CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
love song.
I USED TO THINK conversations with JJ were easygoing. A river flowing solely on snark, sarcasm, and stolen side glances, all of which made my mission so much more enjoyable. Yet, in present time, talking to him feels like the hardest challenge I've had to face thus far, because we're becoming serious — to some degree, at least. That claim is objective, and definitely biased to his part.
Following his prompt, we've done exactly the opposite of what he wants. He wants words to be exchanged, presumably about what we are and what we're aiming for, and the silence only makes it clearer that we don't know. Well, I suppose he knows, but I don't. When I say I've never felt more clueless in my life, boy do I mean it.
"Well, what do you want us to talk about?" I say to diffuse the tension, still playing delirious.
"You know what." JJ replies with a bitter tone, resenting my act.
I scoff, facing the window, "Assuming gets us nowhere. If you want to talk, talk."
"Earlier." he states.
"What about earlier?"
"You know—" he stops himself before finishing the sentence, "You didn't tell me about your car. Why didn't you tell me about your car, Carmen?"
I shift my seated position so that I'm more front-on, though still looking anywhere but onto JJ, "I was getting to it."
"Sure you were." he comments.
"Yeah, I was." I bite back, volume louder, "I was busy."
His urge to respond with anger is noticeable, but he opts to take a deep breath and say, "Do you know who did it?"
"Yeah, it's—" Even thinking of the situation brings me unexplainable pain, to the point where I wince before I can expose the culprits, so I just mutter, "It's nothing. I'm fine, s'just a stupid car, right?"
"It's not just about the car, though."
"Well, it's nothing, so just leave it."
Our eyes meet for the first time in the conversation. Both wounded, both glossed, and both deeply fixated on each other. We only break contact to blink, and still we're doing it synched and simultaneous. For those few blinks, I forget exactly what it is that I'm scared of but, when JJ speaks again, the reminder rushes back and tears me from whatever moment I was just lost in.
"And the phone call?" he sinks his eyelids down, staring at the knuckles he's cracking. That sight makes me scared of him, no matter how irrational the thought is. No matter how different JJ is, the boy I will always see beside me is Jason.
"I was in public. With Sarah. I didn't want—" I rush, words spilling off my tongue.
"You didn't want anyone to hear, did you?" his hands fall in his lap; a sign of surrender.
I take a sharp inhale, "When did I say that, JJ?"
"I dunno, you're just always treating me like some secret. Like you're... embarrassed by me, or something. Are you?" I can tell he's looking at me right now, but I don't have the gut to return the action.
"God, why would you even think that?" I deflect from the question at hand, because I fear some part of it may be true.
"It's not like you're giving me any reason not to."
A sigh leaves my lips involuntarily, urging a scoff on JJ's part. This causes me to shut my eyes for a moment, dawning on the possibility that I've hurt him before planning to. And, now that I'm living the outcome I know was bound to loom, I don't feel an ounce of reward. This isn't as fun as it used to be. The thrill I once got from boy tears is long gone, same with the adrenaline rush I got from screams and fights. Instead, I feel sullen. I feel wounded, but nowhere near as much as JJ.
So, to make it up, I press myself up on my palms, reaching over the car's armrest towards him, one hand on his cheek and the other on his upper thigh. I attempt to use this position to the advantage of kissing him, maybe even leading to more, because how else do guys like to be forgiven? However, when JJ rejects my advances and shifts my lips' target off-center, I slowly and surely begin to doubt my expertise in apologies.
"Don't..." he practically forces me to sit back down, "Don't do that, Carmen."
I turn my face away from him, hiding my humiliated fluster, "I thought you'd want me to."
"Not like this," his head shaking against the car seat leather makes an audible noise to fill our momentary quiet, "you're not just another meaningless hookup to me, you know that."
"I'm not your girlfriend, JJ." I address the elephant in the room outright, "You never asked me if I was okay with that."
Air blows from his lips, "And you're not okay, with it?" he chokes between phrases.
"No," my voice cracks, so I clear my throat to sound more definitive, "no. It's too soon."
"Right." he confirms, "Well, I've never done this before, so forgive me for not understanding you."
His bitterness makes my brows cinch together, "Excuse me?"
"I don't fucking understand you, Carmen!" JJ's volume startles me, "One second, you hate me, then you're all over me, then you're trying to get me off mid conversation?"
I let his words sink in for what they're worth. Maybe I have been confusing, but it's not like JJ's been the most crystal clear person either. I mean, was his fling with Grace Connolly ever properly explained to me? No, it wasn't. And all the times he'd randomly bail on me, then appear whenever he needed a transaction of sorts? Two people are allowed to equally feel wronged in a situation like ours, he does not get to pretend to be the victim.
"If I'm being honest, I don't know what you want from me." I start, "Like, whenever I try to make a move on you — and I just tried again — you push me away. I feel like... like you just want part of me, but not all of me."
"But you were just saying you don't wanna rush things!" he protests.
"Maybe we have different perceptions of what that is!" I shout back, finally looking at him and seeing his hands frustratingly gripping the steering wheel, veins prominent all the way up to his biceps.
"Then tell me what you want." Our eyes link as he repeats, "What do you want, Carmen?"
I swallow, "I want you."
"There's a 'but' coming into this, isn't there?" God, I hate that he knows me so well.
"Yeah," I soften, "I don't know. I just... really like you, JJ. I do. I'm just," I pause to exhale, "not ready for something too serious and, if I just comply with what you want, someone's gonna get hurt."
Except that's the ultimate outcome. The goal I'm striving for, the sole reason I'm even here right now. I'm meant to hurt him, and it's clear that it's starting to work, so why am I pulling away? Why am I so opposed to doing the one thing I'm meant to do? Why am I failing? Constantly. Why am I a constant failure?
"I don't mind that." he says after a brief quiet.
"What?"
JJ's hand hovers over mine, but inevitably chooses to retreat back into his lap, "I wouldn't mind being hurt if it means I can have you."
"Don't say that, you don't mean it." I shake my head.
"No, I mean it. I mean everything I ever say to you." he reiterates, this time taking my hands with confidence and grasping them in his.
I look at where our fingers have braided with a certain... unfamiliarity, if that's the best way to put it. There is no ideal translation of my feelings into words. All I see whenever I truly take in the pairing that is me and JJ is something that doesn't fit. Calloused, worked-in hands paired with a smooth, manicured surface. Faded logo tees and cargo shorts next to strictly fashion house attire. Running shoes and polished stilettos. We're so mismatched, so opposite, that it works.
This whole time, I was seeking someone greater than me. Someone above me, so that I was theirs in possession, theirs to own. Boys like Jason always towered over me spiritually, leaving me in a state of cower and fear of doing or saying the wrong thing. JJ's not like that. Instead, he's here, offering himself unto me, taking his hands off the wheel and giving me full control. This is what it was meant to be. This is what I should've wanted from the start, and it's only now that I have it that I realize how right it feels.
I lift my eyes to the sight of JJ, late-afternoon sunlight hitting the high points of his face and giving him a sort of benevolent glow. I let myself look at the boy beside me for however long it takes to register that this is it, this is happening, and that it feels good. Life feels good because he's here, and I shouldn't shy away from it. An operation is still an operation if it's completely eventually, right? Maybe I'll be able to buy some time for me to enjoy myself in the meantime, and let the consequences be an afterthought. The forethought, however, is him. It's only ever him.
I pick up the conversation where it was left off (at no particularly convenient place), "So, about that boyfriend thing..."
"The thing you don't want." he laughs self-deprecatingly.
"It's not that I don't want it, JJ." I sigh, "I don't want it to be assumed, it has to be earned."
He raises an eyebrow at me, "So I have to earn the right to be your boyfriend? I see."
"You take everything I say too literally." My eyes roll, "Have you ever watched a rom-com or two? You're supposed to ask about that sort of thing — work for it, even. It doesn't just come overnight."
"So my homework for tonight is to watch a fuck ton of rom-coms and work on how to ask you out?" His joke comes off sarcastic at first, but fades to literal when he says, "Noted, Miss Flores."
I can't help but smile at the used name variation, "You saying that sounds like old times."
"Ah, the good old days when you were my Spanish tutor." JJ fake-fawns in remembrance, "Back when you hated me."
"And look at us now," I chuckle, "Who would've thought, huh?"
"I feel like I could've told you we'd be together at the start of this summer." he shrugs nonchalantly.
My eyes slim at his comment, challenging him with, "Really? So you saw this coming?"
"Well, when I have my sights set on something, I always get it in the end." his smirk makes me bite my smile away.
"And your sights were set on me then?" My lips purse to the side, "Interesting..."
"You're saying you couldn't tell?" JJ asks, then mimics the act of his heart being wounded at the thought.
I gently shove his arm, letting my palm rest against his skin afterwards, "Oh, I could tell, alright. You reeked of desperation— still do, actually."
"Can't help how much I wanted you."
"Yeah, I don't blame you." My teeth envelope my bottom lip, "I mean, everyone wants me."
"Sucks for them that they can't have you." JJ raises his hand in order to tuck any loose hairs behind my ear, cupping my cheek then after.
"You never know. Someone might get lucky." I lower my gaze to his lips.
His words become hoarse and breathy, "Yeah, I did. Real fuckin' lucky."
This paired with his adamant focus on my eyes prompts me to grip his shirt collar with one hand, using the other to push his hold off me and leave me entirely in control. Following my lead, our lips crash into a kiss, half-open to permit the involvement of our tongues in the rhythm. He tastes of mint and smoke, fusing with my honey-scented chapstick to leave the sweetest, most harmonious taste in my mouth. The taste of us.
JJ's palms trail down to my lower back, utilizing the strength to hoist me out of my seat and into his lap in one fluid movement. We tear apart for the first time, in order to fix ourselves back to comfort with the new angle. I tower slightly over him, raising myself on my knees and taking his jaw in my hand, thumb and forefinger digging just under each angle. The breath he lets out alerts me of the concern that I may be hurting him but, as per the hunger in his eyes and the parted smirk he's expressing, I'm doing entirely the opposite.
We kiss again, and again, and again. We kiss until our lips burn, until our foreheads can't bear the weight between us and have to rest against each other, until we're left a hot and heavy mess in the driver's seat. For the last time, I retreat with his bottom lip in my teeth, tugging lightly at it then letting go, revealing his ear-wide grin. His hands remain firm on my hips, thumbs just about diving under the waistband of my sweatpants — like he wants to go further but, for whatever reason, can't let himself.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" I whisper against his open mouth.
"Are you kidding?" JJ comments in disbelief, "Of course I do."
I rake my fingers through his blond strands, "Can you tell me?"
"Tell you that you're pretty?" he reiterates, a slight confusion about his tone. After I hum and nod in agreement, JJ says, "You are beautiful, Carmen..." he trails on, pausing at his lack of knowledge for my middle name.
"Maria. Carmen Maria." I fill in for him, stomach tightening when I notice his pupils dilate.
"Carmen Maria Flores." My name rolls off its tongue like an incantation, like a deity-addressed prayer, "Prettiest name for the prettiest girl."
I copy his phrase structure, "Jesse James Maybank," and the way with which I say his name almost forces his eyes to shut.
"Say it again. Keep going." JJ commands.
"Jesse... James..." I face a slight hesitation when saying his surname, but do it nonetheless, "Maybank." I repeat this as per his request, stopping after each word to plant a kiss somewhere on his face, and simultaneously tracing over his features with my fingertips. His name tastes of sun, and he feels like art. My sun. My art. Mine. All mine.
He takes my chin into his palm, breathing the words, "Carmen Maria Maybank," before joining our lips together again, the two molding into each other as if it's muscle memory.
I break away after indulging in the palpable moment, "Y'know, I've always wanted to drop my surname."
"Mine fits you better, anyway." JJ whispers amidst a wide smile, "Mr and Mrs Maybank."
"Don't get too ahead of yourself there, mister." I tease, "You have a lot of work to do if you want us to get to that point."
"Do I?" he gazes up at me, "How soon should I start?"
I cock my head, "You're saying you haven't started already?" to which he responds silently with a smirk, tongue raising out from behind his cheek.
"Fair enough." he chuckles in defeat.
"I'm kidding," I clarify, "I'm all yours."
"All mine?" JJ sounds almost taken aback.
"Mhm." I trail on, quietening down for a moment and later saying, "JJ, tell me I belong to you."
If JJ wasn't shocked before, he definitely is now. His hands loosen off my hips for a moment, looking at me with uneven brows in attempts to register if I'm serious or not. I register his discomfort and slightly stiff myself, preparing to retire back to the passenger's seat, but kept in place when JJ repairs the position of his hands. One of his eyelids slims slightly, seeking a final confirmation from me, which I give him with two blinks.
"You belong to me." JJ says, partial hesitation, though accustomed once noticing the half-relief, half-glee on my face, causing him to proceed more stern, "You belong to me, Carmen."
"I do." I cup either side of his face, "I belong to you, JJ. I want you to know that, to never forget it, okay? Whatever you want from me—" I gulp, "I'm yours."
He angles me down towards him, faces a mere quarter-inch apart, mouths against each other, "You're mine."
Just as we go to kiss again, three thuds sound on the window to our right, revealing a hench, middle-aged man dressed in what I can only assume to be security guard attire. He mouths something that neither of us compute, as we're far too preoccupied with starting the car and escaping a public indecency infringement. In a state of rushed panic, I don't bother with trying to climb back into a separate seat, and instead only swivel around on JJ's lap into a position that doesn't block his view of the windscreen.
We speed out of the parking lot with grave urgency, and I can't help but squeal childishly at the adrenaline rush the situation gave me. I'm not one to particularly enjoy such situations in theory — I mean, had you told me at the start of summer that a stranger was to catch me making out with a Pogue, specifically JJ Maybank of all, I think I would've gone into cardiac arrest. I won't lie and say that the speed at which my heart is pumping doesn't provide a similar sensation, but it's in a way that I enjoy. It's a lust rush; one so foreign yet so welcoming at the same time.
Halting at a red light permits JJ to say, "How many laws do you think we just broke?"
"Hmm..." I ponder my thoughts, counting them on my fingers, "public indecency for starters. And like... every single road safety law." We share a hearty laugh at this and, when simmered down, I add, "Disturbing the peace, maybe?"
"That's a bullshit law." JJ grins, pressing a kiss where my oversized crewneck has left a strip of shoulder exposed, "Hold tight, Cherry."
Before I can let myself fawn over that nostalgic pet name, JJ's foot hits the gas pedal to the max, causing our bodies to jolt forwards and fall back onto each other. All that keeps me in place is the arm he's fixed around my waist, the other firm on the steering wheel. I can't deny the slight concern I feel at this moment — only towards him and his safety, not mine. I'm no stranger to driving without a seatbelt, or to speeding, but I still have the tendency to worry for JJ. But, of course, he wouldn't do anything to get us into literal danger; that's the price obligatory for thrill.
To amplify this, I move my hips subtly, pretending to adjust my position whilst having completely ulterior motives in mind. At the same time, I kiss my way down JJ's neck, starting behind his ear with a soft bite at his earlobe, and working my way down to his collarbone. Catching onto my intentions, JJ lets out a breath that blends with a sort of groan, gripping at my waist with desperate force.
"You're trouble, Carmen." The warmth of his exhale sends goosebumps down my spine, forcing my head to rest on his. "I'm serious, you're making this more impossible than it already is."
My words get caught in my closed lips and come out as a pathetic mumble, so I repeat, "Then pull over. Please, pull over."
"And have us get caught again? I can wait." he shifts his head away, yet I don't quite comprehend his intentions as they're clouded by my own needs.
"I can't," I mutter, "no one has to see me, anyway. Just move the seat back a bit." My hands rush to the zip of his shorts, and he swiftly pins them back to my sides.
"Not like this, Carmen. I'm serious." JJ becomes more certain of his speech, my jaw tensing to cope with my embarrassment, "I do want to, you just... You deserve better than this."
"It's still you, at the end of the day. I want you, I don't care where. It really doesn't matter to me, only you do." I attempt to make eye contact but, seeing as he's focused on the road, I find myself staring into his eyes side-on like a fool, searching for signals where I obviously won't find them.
His free hand links with mine, "I know you do. Believe me, I want you too. We're just taking things slow, right?"
"Sure, whatever." I reply bluntly.
Our moment fades out for the rest of the journey. Many times over the course, I consider crawling back to the passenger's side but, every time I make even the slightest attempt at moving left, JJ's arm holds me tight in place, reminding me that there is truly no ill intention behind him rejecting my advances. I guess that means I was getting far too ahead of myself — not like I'd be able to tell if he didn't say no. My knowledge of guys and their wants is limited to what I've learned from the past and, for obvious reasons, it doesn't extend to JJ.
Due to the unfamiliar location we've parked in, I feel the urge to question the motive that brought us here. However, JJ's silent focus refrains me from ruining the moment, simply accepting him to take the lead. And he does so by opening the car door for me, warm summer evening air hitting me as a refresher to the steam and humidity of the pick-up truck. The sole of my sneakers collides with the droughted grass strip, the first steps I make making JJ's vision of this place all the more clear to me.
I immediately catch sight of the view before us; a grassy cliff top perched just off the coast, waves crashing on the shore that's a generous couple of meters below us. A gust of salt air wind blows to my face, posing as a detox to my lungs and the sight as one to my eyes. As I take in and admire the scenery, JJ creeps up behind me, wrapping himself around my body and perching his chin in the crook of my neck, the goosebumped skin of our faces grazing past each other.
He then spins me around to reveal an abandoned, shack-looking farmhouse, all one storey with shuttered windows and a straw roof. Even if I'm categorically unfamiliar with this side of town, the plain action of being brought here by a boy whom I adore to inexplicable lengths is enough for admiration to be my response. It may not be a villa or a 5-star resort, but it's ours as far as I'm concerned. We're the only people here, and something about that makes me intrigued if this will be a taster of a domestic life with JJ.
"I know it's not quite Figure Eight—" JJ begins as if he's read my thoughts.
"Fuck Figure Eight," I interrupt, "it's perfect."
He chuckles, staring at the ground, "Far from it."
"I mean it," I bring him back to eye level, bringing him in for a quick peck, "how did you find this place."
"I know this island like the back of my hand, Carm." he says, coming off as a slight brag (I'll give him the rights on this one), "That has its perks when I find things like this."
"Well, I think it's beautiful." I say, a doubtful look on his face, "I do! C'mon, just look at the view."
JJ's pupils don't budge away from me, "I'm looking at it right now. It is quite the sight." My cheeks flush red at his comment, the cold of his thumb brushing over my warmed skin.
Just when we lock lips, JJ pauses as if he's remembered something, which proves true when he jogs back to the car, starting it up in its static position to allow for the radio to blare out into the surroundings. The song begins playing at the chorus, overused and typical love-spelt lyrics blending over a slow instrumental. The boy returns before me with one of his palms extended out, and his other arm tucked behind his back to imitate classic chivalry.
"You took the rom-com comment to heart, didn't you?" I tease, unable to help my laughter and nerves.
"Is this everything you imagined?" JJ says sarcastically.
I smile at the ground then at him, "Everything and more."
"Well then," JJ smirks smugly, "Carmen Maria Flores — soon to be Maybank," he adds on, pushing my giggles even further, "may I have this dance?"
"You may, Jesse James Maybank." I say, taking his hand into mine, and instantly being pulled into a dynamic embrace.
Our forearms, linked by our fingers, extend out to the side, my other arm resting around his torso and his on my lower waist. I sink my chin into the curve of his shoulder as we move side to side, my gaze entirely on the commencing sunset, squinting slightly whenever we move into direct glow. I can just about make out the scent of his cologne against his shirt, worshiping the gift it brings to my senses. I bunch the very same fabric up in my hand, holding onto him like he's the last thing I'll ever feel.
I'd feel content with that, actually. Some part of me even trails on to realize a future with JJ, that which includes domestication; shared rooms, shared clothes, shared love. As odd as it sounds to say so soon, I'm not scared of that possibility. If anything, I want it. I could make that my new goal, and forget all about what I'm meant to do. Hurting him will get me nowhere, but he can take me anywhere. Because I'll let him, because I want him.
"Remember the look of that house, Carmen." JJ says into my ear.
"Hm?" I hum against his skin, lips vibrating with the sound.
He repeats, "Remember how it looks now," this time adding extended meaning, "because, one day, I'm gonna make it my own. Rebuild it all over again, make it perfect. And, when you come back from Pennsylvania, if you want to find me again, you'll know where to look."
"And what if I never leave for UPenn? Or if you'll come with me?" I ask, circling my palm gently over his back.
JJ pulls away from me, keeping his hands on my hips, "I'm not gonna go with you. I'll stay here, but I'm also staying yours. Always yours, okay?"
My expression sinks, noticed by him in an instant, and he brings his touch up to my cheek, "Okay. Can you just promise me one thing?"
"What is it?"
"Paint the shutters red," I form a half-smile, "would you do that? For me?"
JJ pivots his head back towards the farmhouse, staring at it for a generous second, then back to me, "Cherry red. Yeah, yeah I'm gonna do that."
"Pinky promise on it?" I hold my finger out for him.
"Pinky promise," he exhales, "and you. Promise you'll come looking for me, and the little red farmhouse."
"Pinky promise."
We sign off our exchange with a kiss, first against our fists and then our lips. With the image inserting permanently into my brain, I really could see it coming true. I won't force JJ into a life he doesn't want, be it college here or wherever. But what I am willing to do, is to force myself into the life he wants. I will admit it's the better of the two options, though there is still one issue at hand. Force.
It's only a matter of time until I get bored of this — because I always do — and thereby only so many moments until he's hurt. That's one thing I can't quite yet promise and so, without him noticing, I break our intertwined fingers away, and plaster on the same fake smile that I know can get me through this.