dax. As threatening as he was to all my friends, he was magnetic to me. I was silent during that first ride to school with him, because my heart was firmly planted in my throat. Still, I kept taking glances at his hand on the stick shift, at the dark hairs on his arm, leading their way up to his muscular forearm, thinking, I could get used to this. God, let me have a chance to get used to this.
As we approached the high school, he asked me what class I had first, and I responded Honors English. And then he said, with a challenge in his eyes, “Do you ever get tired of just reading about things?”
That was it. All day long, I replayed those words over and over again in my mind. Truth was, I was tired. Tired of being the good girl and doing everything everyone told me. Everyone knew Katie Donahue was going to fall in line and do as she was told.
And I wanted different.
The next afternoon after my shocks got fixed, I drove to the garage and told him I needed an oil change. The grin he gave me told me he was so onto me. I know oil changes don’t take very long. But he gave me an in-depth tutorial while I sat on a stool by the workbench, watching him work. I watched his hands moving expertly under my car, for the first time in my life, all I wanted was those grease-stained hands on me.
Now I sit here in a car with Dax as an adult, watching that muscular forearm of his, this time tattooed with the tail of a serpent. He upshifts onto Interstate 84, and I feel like I’m a teenager again.
I sneak a look at him. He has his baseball cap on backwards and mirrored sunglasses on, and he’s chewing on gum from the blow pop he just finished. His jaw is more defined, covered with more stubble, and he’s definitely filled out.
But that same thrill surges through me as it always did, only this time, so much more intense.
“So what’s the fire, Katydid?” He says, making my body quiver as he says my name. “You must be important, if they can’t do without you for one day.”
“Not really,” I say, tapping my feet along to Maroon Five. He’s letting me listen to my station, which I guess is as much of an apology for last night as I’m going to get. “I forgot to do something. I’m kind of . . . not my boss’ favorite person right now.”
“That right?” He laughs. “What is he, an idiot?”
I smile along with him, because yeah, Fowler is an idiot. It’s nice to hear someone say it out loud. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve known Katie Donahue for a long time. And there ain’t a single person who’s got anything bad to say about you,” he says, peering at me over his sunglasses with those mesmerizing green eyes. “So your boss must be an idiot.”
I shrug. Then I say softly, “Nevaeh and Juliet would have bad things to say about me, I’m sure.”
“Who?” He’s confused. “Oh. Those friends of yours?”
“They’re not friends anymore. They haven’t been since . . .” I stop, feeling a twinge of heartache over that day.
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