Breakable
Page 48
I was right, but not necessarily for the reasons I’d assumed. The kid actually listened to my instructions and made the biggest catch we’d had all year – though hooking a big one is mostly luck and boat placement, not the skill of the guy with the pole. No one mentioned that shit to her. Dad’s motto: ‘It’s our job to make sure the client thinks it’s all him.’ He helped her reel it in while her parents cheered.
The older girl had straightened up off her parents’ car when I got out of the SUV, pulling on her earrings, fiddling with the strings on her cut-off shorts, fidgeting with her hair – putting it up and taking it down. That shit continued all day. She was glued to me, too, asking idiotic questions about my tats – which I’m not in the habit of explaining to anyone, especially not random strangers – and using those enquiries as an excuse to touch them. She wondered what kids who lived here did for fun, eyeballing me like she expected me to invite her along to do whatever that was – and I mean whatever that was. Most awkwardly: she took pics of me with her phone. I suspected she was texting or posting them and felt weirdly violated.
That boat felt more confining than it ever had, and I thought about people in emergency lifeboats, stuck at sea for days. I would jump ship after seriously contemplating shoving her overboard.
As soon as we docked and my feet hit land, I turned on my phone. I had a message from Melody, asking if I was busy today. She’d sent it hours ago.
Bumping knuckles with the kid and cold-shouldering sexual-harassment girl, I called, ‘Great fishing, guys!’ to the parents, and then I climbed into the front seat of the SUV.
Me: Hey. Out on the boat all day. Working. No service till now. Just docked.
Melody: I was afraid you were mad because of what I did.
Me: What??
Melody: The kiss.
Me: I’m the opposite of mad, whatever that is. Fort tonight?
Melody: Can’t. Staying over with Pearl. Working tomorrow?
Me: No. Dad will be gone all day. Come over.
Melody: K
As soon as Dad left the next morning, I cleaned the bathroom, straightened the kitchen and put away piles of clothes that were usually shoved to the side of my bed or haphazardly folded on the shelves. I made my bed.
Melody’s knock was unsure. Quiet. I rubbed nervous palms down my sun-faded board shorts and took a breath before opening the door.
‘Hi,’ I said, admitting her and closing the door behind her. Locking it.
‘Hi,’ she said, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear.
She followed me to the kitchen, where we sipped at sodas and made sandwiches we nibbled but didn’t eat. We barely spoke.
Finally, she cleared her throat. ‘You said that you’d draw me, once. Want to do that?’
I nodded. ‘Sure. Yeah.’ We stuck the dishes in the sink and I opened the pantry door and clicked on the overhead lamp. ‘Where do you want –?’
‘In there is good,’ she said. ‘If that’s good for you.’
I hope she didn’t expect an answer to that question, because every-fucking-thing about this day was good for me.
She kicked off her flip-flops and we climbed on to the bed. I reached for my pad and pencils and she leaned back on her elbows. ‘So do you arrange me, or do I strike a pose, like this, or what?’
No way I could touch her and then draw. ‘Just get comfortable. It’ll take me awhile. You don’t want to try holding an awkward position.’ Like the one she was in, her perfect tits straining against her fitted top, creating gaps between the buttons and pulling the hem higher to display the strip of tanned skin above her shorts.
She turned to arrange pillows at the head of the bed while I sat against the wall. She lay on her side, half sitting, half reclining into the mound of pillows, her hair rippling across the surface like a gold waterfall. Pulling one leg into an angle, she straightened the other until our toes touched. I waited for her to still. Her eyes on mine, she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt, showing off the white, lacy bra beneath.
‘Is this good?’ she asked, her voice quavering and soft.
My hands shook. Fuck. I sucked in a slow breath, and then another, regaining some self-control. ‘Perfect,’ I said, and she smiled.
Neither of us spoke. There were no sounds but an occasional throat clearing and the scratch of my pencil. Her foot swept over the top of mine when she shifted, and I pressed back reflexively. Finally, I stared at the sketch, and then handed it to her.
‘Oh, my God.’ She looked from the pad to me and back to the pad. ‘I knew you were good … but this … is amazing.’ She examined herself, stretching out both legs and assessing deficiencies. ‘I don’t look like this in real life, though. This is gorgeous.’
I took the pad from her hand and placed it on the lowest shelf, just over our heads. ‘Trust me. You look better.’ I moved next to her.
Not meeting my eyes, she reached out to trace my tattoos – her touch nothing like the gratuitous strokes from the girl yesterday, who seemed to think that touching me was part of the package deal her dad paid for.
‘Do you want to kiss me again?’ Melody asked. Still not looking at me.
I leaned over her, skimming one hand just under her shirt to her bare waist and waiting until she raised her eyes to mine. Repeating the careful, experimental kiss we’d shared two days ago, we kept our eyes open, the touch of our lips seemingly halfhearted. And then her hand twisted in my T-shirt and she pulled me down. My knee slid between her legs and there was no hiding the hard length pressed to her thigh. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, and I didn’t waste time weighing variables because I couldn’t think. Driving my tongue into her mouth, my eyes closed and my hands wandered over everything I could reach.
I loosened the last three buttons of her top and we sat up, attempting to keep our mouths fused while she shrugged out of it. My T-shirt joined her shirt at the foot of the bed. When she reached round to unhook her bra, I watched, eyes consuming her hungrily. I reached to slide the straps down her arms, and she trembled as my thumbs traced her curves. Her dancer’s limbs, lithe and athletic, contrasted with the supple fullness of her tits. Tossing the bra towards the end of the bed, I lay down and pulled her on top of me, high enough to tongue her ni**les while cupping her ass to keep her close. Arms straight, she braced herself above me.
When Melody’s whimpers became dazed cries, I sucked a nipple into my mouth, and she screamed and bucked against me. Rolling until my hip hit the wall, I dragged her under me on the narrow mattress, nudged one thigh between her legs and pressed. She clawed my arms and kissed me wildly.
The older girl had straightened up off her parents’ car when I got out of the SUV, pulling on her earrings, fiddling with the strings on her cut-off shorts, fidgeting with her hair – putting it up and taking it down. That shit continued all day. She was glued to me, too, asking idiotic questions about my tats – which I’m not in the habit of explaining to anyone, especially not random strangers – and using those enquiries as an excuse to touch them. She wondered what kids who lived here did for fun, eyeballing me like she expected me to invite her along to do whatever that was – and I mean whatever that was. Most awkwardly: she took pics of me with her phone. I suspected she was texting or posting them and felt weirdly violated.
That boat felt more confining than it ever had, and I thought about people in emergency lifeboats, stuck at sea for days. I would jump ship after seriously contemplating shoving her overboard.
As soon as we docked and my feet hit land, I turned on my phone. I had a message from Melody, asking if I was busy today. She’d sent it hours ago.
Bumping knuckles with the kid and cold-shouldering sexual-harassment girl, I called, ‘Great fishing, guys!’ to the parents, and then I climbed into the front seat of the SUV.
Me: Hey. Out on the boat all day. Working. No service till now. Just docked.
Melody: I was afraid you were mad because of what I did.
Me: What??
Melody: The kiss.
Me: I’m the opposite of mad, whatever that is. Fort tonight?
Melody: Can’t. Staying over with Pearl. Working tomorrow?
Me: No. Dad will be gone all day. Come over.
Melody: K
As soon as Dad left the next morning, I cleaned the bathroom, straightened the kitchen and put away piles of clothes that were usually shoved to the side of my bed or haphazardly folded on the shelves. I made my bed.
Melody’s knock was unsure. Quiet. I rubbed nervous palms down my sun-faded board shorts and took a breath before opening the door.
‘Hi,’ I said, admitting her and closing the door behind her. Locking it.
‘Hi,’ she said, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear.
She followed me to the kitchen, where we sipped at sodas and made sandwiches we nibbled but didn’t eat. We barely spoke.
Finally, she cleared her throat. ‘You said that you’d draw me, once. Want to do that?’
I nodded. ‘Sure. Yeah.’ We stuck the dishes in the sink and I opened the pantry door and clicked on the overhead lamp. ‘Where do you want –?’
‘In there is good,’ she said. ‘If that’s good for you.’
I hope she didn’t expect an answer to that question, because every-fucking-thing about this day was good for me.
She kicked off her flip-flops and we climbed on to the bed. I reached for my pad and pencils and she leaned back on her elbows. ‘So do you arrange me, or do I strike a pose, like this, or what?’
No way I could touch her and then draw. ‘Just get comfortable. It’ll take me awhile. You don’t want to try holding an awkward position.’ Like the one she was in, her perfect tits straining against her fitted top, creating gaps between the buttons and pulling the hem higher to display the strip of tanned skin above her shorts.
She turned to arrange pillows at the head of the bed while I sat against the wall. She lay on her side, half sitting, half reclining into the mound of pillows, her hair rippling across the surface like a gold waterfall. Pulling one leg into an angle, she straightened the other until our toes touched. I waited for her to still. Her eyes on mine, she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt, showing off the white, lacy bra beneath.
‘Is this good?’ she asked, her voice quavering and soft.
My hands shook. Fuck. I sucked in a slow breath, and then another, regaining some self-control. ‘Perfect,’ I said, and she smiled.
Neither of us spoke. There were no sounds but an occasional throat clearing and the scratch of my pencil. Her foot swept over the top of mine when she shifted, and I pressed back reflexively. Finally, I stared at the sketch, and then handed it to her.
‘Oh, my God.’ She looked from the pad to me and back to the pad. ‘I knew you were good … but this … is amazing.’ She examined herself, stretching out both legs and assessing deficiencies. ‘I don’t look like this in real life, though. This is gorgeous.’
I took the pad from her hand and placed it on the lowest shelf, just over our heads. ‘Trust me. You look better.’ I moved next to her.
Not meeting my eyes, she reached out to trace my tattoos – her touch nothing like the gratuitous strokes from the girl yesterday, who seemed to think that touching me was part of the package deal her dad paid for.
‘Do you want to kiss me again?’ Melody asked. Still not looking at me.
I leaned over her, skimming one hand just under her shirt to her bare waist and waiting until she raised her eyes to mine. Repeating the careful, experimental kiss we’d shared two days ago, we kept our eyes open, the touch of our lips seemingly halfhearted. And then her hand twisted in my T-shirt and she pulled me down. My knee slid between her legs and there was no hiding the hard length pressed to her thigh. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, and I didn’t waste time weighing variables because I couldn’t think. Driving my tongue into her mouth, my eyes closed and my hands wandered over everything I could reach.
I loosened the last three buttons of her top and we sat up, attempting to keep our mouths fused while she shrugged out of it. My T-shirt joined her shirt at the foot of the bed. When she reached round to unhook her bra, I watched, eyes consuming her hungrily. I reached to slide the straps down her arms, and she trembled as my thumbs traced her curves. Her dancer’s limbs, lithe and athletic, contrasted with the supple fullness of her tits. Tossing the bra towards the end of the bed, I lay down and pulled her on top of me, high enough to tongue her ni**les while cupping her ass to keep her close. Arms straight, she braced herself above me.
When Melody’s whimpers became dazed cries, I sucked a nipple into my mouth, and she screamed and bucked against me. Rolling until my hip hit the wall, I dragged her under me on the narrow mattress, nudged one thigh between her legs and pressed. She clawed my arms and kissed me wildly.
