Only the Good Die Young

Chapter 20.2

This is totally not right. He has a girlfriend, and I've spent the night drinking. But it's worn off, I'm sure of it.

"I have to tell you something, Red."

"What?" I say. I'm not sure if I imagined it, but I think he moved an inch closer.

Listen to me. I sound like a blathering schoolgirl.

"Well, it's kind of – embarrassing." He hesitates, then says, "The game we were playing. I was hoping you would win."

"Sorry," I stammer, "you what? You – "

Jesse grabs my lapel and pulls me towards him, pressing my lips into his. Kyle's lips were cold and chapped and tasted like beer, but Jesse's are soft and warm and taste like honey. The whiskers below them scratch my chin.

Jesse pulls away and looks me in the eyes.

Oh, my God. He really just kissed me.

"I'm sorry, Rebecca. I didn't mean to. I was just, kind of, overwhelmed. We shouldn't be doing this."

Yes, we should. We really, really, should.

"It's okay," I say.

Jesse searches my face as though he's looking for permission, and I do my best to give it to him. He leans forward and again he kisses me. Me. Rebecca Lockhart!

For several seconds my world is complete and utter bliss. Then I think about Alex.

Fuck Alex. Even if she makes the rest of my life miserable, at least I got to kiss Jesse. No one can ever take that away from me, not even Alex and her beautiful body, Alex and her beautiful voice, Alex the Wicked Witch of the West.

Jesse puts his hand on my arm. It's warm and firm, and I feel the heat of his touch through my yellow jacket.

Jesse pulls away suddenly. "That's disgusting," he says, with a grin.

My eyes widen in horror. Do I taste bad? Does my breath smell? He sees the shock on my face.

"The television just said that black widows bite the heads off their mates."

I exhale, relieved. Jesse kisses me again. He moves up my arm to massage my shoulders. I want him to move his hands lower. Lower.

He pulls away from me slightly, hesitant. He wants to go further, but he wants permission. How do I give it to him without coming across like a slut?

Jesse stops suddenly and his hands fall to the bed.

"I just – " he says. "I know that you're not...We should stop."

I pull back and study him. I've made a mistake.

Jesse looks at me awkwardly. "I mean, I hardly know you. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

The mood in the room chills. "I'm an only child," I say. Did I bite his lip? Did I move too fast? What did I do wrong?

"Me too," he says. He fiddles with a loose thread on the bedcover, killing the erotic tension between us dead.

I refuse to let it die.

I lunge for Jesse. We kiss again. He puts his hands back on my shoulders. I will them to walk down the front of my chest.  

They do. So this is what it feels like. I could get used to this.

One of Jesse's hands drop to my waist. When I realize that his goal isn't the button on my pants but the hem of my dress shirt, I'm actually disappointed. God, what would Mom say if she could see me? Do I have any right to feel this way?