Boy in a Band

Lisa Loomis

Boy in a Band

By Lisa Loomis

This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2010 by the author of this book, Lisa Loomis. The book author retains sole copyright to her contributions to this book.

ISBN 978-1478147855

Cover design by Lisa Loomis and Brandie Lamprou (EMarketID).

Photo purchased from iStockphoto

www.LisaLoomisBooks.com

For Dennis, Parker, and Hunter, my family, who believed in me from the start and whose unwavering belief in me pushed me to keep writing, even when I felt like giving up.

In memory of Charlie, who inspired me with his music.  He taught me to listen to the lyrics and the story: the real boy in a band.

Prologue

I could see him up ahead of me, strolling along the shore. The waves breaking, the surf rolling in, water swirling around his feet, white foam wrapping around and then out again. Footprints filled in by surf and then erased. He stopped and looked back at me to see how far I had strayed. As usual I was poking along, looking for beach glass and shells. He whistled.

I looked up in his direction, squinting into the sun. His blond hair, tossed by the breeze, caught the sunlight, his bare chest golden from the beach. When I caught his eye, he smiled at me and motioned for me to catch up. I sped up my pace walking along the ocean's edge to where he stood, eager again to be with him. As I got closer, I stared at his face, so familiar to me, yet still able to make me catch my breath. Had it ever not? I couldn’t remember. He reached his hand out, and when I took it, he laced his fingers in mine. We walked along the ocean, just close enough that the water played around our feet and ankles, at times sucking our feet into the sand. The sun was low in the sky, reflecting off the water.

“I love the colors. How it plays off the water,” I said.

“I know you do. You always have,” he answered.

“What does that mean?” I teased.

I brought his hand between my breasts and wrapped both hands around it, holding tightly, afraid for no reason I could remember.

“Nothing really, I just know,” he replied.

We walked in silence for a long ways. While he held my hand, he intermittently squeezed my fingers. We both understood now how to be with each other without the need for so many words. He stopped and pulled me to him, wrapping his arms around my body. His skin was warm from the sun, and I breathed in the smell of him. Oh god, how I loved that smell, a slight lemon, vanilla, along with a light musk, but not strong. My body instinctively pressed into him, turning up the heat between the two of us. I looked into his blue eyes, at times so intense, at times so mischievous; I could tell he was happy. How many times had I looked into those eyes and seen other things? My thoughts raced back to when we first met. I could see him in his room, playing the guitar. I remembered the angle of his head and his long thick blond hair, just a hint of a wave to it. What had he played? I reached back. Oh yeah, Classical Gas. “Have you ever heard it?” he’d asked.

We’d come such a long way. He put his hands on both sides of my face and tilted his head slowly to the side. I closed my eyes and waited for his lips to touch mine, remembering how much I could want him. My body tingled in anticipation. He kissed me slowly, soft lips parting mine. His tongue entered my mouth, probing slightly, and then more knowingly. I could feel my longing for him move in and out, like the tide, flowing through my body, desire pooling within me. I kissed him back, my arms wrapping around his neck before I slowly ran one hand down his back, feeling his firm body, and tucking my fingers inside the band of his swim shorts. His hands ventured lower and he cupped my ass.

“Ummm,” he said.

I felt a tingling between my legs, a sensation he could easily make me feel. My hips almost of their own will pressed towards his body. He squeezed my ass, pulling me to him. I could feel his body, his lips, his tongue, a complete sensory overload and wondered again how he could make me feel this every time he touched me. Gayle flashed through my mind. “What magical hold does he have on you?” she’d asked more than once in anger.

I could never answer her, and I was confused as to why all of a sudden. I felt the heat spread from between my legs into my stomach and his kiss squelched the why question in my head. I pushed harder against him and wished I wasn’t restricted by a public place. I wanted to rip his clothes off. I wanted to feel him naked against me, feel him in me. My heart was racing, my body melting into his. The sound of gulls squawking overhead, the children laughing in the distance, playing in the surf all faded away as I lost myself to him. The sound of the waves crashing in time with my emotions as we stood kissing, the water lapping at our feet, ignoring the outside world, aware only of each other. His hands moved to my hips, his fingers digging slightly into my skin as he held me against him. I pressed my pelvis forward, unable to deny the desire, and could feel his hardness.

“Whoa, kid,” he said, pulling away slowly.

I gradually opened my eyes and looked up into his face, his expression was sexy and raw.

“I better get you someplace private before I do something crazy and take you right here,” he said, smiling with that lazy grin of his.

“I’ve always wanted to do it on the beach,” I said, smiling, imaging us rolling in the sand.

“Mm,” he said.

“Mmm, yourself, you bad boy,” I teased, backing toward the water.

Then I saw the look in his eye, and I circled around him the other way. That mischievous look generally meant trouble was on the way.

“Oh, no, you don't,” I laughed.

I knew he was thinking about cooling us both off in the ocean. He’d forced me into the ocean on too many other occasions. Instead, I reached out and gripped his hand firmly, tugging him in the direction of our towels.

“Do you remember the first time?” he asked.

I pondered his question. There had been many different first times.

“The first time we what?” I teased, pulling him to me and pressing my body into his.

“I’m not talking about that,” he said with a smile.

“What then?”

“The first time we met.”

“Your room, raining out, 'Classical Gas',” I answered tartly, squinting slightly at him.

“Pretty girl at my door,” he said, still smiling.

“It was the only first time you didn’t have a say; all the others were on your terms. I reluctantly went along,” I said. “Wait, you did think I was pretty.”

It made me giddy to hear him say it, that I was pretty. He laughed out loud, and it made me smile. I loved it when he laughed; it was irresistible, like music.

“You didn’t like them? I mean the first times?” he asked, looking slightly hurt.

“I didn’t say that. I said they were on your terms. Now I have some say. Finally. Took a long time, you know,” I said.

“Morgan, I didn’t think about it. I was young.”

“And dumb. I know,” I said, looking into his eyes.

I leaned in to kiss him, and he pulled me tight to him.

“And by the way, you weren’t exactly reluctant,” he teased as he squeezed my hand.

I wanted to stay in the moment and not let the past rush in. I wanted to think of only the good. I wanted to not have the doubts. Please I said to myself get over the doubts. When he let me go again, I focused on our towels in the distance: the red and orange and blue of the fabric, bright colors against the sand.

“Let’s get a cold beer,” I said, again pulling him in that direction.

As we walked across the sand, my thoughts were getting jumbled. I tried to remember what year it was. Was it 1973? No, that was when we met. I focused on the towels, but for some reason, we couldn’t reach them. My feet felt heavy and my ears were ringing. I looked to see his face, but it had blurred. The sound of the ocean was getting increasingly louder. I held on tighter to his hand. The colors of the towels suddenly shifted and swirled together like a messy finger painting, and then I was falling, falling through black. I couldn’t feel his hand anymore. Where had the sun gone?

“No, no, wait,” I shouted. “Don’t. No, please no.”

The thoughts were there, but the sound wouldn’t come out or couldn’t be heard. I knew and didn’t want to know, my mind trying to protect me. The fog cleared, and still I tried to stay under. I could feel my body tense, trying to stop it from shaking.

“Hey. Hey, now, it’s okay, it’s okay,” his voice broke through, and the dream faded away.

“Babe, you’re sobbing again in your sleep.”

I kept my eyes shut, coming up gradually; not wanting to face the reality I knew would fill me. Please don’t let this be real. I sluggishly opened my eyes, and my body was still heaving in sobs, my pillow damp on my face, his face hovering above as his arm stretched across my stomach, caressing, worrying. As I looked into his blue eyes, I could see the pain he felt for me in his face, his eyes searching for a way to help. The tears ran out the corners of my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, ashamed.

He pushed a strand of hair that was stuck to my cheek gently off my face.

“Morgan,” he paused, a little too long, which made me want to cry again.

“It will be all right,” he said tenderly.

His tone was so compassionate it made my heart break, tiny pieces shattering inside me.

“I know,” I said through the tears.

I knew he was hurt. He pulled me tightly to him, holding me while I cried.

Chapter 1 - 1973

My family has lived on the same street in San Jose, California, since I can remember. There was another house in San Jose when I was first born, but we moved from there when I was five and I don't really remember it. This house is where I have grown up, the one I remember, and it sits on a dead end street, or at least it’s what the sign says. It’s not a cul-de-sac with a circle at the end; it just goes straight, then stops because there’s a creek running at the bottom of it. I’ve joked with Gayle that I hope “dead end” isn’t an indication of our future.

At the end of our street, on our side of the creek, runs a white guard rail fence with a higher chain link fence behind it that runs a long way in both directions. The obvious intent is to keep people out and the cows in. Across the creek, there's a dairy farm that smells like cow shit pretty much all the time, but I’ve grown used to it. Random moo’s float across the creek now and then and at night the medley in the creek gets pretty loud with the frogs and toads croaking, along with crickets chiming in. Of course there is the regular neighborhood sounds too, doors slamming, garages opening, people talking, mowers.

There are a bunch of kids on our block, and we are all within a year or two of each other, so we hang out together a lot. Sometimes it’s a big group, sometimes just a few of us. We generally hang in the street or go to the creek. The chain link fence meant to keep people out, doesn’t. We’ve discovered a way to climb up on the wooden fence and get over the chain link fence into the creek. There's a section where we have almost folded the chain link fence in half and are able to slide over. All our parents know we go there.

We also sneak onto the farm, which we are not supposed to do either. They no doubt know this too, but no one says anything about it. I suspect they think there is not much danger in the vast field of the farm. On the far side of the creek is a huge oak tree where someone built a platform high in its branches. To reach the platform, you have to climb up steps that have been nailed to the tree, scrap pieces of two-by-fours from the houses being built around us. I’m not much for heights, but I’m not much for being called a baby either. It’s scary going up, but once you’re there, you can watch everything that goes on over on our street and at the creek. You can watch the cows and the goings-on at the farm as well.

When the cows graze at our end of the farm, we sneak into the field with them. It’s fun to try to get them to chase us. They're more curious than anything and sort of shy, gazing at us, their big brown eyes staring as they chew the grass, half of it falling out of their mouths. Every now and then we get one who will charge us, and then we run, hoping it won’t catch us. So far so good, no one has been maimed. We have cow patty fights, usually boys against girls. Of course the dry ones are easier to throw, the wet ones grosser. Getting tagged with a wet pie is no fun.

The creek is the main attraction, though; we spend a lot of time getting wet, catching frogs, and flinging creek slime on each other. Oops, another disgusting activity. There are cattails that grow plentifully in the creek and the moss sort of hangs onto them in these big strands that we pull off and wad up. They're like gigantic spitballs that are slimy and stink. We chase each other in and around the creek and try to nail one another. In general when we come back over the fence we’re pretty grungy. The creek over the years has pretty much been a haven for bad behavior for kids or teens; it gets us away from the parents.

There is a lot of life in the creek: fish and various types of frogs. I love the frogs, even the big old bullfrogs which most of the other girls won’t touch because they think they’ll get warts. Much to our mother’s dismay, Pat and I are always bringing frogs home. I like to bring the pollywogs home too and watch them transform into frogs. One day they're black and shiny and swimming like a fish, and then they start to morph and grow front legs, then back legs while their tail is constantly getting shorter. They continue to evolve until one day they are the cutest little frogs and look nothing like how they started. It’s an amazing and magical thing to watch something become something completely different.

More than once we’ve had frog round-ups in the house when they've gotten out of their container. Pat and I laugh as we chase them around as they try their best to hop away. They can get into the damndest places; they’ve even managed to get up the stairs. My mom can’t understand why I think they’re cute, but she puts up with it, at least until she shouts “Morgan, come get these out of my living room!”

She recently bought us a plastic turtle bowl with a palm tree in the middle to put them in. I think she got tired of us using her Pyrex. The tree frogs are my favorites, but they're so fast and jump so far, they're hard to keep around very long. We either take the frogs back to the creek or let them go in the yard once they're grown.

As for the neighbors, well everyone seems to get along pretty well. The kids hang out together all the time, but the adults only now and then at a social function, and once a year when we have a block party in the street. Last night I laughed when I heard Gary and Ava from next door, on my side of the house, have a fight because Ava caught Andy, her son, looking at Gary’s Playboy magazines. Andy is my age and curious so who can blame him. Apparently Gary hadn’t hidden them well enough and Ava was pissed. I was in bed when I overheard them; parents, like they don’t think we know about stuff.

My dad gets Playboy too and hides them in his closet, Gayle and I look through them and read the articles, especially the ones about sex. Some pretty graphic stuff. My mom is a housewife and my dad is a businessman who works for a contact lens company and does something with public relations. He travels a lot and talks to people about them. It’s funny, because when he's home, he doesn’t want to talk much. He’s kind of grumpy actually, and Pat and I try to stay out of the way. Maybe he gets all talked out when he's away.

My younger brother, Pat, can be a real pain in the ass. He’s always trying to find out what I’m doing, spying on Gayle and me whenever he can. We usually know and avoid giving him things to hold over our heads. I’m not sure he would tell, but better safe than sorry. I guess my mom does sort of work. She helps out a charity, which runs an upscale cookware store in Los Gatos called The Butter Paddle. She doesn’t get paid for her work; the profits from the store go to charity. Eastfield, she calls it, supports a home for abused children, and it gives my mom something to do other than just care for the house and us. I think it’s more of a social outlet for her, but who am I to say.

When dad’s away, we visit a lot of her friends from the charity: cocktails here, cocktails there. I go to work with her sometimes. We’re at odds a lot right now. She thinks I don’t listen to her. I think she doesn’t understand me, which she doesn’t. She tells me I’m a hormonal teen and not thinking clearly. I think she drinks too much and doesn’t think clearly. We get along the best when dad is around—he expects things to be peaceful and pleasant which means we are all walking on eggshells. This puzzles me as Pat and I hear them fight often and it is anything but peaceful or quiet.

It seems anymore when she talks to me and dad's not home, it’s yelling. Mom broke her toe last week when she tried to kick me after one of our fights. I was headed up the stairs to my room, and she tried to have the last word—or action. The banister was not so friendly.

“Serves you right,” I shouted.

She didn’t find my lack of sympathy amusing.

“You’re grounded, you little twit,” she shouted back.

Grounding wasn’t really used in our household, so it was more of an idle threat than anything. Maybe it made her feel good and powerful.

Chapter 2

I was eight the summer Gayle moved in across the street, and we became best friends. We used to hang with all the kids on the block, and now they think we’ve gotten stuck up since Gayle and I turned thirteen this summer and prefer to be alone together. They call us the tween bitches. We could give a shit; we’re into other things now, boys for one. Gayle and I talk about the boys and school a lot: who is after who, who’s kissing or having sex, who’s into what kind of drugs. There are girls in our grade who already have boyfriends or huge crushes.

Being in junior high has made it easy for us to spend time alone. School is so overcrowded that we have split sessions. Gayle and I have the early session, so we're out by noon and at Gayle’s house in time for lunch. Both her parent’s work, so no one is home and we can do what we want. Actually we have a lot of freedom between her parents working, my mom's charity work, and my dad's traveling.

“What do we want for lunch, the usual?” Gayle asked, setting her backpack on the counter.

“Sure,” I answered.

She pulled out the bread and bologna and started making us a sandwich. I jumped up and sat on the counter, watching as she spread the mustard.

“Keri tried smoking pot last weekend,” I said, thinking about my conversation with Keri during sewing class.

Keri was one of the more popular girls at school unlike me, but since we both hated sewing and sat right next to each other, she talked to me. She was shorter than me, but she had thick, straight blonde hair that fell to her waist and almond-shaped green eyes. She had a cute figure and did her best to flaunt it. The boys all thought she was hot, and she knew it. She was a total flirt. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I wanted to trade places with her, but I sure wished I could get some of the attention she got.

“Did she like it?” Gayle asked, slapping the sandwich together.

“She said she did. Asked if I wanted to try it; I told her I would.”

“You did?” she asked in a worried tone, handing me my sandwich.

“Why not?” I asked. “She says it’s sort of like being drunk, but you laugh more.”

I paused, sandwich in hand, waiting for her to answer. As long as Gayle and I have palled around she’s never considered herself pretty. I think she is in her own way, her face is heart shaped and she has pretty brown eyes and light brown hair. The boys notice her because she’s very developed with big boobs and shapely hips. I on the other hand am developing slowly, too slowly for my liking. I am tall and thin with long legs. I have sandy blonde hair, which is curly. It makes me stand out as most of the girls are wearing their hair long and straight. It’s thick and sometimes unruly and hangs halfway down my back.

One of my best features is my eyes. They are blue, surrounded by thick lashes, and I get complements on them all the time. I also have nice lips, kissable, my older cousin tells me. My boobs are still pretty small and I have narrow hips. My body looks a lot like the new model Twiggy. My mom says I’m a beauty, my grandmother says I look like Brooke Shields. I don’t believe either of them.

“When are you going to do it?” Gayle finally asked with her mouth full.

“Do what?” I asked.

I had lost my train of thought.

“Smoke pot?” she said with a bit of disgust.

She had never made it anything but clear she didn’t like Keri much. “Too full of herself” Gayle said. They knew each other because we shared the same bus stop, but Gayle wouldn’t talk to her.

“I’m meeting her on the golf course by the drainage tunnel tomorrow morning,” I said.

The drainage tunnel was large enough to walk into, and it sat halfway between Keri’s house and the bus stop. We’d smoked cigarettes there together more than once.

“You’re smoking pot before school? Are you nuts?” she exclaimed, looking at me dead on.

“I’ll just try a little. Keri says it’s no big deal.”

“You’re crazy,” she said, positioning herself on the counter to eat her sandwich.

“Yeah, so…” I said, taking a bite of mine.

This year at school, it seems like a lot of kids are getting into alcohol, drugs, and the opposite sex. Or maybe everyone’s just talking about it more. Gayle and I drink now and again, as well as smoke cigarettes on occasion. We sneak small amounts of liquor from our parents' liquor cabinets and put the combination in a washed-out mayonnaise jar. We only take little bits of each kind so they don’t notice. Once we have enough, we go to the creek and mix it with Coke. It’s pretty nasty stuff, but we can get a buzz. My mom and dad smoke, so getting cigarettes is easy.

At school, Gayle and I hang out in different groups. She's athletic and on the swim team; I sort of hang out with a mixed group of popular and not so popular. The real popular kids at school hang together and generally ignore everyone else. Talk about stuck-up. Keri’s in that group. I hadn't noticed the cliques until we got to junior high. We never had much division in our neighborhood when we hung out with each other. We could act stupid and no one cared, and it never got back to school. Now I try to be nice to everyone, but it’s hard sometimes.

“Where’s Keri getting the pot from, her brother?” Gayle asked.

“I’m sure.”

We all knew he dealt it.

“Morgan, you doing this so you can hang with Keri and her friends?” she asked, not looking at me.

“No,” I answered, laughing. “I don’t think just 'cause I smoke pot with her, I’ve made my way to popular.”

She finished her sandwich and hopped off the counter.

“She seeing anyone?” Gayle asked.

“She’s been talking about a guy named Brett; he’s a junior. I don’t know him. Not sure if they are dating or not, but she definitely likes him.”

“Think she’s gone all the way?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, surprised she would ask.

“You two talk.”

“We talk in sewing, sewing, Gayle. Like, ‘you like my pattern, how about ripping out this seam for the third time’. We laugh 'cause we are both so bad. Neither one of us will ever be Suzy Homemaker, that’s for sure. I get a few bits and pieces of gossip now and then. No best-friends-spill-your-guts kind of talk. But to answer your question, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

I met Keri on the golf course next to the tunnel, early before the bus. We ducked inside the tunnel and shared a joint. The weather was getting warmer and it was close to the end of the school year and I was feeling adventurous. It also had to do with fitting in, I wanted the popular kids she hung out with to think I could be part of them, do what they were doing.

“Inhale it like a cigarette, but don’t blow it out right away. Hold it in,” she instructed.

The first hit I coughed until my eyes watered, and she laughed. Keri and I laughed on the bus when we looked at each other with Gayle shooting me dirty looks. When we got to school, she hurried off the bus without saying boo to me. I guess she didn’t like that I was venturing out without her.

I soon found out why smoking pot before school was a bad idea in my first period math class. As I sat and watched the teacher do problems on the board, I felt paranoid. I couldn’t focus on what the teacher was saying. The more I tried to concentrate the more my heart raced and my palms felt sweaty. I glanced around the room at the other students and I felt like everyone knew I was stoned. I crossed smoking-pot-before-school off my list.

Didn't mean Gayle had stopped giving me shit about it at every opportunity she could find. It was late in the day, and the sun was warm on our bodies, we were at the creek, lying in the tall grass under the oak tree. A couple of birds were chirping at each other in the tree, and I squinted, looking up through the branches to try and find them.

“Gayle, did you see Keri and Brett making out against the lockers between second and third period yesterday?” I asked, rolling onto my side and elbow, propping my head up with my hand.

Gayle was on her back, playing with a blade of grass, tying knots in it like a chain. I watched her bend the blade, loop it through, and tie another one.

“Yeah, who could have missed it? Keri wants everyone to see her. ‘I’m popular, I’m pretty, I’ve got a boyfriend, look at me',” Gayle mimicked Keri’s voice.

“It’s stupid at school,” I laughed.

Gayle finished the last knot and then admired her chain against the blue sky. A few dried pieces of grass stuck to her hair. I fluffed out my own knowing I certainly must have some in mine too.

“Tell her.”

“Yeah, right, tell her. She doesn’t care what I think.”

I picked a piece of grass, stuck the root end in my mouth, and chewed on it. The texture was crispy and the taste sweet, like honey.

“She’s fucking him,” I said absently.

Gayle sat up quickly and looked at me.

“No shit? She tell you that?”

I pulled the grass from my mouth and threw it away. I smiled a big shit-eating grin at her.

“Yeah, in fact, since they started, that’s all she talks about. ‘How fine’ he is. How his dick is so big and how she likes to suck on it. So your question is answered, and I didn’t even have to ask.”

“Gross, really? She talks about his dick?”

“Yeah,” I laughed.

A cow mooed in the distance and a second one responded to his sound.

“You ever think of a boy that way? I mean think about a boy actually putting it into you, let alone your mouth?” she asked.

“From everything Keri has said, it’s nothing but good.”

I’d thought about it plenty, liked the thought actually. I’d fantasized about having sex, even had an orgasm by myself, at least I was pretty certain that’s what the shudder was.

“She’s too young. Don’t you think?” Gayle questioned.

I thought about some of the boys in our class. I couldn’t think of one off hand I even wanted to kiss, let alone fuck.

“Probably, but some of the girls are starting to go there. Especially the one’s with older boyfriends.”

We were silent for a few minutes; quiet enough I could hear a bullfrog in the creek. The deep rib-bit gave him away.

“Would you do that with a boy?” Gayle finally asked.

“No,” I said loudly, then laughed. “Who would you think I would even consider? No one.”

I gave her arm a shove. I didn’t think Gayle had the same thoughts as I did about sex.

Chapter 3

“Morgan,” my mom shouted impatiently.

“Coming,” I answered as I grabbed a light jacket.

I’d agreed to go to work with her since it was Saturday. We’ve been trying to stay out of each other’s way and haven’t been talking much. In a way, I know she's reaching out to me, making an attempt to get along. At The Butter Paddle, her charity job, we help customers together, and it sort of forces us to talk to each other.

“Grab a book in case you get bored,” she shouted up the stairs again.

I could stay home and not be bored, I thought as I hastily opened my closet to get a book, go over to Gayle’s and not be bored. I usually shopped or went to the park next to the store if I was bored, but it’s raining today so I won’t be doing that. We drove to the shop in silence. I had agreed to go so I knew I shouldn’t be irked at my mom, but I was. At least it was raining so I had to be inside some place anyway.

Mom parked and we hurried through the rain to the front door of the shop. It creaked slightly as she opened it and the smell of coffee and spices assaulted us. It was strong, but I liked it. We stood and sort of shook the water from our coats as we pulled them off. I ran my fingers through my hair brushing the water off. A pretty woman with blonde hair came out from behind the curtain that separated the back room.

“Morgan, this is Mrs. O’Conner,” mom said, introducing me.

Mrs. O’Conner was carrying the cash register tray and she continued to the register sitting on the check out counter.

“Oh, no, please call me Ann,” Mrs. O’Conner said, fitting the tray into the register and starting to count the cash.

I watched as she flipped through the twenty bills and then the tens, her long fingers separating each from the other as she counted. Mom grabbed my coat and headed towards the back room.

“No, it’s proper to have her call you Mrs. O’Conner. It’s how I’ve taught my children to address adults,” my mom replied.

Proper, whatever, she sounded uptight to me, like she didn’t think her child was old enough to address an adult person to person. That there had to be a title.

“I understand that, but I’d prefer Ann, when I hear Mrs. O’Conner I think of Brad’s mom” she said, smiling.

Ann looks to be my mom’s age or younger, and she looks like a model with her blonde haircut into a sassy bob and intense light blue eyes. Her makeup is perfect and her clothes very stylish. I think she’s beautiful, and she obviously thinks I’m old enough to address her by her first name.

“I guess it’s okay, if it’s what you really want,” my mom says, backing down.

“It is. Call me Ann, Morgan.”

I silently watched the exchange, and now they both looked at me. I swallow hard and feel put on the spot, like I’ve been asked to read out loud in class.

“Nice to meet you, Ann,” I said, feeling awkward.

It was the first time an adult had asked me to call them by their first name, and I thought what a classy lady she was. I decided when I was an adult I would respond in the same way and have everyone call me by my first name. The Mr. and Mrs. crap made people seem old, like Ann said.

Despite the weather, the store was busy, and it seemed like we never stopped until closing time. Ann and my mom closed out the register while I cleaned up the wrapping table in the back, winding the various ribbons back neatly on their spools. When I finished, I sat down and read my book until it was time to go.

“Thanks, Morgan, you were a great help today. You should come with your mom more often,” Ann said as she locked up the cash drawer in the safe.

“Thanks, it was fun,” I said, glad she thought I had been useful.

“Patty, can you stop by my house on your way home? I would love you to meet my family, and I have an invitation for your family that I’ve been meaning to get to you.”

“An invitation to what?” my mom asked.

“Some friends of ours have a ranch in Old Almaden and they asked Brad and me to join them and bring some friends along for a picnic. Several of the gals are from Eastfield; you'll know many of them from The Butter Paddle—probably worked with some of them. They have a Jeep tour planned, and apparently, Pam Brenner puts on quite a spread for a picnic,” Ann answered.

“Sounds like a good time. Yeah, we can stop by your house quickly on our way home,” my mom answered, looking at me for a reaction.

I scowled at her, which she ignored, and she looked back to Ann.

“Steve’s home for a change, so Pat’s not alone. I’ll call him when we get to your house. How exactly do I get there?”

While Ann gave my mom directions, I shoved my book back into my backpack. I wasn’t thrilled we had to stop, and mom knew it. I wanted to get home to my friends—Gayle and I had planned to hang out. I waited by the front door with my coat on and my arms crossed in front of me, as they shut off the lights. The sky had gotten dark when we walked outside and Ann locked the door. The rain was coming down pretty hard.

“See you in a few,” Ann said.

We all raced out from under the shop's awning into the rain and scurried to the cars. When I reached our car I opened the door quickly and flung myself inside. The rush hadn't helped; mom and I still managed to get fairly wet. When she started the car and turned on the defroster, the car smelled of wet clothing and wet hair.

“Mom, I planned to go over to Gayle’s for awhile,” I complained.

“You liked Ann?” she asked ignoring me, as she adjusted the heater controls.

I could raise a stink, but it would just ruin the day so I didn’t.

“She’s really nice and really pretty,” I answered.

She looked over at me and then in the rear view mirror. She pushed her black hair back away from her face and checked her makeup. She was pretty too, but I wasn’t going to say it. Most of our words these days were harsh, not kind, I couldn’t say you’re pretty too and sound sincere. I was annoyed we had to stop at Ann’s, met her family, keep me out longer.

“She used to model,” mom said with a sideways look at me.

“I thought she looked like one,” I said frostily, looking out the front windshield, not wanting to look in her direction.

“I hope you’ll lose the attitude before we get there,” mom said.

I could feel the anger rise up as I watched the wipers go back and forth, sweeping the water away. Ann’s house was on the way home so at least we weren’t going a long ways out of the way. I tried to push down my feelings, letting the wipers mesmerized me, and instead thought about what Gayle had confessed to me last night. She’d gone to a friend’s house for a sleepover last weekend and some boys had showed up. They snuck out to meet with them, and ultimately, she had ended up making out with one of the guys.

“Oh, Morgan, it was sort of weird how it happened. We snuck out Michelle’s window to meet the guys around the block at this vacant lot, and the four of us were just sort of hanging out and talking. Mike had a couple of bottles of Boone's Farm and a pack of cigarettes, so we were drinking and smoking. I was catching a small buzz when Michelle and Mike sort of walked off together. I figured they went off to make out 'cause everyone knows he likes her.”

“Yeah, so she leaves you alone in the dark?”

“No, with Alex and we’re sitting there like stones, and it felt so awkward. He starts talking about friends we both know, and ends up, he seems pretty normal away from school. Then he leans in and kisses me. I’m kinda like whoa, but I’m buzzed so I kiss him back. Then he goes for it and we're making out all tongues and shit. He brushed his hand across my boob like it was an accident, but I know it wasn’t.”

“No!?”

“Yeah, and I’m liking it, so I let him.”

“What was it like?”

“The kiss, or the feel?”

“You know I mean the kiss,” I said.

We had talked about French kissing, but neither of us had done it, until now.

“Not as bad as it sounds,” she taunted teasingly. “I’ve done something before you have nana, nana, nana."

“Yeah, yeah,” I said.

I’d had some of those like feelings for boys at school, although that was the extent of it. I wanted boys to be interested in me, but they didn’t seem to be in that way. I was jealous Gayle had gotten to try before me, but I didn’t say anything—she already knew.

“Are you really that miffed about stopping by Ann’s?” my mom broke into my thoughts. “Because if you are, I guess I can drive back over tomorrow to get the invitation.”

She was adding a dash of guilt, her tone one of defeat.

“No, it’s fine,” I lied.

Sometimes I wanted to be able to talk to my mom about things, but I didn’t know what to say or where to start. I too often felt trapped between my new teenage world and being a kid. I was afraid to confide in her, was afraid she would be angry or think my thoughts were silly. Hell, if she knew half the stuff we did, I’d be up shit creek. I went back to being hypnotized by the water and the wipers. I thought about who I knew, who I would want to kiss.

I couldn’t come up with any great candidates.

Chapter 4

Ann’s house was in a neighborhood much like ours, but with larger lots and the landscaping was much more grown up and dense. It was rainy and dark, so it was hard to tell a whole lot other than that. Like our house, it was on a dead end street. Unlike ours, they were the last house on the left, there had been a sign posted at the entrance to the street: No Outlet. I wondered who decided whether it was a dead end or no outlet.

The rain was still coming down when mom pulled in their driveway and parked the car. She must have been nervous since she turned on the interior light to check her face again, putting on some lipstick and pressing her lips together. Ann had talked about her family all day, and I knew I was anxious, about meeting her oldest, Mathew, because he was my age. Ann had said he was very cute. I wasn't too worried about Sara or Sam. They were younger. Didn't count.

“Ready?” she said, opening her door, not waiting for an answer. “Let’s go.”

She ducked out of the car and under the eaves of the house attempting to avoid getting wet. I followed her, and we made it to the porch fairly dry. Ann met us at the door.

“Come in, come in,” she said, pulling us in out of the weather.

As we stepped inside and took off our jackets, it struck me again how overly pretty she was, and I wondered where she had modeled. Even having changed into jeans and a white, perfectly ironed shirt with the sleeves neatly rolled up, she was still gorgeous, but didn't seem aware of it. Ann was just kind, warm, and funny, and she had treated me like an equal, not like a kid. I liked that about her.

“Come on,” Ann repeated, waving us to follow as she headed toward the back of the house.

She led us into the kitchen and introduced us to Brad, her husband, and Sam and Sara who were all at the kitchen table, playing cards. Brad stood up as Ann introduced us. O’Conner, uh-huh, Irish, I could tell. He was taller than Ann: over six feet and handsome in a sort of boyish way with light skin, blue eyes, and strawberry blond hair. He and Ann made a cute couple, sort of all American. A cute family really since Sam and Sara had very similar coloring to their dad.

After she made all the polite introductions, Ann suggested we move to the family room while they finished their game.

“Brad just finished this family room addition to make more room for all of us,” she said as she moved toward the wet bar that was on one side of the room, taking two crystal glasses from the shelf. “As the kids get bigger, our space seems to be shrinking.”

“Patty, how about a quick cocktail before you head home? Gin and tonic with lime okay? Morgan, Coke or anything?” she asked, filling the glasses with ice.

I shot my mom a look, really, now a cocktail too!?

“No thank you,” I said as politely as I could muster.

“That sounds good,” my mom answered.

“I can’t be rude,” she mouthed to me. I just rolled my eyes at her, then looked around as Ann continued to make the drinks, noticing how nicely done the family room was. Ann obviously had good, and from the appearance, expensive taste.

“Good day for The Butter Paddle. Morgan, again, thanks for all your help,” Ann went on, as she finished the drinks with a squeeze of lime.

“Sure you don't want anything, Morgan?” she asked as she handed my mom her drink before she sat down in the chair next to the couch.

I shook my head no. I knew in mom’s defense Ann had started making the drinks before my mom had even answered.

“Oh, the invitation, before I forget,” Ann said jumping up.

She disappeared out into the kitchen and was back in a flash with an envelope, which she handed to my mom. Saturday night and I could be out with Gayle, sneaking a drink and a cigarette, and instead I’m here.

“When is this again?” my mom asked.

As they went over the date and time, and then chatted, I sat and listened, uninterested in what they were saying. I could hear a guitar being played somewhere in the house, starting, stopping, repeating.

“Who plays guitar?” I asked, mindlessly interrupting them.

“Morgan!” my mom said and shot me a look.

A wave of guilt washed over me, and then a twinge of annoyance, as I didn’t want to be here in the first place.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I apologized.

“It’s okay, that’s Mathew,” Ann said. “I didn’t think he’d be home, silly me not asking Brad if he was. You’re thirteen, right?”

“Not yet. In June,” I said.

“Mathew is May. Come on, Morgan, I’ll take you up to meet him,” Ann said, standing.

I looked pleadingly at my mom as I angled my head and mouthed “really?” She stared at me and I felt the blood rush to my face. First a drink and now I had to meet the supposedly cute son, oh God. How much worse could my night get?

“Go ahead, Ann just poured us a drink,” she said, waving me away.

“Come on Morgan,” Ann encouraged.

I got up slowly from my seat and followed her through the kitchen, down the hall, and up the stairs to where the bedrooms obviously were. Mom, I really hate you right now. I should have made you come back tomorrow. We stopped at a closed door with stickers on it that said things like: DO NOT ENTER, PRIVATE PROPERTY, NO TRESPASSING, and she knocked. I could tell he played well, but the guitar playing only got louder after Ann knocked, and it didn‘t stop as if he hadn’t heard. Obviously Mathew didn’t want visitors, and here I was, being forced upon him by his mother. Shit. I wanted to leave before he answered, but Ann stood still waiting.

“Are you sure, Ann? I don’t need to meet him now,” I said, hoping we could leave and hurry back down stairs.

I felt nervous and embarrassed and I wanted to flee, but felt as if I couldn’t.

“Nonsense,” she said and knocked again, harder.

The music stopped abruptly and I felt like crawling in a hole.

“What?” Mathew responded belligerently from the other side of the door.

Oh God, Oh God, it was getting worse.

“Open the door,” Ann said sweetly, shooting me a reassuring smile.

Silence followed. I felt my face flush. Shit, shit, shit. I heard scuffling noises like someone pushing back a chair followed by a hollow ping, which I assumed was the guitar being put down. Mathew opened the door with an angry glare at his mother. I sucked in my breath overcome by embarrassment and his looks.

He placed his arm above his head between the doorframe and the door, angling his body so as to block entry. His face softened when he realized she wasn’t alone. He looked from Ann to me, his blue, blue eyes locking with mine. They were sooo blue. He held my gaze until I felt I might die and had to look away. My heart was beating rapidly and I wasn’t sure if it was the embarrassment I felt or his looks, yes he was cute.

“Mathew, this is Morgan. She’s Patty’s daughter. You remember Patty, from The Butter Paddle?”

I look at him and watched him process it, mentally encouraging him to know.

“No,” Mathew replied, looking back at Ann impatiently.

“Well, you’ve met Patty before,” she continued, ignoring his attitude.

“She’s downstairs, and she is going to stay for a drink, so maybe you could be friendly and talk to Morgan for a minute.”

With that, Ann turned and walked away, leaving me standing in the hall, feeling like I had been pushed out of the bus at the wrong stop. It was pretty clear to me that my appearance was not in Mathew’s plan. He stayed there with his arm above his head between the frame and the door, looking after his mother retreating. I looked down the hall as well, not knowing quite what to do with myself. When the silence became unbearable and I couldn’t stand it, I looked back at Mathew to find him looking at me, his head cocked to one side. He gave me a slight grin.

“Well, do you want to come in, or are you going to just stand there?” he asked, dropping his arm with reluctance.

He opened the door wider to allow me in and my mouth went completely dry.

Okay, Gayle, I would like to kiss him, I thought.

Chapter 5

“I can go back downstairs,” I said nervously, motioning down the hall. “I didn’t mean for your mom to bother you.”

“No chance. Then I risk the wrath. ‘Why weren’t you nice to'...” he imitated Ann’s voice trailing off. “It’s Morgan, right?”

“Yeah, it’s Morgan.”

“Well, Morgan, welcome to my kingdom,” he said as he waved me in.

Pretty corny, Mathew I thought, as I looked around quickly, the room had a twin bed, a desk, and a dresser. The walls were covered with various posters with more warning signs to stay away. A poster of some scantily clad model, whose name I couldn’t remember, hung over his bed. The desk chair sat in the middle of the room, and his guitar lay next to it.

“Come in,” he said, impatiently motioning me into the room.

I took a deep breath pulled back my shoulders and entered his room boldly, certainly more so than I felt. He shut the door with a slam; I was sure hoping Ann would hear. Now that I was in, it was as if I didn't exist. He walked right past me and sat down in the chair, picked up his guitar, and rested his forearms on it. I flushed, embarrassed again, and looked for another place to sit, but his was the only chair. Finally uncomfortably I leaned up against the desk and crossed my arms in front of me. He flipped his hair back and looked at me. It was a curious look, like one would view an animal that they’d never seen.

“Morgan, what kind of name is that?” he finally asked.

I looked at him and I felt like he was enjoying my obvious discomfort. He wasn’t exactly trying to make me feel comfortable.

“Mine,” I said, being smart.

He cocked his head again and laughed loudly. His hair fell to one side and I had the urge to reach out and touch it, what is wrong with you, I thought.

“Good comeback,” he chuckled.

I tried to think of a subject that would be easy to talk about, but my head was thick, filled with his presence. Feeling awkward I decided to ask about his music.

“What were you playing before your mom pushed me on you?”

He smiled and ran his thumb down the strings. My parents played lots of records. I played records. But I wasn’t familiar with the music he had been playing. The urge to leave was incredible, but I couldn’t figure out a good way to go about it.

“'Classical Gas'. Have you ever heard it before?” he asked.

“No,” I answered.

He looked down, positioned his fingers on the neck of the guitar, and started to strum. I watched him alternate between strumming and picking, playing as his fingers moved changing the chords. The rhythm was quick and beautiful. As he continued to play, I sat down on the floor in front of him and listened, absorbed. My presence didn’t seem to affect him in the least. Lost in his music, I was able to look at him more closely.

Mathew looked like his mom. He had blond hair—although I could pick out hints of the strawberry color too—that sort of fell in a shaggy way around his face. It was on the long side, which is how most of the boys were wearing it. His head moved rhythmically with his playing, no words, just the guitar. I noticed he had his mother’s blue eyes with thick lashes that made them appear much more intense. His skin was not as fair as his siblings: more golden with a slight hint of freckles on his arms and nose. About my height, he had broad shoulders.

It was almost like he’d forgotten I was there. I watched his fingers move easily across the instrument as the muscles in his arms danced with the movement. It was obvious that playing was a passion for him. When he finished the song, he looked up. The blue of his eyes startled me again. I looked from his eyes to his lips and back again. He smiled, a lazy, sexy, sort of grin, and I could feel my heart race. I wondered what he was thinking, could he tell that he had an effect on me?

“That was good,” I said, then winced, thinking how dumb that sounded.

He looked into my eyes, not saying a word until I had to glance away. When I looked back, he was still watching me. His gaze slipped down to my breasts quickly and then back up again. I felt my heart skip a beat and my body temperature rise. Uncertainly I smiled back at him, which didn’t seem to derail him at all. Wow, he was good-looking. My fingers unexpectedly reached up touching my lips and I felt uneasy as if he could see everything I was feeling. I breathed in through my nose and tried to slow my heart back down.

“Do you play anything?” he asked.

I blinked at him and tried to focus on his question.

“I tried guitar once and got as far as “Kumbaya”, you know, kum bay ya my lord, kum bay ya, and that was enough of that.”

He laughed again, throwing his hair back. Again I felt the urge to touch his thick blond hair. I imagined it warm and silky and, oh man I’m hot. His laugh was nice and natural, not forced like some of the boys at school. These sensations he was causing were new and uncomfortable for me.

“Maybe if they didn’t always start with “Kumbaya”, more people would stick with it. I know it’s a good one to learn the chords, but it’s so- What am I looking for- religious, boring?” he said.

“Both. I wanted to be like Linda Ronstadt on stage, belting out “You’re no Good”,” I said.

He smiled at me and started to play again, this time something that sounded vaguely familiar. His lips tightened as he focused on his playing, the sides of his mouth twitching slightly with various chords. After he finished a second, then a third song, he put the guitar down. He got up from the chair and stretched to the side like a cat, sort of arching his back, then he walked casually across the room and sat on the end of his bed and looked at me.

“Do you sing?” I asked.

“Yeah, sometimes. I play with some other guys from school too. What school do you go to?” he asked, switching the subject.

“Bret Harte in Almaden,” I answered.

He kept shifting. He would concentrate on me closely, then look away. I felt self-conscious, as if I was some sort of oddity. I wondered if it was my hair, people found my curly, unruly hair sort of fascinating for some reason.

“Do you like it?” he asked, rolling back on his elbows, his legs slightly spread.

It was harder to see him from the floor now that he was reclined back; I noticed his bare feet, and the faded jeans with their ragged hem. My gaze continued upward, between his legs to his blue and green striped T-shirt before encountering his beautiful face. Did I really just think that, beautiful? My breath caught as I got up from the floor and moved to the chair, hoping he wouldn’t notice that my face was flush.

“Most of the time,” I answered.

I straddled it backwards, facing him. He watched me move and I found it exciting, the way he looked at me. I could envision touching him.

“My parents are thinking of moving, and if they do, that’s where I’d go,” he said.

“Really? Bret Harte? Why do they want to move? Didn’t they just get finished adding the family room?” I asked a bit surprised.

“My dad always has a project going, and once he finishes it, he starts looking for another one. Now that the family room is done, he wants to build a whole house. He keeps looking at lots in a new subdivision in Almaden. Something about a rock. You heard of it?”

“Yes, it’s nice. It’s up the hill from our house,” I said.

I put my hands on the back of the chair and arched my back, stretching. I was feeling the effects of being on my feet all day. He watched me, and a smile passed across his lips. The smile, or maybe his lips, unnerved me and I quickly stopped stretching.

“This house is good enough,” he said. “Besides I have my friends here, I don’t want to move.”

“Yeah, I guess that would sort of suck,” I said, thinking of my friends at school and on our street.

Mathew got up from his bed and picked up the guitar.

“You want the chair back?” I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, sitting back on the end of the bed.

He started to pick again, and I relaxed, enjoying watching him play. I hadn’t spent this much time talking to any boy except Pat; I couldn’t wait to tell Gayle about him. I knew she would die when I told her about my feelings, well some of them. Just as I was getting comfortable in my skin around him, Ann and my mom appeared in the doorway.

“Hey, Morgan, it’s time to go,” my mom said.

My heart sank, now I was the one who wanted to stay, keep this good-looking boy captive, and listen to him play.

“Mathew, remember Mrs. Mallory?” Ann asked.

“Oh, please, call me Patty,” my mom said, and they both laughed.

I rolled my eyes; now she wanted to go by Patty because of Ann’s insistence on using the first name basis. Mathew had stopped playing and watched me get up from the chair. Again he was checking me out and in a strange way it made me feel special.

“You’re tall,” he said.

I walked to the door, aware his eyes were still on me, and turned around. He got a lazy grin on his face, which clutched at my heart.

“Nice meeting you,” I said.

Mathew stood up.

“See you around, Morgan.”

He said my name like a musical note and I couldn’t help but stare at him.

“It’s a family name by the way,” I said.

“What is?” he asked.

“Morgan. It’s from my dad’s side,” I answered.

I followed Ann and my mom down the hall as the guitar playing resumed. I noticed that the rain had stopped when Ann opened the front door, Brad stepping up next to her.

“Thanks for stopping by,” Ann said.

“Nice to meet you both,” Brad said, his arm draped casually around Ann’s shoulders.

Stepping outside, the night air smelled of pine and rain and I wondered if I would ever smell that again and not remember tonight. I felt sort of lightheaded as I got into the car. Those like feelings Gayle and I spoke of now made perfect sense.

“How did you and Mathew get along?” mom asked.

“Fine, he’s nice,” I answered flatly, trying not to betray my excitement.

“And cute and talented it appears,” she responded.

She shot me a quick glance across the car as she drove. I felt my face get hot and was glad it was dark in the car.

“So, the invitation… Are kids going too?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s a family thing.”

I would be seeing him again and couldn’t wait.

Chapter 6

The following weekend my parents were invited to a barbeque, and I heard that the O’Conner’s would be there. On the drive over, I sat and thought about Mathew while my heart flitted and raced. When I’d told Gayle about him and how I had felt, she thought it was funny. She could envision my physical reaction to him and teased me about it.

“I can’t wait to see him,” I said.

“That’s something I haven’t heard you say very often, or never,” Gayle teased.

“I know.”

I hoped Mathew and I would get a chance to talk some more. When we arrived at the Bensons, it was still light out, and there were a lot of people—adults and kids. Some I knew, some I didn’t. I joined the girls in a game of tag in the backyard. We took off our shoes, and I could feel the cool grass between my toes. I looked around the group and hadn’t seen any of the O’Conner’s. The adults were busy cocktailing and noshing on appetizers while we were off running around, enjoying the freedom of early summer and warmer weather. The yard smelled of freshly cut grass and jasmine.

“Let’s get some lemonade,” Alice Benson suggested.

She was the oldest daughter and about a year ahead of me. Alice’s mom had set up an area on the patio with snacks and drinks for the kids.

“Time to light the barbie,” Mr. Benson said to no one in particular as he came onto the back patio.

Alice took the pitcher and started pouring glasses of lemonade.

“Here, guys,” she said, holding out a glass at a time.

I took one and sat down on the cement steps.

“Look at my feet,” I laughed.

My feet were totally green from the lawn. Everyone started turning their feet up and looking at their own. All our feet were green, green and covered with little clippings of grass.

“Wash those before you go in the house,” Mr. Benson said. “Alice, all of you, I mean it.”

“Okay, Dad, got it,” Alice answered.

I looked through the kitchen window and caught a glimpse of Mathew and three other boys talking inside. We sat and drank the lemonade, which tasted fresh squeezed. Not so sweet, more tart, the way I liked it. The other girls were talking, and I was only half listening as I watched Mathew through the window. I knew two of the boys, but not the other: Alice’s brother Pete, who was younger than Mathew; Glenn was another friend’s son who was Mathew’s age; and, the fourth had to be Bobby, who I’d heard about but not met.

I knew from my mom that Bobby and Mathew were good friends. Bobby was shorter than Mathew and had dark, thick wavy hair and olive skin. I could see them fairly well as the light was on in the house. Damn, Bobby was cute too. He and Mathew together were enough to make any girl look. I pictured Mathew reclined on his bed the day we’d gone by their house, and I felt a tingling sensation between my legs. It wasn’t the first time thoughts of Mathew could make me feel that. Alice’s mom came to the back door.

“Hey, girls, time to wash up for dinner.”

“Come on, let’s get the feet,” Alice said, dragging out the garden hose.

The sun was disappearing, and it was getting cold now that we weren’t running around. I was ready to go in. I grabbed my socks and Keds and put them back on. I would wash my feet later. When I came through the door, Mathew was still in the kitchen, his back to me. Bobby was facing me. He looked me in the eye and said something to Mathew. I looked away, pretending not to notice. When I looked back in their direction, Mathew was staring at me, and our eyes met. I smiled and he gave me the hey gesture with a raise of his chin. He turned back to Bobby and seemingly reported who I was.

“Get a plate, get some food,” Alice’s mother said, pushing everyone to get going.

I didn’t get a chance to meet Bobby or say anything to Mathew until dinner was cleared and dessert was over. We had jammed into the family room with plates on our laps to watch nothing that any of us could agree on. The younger kids won out and Flipper was on, and I watched the dolphin skip across the water ‘hehe, he, he-he’. It wasn't until I went to the kitchen to throw my plate in the trash that Mathew introduced Bobby to me.

“Hi. I think I was playing tag with one of your sisters,” I said before grimacing inside what a lame thing to say.

“Actually two of them,” he said.

He was handsome with beautiful brown eyes. When I looked at Mathew, he smiled slowly at me. Could he read my thoughts? I looked quickly back at Bobby.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

I could feel Mathew’s eyes on me, could imagine the look in them from in his room when he’d checked me out. I wanted to hang with them, but didn’t know how I could do that. It was like it was expected that I hang with the girls.

“What are you guys up to?” I asked, desperately hoping they would include me.

“Not Flipper that’s for sure,” Mathew said.

I kept my eyes on Bobby knowing the physical reactions Mathew could cause.

“Ah, we’ll find something to do,” he said.

I waited for them to ask me to come, but they didn’t and I felt a deep disappointment.

“Guess I’ll put up with Flipper,” I said.

I turned away and went back into the family room. I couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing. I didn’t get a chance to talk with either of them again that night.

The next few weeks went by quickly with school coming to an end, projects due, and testing. My weekends were spent with my friends on the block, adventures down to the creek, us girls talking about boys. I didn’t have much firsthand experience with boys. Even Gayle had ventured farther than me. What I did have was the desire to, a bad desire. I thought about Mathew a lot, even when I tried not to. I pictured myself kissing him, feeling his skin, putting my hands in his hair. He was the first boy I had felt these kinds of feelings for, anything with him somehow wouldn’t be gross. I kept it to myself.

My family got invited to the O’Conner’s house for dinner prior to school ending. For days I felt the highs and lows in my stomach, my emotions ran the gamut from sheer joy to sheer panic. I tried on clothes for Gayle to have her help me decide what to wear. In the end I picked a pair of jeans that made my butt look good, and a top that accentuated my boobs. I felt silly over thinking Mathew’s reaction to me, wondering if his curiousness was all in my head.

When the night came I pulled on my flared bell-bottom jeans and the pink peasant blouse. I put on makeup and large silver hoop earrings and then admired myself in the mirror. I looked cute; he’d have to notice. I finished with lip-gloss and a dab of perfume. Butterflies filled my stomach in anticipation of seeing him. I hoped he would play his guitar for me, alone in his room, like the first time I met him.

I had conversations in my head about what we would talk about. Wanting him to get to know me, be interested in me, and what I thought, attracted to me. When we arrived at the O’Conner’s, Mathew did not seem to be around, and I was too shy to ask about his whereabouts, and it seemed no one was offering. Pat, Sara, Sam, and I played tag until dark out in their yard. When Ann called us in for dinner, I still hadn’t seen Mathew.

“Where’s Mathew?” mom finally asked.

Thank you I said to myself and waited for Ann to answer.

“He’s at a friend’s playing guitar. They’ve formed a sort of band, I understand.”

“Oh,” mom said.

“It’s cute,” Ann said. “He’s the leader of the band. He enjoys it. Keeps him busy, I guess.”

I could feel my disappointment smash all the butterflies. My sense of wonder and joy about being at the O’Conner’s vanished. After dinner we all helped clear the table, the adults got an after-dinner drink and turned on a movie. It was a sad movie and now all I wanted to do was go home. Mathew showed up towards the end. Seeing we were watching a movie, he waved hello and headed to the kitchen. I could hear him get into the refrigerator, then dishes and glasses clinking. I wanted to go out and see him, talk to him, but I thought it would appear strange. When the movie was over, Mathew had disappeared.

We were sitting cross-legged, Indian style, on the platform in the oak tree when Gayle asked me how dinner with Mathew had gone. I snorted and stubbed out the cigarette we had shared.

“Dinner was good. Not seeing Mathew was bad.”

“I thought you went to his house?” Gayle questioned.

“We did, but he wasn’t home. I was so, so bummed.”

“Shoot, you were looking forward to seeing him.”

“I know, and instead I got to play tag with his brother and sister and watch a movie with his parents,” I complained.

Gayle laughed, it was low and slow.

“No shit?”

“Yeah, no shit,” I answered with a scowl.

“Where was he?”

“Playing guitar somewhere else,” I said perturbed.

I picked at the filter of the cigarette pulling the fibers apart and throwing them over the edge of the platform.

“He knew you were coming, right?”

“I would think,” I said sarcastically.

The thought sort of jabbed at my heart, that he knew I was coming, but went out anyways. Gayle had posed the question I didn’t want to consider.

“When he came home, we were all watching a movie. He poked his head in, waved, then disappeared. I wanted to follow him so bad, but I would have looked like an idiot leaving mid-movie. Like I was chasing him, when I hardly know him. Man, he is so cute,” I said and sighed.

“I think you have a crush on him, girl,” she said, pushing my arm, causing me to fall to the side.

“No, I don’t think so,” I said, falsely protesting.

“Oh yeah, oh yeah,” she taunted.

I wondered if this is what a crush felt like, it had to be. He was in my thoughts constantly.

“What about Alex?” I said, trying to give her grief back.

“Nothing there. He’s okay, but I don’t have it for him. That one night was sort of a freak thing, too much Boone's Farm.”

I laughed. Gayle shifted and stretched her legs straight out in front of her.

“Get your mom to have the O’Conner’s over so I can meet this Mathew,” she said.

“I need to be seeing him first. A whole lot more of him,” I pouted.

“Okay, be honest, you want to kiss him, right?”

I didn’t answer her. Gayle slapped her thigh and let out a partial squeal.

“Oh, Morgan, finally one that’s really got your attention,” she laughed.

“Shut up. There are a few who’ve got my attention,” I said, giving her a challenging look.

“Who else? Name 'em!” she shot back.

I thought about it for a minute.

“Bobby,” I said.

“Bobby who?” she asked surprised.

“A friend of Mathew’s,” I answered.

“Bullshit. You’re not a very good liar, you know.”

“I’m not lying. Let’s go,” I chuckled, uncrossing my legs and standing before turning and starting down the tree.

“So, do you want to kiss Bobby too?” she asked, coming down after me.

“No, only Mathew for now,” I said, jumping to the ground at the bottom.

I waited for Gayle to do the same. She gave me a grin, her knowing kind of look, as to my real feelings. I’d told her some, but not all. How could I think about kissing him, I hardly knew him.

“Here,” she said, holding out a small canister of spray mouth freshener to me.

I took it and sprayed two squirts into my mouth.

“Don’t talk about it with anyone,” I said as we made our way to the creek. “I mean, any of the kids on the block.”

I jumped over the creek, and when I landed on the other side, I slipped on the bank and my shoe went into the water.

“Damn it,” I shouted, seeing my tennis shoe covered with black mud and moss.

Gayle started to laugh which made me laugh despite my yucky shoe.

“I won’t. I mean, I won’t say anything to anyone. Doesn’t matter anyway, no one knows him.”

“I know. Don’t need shit from anyone though, including you,” I answered.

Chapter 7

School ended the first part of June, and we were finally going to the picnic that Ann invited us to. I knew that we were doing a Jeep tour, having a picnic, and that the O’Conner’s would be there. The O’Conner part was all that mattered to me. I wanted to see Mathew.

The ranch was seventy-six acres off Old Almaden Road in San Jose, and it was beautiful. We pulled through the gate, and I could see the rolling hills covered in golden grass, waving slightly in the breeze, catching the light. Clumps of wildflowers and bright yellow mustard patches; huge, gnarled oak trees; made it look like one gigantic moving quilt. Jeeps were parked in the road and people were milling around talking. I caught myself looking for Mathew in the group. When I didn’t see him, my heart sank. Maybe he didn’t come.

“Grab something,” mom said, as we got out of the car.

I picked up the bag with paper products, plates, napkins, etc., in it.

“Yeah, leave the soda for me,” Pat complained.

“Shush,” mom said, grabbing the beer.

As we approached the group, my breath caught when I saw Mathew and Bobby running out of the barn and up to us.

“Hey, Morgan,” Mathew said breathlessly.

“Hey,” I answered, feeling relieved

The butterflies rose up in my stomach and did cartwheels.

“Hi,” Bobby said, lifting his hand.

“You boys grab this,” mom said.

She handed Mathew a six-pack of Coors and Bobby a bottle of white wine. The boys stood there waiting for more to carry or for further instruction.

“You can put it in one of the Jeeps,” she continued.

“Sure, Mrs.—” Mathew started.

“Ah…” she cut in.

“I mean, Patty,” he chuckled.

I was surprised she had taken to the first-name basis so quickly. She must have thought Ann was onto something; maybe it was about feeling younger as their children were getting older.

They had already started splitting people into groups to load the four army Jeeps, and Joe called to the three of us—me, Mathew, and Bobby—to climb into the first Jeep in line.

I stepped on the side runner and climbed into the back of the Jeep. Noting the horseshoe-shaped bench in the back bed I chose the back so I was facing forward. Bobby came next and sat next to me; Mathew was last. Mathew could have sat a number of places, but he didn’t; he plopped himself right between Bobby and me.

“Shit, Mathew,” Bobby complained as Mathew partially sat on him.

I wiggled away from Bobby to make room for him. For me there was no reason to complain in fact I couldn’t have been happier.

“Why didn’t you sit there?” Bobby asked, as he motioned to an open spot.

“I wanted to sit here,” Mathew said as he looked me in the eye and gave me a small smile.

His expression sent a shiver through me, and it was hard to pull my eyes from his. I had no idea if he wanted to sit there or didn’t want Bobby sitting next to me. I could feel the heat rush up into my chest, and my heart beat faster. Yeah, Gayle I said to myself I want to kiss him. I want more than that.

Once the Jeeps were loaded, we started off down a dirt road. The further we got, the worse the road was, deep ruts jostling us around. Every time Mathew’s leg or arm touched mine, it felt like he touched me with fire. These feelings were strange, and exciting, at the same time. I’d never understood when people talked about sexual attraction, but now I did. I wondered if Mathew was feeling anything, or just being a goofy boy. It was easy to look at him because we kept jostling into one another. Bobby glanced at me several times, and I hoped it wasn’t obvious to him what was going on inside me. With Mathew sitting next to me, I didn’t want the drive to end. When the Jeeps came to a stop, he put his hand on my leg, pushing himself up.

“We’re here,” he said, jumping down from the Jeep with Bobby right behind him.

I was disappointed; I was going to be left behind again. Everyone starting pulling things from the Jeeps, tables were set up, blankets spread, coolers with food and drinks unloaded. The kids were splitting up into various groups and moving in different directions to explore. Sara was helping to spread one of the blankets out with a group of the girls, talking, and I started to head that direction. I noticed Mathew and Bobby working their way toward a creek I could see in the distance. As I watched them walk away, Mathew suddenly turned. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and he motioned for me to come.

I hesitated and looked over at the group of girls who were laughing, then back at Mathew, who motioned more forcefully, waving his arm for me to follow. I felt confused. Did he want me to come or was he just testing, teasing me? I didn’t want to be teased if that was the intent. I knew all too well from the boys on the block how mean they could be. How they would do things to make me look or feel stupid. I wanted to follow, but instead I stood riveted, staring at him. I watched as he walked back to me. He gripped my arm gently.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, pulling me after him.

I let him lead me, and after a minute, he dropped my arm.

“Don’t be such a girl,” he said, as we caught back up to Bobby and walked towards the creek.

“Cool ride,” Mathew said.

“I wish we could drive the Jeeps,” Bobby said.

“Yeah, that would be awesome. You ever driven, Morgan?” Mathew asked.

“Yeah, my grandfather lets me drive on his ranch in Rumsey. It’s up past San Francisco somewhere,” I answered.

“No way,” he said. “I can’t wait to drive. Does he let you drive alone?”

“No, he’s in the car,” I answered, finding his question silly.

“I mean, not on his lap or between his legs?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, he’s on the passenger side. I do the steering and the pedals.”

“That is so cool he lets you do that,” Mathew said.

“He lets both Pat and me when our parents aren’t around. I think he thinks it’s funny. He has some pretty crazy stories of growing up. I don’t know, maybe he wants to give us a few of our own.”

I wanted to get off that subject because they thought it was so cool and I felt like it wasn’t a big deal. I could hear the creek babbling, as we got closer. When we got to it, I realized this creek moved faster than ours and was wider. I wondered how much colder it was than ours and realized I'd soon find out when Mathew sat down and started taking off his shoes and socks. Bobby bent down to touch the water and gave an exaggerated shiver.

“Chilly,” he said before he sat down and followed Mathew.

“Come on in, guys, it’s not that cold,” Mathew said, wading into the creek.

I stood on the bank, watching them splash around and decided that if I wanted to spend time with Mathew, I'd better get my shoes off too. As I stepped in, Mathew kicked water towards me.

“Ah,” I shouted as the cold water hit my legs and side.

Mathew laughed and kicked a smaller amount making sure it got close, but not on me.

“Mathew, don’t,” I begged, looking down at my now-wet side. “I don’t want to be all wet.”

“Okay, no more splashing, let’s explore,” he said as he headed up the creek.

The rocks were a bit slippery, so I cautiously followed the boys. There were some patches of cattails, so when I noticed a few pollywogs, I immediately started looking for frogs. I was sort of lagging behind, thinking about my own creek and the games we played, while the boys splashed up ahead. It didn’t take me long to find a little frog, and I picked it up.

“Hey, look what I found,” I yelled at them.

Mathew and Bobby turned around and came back.

“Cool, look at that,” Mathew said, reaching to touch the frog that I had cupped in my hand.

“You like frogs?” Mathew asked, surprised.

He was gentle when he stroked the little guy and his fingers couldn’t help but touch my hand in doing so.

“Yeah, we have a creek at the end of our street, and they're all over the place, even bullfrogs.”

“I don’t know many girls who like frogs,” Bobby said.

“You know one now,” I said proudly.

“They give you warts, you know,” Mathew said, running the fingers he’d touched the frog with lightly down my arm, making me shiver. I hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“They do not. That’s an old wives' tale,” I said, putting the frog gently back in the creek. “If they did, I would have warts all over.”

“All over?” Mathew asked slowly, raising an eyebrow.

I didn’t answer him. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but the way he said it made me think like naked all over. When I stood up from letting the frog go, he gave me a shy sort of sexy grin.

“Kidding, Morgan, I get it, you don’t get warts.”

I put my hand into the water and we watched as the frog swam with the current down the creek.

“Follow the leader,” Mathew said.

He started out, making a path by jumping from rock to rock. As we swapped being leader, each of us continued to make it increasingly harder for the others. Longer jumps, the distances becoming more difficult, and we would laugh when one of us ended up in the creek.

“I’m gonna dry out here for a minute,” Mathew said, sitting down on the bank.

I sat down next to him. Bobby sat down on the other side of me, picking up a stick and rolling rocks into a pile in the creek, forming a dam.

“So what’s up for your summer, Morgan?” Mathew asked.

“Hanging out, I guess,” I shrugged.

“Who do you hang out with, friends from school?”

“More with the friends from my street,” I answered.

“From your street?” Mathew questioned.

“There are a lot of kids who live on our street. My best friend Gayle lives right across from me. How about you?”

I wanted to keep him talking, getting to know him.

“Hang with friends, play with the band. A family trip to Oregon. Maybe even hang with Bobby some at the beach,” Mathew answered.

Bobby hadn’t said much. We both looked over to him when Mathew said that. He’d built quite a nice dam that was now diverting water around it.

“Right, Bobby?”

“What? I wasn’t listening,” Bobby answered.

Bullshit I thought he was listening. I could feel his resentment. He obviously didn’t want me palling around with the two of them. Mathew, on the other hand, seemed glad to have me there and ignored his comment.

“You have pretty hands,” Mathew said, taking my hand in his.

It was like a bolt of lightning shot through me. Stunned, I looked down at my hand and then at Mathew. As I looked up into his eyes, Bobby burst out laughing. I turned toward the sound in time to see him roll onto his back in hysterics.

“Mathew, you are so corny,” he laughed.

I looked back at Mathew, and he smiled. I wasn’t sure if I was the brunt of the joke or what. I felt myself blush and I turned away. I hoped he was serious and not just being corny.

“Guys, lunch,” Sara called as she ran up to us.

Mathew dropped my hand.

“We’ve been looking for you.”

“We’ve been looking for you,” Mathew mimicked back at her.

“Shut up, shit head,” she said, turning her back to him, which sent Bobby into another round of laughter.

We walked back to where we had left our shoes and dried off our feet as much as possible before putting them back on. Then we walked across the dried grass to where everyone else was and grabbed up paper plates. Lunch was a spread of all kinds of salads and sandwiches.

“I’m starving,” Mathew said, loading potato salad onto his plate.

I realized I was too. The sight of all the food made my mouth water. There was so much to chose from it was hard to get everything on the plate. After we loaded up, we found a blanket and sat down. My feet still felt cold and wet, so I put down my plate to pull off my shoes again. It seemed that Mathew had the same idea.

“Uh,” Mathew said as he tugged at his shoe, falling backwards into my lap, almost landing in my plate.

“Hey,” I said, moving my plate further to the side.

“Oh, sorry about that,” he said as he put his hand on my leg, pushing himself upright.

The fact that he’d chosen my leg to push himself up, rather than the blanket, sort of surprised me.

“It’s okay,” I answered as he laughed.

“Whatever,” Bobby said under his breath, rolling his eyes.

I was pretty sure he had rolled into me intentionally, a playful maneuver in order to touch me. I felt the butterflies inside; I liked his touch. Bobby’s comment made me even surer it was no accident. We ate our lunch and talked about summer plans with friends and family. Other girls joined us and more conversation and laughter ensued. Some of the girls were teasing each other about boyfriends. I was enjoying my proximity to Mathew and the warmth of the sun when we were called to reload to head back to the ranch house.

“All you kids get in this Jeep so I can take a picture,” Ann said.

There was laughter and pushing as we piled in. I squished in right close to Mathew. He smiled as our arms touched each other. I had the urge to hold his hand. Once Ann got the picture, we spilled out back onto the grass, and I got separated from Mathew. I was deeply disappointed to find myself in a Jeep behind the one Mathew and Bobby ended up in. I could see his blond hair shining in the sunlight. He tossed his head back as he and Bobby laughed. No doubt Bobby was relieved to have me gone.

I wondered if Mathew had felt anything when he touched me, anything like I felt. I smiled about the driving conversation and the frog. Two things they were impressed with, and hadn’t guessed about me. I tried to concentrate on enjoying the beauty of the ranch, the rolling hills, the mustard fields, the oak trees, and the clear blue sky, trying to push Mathew out of my head. I couldn’t help but catch glimpses of the Jeep ahead and the back of Mathew’s head wishing I were seated next to him rather then Bobby.

When we got back to the ranch house, everyone seemed to scatter. I watched as he and Bobby, along with several other kids, headed toward the barn where there was a rope swing, and I watched as they all took turns. Several of the girls shrieked as they swung out. I could hear my parents talking and saying their goodbyes behind me. I turned around and walked toward them.

“Thank you,” I said to the Brenner’s who were standing next to them. “It was a super fun day.”

“You’re so welcome. It was fun,” Mrs. Brenner said.

“We’ll have to get together more often,” Ann said.

After several other goodbyes, I headed towards the car. I could see Pat was already there in the back seat with the door open. I rested my arms on the top of the door and looked back in the direction of the barn where the rope swing was still moving, but everyone was gone.

“Morgan,” I heard Mathew call out behind me.

I turned around as he ran up to me.

“Hey, it was fun hanging with you today. You’re not such a girl after all,” he hesitated. “I mean in a good way.”

I wanted to reach out and touch him. The butterflies were flittering into a tight mass low in my belly.

“Thanks, I guess,” I said shyly.

“See you around,” he said, slapping me lightly on the shoulder.

I looked into his blue eyes. Yeah, see ya.

Chapter 8

“So?” Gayle asked.

We were sitting in my room, listening to records. The Partridge Family was playing; David Cassidy had just finished “I Think I Love You”, and I was daydreaming. I had been watching their TV show and buying their records since they first came on in 1970. I'd had such a crush on David Cassidy, for years. Now I was thinking about Mathew. Him taking my hand by the creek, how his touch raced through me. The feeling was earth shattering for me, a definite reaction to his touch. No other boy had made me feel that.

“What?” I asked, not sure what she was referring to.

“You know what? Tell me about the picnic. You were so excited to go, but haven’t said anything about it. I assume Mathew was there?”

I smiled and Gayle narrowed her eyes at me.

“I haven’t even met him, and you are over the top.”

“I’m not,” I laughed.

“Are too,” she said.

“I definitely like him, I mean as a friend,” I corrected.

I’d pictured him kissing me, almost could feel his lips on mine at times.

“Oh, bullshit as a friend. I knew it!” she said, doing a little cheerleading rah- rah with her hands.

“You want to kiss him,” she taunted. “You want to kiss him, don’t you, Morgan?”

“Fuck off. I hate it when you turn out to be right.”

I told her about the picnic and what happened with Mathew.

“Sounds like he likes you too,” Gayle said.

“You think that’s what his actions mean?”

“Morgan, he squeezed between you and Bobby in the Jeep, he asked you to go to the creek, he said you had pretty hands, and I agree with Bobby, that was so lame,” she laughed.

Gayle had a great laugh: it was deep and real. I waited for her to go on. I was hoping what she was saying was true, that he liked me, that I wasn’t reading the signs incorrectly.

“He sat with you at lunch, after he ‘accidentally’ fell into your lap, then he sought you out to say good bye. Yeah, I think he likes you.”

Wouldn’t that be grand. I also knew us being more than friends wasn’t practical.

“Gayle, he goes to another school. I will only get to see him occasionally. I don’t think there is much hope in that one,” I said.

It bummed me out that what I was saying was true. It wasn’t like he lived around the corner either, in order for us to be together ever, it would be when our parents got together.

“Let get some booze together for the weekend,” I said. “Catch a buzz.”

“You get it. Your parents have more liquor than mine, and they get into it more. I don’t think they're as likely to notice it missing.”

“Probably not, let’s plan on Friday night at the creek. Ditch the other kids.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gayle said.

My mom and Ann were becoming good friends. With my dad gone so much, we went over to the O’Conner’s often. Sometimes it would be a short visit, Ann and mom sharing a drink or two, and sometimes it would be for an entire evening: more drinks and often including dinner. No matter what, I always hoped Mathew would be around. When he wasn’t, I felt let down. Sara, Pat, Sam, Mathew, and I would play tag, kick ball, or tether ball in the O’Conner’s backyard, and every now and then, Mathew and I would make physical contact. Some of it I was sure was planned and some the nature of the games. The best was when Mathew and I would go to his room or the garage, and he would play his guitar.

“Let’s go to my room and not tell them,” Mathew whispered in my ear.

We were playing hide-and-seek outside in the dark, and Mathew had pulled me with him into a cramped space behind the pines and juniper.

“Okay,” I answered quietly.

I desperately wanted out of there. I could imagine the spiders and bugs that were in those bushes. The only reason I stayed was that I was cramped in that small space up against him. I had my chest to his back and as I pushed into him more then I needed to I could feel his heart beat. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, but I figured he would find it weird.

“You ready?” he whispered.

“Following you,” I replied.

It surprised me when he took my hand, leading me along the fence behind the bushes, pausing several times to listen. I gripped his hand tight in mine, not wanting him to let go as we crept to the side yard and into the garage.

“You can let go of my hand now,” he said quietly, looking at me.

“Oh,” I said, feeling silly.

I let his hand drop and realized that I had been holding on too tight.

“Nothing like a good vise grip,” he whispered, shaking his hand.

He reached for the back door knob, then turned to me and put his fingers to his lips. I followed him silently into the house and up the stairs into his room. I could hear the adults downstairs talking and laughing, my dad no doubt telling dirty jokes. He constantly seemed to pick up new ones on the road.

“I wonder how long they'll look for us?” he chuckled.

“It’s kind of mean.”

“I know,” he said, closing his door softly. “Can’t turn on the lights yet, they’ll see it.”

I didn’t respond. The glow from the streetlight outside his window spilled a soft yellow light into the room. The room smelled like him. I wasn’t sure if it was the soap he used or if he used cologne, but it smelled nice, almost lemon, vanilla, but not. I breathed it in. He hastily swept clothes that were on his bed off to the floor and then straightened the unmade covers on the bed. He flopped down on it and chuckled again while I stood looking at him in the soft light.

“Morgan, Mathew, where are you?”

We could hear the three of them calling from outside.

“Come out now,” Sara shouted.

Mathew smiled at me.

“Sit down,” he said, patting the spot next to him on the bed.

I walked over and sat down where he had indicated, feeling a bit uncertain, but excited to be near him. We sat in silence in the dark and listened to them hunt for us. I could tell Sara was pissed off and knew Mathew was hiding from them.

“Let’s tell them,” I said.

“No way,” Mathew said as he moved behind me. “Let 'em hunt.”

“Morgan,” I heard Pat yell, closer to the house this time.

I felt him put his hand gently on my head, then he slid his fingers into my hair. Shocked, I straightened my back, sitting completely upright even as I shivered, feeling my heart beat in my throat, waves of hot flushing in and out.

“Your hair is so cool, I like it,” he said again, running his fingers through it slowly.

Between my legs tingled as he slid his hand down to my shoulder and down my arm, coming to rest on my hip. I felt tight all over. I could hardly breath with want as I waited for him to move it, but he didn’t. The silence, the darkness, his touch; I didn’t dare break the moment. I heard the front door open and then voices. They had given up and come inside, they would find us, and the moment would vanish.

“Where are Mathew and Morgan?” I heard Ann ask.

“Hiding from us,” Sara answered quickly.

We could hear them running up the stairs. Muttering under his breath, Mathew removed his hand and quickly rolled off the bed, switching on the light. He moved to grab his guitar, pulling out the desk chair at the same time. He plopped himself down, ready to play. He did it all so seamlessly and easy while all I could do was sit there, angry and frustrated as we waited for the fury. When the door flew open and the three of them stood there, arms crossed across their chests, Mathew started plucking on his guitar.

“You guys suck,” Sam said.

“Totally suck,” Sara said.

“Yeah, we’ve been out there looking for you,” Pat said, a bit hurt.

He was so non-confrontational, I felt bad for him.

“That’s the funniest part,” Mathew laughed.

“Assholes,” Sam said, slamming the door.

Mathew laughed as we listened to them tramp down the hall. I hadn’t moved from my spot on the bed, still flush from his touch. Mathew rotated the chair slightly so that he had his back now to the door and was facing me. I watched as he plucked, placed his fingers on the strings, and then tuned. He picked at various chords, and then started to play. I watched his hands. One of the hands I had held in the backyard, one of the hands that had touched me. They glided almost sensuously, easily across the guitar and its strings.

When he got into the music, he didn’t seem aware of much else. As he played, I finally loosened back up and folded my legs, crossing them, getting more comfortable on his bed. His bed. I fantasized about him kissing me here, touching me. Gayle and I talked about sex. We knew the basics and Keri had filled in a lot of the rest for me. I wondered if he ever thought about kissing me. I was thinking about what it would feel like to kiss him when I realized he’d stopped playing. I looked up at him, feeling naked.

“Where were you?” he asked.

I felt the emotion fill my chest, my face feeling hot. The tingling I’d felt between my legs was now a dull ache.

“Nowhere,” I answered, looking away, pushing my feelings down.

“You looked like you were thinking about something serious,” he said.

“Nope, nothing serious. Maybe feeling bad about hiding. Keep playing.”

He mixed it up, but his favorite was the rock-and-roll stuff. Some of it I recognized from the radio, some I didn’t. He would sing now and then, but mostly he played. His fingers moved so knowingly over the strings. When he played, his hair would flop forward over his face, and he would move with the music. When he was so wrapped up in his music, I could observe him closely. I watched his expression change with the chords and the song. Goddamn, he was good-looking. Somehow he seemed older than me, so comfortable with himself. He interrupted my thoughts again when he set the guitar down. I hadn’t even heard the music stop. I was looking at his lips and quickly shifted my focus to his eyes.

“There’s that look again,” he said.

He was putting me on the spot and my thoughts had been going places I didn’t dare discuss.

“What look?” I asked.

“I said serious before but that’s not it, somewhere else maybe.”

“Enjoying the music, you’re playing, that’s all,” I said.

“Do you have anyone you like at school?” he asked. “A guy, I mean.”

The question was awkward. I hesitated, trying to figure out his reason for asking. As of yet we hadn’t discussed very much about the girl, guy thing, certainly nothing about any connection between us.

“School’s out,” I finally answered.

“Duh, you know what I mean, when you are in school.”

“I don’t know,” I paused, thinking. “Not really. I have a lot of guy friends.”

I thought about some of the boys in my class, and they all seemed immature compared to him. Mathew could be immature too, but most of the time when we were alone together he wasn’t.

“When the guys and I get together and play, we have girls who come and hang out. Some are pretty cute. Some bring stuff.”

I pictured him playing and beautiful girls sitting, watching him as I did. I felt my lips tighten at each side, I was jealous. What stuff did he mean?

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, feeling slighted.

“I don’t know, just thought about it. We played last night over in Sean’s garage, and some new girls came by. One girl brought beer. So me and the boys had some drinks with the girls.”

I could tell he was feeling proud of himself. Maybe trying to make me feel like he was hot stuff, which I already did.

“I’m happy for you,” came out more sarcastically then I intended.

Mathew cocked his head and laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he said as he picked up his guitar and resumed playing.

When he next put down his guitar, he surprised me by getting up and moving toward me. As I watched him get closer, he gave me a knowing smile. Knowing what? My thoughts? That’s what it felt like. I took a slow breath in as he dropped down next to me on the bed. The bed bounced, and I had to put my hands down to keep from falling over.

“You like it when I play?” he asked, running two fingers down my bare arm.

“I do,” I answered, not looking directly at him, afraid of my feelings.

“Why?” he asked, turning my face to look at him.

I jerked my head back away from his touch, which made him grin.

“Why do you ask?” What did he want from me?

“I don’t know. Just wonder what goes on in that head of yours,” he paused.

I wondered why it mattered. He was getting more bold in things he asked me, maybe more comfortable.

“When you look like you're someplace else, where is that?” he asked.

“Didn’t think you paid that much attention,” I said, surprised.

My heart raced, and I could feel a throbbing in my throat. I could only hope what was happening inside was not openly obvious on my face. The nearness of him seemed to create emotions inside I couldn’t control. One minute I’d be fine and the next going to mush. I could no more tell him about my someplace else than fly; my thoughts were all about him.

“Morgan,” he said, lifting my chin to look at him. “Are you okay?”

He seemed genuinely concerned as I struggled to contain my emotions.

“Of course, I’m okay,” I laughed, pulling away from him.

I wondered what made him ask: my startled look or the lack of color in my face. I felt as if the blood had drained right out and raced to my heart.

“I think I’ll head downstairs,” I said, uncrossing my legs.

I was worried he’d realize how I felt about him and that he wouldn’t feel the same or think my feelings were stupid. He put his hand on my thigh and gave it a squeeze. I was having sensory overload: I could smell him, feel the heat of him. I looked toward the door and slowly got up. His hand dropped from my leg. Breathe, Morgan I told myself breathe. When I reached the door, I pulled it open and turned around. He sat where I had left him, hands on the bed, watching me. He tilted his head to one side, his gaze still questioning. I drew in my breath to slow down my thoughts. He was waiting, wanting an answer. To what? I couldn’t remember.

“You didn’t really answer my question,” he said.

“I said I’m okay.”

“Not that one. Why do you like watching me play?” he asked again, smiling

Now I remembered.

“Because I think you’re good,” I answered.

“Thanks,” he said, obviously pleased with my answer.

He lifted his hands and pushed back his hair.

“Really good,” I said, exiting quickly, shutting the door behind me.

I felt like I had barely escaped without all my feelings and thoughts spilling out somehow; beyond my control.

Chapter 9

In early July, my parents let Pat and I know that we would be joining several families in Rio Del Mar in Santa Cruz for a week on the beach in August. Seven families to be exact. In various accommodations along the beach. My mom had told us we'd be staying with the Powers in a house right on the beach.

We had done several camping trips with the Powers. Our families got along well and we enjoyed similar things. Their girls were a little younger than Pat and I, but not much.

“I think you'll have fun, there'll be lots of kids coming, much of the usual group. The O’Conner’s included,” she finished, giving me a look.

I hadn’t confided my feelings to anyone about Mathew except Gayle, but my mom could tell I liked being around him. That Saturday we were due at Bobby’s house for dinner for the adults to finalize plans for the trip. The weather was warm, and I knew all the kids would be hanging outside. When we arrived, Mathew and Bobby were off riding bikes, and I settled in with the rest of the gang on the front lawn. Around dusk, Mathew and Bobby rode up. As they got off their bikes, I walked over to where they were.

“Hi, guys,” I said, excited to see them, “where have you been?”

They both looked at each other and snickered. I suddenly wished that I hadn’t left the group to greet them. I pushed my fingers into my jean pockets. I looked at Mathew; his lack of expression surprised me. I could tell this was different, different than the last time the three of us were together. Entirely different, from the night I had left Mathew’s room. I wasn’t sure what had happened. Maybe Bobby made it clear at his house I wasn’t to be included.

I thought Mathew and I had grown to be good friends. I felt foolish standing there, my stomach tightened into a knot. I glanced back to the circle of kids on the lawn wanting to retreat. I was mad at him and then mad at myself for caring.

“We’re going up to Bobby’s room,” Mathew answered finally.

I looked back at the two of them, hearing his voice. They got off their bikes, walked them across the driveway, and leaned them up against the garage door. Mathew looked in my direction as they walked to the house. I kept a straight face and turned away from him in the direction of the group. I swallowed hard and could feel my mouth get hot and bitter. I walked back to the group on the grass and sat down.

“They can be jerks when they're together,” Sara whispered to me.

Sara, small and petite, her strawberry blonde hair blowing in the breeze, looked at me with those big blue eyes that reminded me of Mathew’s.

“Don’t take it personally,” she said.

I could tell she knew I was hurt. I did take it personally, but I smiled anyway to try and hide it.

“No big deal, they wanted to be alone, I guess.”

I found myself trying to rationalize his behavior. Okay, so boys could be jerks, I knew that. So why did it feel like a big deal? I thought he was different, that’s why. I thought he wasn’t like the other boys, but he was. I listened to the other kids talk while my hurt turned to anger.

When dinner was ready, we had the option of taking our plates out in the backyard or to the family room; the adults were headed to the dining room where Bobby’s mom was filling wine glasses on the table. I hung back until Mathew and Bobby got their plates and headed to the backyard. Good, I'd eat in the family room; it would be far enough away. I felt ignored by Mathew, like here at Bobby’s I wasn’t welcome to hang with them. Sara sat next to me while we ate, as if she was silently trying to be supportive. Some show I hadn’t seen before was playing on TV; no one was talking.

“Can I get your plate?” she asked, standing up when we’d finished.

“Thanks,” I said, handing her my plate and trash.

She disappeared from the family room and I got up and made my way down the hall, in the other direction, to the bathroom. While I washed my hands I stared at my image in the mirror and wondered why I cared about him at all. He’d never led me to believe he felt anything special towards me. I needed to think of him as only a friend and then I wouldn’t be so hurt. As I came back toward the family room, Mathew came inside from a side door. I moved to my right to avoid his path, but he fell in beside me, bumping into me gently.

“Having trouble walking?” I asked angrily, not looking at him.

“Ahh, bad mood, I’m guessing?” he said.

“Not at all,” I replied.

I stopped and faced him. I searched his face, his eyes. If he felt bad, I didn’t see it, and I flashed him a smile.

“Nothing to be in a bad mood about,” I said flippantly and turned to go.

He got purposely in my way. I crossed my arms in front of me and waited, my anger was back. I didn’t understand his behavior, but maybe I was making too much out of it. He didn’t say anything and I frowned at him.

“Mathew, get back to Bobby, he’ll be worried about you,” I said sarcastically.

I pushed him to one side and went around him. He didn’t try to stop me. When I got back to the family room, Sara was back. I sat trying to focus on the TV program and couldn’t. The anger blended into frustration, he definitely confused me. It seemed that when we went to the O’Conner’s, Mathew seemed glad to have me around. We had fun together and were able to talk. When we were in groups, I never knew how he would behave towards me. Sometimes I was included, others I wasn’t. I could understand him not wanting me around all the time, but why make me feel bad.

Tonight I felt like the two of them removed themselves from the group and blatantly excluded me. Stupid boys, who cares I tried to tell myself, but it wasn’t working. Mathew considered Bobby one of his best friends. It didn’t seem to matter that they saw each other less than Mathew and I did. I thought about Gayle. It made sense, didn’t it: guys hang with guys, girls with girls? Why would it be different with Mathew? Just because I wanted it to be? I wanted him to think of me as one of his friends. I realized that as often as I saw Mathew, Bobby won out over me, hands down. They thought they were cool. Unfortunately, we all thought they were too.

“I think you made him up,” Gayle said, referring to Mathew.

“Shut up, you know I haven’t.”

I envisioned his face and felt my heart jump a little.

“How? I’ve yet to meet him. You have no pictures of him. Maybe he’s your imaginary secret friend,” she teased.

She was lying in the grass next to me in my backyard as we looked up at the sky and drew pictures in the clouds.

“It looks like a tree. See the branches there, and the trunk?” I said, pointing to the big puffy cloud above us.

“I see a clown with sad eyes.”

“Not in the tree?”

“No, there. See the face and Bozo-like hair? The sad eyes are there.”

I watched as my tree turned into a clown when you looked at it a different way. I loved these afternoons. We could spend hours trying to get each other to see what we saw in the clouds. It didn't matter how miserable I might feel, this time together was like meditation. Peaceful. Healing my frustration. The grass was starting to make my legs itch, but I didn’t want to move.

“You’ll meet him sooner or later.”

I closed my eyes and saw him throw back his head and laugh.

“Morgan,” my mom called from inside the house.

“Out back,” I shouted.

She opened the back slider.

“Hey, Gayle, how are you?” she asked, noticing Gayle lying next to me.

“Good, Mrs. Mallory, I mean, Patty. You?” Gayle answered, not changing her position.

“Good, thanks for asking.”

I sat up and looked at her. I didn’t know if I’d changed or she had, but we were getting along better these days.

“Morgan, the O’Conner’s are stopping by. They’ve been out to look at the lot again. They won’t stay long, but I asked them to stop by for a drink.”

A drink I thought that could be hours.

“Okay, I’ll be around. I think Pat is next door.”

“It’s probably just Ann and Brad, but stick around in case the kids are with them,” she said, closing the screen.

“Okay,” I replied, lying back down next to Gayle.

“Oh, look there, is that Mathew’s face?” she said pointing to a cloud.

“No, he’s much better looking than that,” I joked.

I hoped Mathew would be with them. Probably not though, he was not excited about the prospect of the lot, or the thought of moving.

“Uh-huh, my chance to meet the fictitious parents,” Gayle prodded.

“Gayle, you can be such a bitch,” I said, pounding my fist into her thigh.

“God damn it, Morgan,” she said, pinching my arm. “That hurt.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and Gayle and I found several more things in the clouds as they moved. It was awhile before we heard a car out front. Doors slammed and then the doorbell rang. I knew it must be the O’Conner’s.

“Come on. Might as well meet them standing up,” I said, pulling at Gayle’s arm.

She let me pull her to standing, and we cut through the living room to the entry.

“Hi, guys,” my mom was at the front door greeting. “Come on in.”

She stepped back opening the door wider for them to come in. I watched amused as the whole O’Conner family walked in. I gave Gayle a cheesy grin.

“My secret friend and his fictitious parents, in the flesh,” I whispered to her.

“You shut up,” she said under her breath.

“This is Morgan’s friend, Gayle. Ann, Brad, Sara, Mathew, and Sam,” mom said, pointing to each one of them as she introduced them.

I wanted to look at Gayle’s expression, but I didn’t dare. I knew what she would think of Mathew.

“Morgan, you might want to show the kids the house,” my mom volunteered.

“Oh, Mom, they probably could care less about seeing the house.”

I was embarrassed she even suggested it. It was even worse then run off and play.

“Go ahead. Go with Morgan,” Ann encouraged.

Ann had been to our house before. I felt goofy about giving a tour. Really?

“Meet ya out back,” Gayle said sarcastically. “I’ve had the tour.”

I shot her a stupid look before I took Sara, Sam, and Mathew on a quick run-through the house and then ended my tour out back. Pat heard us from next door and looked over the fence with the two neighbor boys.

“Sam, Sara, you want to come over and see the frogs we caught,” Pat called out.

“Sure,” Sam said.

Sara was somewhat reluctant, but obviously decided it was better than sitting with us. I knew Sara got super frustrated with Mathew; he teased her and Sam a lot. Sam and Sara climbed over the fence, and they disappeared although we could still hear them talking.

“So how was the lot?” I asked, not sure of what to say.

“It’s fine.”

“Have they made a decision,” I asked, tilting my head toward the house where his parents were.

“If they have, they haven’t told us. My guess is my dad will win out, he usually does,” Mathew said.

“Mathew doesn’t want to move,” I said to Gayle.

“I didn’t either.”

“Did you move recently?” Mathew asked.

“No, I was eight, but still.”

“I would think it’s never easy,” I said, not remembering moving away from our first house, as I was so young.

“Morgan tells me you play a mean guitar,” Gayle said.

I was glad she had brought up something that made him happy, but it was kind of a dorky statement.

“I do okay,” he said, caught off guard.

“He’s good, Gayle.”

Mathew seemed embarrassed which was a first.

“What else she tell you about me?” he asked, smiling at me.

Gayle looked between the two of us.

“Nothing. Why?” she answered too quickly.

“No reason,” he said.

He was teasing her, I was sure. He knew she was my best friend and didn't doubt I had told her more. We sat out back on the grass for about an hour and talked before Ann and Brad were ready to go. The butterflies fluttered inside, and I felt like I’d won a prize in getting Gayle to finally meet him.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” Mathew said as he left. “Nice meeting you, Gayle.”

The two of us watched him walk away and into the house as Sam and Sara scrambled back over the fence.

“So he is real,” she said after they were gone.

“You already knew that,” I said flatly.

“It’s fun giving you shit. Morgan, he’s way cute. No disagreement there.”

“You already knew that too. You know my taste.”

“You’re really picky,” Gayle agreed.

“When you said nothing the way you did, I almost lost it. I think he caught on that obviously I have said more to you than he plays a mean guitar. Mean guitar? Where did you pull that out of, your ass?”

“I don’t know,” she laughed.

“What else should I have said? You tell me. Hmm, you dig him, you want to kiss him, play with his hair?”

“Stop. Of course I wouldn’t want you to say that, 'cause none of it's true,” I said, smiling at her.

Chapter 10

He had finally broken into my other world. I saw Mathew several more times before we were heading to the beach with the group. Every time I was with him, I learned more about him. He was involved in sports especially football, which his dad coached. I picked up that he actually did have some insecurities, none of which he pointed out. They just came out in our conversations. He wanted to play music, get the band going. As much as his dad enjoyed Mathew’s music, he thought it was a dead end as far as a career. Brad made it pretty clear that he thought it was a pipe dream.

There was tension between his mom and dad, which he told me about: arguments about the lot and building, arguments about late nights at the office. When we were alone together, he opened up to me a lot. We became closer. If Mathew knew I had feelings for him, he didn’t let on, and I didn’t say a word. He confused me sometimes with mixed messages, either with things he said or by touching me.

“Are you excited about the beach?” I asked.

“I guess. I like the ocean and the chicks aren’t bad either.”

I thought about saying something smartass but decided against it. Whenever he threw out comments on other girls it was like a jab in my heart.

“We usually go to the Oregon coast, so this will be different, more friends, instead of family, probably warmer too,” he said.

“I can’t wait, I love the beach. I love the smell of the ocean, hearing the waves, the sun,” I said.

“You have an itsy bitsy bikini packed?” he teased.

“Several itsy bitsy bikinis, you kidding?” I said seductively.

I couldn’t wait to flaunt my almost naked body in front of him.

“Can’t wait to see.”

I smiled at him and he smiled back, a soft sexy smile. I thought the tension was there, and I thought he did too, but he never really acted on it. It seemed like he should make the first move if something were to happen.

“Yum, and Hot Dog on a Stick. I can almost taste their lemonade.”

“Hot Dog on a Stick? I don’t think I’ve eaten there,” Mathew said.

“No way! It’s down by the store. You’ll have to try it,” I said excitedly.

“I’m not a huge hot dog fan.”

“Trust me.”

We'd been sitting in Mathew’s backyard, and it was getting dark, the air was getting cool but it was still pleasant. Sam and Pat were playing tetherball. I watched the ball go around the pole one way and then the other as they battled it out.

“Morgan, do you think we are the only living planet?” Mathew asked as he tilted his head back.

I looked away from the game at him, at his serious expression.

“Where did that come from?” I asked.

“I think about that kind of stuff,” he said as he gazed up into the dark sky where a few stars were already out.

“Okay,” I said, still wondering where that comment had come from. I thought he would say something else, but he just stared into the sky. I heard the tetherball smack the pole. Pat yelled, so I knew he had won.

“I guess if I think about it, I don’t think we can be the only ones in the whole universe,” I said.

“Me neither.”

“What do you think there is?” I asked.

“I think there has to be other living things, somewhere.”

“What brought that up?”

“The moon,” he answered.

I could just see the outline of the moon.

“That was pretty random, Mathew.”

We had diverted from the beach conversation, and I wanted to go back. I felt like I needed to say something about how he was going to treat me. Bobby would be there and I didn’t want to be cut out, excluded.

“Morgan, Pat, wrap it up,” my mom called out the back door.

We both knew wrap it up could be now or an hour from now, so neither of us moved quickly. Pat and Sam had finished their game, so they headed in. Mathew still sat staring at the sky. I sat up on the edge of my chair.

“Gotta go,” I said with a sigh. “Mathew, be cool at the beach, okay?”

He rolled his head on the back of his chair where he had been resting it and looked at me.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked as his blue eyes twinkled and a slight smile turned up on his lips.

“You know,” I said, standing.

As I turned, he reached out to swat my rear. I caught his movement and leapt forward, and he missed.

“See you. Don’t let the little green men get you,” I laughed over my shoulder as I went into the house.

On the drive to the beach, I thought about Mathew. My feelings were confusing. He was my friend, but I wanted more than that, while I was clearly uncertain about his feelings for me. There were things he did that made me question his feelings in both directions. There were certainly opportunities if he had wanted to try something, like kissing me. Where at first we’d kept our talks pretty general, now we talked about almost everything. He talked to me a ton about girls, so it was clear the thoughts were there. I wondered what was wrong with me; why he didn’t find me desirable.

“Here we are,” my dad said, pulling into the driveway.

“Come on, guys, let me show you the house before we unpack,” my mom said, opening her door.

Pat and I scrambled out and followed her into the house excitedly. The entry and kitchen were dark, but the living area was filled with light.

“Wow, this really is right on the beach. How cool,” I exclaimed, looking out the back window, which was a wall of glass facing the ocean.

The living area was cozy and yet designed to take full advantage of the view. The house was three stories with four bedrooms and a huge game room on the top floor.

“A pool table,” Pat cried, walking into the room.

“Thought you guys could have some fun with that,” my mom said, smiling.

Pat pulled the balls from the pockets as I walked out onto the balcony, the air still and warm—I could see the ocean in both directions for miles, feel the salt in the air, hear the surf as it crashed along the shore. It was basic in its beauty and reflected what I felt: the possibilities of the summer with a sense of the wild.

“What do you think?” my mom asked, coming to the railing.

“It’s beautiful, the house and the ocean,” I answered.

I looked to the big cement patio below with stairs leading directly down to the sand.

“I thought you would like it. You and Pat will share the third-floor bedroom, and the Powers and their girls will be on the second floor, along with us.”

“No ocean view?” I whined.

“You won’t be in the bedroom that much,” she said.

“I’m teasing. It’s fine. I’m excited.”

I could tell my mom was pleased with herself about the accommodations. It certainly felt ritzy.

“The game room has pullout sofas; you could sleep there if you need to be closer to the ocean,” mom replied.

“It’s all good, Mom,” I said, hugging her.

Mom had pointed out the condos across the street and down the block where the rest of the group was staying on our way in. Once I saw this house, I knew where beach central would be.

“Hey, we’re here,” I heard Nancy Powers call out downstairs.

We started down the stairs and ended up meeting Melanie and Sheryl, their two daughters, on the second level.

“Hi there,” my mom said.

“This is so cool,” Melanie said as she poked her head into the bedrooms.

“Wait until you see the rest,” I said.

“Check out the top floor,” Pat said as the girls went by us up the next flight of stairs.

While Pat followed them back up, mom and I continued down. Nancy and Paul were bringing in luggage from their car. Paul was cool; he always took us for candy and ice cream. He spoiled his girls, and when we were together, Pat and I got to reap the benefits.

“Hey, Morgan,” Paul said, setting down a suitcase and hugging me.

“Look how grown up,” he said when he pulled away. “Taller for sure since I saw you last.”

“Where did the girls go?” Nancy asked. “They need to help.”

“I can get it,” Paul said just as Melanie and Sheryl came running back down the stairs.

“Dad, wait until you see. There’s a pool table on the top floor,” Melanie said excitedly.

“Let’s get the car emptied first,” Nancy said, trying to maintain order.

Luggage was carried to rooms, and finally, we were free to hit the beach. The four of us changed into bathing suits, grabbed towels, and headed toward the water. There was a large stretch of beach between the house and the water and the sand was hot. I dug my feet in, searching for cooler sand as we walked.

“How about here?” Melanie asked, dropping her beach bag.

“Good,” I said, dropping mine and reaching for my towel.

We spread out our towels and applied sunscreen while we caught up with Melanie and Sheryl. They lived in Tahoe, and we only saw them a few times a year. While we talked, the rest of the group slowly trickled to the beach as they arrived. By three o’clock, most of the kids had found us. I knew Mathew was here as Sara had joined us, but I hadn’t seen him. The smell of Sea and Ski lotion filled the air, sort of sweet and refreshing.

“I love that smell. Even if I’m not at the beach, it reminds me of it,” I said.

“Or of skiing,” Pat pointed out.

“True.”

“Let’s get in the water,” Melanie said, “I’m hot.”

“I’m in,” I said.

We made our way down to the ocean, many of us breaking into a run because the sand was burning our feet. Although it was the hot part of summer, the water still felt cold, colder with the air being so warm. Melanie was the first one in, boldly diving under the waves.

“You’re so brave,” I shouted at her as she surfaced.

I watched her, as I stood knee-deep, letting the waves circle around me, getting up my courage to get in. Man, it felt cold. From behind, arms encircled me quickly, propelling me forward into the surf and the incoming wave. I came up from under the water with a scream. I flipped my hair out of my eyes to find Mathew laughing beside me.

“You, jerk,” I shouted and went after him.

“Come on, Morgan,” he said, egging me on with his hands.

I lunged toward him and caught his shoulders, pulling him backwards into me as we both fell back into the water. We continued like this until we both were out of breath from chasing and laughing. My body felt seared from where his arms had gone around me—more than once—in our sparring. When we made our way back to where the towels were, Mathew followed and proceeded to join me on my towel.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

“I forgot mine back at the condo. Did no one teach you about sharing, Morgan?”

There were a few snickers from the group, so I let it go and he stayed. I really wanted him there, but didn’t want anyone to know, especially Mathew, so I acted annoyed. The physical proximity of him made me crazy; his arm or leg touching me every now and then. These days I was constantly hoping he would touch me.

Bobby finally showed up, and with his arrival, Mathew and he took off. The rest of us decided that Hot Dog on a Stick was calling. Long before I got there, I could smell the hot dogs and the crisp tang of fresh lemon in the air. Smells have a way of pulling me back in time: to people or places or moments. I remembered last year when mom had brought Pat and I over for the day and the three of us had gorged ourselves here. I ordered a Cheese-on-a-Stick and a large lemonade.

“You always have that,” Pat said with a snicker.

“I know it’s better than mom’s grilled cheese.”

“Not a chance. Hot Dog on a Stick, you do a hot dog, dumbass,” Pat stated as he ordered a hot dog and a lemonade.

“Trade you a bite for a bite,” I offered.

“No way,” he said pulling his hot dog closer to him. “Cooties.”

I knew full well, if it were just the two of us, he would have been all over it. While we sat on the surf wall and ate, no one said much. I kicked my legs and stared at the people. The people watching along this portion of the beach was pretty amusing. A lot of transient and real earthy, beachy people hung here. Most were hippies. The smell of patchouli oil and marijuana would come in whiffs. Many of them were drinking who-knows-what out of paper bags. We assumed it was some kind of liquor. Some wore bathing suits; some had on tie-dyed skirts, beads, and headbands; most had long hair. Sometimes they would be in groups playing musical instruments and asking for money. It was sort of a mini-carnival of independent souls, although some of the guys were creepy. With the group, I felt safe to stay and watch.

Chapter 11

Everyone spent the majority of their time at our house or on the beach in front of our house. There was a bathroom close by and cold drinks in a number of coolers. The adults stuck to the patio while all of us kids, in varying age groups, drifted between the beach, ocean, pool room, a small convenience store for candy, and, of course, Hot Dog on a Stick. Mathew and Bobby spent most of their time together, off on their own. I hadn’t been invited to join them, nor did I ask. I saw them briefly at meals or on the beach. They weren’t rude, just evasive.

I spent time with the other teens: playing in the ocean; lying out in the sun slathered in Sea and Ski or Tropicana, the smell of it radiating from our browning bodies; and, pool table tournaments on the third floor during the day and at night. We would walk to the store for something different to do. We people-watched from the sea wall.

We built a bonfire in front of the house on the sand every night. We took turns combing the beach for driftwood and stacked it up in preparation during the day. We took long walks along the beach, searching for shells and sea glass. Mathew and Bobby were usually at the bonfires, and Mathew would play while the firelight danced off his hair and guitar. Sometimes the whole group would try to sing along, which was pretty bad. I liked it better when just Mathew sang.

We had s‘mores a couple of nights: roasting marshmallows to perfection and gently squishing them in between graham crackers layered with Hershey’s chocolate. We would laugh when someone caught their marshmallow on fire and couldn’t get it out prior to it being charcoal.

The week went fast and, although I hadn’t spent much time with Mathew, I told myself it didn’t matter. There were too many kids around not to find fun. Our parents dropped us all off at the Santa Cruz Boardwalk one day and I rode the Big Dipper with Melanie twelve times. We rode the merry-go round and threw brass rings at the clown’s mouth until we got to where we could make the bell ring most of the time. We ate fried food until we felt stuffed, and then topped it off with cotton candy.

By the time we got picked up and back to the beach house, it was dark and we decided to meet back on the third floor to play pool. Melanie, Sheryl, Pat, and I got there first. Pat was pulling the balls out of the pockets and getting ready to rack them up.

“This was such a fun day,” Pat said.

“It was. I can’t believe we rode the Big Dipper so many times,” I said, looking at Melanie.

She’d been insistent on us getting off and getting right back in line, like a round robin.

“I love that ride,” she said. “The ratcheting up, up, and then flying down the other side, the twists and turns making it feel like you might fly off.

Eventually everyone showed up; I was out on the balcony watching the ocean when Mathew and Bobby put in an appearance. I heard the slider open, but I didn’t turn around, hoping. I sighed to myself when Mathew stepped up next to me and put his hands on the railing.

“Have a good day today?” he asked.

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun.”

“Ocean’s pretty even in the dark,” he said.

He stepped over to the big, manual spotlight and ran the beam down the beach and over the water, illuminating a small portion of the ocean at a time, allowing us to see the waves break in the dark, and the foam swirl around and onto the beach.

I didn’t answer and kept looking out. I had tried to convince myself that I wasn’t hurt by his distance, but I was.

“Are you mad?” Mathew asked.

“No. What is there to be mad about?” I said calmly.

“I don’t know, you just seem mad.”

Then why don’t you just kiss me?

“Mathew, do you remember what I said to you at your house?”

He looked over at me and thought for a minute.

“Be cool?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“So?”

“I guess you didn’t get it.”

“Get what?” he asked, confused.

“Never mind.”

I wasn’t going to explain how the two of them had left me out. I’d just end up sounding whinny. Bobby opened the slider and joined us.

“What’s up?” Bobby asked

“Watching the waves,” I answered.

Mathew would look at the ocean, and then out of the corner of my eye, I would catch him looking at me. I wouldn’t turn to look at him. The silence became uncomfortable. Bobby no doubt could feel the tension as just as quickly as he came out he went back inside. Mathew moved closer to me, leaning his shoulders and head over the railing, his face toward me so that I couldn’t help but look at him.

“Don’t lean like that,” I scolded.

“Why?”

“The railing's sort of rusted at the bottom. I don’t want you to fall.”

He looked down and saw where the ocean air had corroded the railing between the balcony and the metal rail. He leaned farther.

“Don’t. I mean it,” I glared at him.

His blue eyes, even bluer, with his now-tan skin, stared back at me. His head was cocked to the side, his hair falling at an angle.

“Don’t be mad, Morgan.”

“I told you, I’m not mad,” I said looking away.

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, which frustrated me further. I took a deep breath to help fight them back. Damn you, Mathew I thought just go.

“Meet Bobby and me down the beach tomorrow night for a bonfire. We’ll be in front of the blue house with white shutters, close to the water. It’s about five houses up from here.”

“I know where it is,” I interrupted.

“When you see the fire start, we’re there.”

He waited.

“Please come,” he begged.

He ran his hand down my arm and onto my hand that was still resting on the rail. He squeezed it and then turned, opening the slider. I heard the pool balls crack when he opened the door. The crack reminded me of the feelings that shot through me when he touched me. He shut the door, leaving me alone. I stood and watched the ocean, attempting to bury my emotions. I heard the door open downstairs. I looked down to see Mathew and Bobby leaving the house. They walked down onto the beach and headed in the direction of the condos. I watched them walk into the dark, hearing them talking softly. At the blue house with white shutters, Mathew turned around. He saw me still on the balcony.

“Come,” he yelled.

Bobby gave him a shove and Mathew stumbled in the sand, but didn’t fall. I smiled and went inside to where I hoped a game of pool and people would distract me.

I swore to myself throughout the following day I wouldn’t go. I was pissed off about how they had avoided me all week, and I was especially tweaked at Mathew. When Bobby wasn’t around, he could at least be friendly. We usually would talk, and this time he hadn’t said more than a few words to me.

My vision of Mathew and me at the beach had been blown to smithereens; I had thought we would hang together at least some of the time. I stayed away from the other kids most of the day. The majority of the group was hanging out on the beach in front of Hot Dog on a Stick—including Mathew and Bobby. I figured if I avoided them maybe I wouldn’t be tempted to meet them later at their bonfire. Melanie and I did some shell and glass hunting in the opposite direction.

“You like him, don’t you?” Melanie asked as I picked up a pretty round rock.

“Who?” I asked, inspecting the rock, trying to dodge her question.

“Mathew.”

“No, I don’t like him. I mean I like him as a friend, if that’s what you mean.” Shit I sounded phony even to myself.

“You don’t have to tell me. You just get different when he’s around.”

“I don’t mean to,” I said.

“I know.”

I wondered how obvious my attraction was to most of the kid group. As it got closer to dusk, I found I was telling myself more frequently that I couldn’t go, shouldn’t go. That would show Mathew. “Please come” I heard him say in my mind over and over. Instead I played several rounds of pool with Pat and my dad, but I wasn’t playing very well.

“Not like you to let us beat you so badly,” my dad teased

I kept looking in the direction of the bonfire location, nothing. Maybe it was more of Mathew’s bullshit, his way of leading me on. Finally, about nine o’clock, a bonfire started. No, Morgan I told myself and turned back to the pool game.

“Eight ball, right pocket,” my dad called as he chalked up his stick and shot.

The ball rolled, hit the pocket straight on and sank.

“Damn,” I cried, “you beat me again.”

“Head's not in the game, girl,” he said, patting my head.

“I’m going to go meet some of the kids at a bonfire.”

“Where?” my dad asked, surprised.

Usually it was right in front of our place.

“Right there,” I said, pointing.

It was close, but still far enough away that you couldn't tell who was there.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

“Some of the kids. I’m not exactly sure who will show up.”

“Okay, have fun. Pat, rack 'em up,” he said.

I left the house and walked down the beach and up to the bonfire. Mathew and Bobby were alone. Mathew had his guitar in his lap and he smiled up at me.

“Morgan, ‘come’ sit down,” Bobby teased, shouting come like Mathew had shouted.

I stood, hesitating, and Mathew shot Bobby a cautionary glance.

“He’s teasing, Morgan, sit down,” Mathew said, patting the sand next to him.

I sat down where he said, the three of us forming a semi-circle around the fire. I crossed my legs over one another and put my hands toward the fire.

“Nice. You gonna play?” I asked, looking at the guitar. “Or have you already?”

“I have, but I can play some more. Want a beer?” Mathew offered.

“A beer? Where did you get beer?”

“We got one of the hippie chicks to buy it for us,” Bobby replied.

“I don’t want one,” I said.

“Oh, come on, just a try. One beer won’t do anything,” Mathew said.

I wanted to be part of them, to feel like I was welcome, maybe even sought out by Mathew. I wanted to be close to Mathew, so I took the Miller that was being offered.

“Thanks,” I said.

My dad allowed me to have sips of his beer on occasion, so I knew what it tasted like. It was easier for us to get the hard stuff so that's what Gayle and I usually drank. I took a sip, and they looked at each other and laughed. I felt like I was the brunt of a joke between them. I put the beer can down and got up angrily. I turned from the fire and started back down the beach. Mathew came after me and grabbed my arm.

“Don’t go. I’m sorry, we weren’t trying to be mean. Come back and talk to us for a while,” he said sincerely.

I clenched my jaw and let him walk me back to the fire.

“Listen, you two, I’m fucking tired of it. If you want me to stay, you better keep the inside jokes to yourselves.”

After that we sat and drank beer and talked. I learned that Mathew and Bobby had both tried cigarettes and pot. Pot they liked, cigarettes not. We had all experimented with alcohol. I left my pot experience out. We talked about parents and finally, girls. Both Mathew and Bobby told me about girls they liked. Because the three of us went to different schools, the names meant nothing to me, but I imagined them as great beauties. No doubt the popular girls. Adults told me I was beautiful, but I didn't feel that way around my peers, especially these two. Straight blonde hair was beautiful, what the boys seemed to like, not crazy curly hair. I had the tall, thin part going for me. Boobs had finally started, thank god. Still, the boys didn’t seem attracted. I envied those girls who were getting boys to notice them.

“Mathew, play something,” I demanded.

“You want another beer?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He handed me another one and picked up his guitar. I leaned my elbows back against a log that was by the fire to listen, relaxing as I watched the firelight dance across his face and hair. I loved to watch his hands, his fingers moving, hitting the chords. As he played, my heart let some of the resentment go. He played three songs before he set it down.

“Thanks,” I said when he stopped. “Something about a fire, guitar, and the ocean.”

“I think you’ve got a fan,” Bobby said.

“Had one,” I said and caught myself.

Mathew smiled.

“Morgan, we’ve been talking about girls. Is there a guy you like?” Mathew asked.

I pushed up off my elbows, sitting upright. Did he know? I looked him straight in the eye.

“No, I haven’t found anyone worthy yet,” I said, challenging him slightly.

Bobby motioned his head toward Mathew. Mathew caught Bobby’s movement and looked at Bobby and then straight at me. Our eyes locked for a moment, and then I laughed.

“No,” I protested, laughing, wondering if the two of them were digging or only Mathew.

I didn’t want to know, so I changed the subject.

“Play one more, will you?”

Mathew played another song. Bobby and Mathew had another beer, and I started to get a clearer picture of what they were really doing while they were MIA, partying. Mathew plucked at his guitar a little more. Just chords, not a complete song. It was getting late, and as much as I wanted to stay, I knew I should be getting back.

“I should go,” I said.

“I’ll walk you back,” Mathew said.

“That’s okay. It’s just right there,” I motioned.

He stood up and started in the direction of the house.

“Bye, Bobby,” I said, getting up and dusting the sand off my pants.

“See ya, Morgan,” Bobby said.

I hurried behind Mathew and slowed when I was walking by his side. Maybe Mathew could tell the conversation had turned to a topic I didn’t want to discuss. Maybe he knew I was a little unnerved. Whatever it was, he felt the need to walk with me in the cooling sand. We were barefoot and I could feel the sand slip up between my toes.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

“I wanted to hear you play,” I said, trying to minimize my reasons.

“You can go back now,” I said, as we got closer to the house.

He took my hand and pulled my arm down and towards him, making me falter sideways. My free hand shot out and landed on his chest in order to balance myself. He had shorts on and a shirt, which hung open, the sleeves rolled up. His skin felt soft and warm.

“What was that?” I asked, looking up at him.

His eyes searched mine. My hand was still on his chest, and I dropped it, looking down to avoid his eyes. My mind raced, and I remembered our fireside conversation. What was he doing? He had a thing for some girl named Debbie. I didn’t move. It seemed like a long time we stood that way when finally he took my face in his hands and raised it to look at him. He moved toward me and kissed me lightly on the lips. My body melted. He kissed me again firmer, longer. My heart was beating rapidly and the butterflies were tumbling in my chest. Then he pulled back.

“Friends?” he asked.

I looked into his eyes and was confused at what I saw.

“Yeah, friends,” I answered, pulling away from him, confused.

He dropped his hands to his side. I wanted more, more kissing, more than friends. Friends screamed in my head. I turned away from him and walked toward the house. I could see people still in the pool room. I focused on that so I wouldn’t turn around. What just happened? I wondered if Bobby had seen us. I wondered if they would just laugh about it over another beer. I wondered why. We were friends. Friends didn’t kiss friends. Not that kind of kiss. His lips had been so soft. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I purposely avoided Mathew and Bobby the last two days at the beach. I concentrated on having a good time with the girls while trying to persuade myself I didn’t really like Mathew at all. The harder I tried to avoid him, the more he seemed to get in my space. Unlike the first part of the week, now he made me feel his presence. The more I tried to understand it, the less I did.

I finally came to the conclusion there were two Mathews: one I liked, the other one I didn’t.

Chapter 12

“What does that mean?” Gayle asked.

I was sitting at the desk in our kitchen on the phone. I had been talking to her for days about the beach trip.

“It means that he can be so different, Gayle. I don’t know. Like when I’m alone with him at his house: we talk, we're friends. He plays his guitar and I listen. At the beach, most of the time he made me feel like I had some fucking disease until I tried to avoid him, then he wanted to be around. He’s never kissed me. Why kiss me and say friends? Friends don’t do that. Not like that anyway.”

“He’s a boy. He doesn’t know what he wants.”

“Maybe it was just the beer,” I said, hoping things would change between Mathew and me.

“Maybe just be his friend. Forget about anything else,” she suggested.

“I wish I could,” I said. “I wish I could make my feelings for him disappear.”

Summer ended and school began. The O’Conner’s bought the lot in Almaden and were in the process of building a house. We started to see them even more frequently. Mathew and I were thrown together regardless, so we talked, and he played his guitar for me. He was unhappy about the thought of moving. He was unhappy about having to start in a new school. His dad was pressuring him to get more involved in sports and less in music. I could tell he was having a hard time with the changes, so I became a good listener. I listened more than I talked, and he grew even more comfortable with me and me with him. Much to my disappointment, he hadn’t tried to kiss me again.

In February, the same group that had gone to the beach planned a snow skiing trip to Lake Tahoe for a week. Mathew and Bobby would be there, palling around, and I was sure I would not be included. Despite Mathew's and my growing friendship, I knew from the beach what I could expect. I decided it would be best for me to stay out of their way this trip, avoid them. I felt like I was growing up and getting a better handle on my feelings for him. I had managed to rein in most of my desperate feelings. I didn’t want to concern myself with their actions or motives. I didn’t want Mathew working his way under my skin so that I cared even a little.

The drive to Tahoe had been long, and we arrived late afternoon while it was still light. I could tell it was cold by how the snow crunched under the tires as we pulled into the complex.

“Everyone getting here today?” I asked.

“Should be,” my mom answered. “Dinner is at the O’Conner’s, at least that’s what we planned. Everyone is meeting at their condo.”

Oh good I thought miserably as I stepped out of the car, throw me right in Mathew’s path. I paused and exhaled, grinning at the ability to see my breath.

“Someone has a fire going,” I said, smelling it in the air. Fire, it was good wherever it was.

“Morgan, come help me make this salad,” my mom said after we’d gotten settled in.

As she washed the lettuce, I cut up tomatoes and onions.

“You excited about seeing the gang?” she asked.

“I guess. I’m excited to ski for sure,” I answered.

I’d seen Mathew just last week at the construction site. He'd been nice, but I wasn’t expecting that same treatment this week. I didn’t want to be disappointed, have my feelings hurt.

“Done,” she said as we finished the salad and put it into the refrigerator. “We’re due over there about six thirty. So you and Pat have about forty-five minutes.”

I went upstairs and unpacked my things into the loft where Pat and I would be sleeping. I changed from my T-shirt into an off-white sweater, tight, clingy, accentuated my boobs and went downstairs to use the bathroom and check my makeup. I wanted to look good for me. We walked two buildings down to the O’Conner’s unit. Ann took the salad from my mom and kissed her cheek when we walked in.

“Thanks for making the salad. Kids are upstairs,” Ann said to Pat and me. “Patty, Steve, what can I get you to drink?”

Pat and I moved toward the staircase as they continued to talk. Their condo was larger than ours and had actual bedrooms upstairs with a second living area. A group of kids sat watching TV while Mathew sat plucking at his guitar much to Sara’s irritation.

“Hey guys,” she said as we entered.

“Hey,” I answered.

Mathew looked up, realized who it was, and gave me the once-over. Okay, don’t start that shit already. Feeling self-conscious, I crossed my arms in front of my chest, which made him smile. I could feel my temperature rise, a little irritation, a little glad he’d looked. Pat and I moved into the room and took a spot on the floor. It wasn’t long before Bobby and his family arrived, and Mathew and Bobby took off. As much as I didn’t want it to, it bothered me that Mathew treated me differently when we weren’t alone. Bobby definitely changed the dynamics of our relationship.

Every day we skied, and at night we would rotate whose condo was hosting dinner. I skied with a group of girls all week. At night, I couldn't avoid seeing Mathew. We exchanged the usual pleasantries: hello, goodbye, how was skiing, but that was it. Mathew and Bobby skied together and hung out at night as I expected. No doubt drinking or smoking pot.

The hot tub was outside and under the stars at the back edge of the complex, and it became a nightly ritual for most of us teens. It gave us a place to hang out and talk, and it helped our sore muscles.

“Oh, did you see that!?” I exclaimed as I jerked upright to watch a shooting star blaze across the sky.

Mathew flashed into my head as I looked at the moon. Little green men I smiled to myself. I settled back against the wooden edge of the tub and absorbed the smell of chlorine mixed with the scent of moist wood as steam from the water rose into the still, cold air.  When it was just the girls, we talked shit about boys. When the boys were around, we talked about everything but boys. Seems we spent a lot of time on things we couldn’t change, like rules and parents.

Mid-week, I ran into Mathew at the lodge while we were getting lunch. I was on my way back to the table with a tray of food, and he approached me.

“Why are you avoiding me?” he asked.

“I’m not avoiding you,” I said with a chuckle. “Isn’t it the other way around?”

“Really?” he questioned.

“Yes, really. And what makes you so self-important that I would make any effort to avoid you?” I asked, feeling the fight.

He cocked his head and smiled in the way he always did when he was really questioning me. I could feel the anger rising in me.

“You’re right,” he said finally and walked away.

I watched as he made his way to where Bobby was sitting. Bobby caught my eye. He said something to Mathew, and Mathew turned to look at me. I turned away and proceeded with my tray back to the girls. Mathew and Bobby were advanced skiers, and even if I had been invited, I couldn’t have kept up with them or wanted to. Why was I so angry? I had promised myself: no caring. I took a deep breath and thought get over it.

That night when I was in the hot tub with Melanie and Sheryl, Mathew and Bobby showed up. Again, I had an unexpected flash of anger. What the hell? Why hadn’t I gotten a better handle on my emotions? Although anger was better than longing I supposed.

“How’s it going?” Mathew addressed me while he lowered himself into the hot tub next to me.

“Fine,” I answered, not looking directly at him.

I had found if I didn’t look into his eyes I had a better chance of not letting my emotions rule. I fell silent while conversation continued around me. I watched the steam rise, and I wanted to vanish into the air with it. When I finally looked at Mathew, he smiled, his kind smile, and some of my irritation subsided. I tried to pinpoint the reason for my feelings. He hadn’t done anything to me except not include me.

Maybe I was a moody teen like my mom often called me. Maybe it was the memory of the beach. Maybe it was Mathew’s ability to get to me when I swore he couldn’t. As I was talking myself through it in my head, Mathew put his hand on my thigh and gave me a squeeze. Screw you I thought don’t give him a reaction. I cautiously scanned the others in the tub to see if anyone had noticed. It appeared not.

It was dark outside, and we were up to our necks in water. I could feel my skin get hot where his hand rested. What? The thought screamed in my head. What is he doing? What is his point? He let his hand linger. Then he rubbed up my thigh, coming very close to my crotch, and I had to concentrate hard not to react. What I had previously felt as a tingling suddenly felt like a fire between my legs. I could feel some of the emotions and feelings for him come rushing back, swelling up into my chest; flooding me like water.

“So skiing was good today?” he asked, leaning forward moving into my sight.

His hand? Why was his hand on my leg? I looked into his blue eyes, searching. It was as if he had spoken a foreign language. I knew the words, but they weren’t registering. I stared at him, my body giving way to all my strong thoughts. As I sat there, mute, Melanie finally answered for me.

“Yeah, we had a great day.”

I had to leave. No amount of searching his face was going to give me an answer. I had to distance myself from him, before I slapped him or kissed him. And I knew both were a bad idea.

“Gotta go,” I said, taking his hand and slowly pushing it away, not wanting to call attention to us.

I pushed myself up out of the hot tub—I could tell he was watching me. I quickly wrapped my towel around me, and slipped my wet feet into my shoes, not stopping to dry them.

“What’s the hurry?” Mathew asked.

“No hurry. I’ve had enough hot tub,” I babbled. “See you tomorrow.”

I headed toward the condo, and Melanie and Sheryl quickly caught up to me.

“What’s wrong?” Melanie asked.

“Nothing, I think I’m just tired.”

“Is it Mathew?”

“No,” I answered tersely.

“It has nothing to do with Mathew,” I lied.

Chapter 13

The O’Conner’s house in Almaden was getting closer to completion, and Mathew was voicing his frustration about not wanting to move.

“I hate this, Morgan. I hate leaving my friends, my school, the band, everything. My parents want me to be excited, but I can’t be. The house is great. I just don’t want to move.”

“Mathew, you'll make new friends, and you'll like Bret Harte. It’s a cool school,” I reassured him.

“Right,” he said, sounding somewhat defeated.

“I can help you meet people,” I said, trying to make it better.

“Morgan, I know you’re trying to help, but don’t, okay?”

“Okay,” I said with a shrug.

He would not be convinced by me or anyone else. He resented his parent’s excitement. He withdrew from them, and in turn, from family activities. He spent more time in his room playing guitar, his way of taking himself to another place. They moved into their new house in March, and it was a showcase. Ann decorated it in the most up-to-date, cutting-edge style. The floor plan was very open, and she had used top-of-the-line everything from flooring to appliances.

The living area had lime green carpet with all white-on-white furniture and a mini-bar, things my parents couldn’t even dream of. Both the living area and family room opened to a beautiful deck with a pool and hot tub. I liked design, and to me, this house was everything someone could want. It was shaped like a wide horseshoe: the master bedroom on one end with all the kids' rooms on the other end. Mathew’s large room overlooked the valley views; heck, all the rooms were large. It was like they had gone from normal like us, to rich, and I envied Mathew; on top of all my other feelings about him.

“New queen bed. That’s nice,” I said, pushing on his new mattress.

I glanced over to where he sat at the built-in desk underneath the window. I couldn’t image anyone not being happy to live here. He watched me as I looked around his room, admiring it.

“Big closet,” I said, opening it.

He seemed amused I was so pleased over their new house. We had stopped by the Saturday before they were to start in their respective new schools, and while Sara and Sam seemed nervous but excited, Mathew didn’t seem either.

“Let’s go out back,” he said, getting up.

I followed him through the house into the backyard, around the pool deck and down the stairs. He sat down on the last one; I sat next to him and wrapped my sweater tighter around me against the cooler air.

“I dread Monday,” he moaned.

He visibly slumped forward and I could sense his unhappiness. I wanted to snuggle into him and make it all right.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll introduce you around, and everyone will like you,” I said, knowing he didn’t want to hear it.

“I feel like nothing will ever be the same.”

“It won’t, but you’ll adjust. You can keep in touch with your friends like you do with Bobby.”

He shrugged his shoulders. I knew he was feeling really down and I felt helpless. We sat and looked out at the view for a long while in silence, as I tried to support his depression. I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little,” I answered.

He rubbed my back quickly in an attempt to warm me.

“Come on, we can go back to my room,” he said, tugging at my arm as he stood up.

Back in his room I sat down on the end of his bed. He picked up his guitar, flopped down next to me, and started plucking chords. He would play a small piece, then quit, and start something else. I could tell he wasn’t concentrating, playing fragments, like he was distracted. I watched him, wondering how I could be important to him for a change, a sort of lifeline to a new world. I imagined him walking with me in the halls, and me introducing him to friends. I saw the girls wondering who the good-looking guy was with me.

What I failed to visualize was how quickly Mathew would fit in. Mathew didn’t need my help—or anyone else’s. He was instantly popular. His looks and his overly confident, almost cocky, demeanor attracted people like flies. The girls I’d imagined being envious of my friendship status with him were not shy in the least to introduce themselves. They not only were forward, they couldn’t stop talking about him.

“He’s so cute,” Gayle mimicked.

She was sick of hearing it too. I pushed on the door to the girls’ bathroom, and she followed me in.

“Gayle, don’t,” I said, feeling like a lovesick dog, my heart aching.

She took my arm and gave me a squeeze.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything.”

“I know. Gayle, this isn’t how I imagined it. Why was I so fucking stupid to think I would be important to him?” I asked, not expecting an answer.

“I’m sure you are important to him. Morgan, he’s a good-looking guy. He has all these girls fawning over him. He’s the most popular guy in school right now. He’s new. They don’t know him the way you do.”

My stomach twisted into a knot and then did a back flip.

“Wow, Gayle, that makes me feel so much better,” I said sarcastically. “I’m his friend, goody, goody.”

Then it hit me. My throat suddenly constricted and I found it hard to breath.

“Oh god, now I’m going to have to watch. This being his friend shit is going to suck.”

I leaned against the sink and looked in the mirror, feeling like I might just vomit. My blue eyes stared back at me as I pushed my hair back.

“Am I pretty, Gayle?”

“You know you are.”

“No, I don’t. Why doesn’t he think so?” I asked, inspecting my face further.

I wondered how adults claimed I was pretty when I felt like the ugly duckling.

“Because he’s a stupid boy, just like the rest of them,” Gayle said.

I turned as the door swung open, and three girls came in giggling. Gayle and I were silent as they chatted; two of them using the facilities while one checked her makeup in the mirror next to me.

“So who do you think will get him first?” one of the girls asked from inside the stall.

“Who knows, but whoever it is will be lucky. He’s so amazing,” the one standing next to me said as she put more mascara on while she talked over the stall.

I looked at Gayle.

“What’s his name again?” the other one asked.

I looked back at the girl at the mirror who now was putting on lip-gloss.

“Mathew O’Something,” the other answered, exiting the stall.

I could feel my pulse in my neck, it felt like it would pound right through my skin. I waited until the girls left. I turned and looked into Gayle’s eyes and I could see the sympathy.

“Here we go,” I said bitterly. “Just imagine how many girls are having that same conversation.”

“Morgan, don’t do this to yourself,” Gayle said, taking my hands gently, reassuringly.

“I know,” I said, leaning my head back and taking a deep breath, “I know.”

I felt like he had been stolen from me. He’d easily been accepted by many of the groups who weren’t so accepting of me. Within a week’s time, I had lost Mathew to people I couldn’t keep up with, and in many cases, didn’t want to. I was seeing firsthand what I had only imagined was the case when we talked so many times together. I was seeing the Debbies, one of the girls he’d talked about on the beach, who were falling over themselves to be around him. I was shocked at how he transformed and fit in so seamlessly. Where was the downtrodden boy who hadn’t wanted to go to a new school? Hadn’t wanted to meet new friends? I suppose, for Mathew, it made the leaving of his old school easier. For me, it was my worst nightmare.

We were at the O’Conner’s new house a lot the first few weeks after they moved in. Partly because my dad was traveling, and partly because my mom was helping Ann unpack and get settled in. Brad worked late a lot and being over there seemed to work for everyone but me. My feelings for Mathew had returned with a vengeance. I became almost desperate to let him know, but I didn’t know how. I chastised myself and then encouraged myself, all the time afraid of my feelings. I didn’t want to assume he didn’t have some of those same feelings for me. Maybe he did and wasn’t sure of mine. It was driving me crazy thinking about it. Were his kisses and touches really as just a friend?

We spent the next few weeks, Mathew and I, talking. More and more, the boy-girl conversations would come up: who liked who at school, who was kissing who, who we thought was doing more. I had seen him flirt with some of the girls at school. Our worlds were now colliding daily, and I was jealous of his ability to be popular by just being. I would run scenes in my head about what I could say or do to make him acknowledge he knew about my feelings.

In a way, it gave us more to talk about, to have in common, in a hard sort of way for me. No matter what we started talking about, our conversations always wrapped back around to sexual things. Mathew seemed to like to shock me. He would throw things out to try and get a reaction from me. I would look at him in disgust and change the subject. Sometimes he would let me, and other times he would persist, and I would become increasingly embarrassed. He knew I wasn’t doing anything sexual; I suspected he wasn’t either. He talked about girls at school who he thought were hot. Those conversations frustrated me, as that isn’t where I wanted it to go with him.

“Morgan, who do you think is hot?” he asked.

I looked at him blankly, my lips tightening slightly. How did I answer that? Was it not so obvious to him?

“I, ah-” I lay back on his bed, not finishing.

“Come on,” he teased, jumping on the bed, causing me to flop up and down.

He was taunting me, the lazy sexy grin on his face.

“Morgan, who?” he asked, dropping to his knees, making me roll to the side, this time up against him.

“Why do you ask me questions like that? Who cares?” I said annoyed.

He felt warm and I sucked in the smell of him closing my eyes tight trying to block out my feelings. I could feel him lean over me, and I kept my eyes shut. After what seemed like a long time, in which he didn’t move, I finally opened my eyes and I looked right into his. He stared for an instant, a fleeting look of knowing, or compassion, and then he started to tickle me.

“Stop,” I squirmed away from him, grateful that it broke the mood.

This Mathew was the boyish playful one, the one who would hide whatever he was feeling behind rough housing or being silly.

“Mathew, stop,” I laughed, struggling to get off the bed.

I tried to roll away from him as his fingers dug into my sides, continuing to tickle. Twisting and tugging I fell off the bed finally to the floor. He rose up from the bed and leaned over the side, his hair hanging down around his face, and looked at me, and we both laughed.

It seemed he was constantly getting into my space now, sometimes in little ways like tickling, other times almost challenging me. I felt like there was some kind of attraction or tension growing between us, but Mathew still didn‘t make any moves. I longed for him to touch me more intimately or kiss me like he had at the beach. I wondered what I had done to prompt that kiss, what I could do again. I constantly tried to position myself very close to him so he could.

“Mathew, do you ever feel like kissing me?” I blurted out, as I lay on the floor looking up at him.

“No, not really,” he said, looking surprised.

“Liar,” I said.

“Maybe,” he teased.

I searched his eyes for what maybe meant. Maybe, he felt like kissing me?

“If not, why are you always doing things that make it feel like it’s moving to something more,” I asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Like the comments you make if I’m not paying attention to you. Like the kiss at the beach, like the way you touched me in the hot tub in Tahoe, right now tickling me.”

“I was being friendly,” he said with a grin.

“Really? It didn‘t feel friendly. Not like friend friendly.”

“It was, Morgan. Why are you trying to make something more out of it?” he asked more seriously.

Had I just imagined the fleeting knowing look I wondered.

“I don’t believe you, Mathew. I have other guy friends, and they aren’t ‘friendly’ like you. It’s like if I move away from you or don’t pay attention, you do something to make me pay attention,” I said, anger creeping into my voice.

“Don’t be a fucking drama queen, Morgan.”

I didn’t move. I looked away from him, staring instead at the ceiling. I felt hurt, angry, and prideful all at the same time. I’d asked, he’d answered, and it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I finally got up from the floor. He rolled to a sitting position and stared at me.

“You can be the biggest asshole sometimes,” I said, heading for the door.

“Show me your tits,” he said in a raspy voice.

I froze and let his words register. Without thinking, I swung around, lifting up my shirt and bra, and flashed him.

“There you go,” I said, letting him get a good look at my boobs.

After his initial shock wore off, he leapt off the bed toward me, and I struggled quickly to pull my clothing back into place. What was I doing?

“You’re gonna show me, and not let me feel?” he asked.

Crazily I felt in control and I gave him a sexy smile. Two could play his game of friends. He suddenly took my face in his hands like he had at the beach. He looked in my eyes and then kissed me full on the mouth hard. When I didn’t pull away, his lips softened, and he thrust his tongue into my mouth hungrily. I found myself kissing him back, my tongue seeking his, sliding deliciously around his. Oh, how I’ve wanted this. His hands slid down my face, my neck, to my chest over my clothes feeling my breasts as he kept kissing me. I could feel the yearning between my legs as I reached under his T-shirt and ran my hands over his warm firm skin. My heart was pounding, my whole body reeling, feelings rushing, my head wanted to explode. Then as fast as he started, he stopped and pulled away. His eyes melted into me. He smiled lazily.

“Good kinda friendly that is,” he said.

He turned and walked back, sat down on the bed, and picked up his guitar. I stood there, dazed, my body quivering. My lips still felt his kiss. He watched me and waited. I put my fingers to my lips, wondering if they looked as puffy as they felt.

“Why did you ask me that?” I managed to say.

“I don’t know,” he answered, his thumb lightly strumming the strings.

I watched his fingers as thoughts spun wildly in my head. Was that a maybe kiss? I looked back into his eyes.

“I didn’t think you would do it,” he said, smiling up at me.

He was playing with me, and I suddenly saw red. I glanced around for something to throw at him, and the only thing close by was a flat weight he had taken off his barbell. I picked it up and threw it with all my might. I watched as a shocked expression slid across his face. Unfortunately, the weight didn’t go far before it hit the floor. When it did, we both watched as it rolled on its edge across the floor into the wall where it left a dent in the drywall before it fell and stopped. He looked up with a smirk. I turned and left the room. I went into the family room where Sara was and pretended to watch TV while I fumed.

“He can be a total jerk,” she said.

More than a total jerk I thought. I didn’t answer. If Mathew wasn’t aware of my feelings, I think Sara was at least. Mathew pestered his sister and brother a lot and in general Sara would fight back. She didn’t have a lot of tolerance where Mathew was concerned.

“Friends. Good friends?” His words constantly claiming one thing while his actions were more than that. “Good friends” he always made a point to say, leaving the possibility of any other title out of the question. I thought about his kiss. Did he know it was my first French kiss? Had I done it right? I couldn’t get the whole incident to stop replaying. Why did I kiss him back? I should have pushed him away in disgust, said no. He had to have some idea of how I felt, or he wouldn’t kiss me like that. I smiled, recalling his shocked expression when I flashed him.

The time dragged on until my parents were ready to go. I could hear Mathew playing his guitar when we walked out the front door.

Chapter 14

“That’s just not right,” Gayle, said when I finished telling her the story.

She thought the weight story was hysterical.

“You at least should have thrown something you had a chance of hitting him with,” Gayle chuckled.

“It was the only thing close by,” I laughed. “I wonder how he will explain the dent in his wall. ‘Yeah, Mom, Morgan threw a weight at me because I asked her to show me her tits, and then I rammed my tongue down her throat’.”

I laughed again. The vision was pretty funny.

“What’s his deal with you?” she asked.

“Who the hell knows? I don’t get it, Gayle. Okay, so he’s a stupid boy, but I’m a stupid girl. Why did I show him my tits? 'Cause I wanted a reaction. Got one of those all right. I should hate him, and now I only want him more. I’m screwed.”

I knew I would have to face him sooner or later at school. I originally thought it would be easy to distance myself. We had no class’s together and limited time in the halls, but it took much more effort and calculation to stay out of his path than I had anticipated. Gayle acted as my safety, diverting me to another hall or into the girls’ room to avoid running into him. I kept up this game for two weeks before he caught me.

“Morgan, wait up,” Mathew called.

I had just opened my locker to trade my history book for math when I heard him. It was inevitable we would see each other again so I might as well face him now I thought. I watched as he walked toward me, and I quickly changed books, slamming my locker shut. I turned toward him, hugging my math book to my chest.

“What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound very casual, unlike what I was really feeling.

I’d pushed the butterflies down and now I just felt a dull ache around my heart. I hadn’t talked to him since our incident. Being a silly naïve girl I thought the kiss might change things, make him realize he did like me, but it hadn’t happened. I guessed things like that only happened in the movies.

“I want you to introduce me to that friend of yours, Janice,” he said.

Janice? Janice? I was confused for a minute. Then I pictured Janice. She was beautiful: long brown hair, olive skin, green eyes, nice figure. She didn’t act stuck up like some of the prettier girls, and she was actually very nice. We weren’t super close, but she hung out with the group I did.

“Why would I want to do that?” I replied, not wanting to hear.

“Because I want to get to know her,” he said.

He kind of tilted his head and glanced apprehensively at me and then away. I could tell by his discomfort that he wanted more than that. There it was staring me in the face. Mathew wasn’t afraid to like somebody that way, that someone just wasn’t me. I hugged my book tighter to my chest, trying to push back at the pain I felt. The dull ache transformed into a vice grip on my heart and I felt a tightening rise up into my throat. He stood, shifting from one foot to the other, waiting for me to respond. The emotions swirled inside me, making me feel nauseous. I swallowed hard as he lifted his hands up in a questioning gesture.

“Well?” he asked, cocking his head.

“Fuck you,” I said, turning away from him as I headed to my next class.

He didn’t call or come after me as I marched down the hall. I had always pretty much gone along with Mathew’s requests, so I think he was shocked by my response. I was shocked at my response. I thought about it all through math. Mr. Stark was doing problems on the board, which I knew I should be listening to. Mathew had not said we were anything but friends, so why had I expected anything different. I had hoped that would change with time; it hadn’t. I thought about his kissing me and wondered why for the millionth time. A lot of what he did, didn’t make sense.

Mathew didn’t wait for me to come around and introduce him to Janice; he did it himself. I had to admire the fact that he went after what he wanted, didn’t play games there. Seemed any game playing he reserved for me. I started to realize the times he touched me or kissed me or teased me were nothing more than Mathew seeing if he could. After all, he usually got the reaction he wanted. I apparently was the one who made it more in my mind.

Hadn’t Gayle warned me it didn’t mean anything to him? I hadn’t wanted to face that possibility. In no time, he and Janice became an item. Janice still was my friend. It wasn’t her fault Mathew wanted her instead of me, but I realigned myself with other girls in order to not be so close to it. I watched them hold hands in the halls and every now and then would catch him kissing her. I made excuse after excuse to not go with my mom or my family to the O’Conner’s. After one too many excuses, Mathew called me on the phone when my family was at his house minus me.

“Morgan, are you not coming over because of me?” he asked.

“No. I’ve been busy,” I said with as little emotion as I could manage.

I didn’t want him taking any credit for my actions. I truly wanted to be mad at him, but I couldn’t be. The sexual sparring between us had not only been perpetuated by him, hell I’d encouraged it. I wasn’t some frail weak girl that couldn’t say no. I’d never been forced to go to his room, or watch him play his guitar, but I had.

“Or have too much homework, or whatever else, you want to use as an excuse so you don’t have to see me,” Mathew said.

“Oh, Mathew, here you go making it all about you.”

“Morgan, I’m not entirely sure what I did wrong, well maybe asking you to show me your tits that night,” he chuckled. “Seriously, I miss seeing you, talking to you. I care about you, and honestly, I don’t want anything to change.”

I sat down on the wooden desk in the kitchen with the phone to my ear. I missed him too, but at a much higher level. Just because I hadn’t been around him didn’t make me stop thinking about him. I rested my forehead on the brick wall and took a deep breath. How did I feel? I wrapped the phone cord around my fingers. He missed my friendship? Mathew waited on the other end patiently.

“Not entirely sure? What are you sure of, Mathew?” I asked.

“I’m sure you’re irritated with me. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m with Janice. Am I close?” he asked.

“Mathew, it’s so much more than you know, or pretend to not know, because it’s easier that way for you…” I started.

I knew it was time to get some of the shit off my chest and make some rules. I couldn’t avoid him forever, I didn’t even want to.

“Are you ready for me to be honest?” I asked.

“Yeah, let me have it,” he said.

My heart started to race, honest you get then.

“If you haven’t fucking figured it out, I’ve had a crush on you since we met. Remember the Jeep tour at the ranch? It started there. We were twelve.”

“Morgan—” he tried to interrupt.

“NO! Shut up. Let me get this out. You have given lots of mixed signals or maybe I misread them, but I don’t think so. In either case, I have at times thought you had feelings too. You coming into my world—and it was my world—at Bret Harte has been fucking hard for me, okay?”

I had to stop a minute to fight the tears. I put my hand over the receiver and took in a lung full of air and blew it out.

“When you started dating Janice, it got harder,” I said, my voice cracking slightly.

I heard him sigh, but he kept silent. I swallowed hard.

“I kept thinking—make it stop—and then I realized it was my feelings getting in the way. You hadn’t ever called us anything but friends. So I’m getting over it. Mathew, I’m working on getting over you,” I said forcefully.

He sighed again and I could tell he wanted to say something.

“Don’t talk, Mathew, let me finish. Let’s lay down friends as the rule. With friends, there are no cross-overs, no mixed signals anymore.”

I paused, pushing my forehead into the brick wall, feeling the hard surface push into my skin, hoping it would numb the other pain in my heart.

“No feeling my tits, no kissing me, okay?” I said softly, sadly. “That’s it I’m finished.”

I waited for his response. He was silent for a minute and I wondered what he was thinking. Although it was out now I didn’t think it was a total surprise.

“Morgan, I’m sorry,” he finally whispered.

“No sorry,” I cried, hanging up on him.

Now when we went to the O’Conner’s, I got to hear about Janice and their relationship, their arguments, when they first had sex. I would be his friend and listen, as hard as it was sometimes. My heart would be bruised, and with each bruise, it would toughen. I learned to pull away from him emotionally, to protect myself. I learned how to stay away from him at school. It wasn’t as easy when we had functions with the O’Conner’s and the rest of my parents' group. But I worked at it.

Mathew and I would continue our talks, and he would play his guitar. I unwillingly came to understand our relationship as friends. I was his confidante, and he mine. I slowly began to trust he would honor my request. I hated that I was still attracted to him. Mathew and Janice would ultimately break up, and another pretty face would replace her. I would get to be the sounding board for the next girlfriend and the next, and then Mathew broke the rules and turned the tables on me.

Chapter 15

Lots of kids at school had parties when their parents would be gone—out of town, at their own party, whatever. We were always trying different things to get high, but most of the time, it was alcohol when someone could get it. Tonight the party was at Kevin's because his parents were out of town for the weekend, and I'd heard there would be a keg of beer. Lucky for me, Keri always liked the high school guys, so it made it easy to get places, and I bummed a ride with Keri and her new boyfriend.

Once we got to the party, we went directly to the backyard. It was a nice evening and that is where most of the people were, as well as the keg. Kevin was pouring.

“Hey, Kev,” I smiled, giving him a hug.

“You look nice,” he said as he wrapped his arm around me with a nod and a hey for Keri.

We talked for a while before he was pulled in another direction. I went to fill up my cup before leaving the keg. Picking up the nozzle, I squeezed the black lever, and watched the beer come out fast and foamy.

“That’s what happens when you squeeze too hard. You have to go slow,” Mathew said as he took the nozzle out of my hand, extending his hand for my cup.

He was talking about more than the beer tap, and he knew I knew it. A lazy sexy grin spread across his face as he tipped the cup sideways a bit and squeezed the lever slowly, letting the beer run down the inside of the cup. When it was full, he handed it to me, then grabbed another cup and poured himself one.

“The expert has arrived,” I teased.

He knew the party scene, always being invited to whatever was going down. Mathew was between girlfriends for the moment, meaning no jealousy fits tonight, which was pretty typical of his girlfriends because he flirted. I was happy to see him. I couldn’t help but notice he looked really sexy, and as usual, he smelled good. Not like some of the guys who went overboard with cologne.

“Let’s sit over there,” he suggested, pointing to a rocker swing sitting further out in the backyard.

I followed him over the grass to the swing. We both sat down carefully to not spill our beer. Once seated, he shifted closer to me. I loved that Mathew and I had the ability to pick up where we left off whenever we were together. There hadn’t been many awkward moments since our being honest conversation.

“God, the break up with Silvia was ugly,” he said and then took a sip of his beer.

“What happened?” I asked.

“She caught me kissing another girl at Randy’s birthday party,” he said seriously, like no big deal.

“Oh, and there shouldn’t be a problem with that?”

I didn’t expect an answer.

“Mathew, do you not see what an asshole you can be?” I asked.

“I know, and so do you,” he joked.

I laughed.

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“To you, maybe,” I said, offended.

“It was time anyway,” he said.

“Mathew, if you want to break up with someone, just do it. Don’t humiliate them.”

Other people would drift by. Conversations would take us in different directions. But Mathew stayed, and we would pick up again when people moved on. It was sort of unusual for him not to be mingling, and flirting with girls.

“Mathew, are all the girls good for you? This flavor of the month thing you seem to have going.”

“What kind of question is that? Any girl is good,” he chuckled.

“You think?” I asked, puzzled.

Not just any girl was good, not me for one.

“Give me your cup, I’ll get us another beer. Stay here,” he commanded.

I watched him walk back to the keg and fill our cups. I saw Kevin approach him, and they talked. Then Kevin lit what looked like a joint, and I watched them pass it around. It was definitely marijuana as the smell worked its way to me. I pushed at the grass with my foot, making the swing take me backwards and forwards slowly. My grandmother had a swing like this. I loved sitting on her swing with her when I visited. It was soothing, calm somehow, the way I felt now. I thought I had finally lost him to the crowd, along with my beer, when he strolled back.

“Here you go,” he said, handing me a full beer.

“I thought you’d abandoned me. Not that it would be so bad, but you had my beer,” I teased.

He smiled his mischievous smile.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” he said as he took my hand and pulled me from sitting to standing.

I followed him as he led me to the house and in through a glass sliding door. It was dark inside, and I realized it was a bedroom. As my eyes adjusted, he locked the slider and then went and locked the door into the house. I giggled, feeling slightly drunk.

“Shh,” he said softly.

“What do you want to show me?” I whispered, as I moved to turn on the lights.

Mathew stopped me before I reached the switch. He took my beer, setting it on a nightstand I could barely see.

“What?” I whispered as he pulled me to him.

It completely threw me off guard. He kissed me softly, hesitantly. Morgan, no I said to myself. Tell him, fuck no. He had followed the rules since I set them. I was forced to follow them.

“Cross-over,” I whispered. “Mathew, damn you—”

He kissed me again before I could get anything else out. I kissed him back. I could taste the beer and the marijuana. I didn’t want to kiss him, and I wanted to kiss him. Stop. I wanted him to stop and not to stop. Why, why, why kept flashing in my head. No mixed messages; we agreed. His tongue was deep in my mouth, and his hands were roaming over my body. When he stopped kissing me, my eyes had adjusted to the darkness. I could make out his face, and I knew he could read my thoughts, confusion, anger, desire all wrapped into one. He put his finger to my lips.

“Kid, go with me,” he whispered.

I caught my breath as he led me to the bed and pulled me down on top of him. He rolled me to one side and started to kiss me again. I didn’t have much experience with kissing. Even with him, it had been limited. He seemed so hungry for me, and I had fantasized about this more than once. My body instinctively pressed into his, and I could feel the heat between us. I slid my hands into his hair, letting it slip slowly through my fingers. I ran my fingers down his face, down his neck. It was wrong. It wasn’t what we agreed on. His kisses kept pushing my thoughts down, drowning them out. I wanted him.

Mathew put his hand up my shirt and undid my bra. His hands felt smooth and warm on my skin. I pulled his T-shirt up and felt his chest. I helped him pull my shirt off over my head and pressed my breasts into him. I could feel both our hearts beating rapidly. He pulled away, cupping my breast, gently running the tip of his finger around my nipple. My body no longer seemed my own, but under his control. He put his mouth on my nipple and sucked gently. My body shook with longing. I could feel how hard he was through his jeans. I only knew about sex; he’d had it.

Run, Morgan screamed in my head. I never stood up. Never said no as I would wish I had later. He pulled me into him with his kisses as we explored each other’s bodies with our hands. When he tried to unbutton my jeans, I pulled his hand up. I wasn’t ready for it to go that far, not here. He pressed his hardness into me as he kissed me. Someone tried the door from inside the house. Finding it locked, they seemed to move back down the hall. I grabbed my shirt and sat up.

“It’s okay,” he said, as he rolled flat on his back. “I don’t think they have a key.”

I found my bra and put my shirt back on; the possibility of an interruption bringing me to my senses. He hadn’t moved. He lay with his shirt off, arms behind his head, jeans riding low on his hips, his hair partially covering his face. I leaned back over him, pushing his hair back. He stared at me, and neither of us spoke. His eyes searched mine, needing me to make it all right.

“Mathew, what was that?” I whispered into his ear.

He was not quick to answer, his eyes pleading. Pleading for what? Forgiveness, to love him, to just be? I didn’t know.

“I felt like being with you,” he finally said.

Trying to guess would be impossible. He had broken the rules, and I’d helped him. Sorry I heard him say from that conversation. No sorry I’d answered. No sorry is right I thought as I got off the bed and adjusted my clothing. I stood in the dark and watched him as he sat up on the edge of the bed and then got up and put his shirt back on.

“Morgan?” he asked tentatively.

I went to him and kissed him softly on the lips to stop him from talking. He kissed me back. When I pulled away, I put my finger to his lips. It had happened.

“No sorry,” I whispered.

He unlocked the door into the house, and we quickly exited through the slider to the backyard. Keri saw us come out of the house.

“Morgan, where have you been?” Keri asked, looking crossly at Mathew. “I need to go.”

She looked back to me quickly.

“If Bruce doesn’t get me home in time, I’m toast.”

I looked at Mathew, and he smiled. His look tore at my heart, peeling away some of the precious scab I’d built up.

“It was great to see you here tonight. Really great,” he said.

“You too,” I said. “Thanks for spending such quality time with me.”

He tilted his head and gave me a sexy grin and I knew he could tell I was giving him a little shit with that comment. I walked out of the party like nothing happened, like my heart hadn’t just done a back flip.

“Where were you and Mathew?” Keri asked once we got in the car. “I saw you on the swing together, and then you were gone. We couldn’t find you two anywhere.”

She’d turned sideways in the front seat so she could see me.

“We were talking,” I said.

It came out of my mouth a little to dreamy, even for my liking.

“Are you all right? You seem out of sorts. Did Mathew say something to hurt you?”

Keri knew enough about Mathew to question.

“Damn, woman, give her a minute to answer,” Bruce piped up.

“Yes, I’m all right, and no he didn’t say anything that hurt me,” I answered.

“You and Mathew an item?” Bruce asked.

“No, just friends,” I answered, distracted.

“Seemed like more than that to me,” he responded.

“Leave her alone,” Keri said, flipping herself around to face forward.

They dropped me off and I went upstairs and brushed my teeth and then crawled into bed. My mom must have been waiting up because she came to my room.

“Did you have a good time?” she asked from my doorway.

“Yeah, but I’m tired,” I answered.

“See you in the morning,” she said, closing my door.

As tired as I felt, I couldn’t fall asleep. If I had let him, would he really have gone all the way? He’d told me about his sexual conquests—many times to my dismay. I was pretty sure he knew I was still a virgin. Was that what he was after? No, he would have tried before now. What happened was important to me. I wanted it to be important to him.

The reality was it probably would get chalked up to another moment, and I shouldn’t think otherwise. I couldn’t think otherwise for my emotional well-being. Hadn’t I come to terms with how he defined us as friends? I would be lying to myself if I didn’t admit I wanted more from him. I wanted him. It was simple.

The lines I had drawn, for my own protection, he had just thrown out the window.

Chapter 16

I wouldn’t be alone again with Mathew for weeks. A good thing I kept telling myself. I saw him at school, and he acted like nothing was different. It didn’t surprise me, what did was I wasn’t exceptionally hurt. There wasn’t a logic for Mathew for me. I was smart about a lot of things, but not him.

My dad was traveling and my mom was going over to see Ann and asked if I wanted to go. I did. It was a weeknight, so I was pretty sure Mathew would be home.

“Mathew’s in his room,” Ann said when mom and I walked into the kitchen. “Patty, a glass of wine?”

“Sure,” my mom answered as I headed down the hall.

His door was closed. I knocked.

“Come in,” he said from inside.

My stomach tightened when I heard his voice. I opened the door slowly. He was seated at his desk with his back to me.

“It’s me,” I said.

He turned around, surprised. He smiled as if he was happy to see me and I smiled back.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“My mom came by to see your mom. They’re having a drink, or six,” I teased.

He laughed.

“Six is more like it. Your dad on a trip?”

“Yeah. She gets lonely,” I answered.

“Gives them both an excuse to get together to drink and smoke. I hate the smoking,” he said.

He patted the corner of the bed for me to sit. When I sat on the edge of his bed, he swung around in his chair.

“You’re looking good, kid.”

I could feel myself blush. I pictured him laying in the dark on Kevin’s bed. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I didn’t.

“Why do you call me kid?”

“Morgan, it’s not an insult. It’s a term of affection, or whatever you want to call it. Does it bug you?”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

He closed his textbook, turned the desk chair around, and reached for his guitar.

“Don’t just pick. Play something for me,” I asked.

He started with the Eagles' “I Can’t Tell You Why”.

“Look at us, baby, up all night, tearing our love apart,” he sang, “aren’t we the same two people who live through years in the dark?”

I listened as he played through the rest of the song. I was amazed at the words, and how they sort of related to us. I wondered if he’d chosen it for that very reason. He played another song by Styx and then one by Queen. Then he set the guitar down. I waited for him to bring up something about the party. He didn’t. Instead, we talked very generally, almost cautiously.

“Mathew?” I asked when I couldn’t stand our tiptoeing around it anymore.

“Morgan, don’t,” he said softly, “don't.”

“Don’t what?” I asked.

He didn’t answer and his silence made me angry.

“Pretend to understand it?” I started. “Pretend it didn’t happen? Pretend you lived up to our agreement? I don’t want to pretend, Mathew.”

He pushed his hair back from his face with his hands.

“It happened. We were there. It was right. If it was just for that moment, so be it. I can live with that more than acting like it didn’t happen at all,” I said caustically.

He let my angry words hang for a moment.

“That was a mouth full,” he said.

I stared at him and waited, my heart beating rapidly. I wasn’t sure he was going to answer any of my questions. He grinned at me as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“You’re a great kisser, and you have really nice tits,” he finally said.

I grabbed his pillow and whacked him in the head. He puts his arms up in mock defense.

“You are such a fucker,” I said after I hit him several times. “You promised.”

I sat back down on his bed with the pillow in my lap.

“I lied.”

“No shit,” I said, feeling defeated.

I realized it was pointless to make any rules with him. If he wanted to break them, I knew I would let him. A lot of girls didn’t know how to handle boys, I wasn’t any different. And Mathew was a whole different ballgame, because I couldn’t predict what he would do. He could make me love him and hate him and everything in between. It made me sad to confirm it was just a fleeting moment for him. Within a month, Mathew would have a new girlfriend.

“Say that again, Morgan, 'cause I’m not sure I heard you right,” Gayle said when I told her about the party incident.

I had softened it down to a couple kisses.

“You heard it right,” I said.

“You must be crazy, girl. If you let things like that happen, it will happen again, I promise. You have to tell him no.”

“Gayle, I know what I should have done. It’s difficult with Mathew.”

I knew it wasn’t rationale thinking and Gayle knew I knew it.

“Morgan, you are a smart girl. However, you are stupid when it comes to Mathew; stop being stupid.”

Summer was rapidly approaching and this summer included graduating from eighth grade. Everyone I knew was excited about getting out of junior high and moving onto high school. I had the week at the beach coming up in July to look forward to as well. When I had time with Mathew, most of the time at his house, we talked about all of this. He would also be starting on the high school football team next year, and his summer would be busy with practice. I still took every opportunity to see him and just be with him.

When we were alone together, most of the time he was the Mathew I liked. There was a sensitive side to him that he didn’t let a lot of people see. When he did, it was usually in the songs he wrote. He let me see that side. At school, I kept my distance. Maybe it was self-preservation, or maybe it was me picking the side of Mathew I liked and ignoring the part I didn’t. He was very popular and spent most of his free time with his current girlfriend or the jock crowd. Neither of which I wanted to be around.

Mathew and I were very open with each other. I don’t think there were a lot of secrets we hadn’t shared. In our chats, the sexual sparring never stopped. He usually started it, but I was always game to jump in. It was exciting, I couldn’t help myself. Although I couldn’t be physical with him, it felt like we had a connection. My fantasies of having sex with him overwhelmed me at times.

Eighth grade Graduation Day was finally here, and it was a beautiful June day. I spotted Mathew in the crowd, his blond hair bright in the afternoon sun. My family was invited to the O’Conner’s for a get-together this weekend, and I was hoping Mathew would be there.

“Morgan,” I heard Mathew’s voice and turned around to see him walk toward me.

“Finally graduation. You happy to be getting out of here?” he asked.

“I’m happy about summer being here, excited for high school.”

“Me too,” he said. “Are you coming with your folks Saturday?”

“Yeah,” I replied.

“Good, see you Saturday. Kevin’s going to be there.”

He smiled at me his eyes shining.

“So?” I questioned.

The corners of Mathew's smile turned up mischievously. He was up to something.

“So, he thinks you’re cute,” he said.

“Oh, that’s encouraging,” I said, frowning at him.

Mathew grinned and moved off into the crowd, his hair looking golden under his cap, the blue gown swirling around him. I thought we all looked goofy in our cap and gowns, everyone but Mathew, he looked lovely. I wondered why Mathew had said that about Kevin. Kevin had been around me since grade school. He was good-looking, but sort of immature in my book. I hadn’t thought much about him and certainly not in any romantic way.

As I wondered what Mathew’s motive was, the ceremony began, and we all funneled onto the bleachers. The principal started with speeches of things to come, the adventure of high school, moving on and growing up.

It hit home with me—it was time to move on.

Saturday morning I helped my mom clean the house and then went over to Gayle's to kill time before the O'Conner’s party. I went through their back door unannounced as usual. Her mom was doing paperwork at the kitchen table.

“Hi, Morgan, Gayle’s out back.”

“Thanks,” I said as I proceeded through the family room and out the slider to the patio where Gayle was reading out in the sun.

“Hey,” she said as I came outside.

“I thought you had a party at Mathew’s?” she asked.

“Not till four,” I answered.

“What time is it?”

“A little after two.”

“Who’s gonna be there?” she asked.

“Some of my parents' friends, their kids, and I think Mathew is having some school friends too. He told me at graduation that Kevin was going to be there.”

“So?”

I pointed at her and wrinkled my nose.

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“What did he say?” Gayle asked.

“He said he thinks I’m cute.”

“Kevin does or Mathew?” she asked, tilting her head and giving me a smirk.

“Kevin,” I answered.

“Whatever,” she said, disgusted. “Mathew trying to set you up is a joke.”

“Maybe he’s trying to get rid of me.”

“Doubt that one too,” she said. “Who else would put up with his ass?”

“Oh, stop.”

I pulled one of the patio chairs into the sun next to her and sat down.

“What are you wearing?” she asked.

“A pair of white shorts and that light blue halter top I got last week when we went shopping.”

She raised her eyebrow.

“Hmm, the one that makes your boobs look big. Good choice. Maybe you’ll make Mathew drool.”

“Shut up,” I said.

“Maybe Kevin too,” she laughed. “Pool party?”

“I guess a sort of pool-barbeque deal. We were told to bring our suits.

“Should be fun,” Gayle said.

“Yeah,” I said, wondering if it would be fun, how Mathew would behave.

I headed home shortly after three to get ready. I hoped Gayle was right; I wanted them both to drool, and I went all out. I used the curling iron on my hair to straighten it out a bit and put my makeup on heavier than normal. I inspected myself in the full-length mirror. I definitely looked good: no bra, halter-top cut low in the front. I finished my outfit off with white strappy sandals. I hoped beyond hope that Mathew wasn't having his girlfriend over. None of his girlfriends were very fond of me and I had a suspicion he liked it that way. Keeping his worlds separate.

Chapter 17

When we got to the O’Conner’s, my mom walked in without knocking, which was pretty normal. The majority of the people were out back around the pool. We put our suits and towels in the guest bedroom off the hall, then Pat and I followed our parents out to the deck.

“Patty, Steve,” Ann flagged my parents and headed toward them. “Ready for a cocktail?”

“What you got?” I heard my dad ask while I scanned the group for Mathew.

I found him at the far end of the pool, sitting with Kevin and Randy. Randy of “oh I kissed another girl”. I made my way toward them. When I came out from the crowd at that end of the pool, Mathew saw me and bumped Kevin’s arm. Kevin looked at him and then followed his gaze. I felt self-conscious as I continued toward them. I could feel butterflies in my stomach. Mathew threw back his hair and sank lower in his chair, stretching his legs in front of him. A lazy sort of suggestive stance I was used to, which always got to me, made between my legs tingle. He checked me out as I approached them.

“Hey, Morgan, what’s up?” he asked, giving me a sexy look that threw me.

“Nothing much,” I said, trying to understand his look.

“Sit,” he said, reaching out and pulling the chair next to him closer to the group.

The three of us talked about the graduation ceremony, what parties we knew of, and what had gone on. The boys all seemed a bit silly, but I didn’t think much of it. Mathew was making me feel comfortable, as were the other boys. He could be so good to me one minute and so not in another minute. I never knew who I would get. I stole some glances at Kevin, and Mathew caught me once. He smiled, but his smile confused me. I didn’t think Kevin was acting any differently towards me than he normally did. I thought it was Mathew who was acting strange. If Mathew was trying to set us up it sure didn’t feel like that. Kevin and Randy were talking about a party they were headed to.

“You and Mathew should come with us,” Kevin said.

I glanced at Mathew, who was blatantly looking at my boobs. He saw me catch him.

“Screw you,” I mouthed without the other two noticing.

He laughed out loud, and both Randy and Kevin looked at him, wondering what the hell. There were kids and adults in the pool and it was fairly noisy, so they just looked around to see what they had missed. Just about that time Ann served dinner, and I was glad for the distraction. We ate out by the pool on our laps and shortly after we finished, Kevin and Randy decided to go.

“You guys coming?”

“Naw, I think I’ll stay here. Don’t want to bum my mom out, since she threw the party for me,” Mathew answered.

“Morgan?” Randy asked.

“No, I think I should stay,” I said, wishing I had the balls to leave him and go.

He knew I’d stay if he did.

“You guys are missing out,” Kevin said.

We followed them as they headed out the side gate. When they left, Mathew swung around and picked me up, walking to the edge of the pool.

“Swim time,” he said.

“No, Mathew!” I yelled.

“Throw her in!” someone yelled.

“No, Mathew, please,” I begged, throwing my arms around his neck tightly. “I have a bikini in the house.”

I hoped I was giving him a visual he might like.

“So,” he said, sort of dropping his arms.

I fell slightly and hung on more tightly.

“I won’t have anything to put on after. Don’t. Please,” I pleaded.

He backed away from the pool and set me down. The kids in the pool booed him.

“Go get your bikini on, kid,” he said.

I went into the house to change into my swimsuit relieved he’d listened. I wrapped my towel around my waist as I came out of the guest room. The minute I walked out back, I was toast. He grabbed me up again, and we went directly into the pool, towel and all. When we surfaced, he laughed.

“You,” I said and started after him.

A kind of come-and-get-me tag went on between us with him getting grabby some times. I was having a good time and didn’t really care. I sort of expected it from his earlier suggestive looks and being honest, I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to feel his body, wanted him naked plunging into me actually. This wasn’t going to happen of course, but I could fantasize about it. After we played in the pool awhile, we went into the hot tub. It was getting dark, and a lot of people had moved indoors. Several kids were still in the pool playing Marco Polo.

“Nice outfit today,” he said.

“You noticed.”

“Well, yeah,” he said, putting his hand on my back, playing with the tie on my bikini top, tugging slightly.

“You better not,” I said under my breath.

He laughed. I reached back, grabbed his hand, and dragged it up front.

“Why did you say that about Kevin at graduation?”

“I don’t know. He just said something to me that day about you.”

“Like?”

“Oh, something about you looking hot.”

“So he didn’t say tell her this?” I asked.

“Naw.”

“Were you guys high when I got here?”

“Yeah. We smoked a big fatty earlier. Was it obvious?” he asked.

“Not too much.”

“You tried it yet?”

“No. I’m sort of afraid,” I lied.

“Pot’s no big deal, Morgan,” he reassured me, “you should try it.”

I still hadn’t told him about trying it with Keri. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe all along I wanted to smoke it with him first. Him to be the one to teach me.

“Maybe you should get us some,” I said.

“Have some. You wanna get high?”

“I guess so,” I answered.

He put his hand on my leg, rubbing it.

“You have nice long legs.”

I could feel the longing return, the thoughts of having sex with him flooded into my head. Yes, I wanted him to teach me that too.

“I’m ready to get out.               I feel all pruned up,” I said, moving away from him trying to reign in my thoughts.

Ann had stacked some towels outside and I grabbed one and wrapped it around me. He was still in the hot tub watching my every move.

“I’m going to change,” I said.

“Okay, meet me in my room.”

I threw my clothes back on, shivering. I’d gotten chilly; whether it was a chill from the weather, from Mathew, or both, I wasn't sure. I took my time and brushed out my wet hair, and checked my makeup. I touched up my mascara and put on some lip-gloss. I put the jean jacket on over my top, leaving it unbuttoned in front, and walked barefoot down the hall to his room. When I walked in, I found him going through his desk drawer, then pulling out a pencil box.

A shiver went through me again as I looked at Mathew in his light blue jeans and red-stripe T-shirt. I wanted so much more from him, and I had to remember I wasn't going to get it. Steeling my nerves, trying to ignore my emotions, I walked in and casually sat on his bed.

“You’re obviously prepared,” I said, noticing that the pencil box’s contents contained several joints already rolled along with a bag of pot and a packet of papers.

He smiled, putting a joint behind his ear and stuffing a book of matches in his pocket. He opened his window and got on the desk.

“Come on,” he said as he jumped to the ground outside.

“I don’t have shoes on,” I protested.

“Come on, I’ll help you.”

I sat on the desk and spun around, dropping my legs out the window. He reached up, putting his hands on my legs, placing them firmly on my bare thighs. I envisioned us naked and blinked hard to remove the image. I looked into his eyes as I scooted further out, and he slowly moved his hands to my hips. His touch and moves were somewhat sexual and I wondered if he meant it that way. I wondered if Kevin’s supposed interest had sparked something. He picked me up, and lowered me softly to the ground as I slid my hands down the hard muscles in his arms. Oh, god, I want you. I felt my skin tingle all over as I followed him around to the side of the house.

“Is this safe?” I whispered.

“Has been so far.”

He pulled the joint from behind his ear and lit it, taking a hit. I watched him hold it in and then let it out.

“Inhale it into your lungs, hold it in, and—”

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” I interrupted.

He smiled, took another hit, and passed it to me. It wasn’t big, and I was thankful for that. I didn’t want to get too stupid.

When we got back inside, Mathew handed me a TicTac. “Just in case.”

He picked up his guitar and sat on the edge of the bed. I decided to sit on top of his desk. I was feeling this pot way more than the stuff with Keri, and the distance felt safer.

“I was surprised that you didn’t go with Kevin and Randy,” I said.

He plucked at the strings as I swung my legs slightly. I was excited to be with him, this Mathew. High with this Mathew, just the two of us. The pot had seemed to fuel my desire, making it difficult for me to push down.

“'Stairway to Heaven',” I requested.

He started the intro when there was a knock at the door and Ann peeked in.

“Wondered where you two went. I saw Kevin and Randy go and then didn’t see you.”

I often wondered if our parents ever worried about what we did together in his room. They didn’t appear to. Now looking at Ann it seemed funny she had no clue I was sitting here stoned wanting to ravage her son.

“Mom, we were in the pool, in the hot tub, and just came in here.”

“That’s fine,” she said, pulling the door shut.

I stifled a giggle and Mathew grinned at me.

“Glad she didn’t come in as we were climbing through the window,” he said.

I couldn’t help the laughter burst out of me.

“I would have loved to see you explain your way out of that one,” I laughed harder. Yep, I was definitely stoned.

We laughed and laughed and I think most of it was because of the pot. When we finally stopped I had to wipe the tears from my eyes. He picked up his guitar and played “Stairway to Heaven” for me.

“Mathew, where’s Brenda?” I asked about his current girlfriend.

“Brenda and I are sort of taking a break,” he said. “Another reason I didn’t want to go with those guys. I’m pretty sure she was going to that party.”

“Oh. Sorry, didn’t mean to be a buzz kill.”

It made more sense to me as to why he’d stayed home. It wasn’t because of his mom. Figured. He wouldn’t stay because his mom wanted him to.

“I really like that top,” he complimented.

“I’m sure you do,” I said, laughing as I pulled my jacket open and stuck my chest out.

He reached over quickly and grabbed my wrist.

“Mathew, let go,” I said, still laughing, trying to yank my hand away.

He held me tighter. I was focusing on getting my hand back, trying to pry his fingers off my wrist.

“Not until you kiss me,” he said.

“No,” I laughed, still pulling away.

He tightened his grip on my wrist, pulling me toward him right off the desk.

“Mathew,” I said, still laughing as my feet reached the floor.

He caught my chin with his free hand and forced me away from focusing on my release, and I stared at him. I knew he was going to get his way.

“God damn you, Mathew,” I said quietly.

He kissed me softly at first and then with more passion. I didn’t even think no. I wanted it, had all afternoon. I knew these moments were always on Mathew’s terms or not at all. I could feel my heart racing, my body responding. I thought about Ann or someone else opening the door again and then forgot about it. When he kissed me, all I could do was focus on him. I slid my hand into his still-wet hair and pulled him to me. Without taking my jacket off, he untied my halter-top and ran his hands up over my breasts. My breath caught in my throat.

“Umm,” he murmured in my mouth.

I ran my hands from his hair down his back, feeling his muscles through his T-shirt. Ever since the one night at the party I’d longed to feel him like this, have him feel me, kiss me like he meant it. When I got to his jeans, I shoved both hands down his pants, surprised he had no underwear on, I grabbed his ass. This was another first for me, waves of desire washed through me. So intense, it was almost frightening. I pushed my pelvis into him, pulling him into me at the same time feeling his hardness. His kissing became more abandoned, his hands covering my breasts kneading them gently. I reached around to unbutton his jeans just as we heard Sam talking in the hall. I stopped, turning my back to the door as I quickly re-tied my halter-top. Then breathed a sigh of relief as the voices moved away. When I turned around, he smiled, the one that could make me melt.

“That was nice,” he said.

I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him.

“You want some of this?” he asked, hooking his fingers in his belt loops, his hands resting right in front of his crotch.

I looked down. If I wanted it or not, it wouldn’t make a difference, not today, not here. There was too much going on around us for us to just fuck in his room, although I wanted to. My mouth was dry. I looked back into his eyes.

“You obviously wanted some of this,” I said, cupping both my breasts.

I felt powerful, powerful I could get him going like that, make him hard with just kissing. He’d denied the attraction, but he was full of shit. I couldn’t blame our physical attraction on being high. He smiled and the butterflies in my stomach lurched forward.

“You still have a girlfriend,” is all I could think to say.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Mathew skipped the party to stay with me. He never wanted to be questioned about his motives, so I didn’t. I tried to wrap my mind around my current feelings for Mathew and our relationship. I understood what it looked like, but it wasn’t exactly that. No matter how much or how often I thought about it, I couldn’t understand his hold on me. I wondered why I let things like this happen. As foolish as I thought this was, I decided if this was how our relationship was to work. I would take it.

If I couldn’t have the emotional piece of his love, I’d take the physical piece. I would take all I could get from him. In a very strange way I had more than his girlfriends did, he confided in me more than even Bobby now.

Chapter 18

June went fast and beach vacation was coming. I couldn’t wait to see everyone and just spend time at the ocean where I felt free and happy. We’d been at various parties where we had seen some of the group, but we hadn't all been together since the ski trip. I was looking forward to hanging with the girls and enjoying the independence the beach offered us. Of course Mathew would be there too. Mathew and Bobby would be off on their own although, as of late, they were more willing to let me hang, especially Mathew. Instead of avoiding me or running off, they had started to include me.

We arrived mid-day and unpacked. Cocktail hour, as well as dinner, would be at our beach house the first night—my parents had reserved the same house, so Melanie and I hung out together on the beach in the sun, the other kids joining us as they arrived.

“It’s hard to believe it’s already been a year,” I said lazily.

“I know,” Melanie sighed.

“Everyone’s growing up.”

“High school for you next year, holy cow,” she said.

“Don’t want to think of next year, just want to relax and enjoy this week, get tan,” I said.

I had turned over onto my stomach and was resting my chin in my hands, relishing the feel of the sun on my body, when I noticed Bobby and Mathew body surfing further down the beach. Both of them had grown and filled out; Mathew was looking exceptionally good from all the training he was doing for football.

I thought back over the last few months and wondered why he hadn’t tried anything since that get-together at his house. We had been together several times in between, and I was sorry he hadn’t. I wasn’t sure where he was currently in his relationship—he and Brenda were on and off so many times. I closed my eyes. I thought about his kiss, his touch. “You want some of this?” he’d asked; Yes I do I imagined myself saying, as I unbuttoned his pants.

“Ohhhh,” I shouted, arching my back as cold ocean water was splashed across me.

My eyes flew open and I flipped over to find Mathew holding an empty yellow plastic bucket, the kind kids get with the shovel at the drug store. The other kids were laughing. I’d been daydreaming, about him nonetheless, and hadn’t heard him approaching. I looked from his hands to his face.

“Mathew!” I shouted half-laughing.

“You looked like you needed some cooling off,” he chuckled.

If he only knew… I'd totally needed cooling off.

“He got you good,” Pat laughed.

“Have you been out scaring little children in order to steal their bucket?” I teased.

“He borrowed it from there,” Bobby laughed pointing to a half-built sand castle down by the water.

I looked and saw no one there. I actual liked his playful side, but only to a point. Sometimes he didn’t know how to shut off the little boy in him.

“Make sure to take it back. You’re so bad.”

“Aw, bad boy, huh?” Mathew said as he spread his legs slightly digging his feet into the hot sand and dropping the bucket. “I think you like the bad boys.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said as I sat up and crossed my legs Indian-style.

Bobby laughed again as I wiped myself down with my hands.

“You guys looked like you were having fun out there,” I said, looking toward the water.

“We were. The surf is good right now,” he said.

He lowered himself onto my towel while Bobby sat down in the sand. Typical, he didn’t ask, he just did.

“Tonight let’s get a bonfire together in front of your house. We all need to look for wood before it gets dark,” Mathew said.

“S’mores,” Sara called out.

“I think my mom brought the stuff,” Melanie said.

We talked awhile longer and then we broke up to look for wood. I went with Mathew and Bobby, and we found driftwood that we dragged up in front of the beach house. Pat and the other kids were bringing wood back to the pile as well. By the time we were through there was a lot of wood. Bobby dug a shallow pit with a shovel he’d grabbed off our deck. As the other kids headed out to shower the three of us loaded a portion of the wood into the pit.

“There, done,” Bobby, said wiping his hands together to get the sand off.

“Should be more than enough for tonight,” I said.

I looked at Mathew and he grinned at me. They had included me and I felt my heart flutter.

“We’re off to shower. Two sexy dudes will be coming back shortly,” Mathew said, reaching out and running his fingers softly along my chin in an affectionate way.

“Oh, puh-lease,” I laughed, pulling away.

The two boys looked at each other and shrugged like there was some secret thing they knew about his action that I didn’t.

“See you in awhile,” I said, heading toward the house.

I showered and blow-dried my hair, making it hang straighter and then put on a pair of cut-off jean shorts with a red-and-white kerchief blouse that tied up just under my breasts like Daisy Mae, leaving most of the buttons undone. I smiled, knowing Mathew would notice.

I wanted to look sexy, tease him, make him want me. I’d realized I did have a little power over him, even if he didn’t take it; I wanted him to see it. I could tell when he looked at me whether I was getting to him or not. I put on mascara and brushed a bit of bronzer on my cheeks. Finally I put on pale pink lip-gloss. I pushed my hair back as I checked my appearance one last time. Yep, he couldn’t not notice.

When I came downstairs, the sun was setting; glorious colors swirled together in the sky, the sun just touching the water. I could still see the heat rising from the sand, the blurry look it got when you looked from an angle. Even though the air was getting cooler, the sand still held the suns warmth. I breathed in the smell of the lasagna I knew was in the oven.

Some of the adults and some of the kids were mingling on the patio, and I went out the back door to join them. Pat and Sam were sitting on the bench across the patio, their backs to the house looking out at the beach. There were numerous conversations going on drowning out the ocean waves. I heard my mom laugh along with several adults. Melanie and Sara were seated on a lounge chair together. Melanie had on a sundress with big orange flowers and Sara wore jean shorts and a cute green top that puckered at the bottom. I got myself a Coke from one of the ice chests and sat down on the lounge next to them.

“Who you dressing up for?” Melanie asked.

“I think for Mathew,” Sara whispered under her breath.

“Not,” I said.

Unfortunately I didn’t hide it well and, although we didn’t talk about it, they all sort of alluded to something between us. I shifted back into the lounge feeling like I might have gone overboard since they’d noticed right away. I saw Mathew and Bobby coming down the sidewalk. Mathew had on a pair of white shorts, his light blue shirt left open halfway down his chest in a sort of sloppy sexy way. Bobby was dressed in a purple T-shirt and jean shorts. Leave it to Mathew to rock it. I straightened myself a bit in the lounge, pulling my shoulders back.

“Hey, guys,” he said as he walked up to the three of us.

“Hey,” we said in unison.

His face was tan, intensifying his blue eyes. Shit, why did I find him so hot still? As I stared at him, he looked me over. God damn it, Mathew, could you be any more obvious? When he caught my eye, he gave me a knowing smile. I cocked my head and brushed back my hair, giving him a sexy smile. Two could play this game.

He walked over to the coolers, opened the adult one, and pulled up a beer.

“Drink anyone?” he asked.

We all looked at him in shock, but none of the adults were even paying attention I noticed. They were lost in their cocktailing and chitchat.

“Kidding,” he said, putting the beer back and grabbing a 7Up out of the other cooler. “That’s for later.”

“Grab me one of those,” Bobby said.

I knew Mathew wasn’t kidding about beer later; he’d get it somehow. He plopped himself on the lounge chair next to me and kicked up his legs, making himself comfortable. Bobby sat down close to Pat on the bench with his back to the beach facing us.

“So what’s up?” Mathew asked casually.

It was unusual to have Mathew and Bobby join us early so I was pleasantly surprised. As we sat and talked, more of the group arrived. More kids joined in the noise level rose and ultimately we were sort of kicked down to the beach by the growing number of adults who moved to the patio with cocktails.

I walked down to the water's edge, enthralled with the sunset, watching as the sun, like a big round fireball, slowly sank into the ocean. A small amount of haze, or smog, reflected the light just so to create a thin layer above the water, all red and purple and orange. It spread as far as you could see in both directions. It was so beautiful.

“Pretty,” Mathew said, coming up behind me.

He was close enough I could feel the electricity between us. I breathed in deeply. Why did I never tire of that smell?

“Thank you,” I said.

“I meant the sunset, but you too,” he chuckled.

“You’ll play tonight by the fire, won’t you?” I asked.

“Yep, I need to go back and get my guitar, though. You want to walk?”

“Okay,” I said, as my stomach tightened and the butterflies leapt into my throat.

I was surprised he asked me, and we started off together down the beach. I looked back to see if Bobby was going to follow, but he was talking to Pat and wasn’t paying us any mind.

“Where you guys going?” Sheryl shouted.

“To get my guitar,” Mathew shouted back over his shoulder.

We strolled for a ways before he spoke again. I had the mad desire to take his hand in mine, but I didn’t. Sometimes pretending to him that I had no desire was best for me.

“You get all pretty for me, kid?”

“Mathew, you are always trying to flatter yourself. I got pretty for me,” I said, pushing his shoulder.

“Never gave me a thought, did you?”

I pictured myself in the bathroom; every thought about my appearance had been about him.

“Nope,” I answered flippantly.

He looked over at me and gave me his sexy lazy grin letting me know he didn’t believe me. The sand was warm under our feet, and I felt giddy being with him. Like a baby goat when it plays, all bucking and jumping, but on the inside. When we got to the condo, he went straight to the refrigerator.

“Want a beer?” he asked, pulling two out.

“We can’t be gone too long, dinner’s soon,” I said, my voice breaking as he handed me the beer.

“You nervous, Morgan?” he asked.

He said it in a challenging sort of way, a sexual challenge, and it didn’t sit well with how I’d been feeling. I stared into his eyes as I pulled the tab from my beer.

“You’re frickin' kidding me, right?”

I wasn’t afraid to be alone with him; I wanted to be alone with him. I wanted to shout that at him, wanted him to roughly pull me into his arms like I’d dreamed about.

“No. You're nervous because mommy’s not just down the hall?” he said, acting smart.

This Mathew was the one that always threw me; I didn’t understand his attitude. I turned to face him dead-on, my legs slightly apart and my feet firmly planted. I flipped back my hair with my free hand.

“I’m not nervous to be with you, shit head. What are you gonna do?” I said, challenging him.

He smiled and then took a sip of beer. I was tense. I wanted to be with him. I wanted him to touch me, kiss me, here was a chance. He watched me while I stared him down. I slowly raised the can of beer to my lips and took a sip not breaking my lock on his eyes. He took several swallows, still not breaking our gaze. My body was sort of stiff, I could feel the tension, and I couldn’t decipher if it was the don’t-fuck-with-me type or sexual. What was he thinking? Then he broke it and set his beer down on the counter and disappeared, returning with his guitar. He finished his beer and grabbed another.

“You?” he asked, opening the refrigerator.

When he looked at me, he grinned, and the tension from before was gone and my body relaxed.

“Won’t your parents notice?”

“Naw,” he said, taking two more and handing me one. “Finished?”

I took a few sips and finished the first one.

“Here,” he said, taking the empty can from me.

He took the empty cans and buried them in the trash, then put the guitar under his arm and grabbed his second can of beer.

“Let’s go,” he said, opening the door.

Chapter 19

It was getting dark as we walked back across the street. When he tucked his beer sort of under his arm, I did the same. When we got to the beach, we walked down toward the water before heading toward the house. We drank the second beer on the way.

“You been partying much this summer, Morgan?”

“Some.”

“Haven’t seen you at any.”

“You run with a different crowd,” I said. “I hang with Gayle a lot; Keri sometimes.”

“Keri’s hot,” he said.

I ignored his comment. He threw things out like that every now and then and it irritated me.

“I tried pot before I smoked with you that one night.”

Keri’s name coming up made me think of our meeting in the tunnel.

“Yeah, with who?” he asked.

“With Keri one morning before school,” I answered.

He laughed.

“Doesn’t surprise me about Keri, but wouldn’t have guessed you. Maybe I’ll try and score some while we’re here.”

“Where would you score it?” I asked, curious.

“The hippies who hang out by the store; they always have it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I’ve bought it from them before,” he said.

“Gotcha,” I said.

So Mathew obviously had another motive for people watching down by Hot Dog on a Stick. We finished the beer and when we left the cans on the beach, I made a mental note to get them later. We got back to the house, as dinner was finishing up.

“Where have you been?” my mom asked.

“I went with Mathew to get his guitar.”

“You two need to get a plate before it’s picked up,” she said.

Mathew and I each grabbed a plate, loading them up with lasagna, thick slices of garlic bread, and salad. We went out on the patio to find that most of the group had moved to the beach already. The bonfire was going, and the firelight flickered on their faces while the ocean crashed in the darkness beyond. We sat down at the table to eat and Bobby came to join us.

“I love the beach,” I said.

I watched the fire, could hear it crackle and pop as embers floated into the air. The lasagna was cheesy and delicious, the bread soft and very garlicky. The smell of burning wood wafted to me now and then.

“That was good,” Bobby said, licking his fingers.

“Let’s get rid of our plates and get out to the fire,” Mathew said as he stood up.

As we went inside and threw our plates away, my mom handed us the s’more supplies and asked us to carry it down. Mathew took the marshmallows and graham crackers along with his guitar, and I took the chocolate and the roasting skewers. Laughter and conversations floated up from around the fire.

“Whew, it’s a bit chilly out here,” I said shivering as we walked down the stairs.

“It will be warm by the fire,” Mathew said.

“Warmer, but I think I’ll still need a sweatshirt.”

I knew I would be cold; my outfit was a little skimpy for the temperature now.

“Here Mel,” I said handing her the stuff. “I’m gonna run back to grab a sweatshirt.”

I ran up the stairs, then three stories and grabbed a pink zip-up hoodie out of my room. I was out of breath as I headed back to the fire. As I walked out the back door, I could smell the marshmallows already toasting, the sugary sweet of it beckoning me.

Sheryl screamed and then laughed as hers caught fire and she had to blow it out. I could see Ann was busy distributing marshmallows, chocolate, and grams. Melanie and Bobby both had several marshmallows on their skewers. My dad and a couple of the other men where standing with cocktails in their hands watching the commotion. Mathew was sitting next to his guitar on the far side of the fire talking to Bobby as he roasted. He stopped talking and watched me as I approached.

“Here,” Ann said, handing me a skewer with two white marshmallows on it.

I thanked her and then sat in the sand slightly in front of Mathew to hold them over the fire, carefully keeping my skewer high enough to toast them golden brown.

“Ann, can you hand me a graham with chocolate,” I asked, watching that my marshmallows didn’t fall off.

“Here,” Mathew volunteered, leaning in front of me to get them from his mom.

He held the two graham cracker squares open, a piece of chocolate on one side while I pushed the two marshmallows into the middle, and he sandwiched it together.

“Perfect,” I sighed, looking for him to hand it to me.

Instead, I watched, open-mouthed, as he took a bite.

“Yes, it is,” he said with his mouth full.

Everyone laughed.

“Here, Morgan,” Ann chuckled, handing me more marshmallows. “Try to keep these away from Mathew.”

“Yeah, he’s a bad helper,” I teased.

Mathew smiled at me as he finished my perfect s’more. He picked up his guitar and strummed, his hair falling forward as he tuned. The firelight danced off everyone’s faces as we all waited for him to play. He started his first song, “Wild Horses”, by the Rolling Stones. He sang it softly, and everyone stopped talking and listened. He’d chosen my favorite song.

“Wild, wild, horses, couldn’t drag me away from you,” he sang.

My heart didn’t feel as desperate for him tonight as it could—I was such an emotional yoyo when it came to him. When he finished, he looked up at me.

“Thanks,” I mouthed, feeling calm.

He played for a long time while the bonfire blazed. As it slowly died down, people drifted back toward the house or back to their condos.

“Let’s walk down to the water,” Bobby suggested.

I stood up and dusted the sand off my rear.

“Let me help,” Mathew said, reaching for me.

I slapped his hand away as I zipped up my hoodie and buried my hands in the pockets.

“You coming?” Mathew asked.

I looked at Bobby, then back to Mathew. Bobby’s expression hadn’t said he cared either way.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I’ll be right back,” Mathew said, as he headed toward the house with his guitar.

Bobby and I waited in silence. When he came back, I followed the two of them down the beach, where we sat on the ridge of sand closest to the water that was still dry. The moonlight danced off the surface while the foam washing up onto the sand reflected white. Mathew pulled out three beers from under his shirt.

“You kipping from the cooler?” Bobby asked.

“Of course,” he answered.

Mathew popped each one and handed it to us. The adults would never notice; they were too busy partying.

“Our little Morgan here has been smokin' some pot,” Mathew volunteered.

“Big deal,” I said, wondering why he brought it up.

Bobby didn’t comment. I didn’t like how he made it sound like I was a little child that had fallen way behind the crowd. I knew Mathew was way more into the party scene than I was, but I didn’t really care. We watched the ocean, drinking our beer for a while, until Bobby broke the silence.

“How’s it goin' with what’s her name, Mathew?”

I wondered if Bobby brought that up, knowing it might get to me. There were times like this that I didn’t know if he was trying to get a reaction, or really just thought I was a pal and it didn’t matter.

“You call them all that,” he answered.

“Have to 'cause I can’t keep 'em straight,” Bobby said.

I looked at Mathew who was grinning.

“How’s your love life?” Mathew asked Bobby, switching the focus.

I listened, sort of wishing now that I hadn’t come, not wanting to hear about the girl thing, about the girl Bobby had been seeing for a couple months. Why couldn't that be Mathew and me? I thought in anguish.

“Good,” Bobby said.

“Good, that’s it.”

“For you, yeah,” Bobby laughed. “You seeing anyone, Morgan?”

“Nope, I’m too busy keeping the girls in Mathew’s life straight for him,” I said, playing on Bobby’s comment.

It sent Bobby into hysterics. He laughed and laughed and I couldn’t help but smile.

“No doubt, no doubt,” he finally said, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Fuck you guys,” Mathew said teasingly.

He reached into my pocket then and gave my hand a squeeze and left it there. I unballed my cold hand and held his, marveling at how warm it was. He hadn’t held my hand often, and usually just fleetingly, so although it was a simple gesture, coming from him it was kind and tender. When I was ready to leave, like the summer before, Mathew walked me back to the house.

“Thanks for ‘Wild Horses’,” I said when we stopped short of the house.

“I know it’s your fav. It’s why I played it.”

“You played it because you like to play with me,” I said my eyes narrowing.

“What does that mean?” he asked seriously.

I looked at him and laughed which seemed to confuse him more.

“You’ve got to be joking. You always play with me,” I said, staring him down.

I didn’t believe he didn’t know what he could do to me. Turn me into a wet noodle just by a look. I constantly had to struggle with myself about my emotions regarding him. Tonight had been good, because I hadn’t struggled. He was trying to read my thoughts and continued to give me a confused look. Just when I thought he might be serious, he started laughing.

“You,” I said, jabbing him in the stomach.

He stumbled backwards, holding his stomach as if he was wounded. I smiled at him, still playing with me I thought.

“See you later,” he croaked out, stumbling back down the beach toward Bobby.

I watched him for a minute thinking about the warmth of his hand, his reason for holding mine, and then turned and went into the house. Pool balls were breaking, so I headed upstairs. I needed something normal. Something, someone that wasn't Mathew. People who didn't mess with my head or my heart.

It was a best of three games between Pat and my dad against Brad and Sam. They had each won one, so this was it. It was such a normal scene with each side laughing and ragging on the other. Just people enjoying themselves with no ulterior motive. I watched for a few minutes, thinking back on the evening, and then walked out on the balcony. I wasn’t going to figure Mathew out; I could make myself crazy trying to understand him. There were only two choices, go along, or not. I could see Mathew and Bobby still sitting by the ocean. I saw a match strike and then a glow of what looked like a cigarette. When I saw it pass between the two of them, I knew Mathew had scored.

Chapter 20

I woke, remembering we were going to the Santa Cruz Boardwalk today. Melanie, Sheryl and I were all up and dressed early. It was going to be a sunny hot day so we’d dressed in shorts and T-shirts. We’d rushed through our cereal so we could take a walk on the beach and look for shells and beach glass before we went. There were two cars full of kids, my dad drove one and it was noisy, everyone overly excited.

We rushed from the cars at the curb in front. I could hear the roller coaster swooshing around the track, kids screaming, combined with music playing from various rides.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said.

“Thanks, Mr. Mallory.”

“Yeah, thanks, Mr. Mallory.”

“Watch out for each other and stay together,” dad said.

After he’d left we walked out onto the boardwalk and found a ticket book and bought tickets. Bobby and Mathew took off, as well as several other groups of kids. Melanie, Sheryl, Sara and I, along with Bobby’s sisters split for the Big Dipper. As we walked on the worn weathered boards I could smell the cotton candy and popcorn. We spent the day riding the roller coaster as well as numerous other rides with only a few breaks to sample the food.

“Let’s go get something to drink,” Sheryl said as we left the roller coaster for the umpteenth time.

She was holding her stomach and laughing at the same time. We were all laughing. The roller coaster was above our heads now ratcheting up the first big hill. The sound made me feel the sensation; the anticipation in getting to the top, knowing my stomach would be in my throat the minute I plunged down the other side.

“That ride is just too much fun,” Melanie said stomping her feet.

“I love it,” Sara said. “Love that feeling of flying.”

“Morgan,” I heard Mathew yell.

I turned and scanned the crowd. Mathew and Bobby were headed down the boardwalk in our direction. The lights on the rides flickered even though it was daylight, drawing attention to them. The attendees in the arcade booths called out for people to play their game. I saw the lady at the cotton candy machine swirling the paper stick around to catch the spun sugar.

“Come on,” Melanie said, pulling at my arm.

“I’ll wait for these guys. You go ahead.”

“Oh, Morgan,” Sara sighed. “You know you have more fun with us.”

“I’ve been with you all day,” I laughed. “I’ll just see what they want.”

Melanie and Sheryl rolled their eyes at each other.

“Whatever,” Sara said.

“We’re going back to the Dipper after we get a drink,” Melanie said, heading off. “If we lose you, see you in an hour at the ferris wheel.”

“Sounds good,” I said, remembering that the ferris wheel was the meeting place to regroup before we got picked up.

“You been here all this time?” Mathew asked, motioning toward the ride with his head.

“Just about,” I answered. “We’ve ridden a few other rides though too.”

He laughed, which made me smile.

“Let’s go do the merry-go round. I bet I can get more rings to toss than you,” he challenged.

He knew when he dared me I would generally take him on.

“I do the Big Dipper, and you guys do the merry-go round? Real manly,” I teased as the three of us headed down the boardwalk.

We rode the merry-go round and pulled the brass rings out of the feeder as we went by to throw in the clown’s mouth. My hair fluttered wildly behind me, and the three of us laughed as we reached further and further out from our horses, Mathew even falling sideways once. It was fun and a little magical riding such a child’s ride, the horses going up and down slowly as the music played. Much to Mathew’s delight, he made the clown ring more than Bobby or me. Bobby tiring of Mathew’s victory shouts suggested we move on, and we got off the ride and headed in the direction of the ferris wheel.

“Let’s get some cheese fries,” I suggested, knowing they wouldn’t go for the fried zucchini.

Standing in line Mathew pushed into me slightly. It was subtle and gentle and again my desperate heart stayed hidden, which I was thankful for. We took the large order of cheese soaked fries and sat on the wide steps that led down to the beach and watched the gulls and their daring exploits as they dove for food in the garbage can.

“Garbage birds,” Mathew said disapprovingly.

He usually loved animals, all kinds, so I was surprised to hear him say that.

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be the beach without them,” I answered. “The waves crashing, seagulls squawking, they just go hand-in-hand.”

Bobby held out a fry, and a gull with half his foot gone waddled over and yanked it from him.

“Don’t, you’ll have them all over here, shitting on our heads,” Mathew said disgusted, waving it away.

We watched the gulls attack the garbage cans, swooping in when someone dropped any piece of food. A mother with three kids set her fries on the step while she tried to get the kids seated, and a gull swooped in and knocked the tray over, flinging fries everywhere. In an instant, it looked like the movie The Birds.

“What time is it?” Mathew asked after we’d stopped laughing.

I looked at the neon clock behind us.

“Almost seven,” I answered.

“We’d better head toward the ferris wheel,” Bobby said.

“Okay, but I have to stop and buy some of that salt water taffy on our way,” I said. “I like it all, but my mom really loves the lemon.”

That night, back on the beach, Mathew, Bobby, and I sat by the water and talked. Bobby teased Mathew about his apparent lame attempts with various girls when they were out on the boardwalk.

“Morgan, you should hear some of his stupid pick-up lines,” Bobby joked.

The visual wasn’t even hard for me, his swagger, his lazy sexy grin, his voice, and that was saying nothing about his body and beautiful face.

“I can imagine,” I said sarcastically. “I bet Brenda can too.”

Bobby and I laughed. Mathew lunged sideways at me and took me down in the sand. His movement sent me rolling and he sort of landed on top of me. The sand felt gritty and cool against my skin. I knew I was going to be covered, it having a way of sticking to bare skin like glue.

“Get him off me, Bobby,” I laughed, trying to free myself from under him.

Bobby made a halfhearted attempt at pulling Mathew off me, and then Mathew finally rolled over, pulling me into his lap and wrapping his arms around me. I was laughing and had sand in my hair, which was now getting in my mouth.

“Stop,” I laughed, “you’ve got me covered in sand.”

He let me go, and I stood to brush the sand off and shake it out of my hair. He watched and his look made me shiver. Stay gone desperate heart. When I finished, he patted his lap. I looked from Mathew to Bobby who shrugged his shoulders. I knew nothing of what Bobby knew or didn’t. You daring me? Because I didn’t think Mathew thought I would do it, I sat back down in his lap.

When I did he wriggled back, and I thought he was going to get up or take me down again, instead he moved back so he could pull me into a more comfortable reclining position against him. He wrapped his arms around me, and we stayed like that while we talked. This was new and like the hand holding, simple but gentle, I liked it. I could smell him; feel my head against his chest, his jeaned crotch against my back. Oh, breathe, his cock was underneath them.

“You know, guys pick up girls all the time on the boardwalk, and then they go underneath the 'walk to do it,” Mathew said.

“No they don’t,” I protested.

I wondered if he really could read my mind, where had that come from?

“It’s true. You can find people doing all kinds of things under the boardwalk,” Bobby threw in.

I bravely put a hand up on his right arm, feeling his warmth through my palm.

“You’ve seen it?”

“Bobby and I both,” Mathew said.

I looked over at Bobby and he nodded yes.

“That’s gross,” I said. “They like screw right in the sand?”

I couldn’t help but think Mathew had said something to Bobby about him and I because he didn’t seem exactly shocked.

“Yep,” they answered at the same time.

“Right there, with perverts like you watching?”

I pushed my head back hard into his chest.

“Yep,” Mathew said, confirming the fact.

“That’s even grosser,” I said. “Drug stuff too, I would guess.”

“Pretty much has it all,” he said.

Mathew took a strand of my curls and wrapped it around his finger, which Bobby pretended not to notice. What had prompted Mathew’s kinder side tonight, I had no idea, maybe it was beating us both at ringing the bell. That was how random he could be.

“How’s the band?” Bobby asked, changing the subject.

“Coming along. We're getting together a lot to jam. We’ve played at a few parties. Chicks dig us.”

Of course he had to throw in that last line making me want to elbow him.

Mathew was nicer to me that week than I could remember him ever being for any length of time. He had numerous opportunities to kiss me, or more, but he never took them. He continued to hold my hand or have me recline against him, just being tender. Again it confused me, although it did not surprise me. I spent a lot of time with the two of them the rest of that week at the beach. The day we left for home, I realized that I felt vulnerable towards him again.

Chapter 21

The remainder of the summer, I spent most of my time with the kids in my neighborhood. Gayle and I went shopping or to the movies or just hung around. Mathew was in and out of my world with parties my parents took us to. We talked on the phone once in a while, which usually involved him telling me about his football training, the progress with the band, the girls. Brenda and he had called it quits finally, and he was currently single. My mom still went to Ann’s quite often, but I begged off. I wanted to get back to indifference regarding any emotional feelings toward him. Distance was safe.

I was sitting in the food court at the mall with Gayle people-watching as we ate. It was always amusing for us, the couples strolling, mothers with crying children, women decked out like they were going clubbing. A good-looking boy with longish blonde hair strolled by.

“Have you seen him lately?”

I knew the boy had made her think of Mathew.

“A couple of weeks ago at a barbeque. He went off with Bobby. They asked me to go, but I said no.”

I liked the not feeling desperate feeling, but my feelings weren’t gone.

“You guys have a weird whatever it is.”

“Yeah, I think whatever it was is over. You saw the way he acted toward me at school last year. It’s nothing like the times I have told you about. Nothing like the beach. He’s so indifferent to me. It’s like he’s too cool, has to maintain some sort of image. It wouldn’t surprise me if you think I’m delusional and make the shit I tell you about up.”

The night he’d had me recline into him he’d walked me back to my beach house without Bobby. I pictured him now, standing by the water in the moonlight when he’d kissed me.

“You know I don’t think that,” Gayle said.

“I could understand it if you did. I am fuckin' delusional when it comes to him. It seems as if just when I think I can see him as a friend, and only a friend, he changes the rules. Like the beach. Why do you think he was so nice to me all week?” I asked, not waiting for her to answer. “Then holding me, like I told you that one night. In front of Bobby no less. He’s never done that before. And kissing me. Bobby has to know something about Mathew’s actions, wouldn’t you think?”

There were times I wanted to get Bobby alone and ask him about Mathew, but I figured he wouldn’t tell me anything, even if he knew.

“What I think is that Mathew plays games with you,” Gayle said.

“Oh really, you think?” I rolled my eyes. “Shit, even he knows it. Doesn’t stop him. Why can’t I stop me?”

Gayle sighed.

“We have school starting in two weeks. He is still going to be popular, even more so being on the high school football team. You need to move on to other guys. Quit giving him the time of day. You deserve a good guy,” Gayle said.

I was working hard at not giving him the time of day. It wasn’t easy to stay away when my mom was headed to see Ann.

“Thanks. Show me a good guy,” I said. “Not so sure that exists.”

She laughed; I stuffed a couple of fries in my mouth and took a sip of Coke. The wheels were turning in Gayle’s head, I could tell by the thinking wrinkles between her eyes.

“I want to try pot,” she said.

“Where did that come from?” I asked surprised she’d gone from Mathew to pot.

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it, and I want to know,” she said.

“I can probably get some from Mathew,” I said.

“Did we not just talk about quitting Mathew? Get it from Keri’s brother.”

“Good answer. I’ll ask her,” I said.

I was irritated with Gayle for calling me out and felt guilty at the same time for instantly thinking about Mathew. I called Keri and she was all for it, and the weekend before school started, Keri, Gayle, and I went down to the creek to smoke the two joints Keri brought.

“Tell me again how it makes you feel?” Gayle asked.

“Sort of mellow and happy, and sometimes you laugh a lot,” Keri answered.

“Like when you’re drunk?”

“Sort of,” I said, “but mellower.”

Keri took the joint out of her bag and lit it.

“When you take a hit, suck it into your lungs, and then you hold it as long as you can before you let it out. And try not to cough like Morgan did.”

“Shut up,” I said.

She took a hit and then handed it to me. I took a big hit and held it out to Gayle. Gayle followed Keri’s instructions, and before she could let it out, she started coughing like crazy. I laughed so hard tears ran out of my eyes. She gave me a dirty look and passed the joint back to Keri.

“I can’t help it, that’s exactly what I did,” I chuckled.

“You aren’t even stoned yet and look at you,” Keri said, laughing at me.

She took another hit, and we passed the joint around until it was finished.

“This is kind of a cool place to hang out,” Keri said.

I wasn’t sure if she was really admiring our spot at the creek or just being sarcastic.

“Yeah, don’t get Morgan on the frog thing, though. She’s a freak,” Gayle laughed.

Gayle went on to explain about the frogs, and Keri thought it was funny.

“Hey, cut me some slack. The boys have replaced the frogs. Way more toads in that pond than in the creek,” I said.

Keri thought that was hysterical.

When Gayle and I talked about it the next day, she told me she didn’t like the feeling of being stoned. I hadn’t decided one way or another, for sure no at school.

The day after Labor Day, school started, and I was nervous. Gayle’s mom, Jane, drove us; she let me call her by her first name too.

“I don’t know why I feel so nervous,” I said in the car.

“It’s normal,” her mom said. “A new school, high school, a new part of your life.”

“New school, same people,” Gayle shrugged.

Leland High School was bigger than Bret Harte. One of the first surprises was there were no bells. You knew what time class started, and you were expected to be there, on time. It took a lot of adjusting to high school and the different routines. The sorting out of friends and cliques was even different from Bret Harte. Never being one of the popular girls, I found my place with the girls who were like me.

Mathew, on the other hand, was welcome in every popular group. He played on the football team and had his groupies there. He was working with the band and had his groupies there. He was good-looking, and he knew it. Half of the school's female population was vying for his attention. He had the guy thing going too; they all wanted to hang with him. Fortunately, we didn’t run into each other much at school: our schedules and interests took us in different directions, and ultimately, our worlds sort of quit colliding except through our families.

“We’re meeting Ann and Brad at the game tonight. Are you going?” my mom asked.

Leland was playing a home game, and my parents usually went with Ann and Brad when it was home field.

“Yeah, I’m going with a group of friends. Gayle and I are walking to Keri’s to catch a ride. I’ll see you there.”

Keri’s boyfriend was driving us to the game, and we left early to meet some other friends in the park next to the school. There was beer and there was pot. I took a beer, knowing I would be meeting my parents later. I didn’t want to be stoned. I wasn’t feeling so great though, so I didn’t even finish the beer before we headed to the game. A pretty boring game because we were creaming the other team. I watched Mathew move in and out of the plays. The cheerleaders cheering the team on from the sidelines. I couldn’t remember which ones he’d dated or was dating.

“Morgan, you’re so quiet,” Keri said.

She was sitting next to me on the bleacher and had been jumping up and down cheering with enthusiasm while I just sat.

“I don’t feel that great. My stomach hurts,” I said, watching the game.

The roar in the bleachers erupted again as they made another touchdown.

“Are you going to the party with us after the game?” she asked.

“Not if I keep feeling like this. I can catch a ride home with my folks. They’re here with Mathew’s parents.”

At halftime I was feeling worse, all achy and my stomach was in a knot. I went to locate my parents to tell them I would be catching a ride home with them. Mathew was there, in his uniform, talking plays with Brad.

“Hey, Morgan,” he said casually as I walked up.

His tone was typical school friendliness, but the once-over with his eyes and his grin were more.

“Hi,” I answered.

“Mom, I’ll be going back with you guys,” I said, turning toward her.

I narrowed my eyes at her in a please don’t ask, I didn’t want to have to explain my reason in front of Mathew.

“Okay, meet us back here when the game is over.”

“I will,” I said, turning and leaving.

Mathew followed me down the bleachers, I could hear his cleats on the cement behind me.

“Not going to the party?” he asked as he caught up to me.

“No.”

“Why?”

“I’m tired. Not in the party mood,” I answered curtly.

When I got back to Gayle and Keri, I veered away from him and clambered up the bleachers.

“See you around,” he said before he headed back out to the field.

I made my way back to my parents before the game ended, so I didn’t have to fight the crowd leaving. The next morning it became clear to me why I hadn’t felt good. It wasn’t my stomach; it was cramps. I had finally started my period. Fifteen was late compared to my girlfriends; Gayle had started at thirteen.

“Now you will see why it is such a pain,” she said when I told her over the phone.

I was actually relieved, happy to be catching up with the rest of the girls. My boobs had gotten bigger over the last year, and I had filled out some. My hips stayed slim, but I didn’t feel so gangly anymore. Naturally, Mathew was more perceptive.

Our family had been invited to the O’Conner’s pool for a barbeque, and my mom insisted that I come. Mathew and I after swimming for a while ended up at the far end of the pool on lounge chairs. I had just finished putting suntan lotion on, so I was still sitting up.

“Nice,” he said.

I looked to see what he was referring to, and he was staring at my tits. My stomach tightened with an inside groan, stop it, Mathew. I didn’t respond. I thought about a bad visual for him, something that might ick him out.

“I started my period,” I said.

“Not so nice,” he said.

“Fuck you,” I said.

“Why? 'Cause I said 'not so nice'?”

“Yeah,” I answered, not sure why the comment irritated me.

“No big deal, Morgan, we learn to get around it,” he said.

“Sorry I said anything.”

I knew “getting around it” was meant sexually, but I wouldn’t know anything about that.

I didn’t like Mathew very much the first part of the school year. He was too full of himself. I wanted to tell him, but I knew it wouldn’t matter.

“You seem grumpy these days,” he’d said the last time I saw him.

“Oh well,” I’d answered flippantly.

I was grumpy. Our relationship hadn’t really changed, but I liked it even less now. All the pent up sexual feelings I had were just a dull ache.

Chapter 22

We went to Mammoth in March with the group. It took us a long time as it was snowing pretty hard the last hour of the car ride. We’d had to put on chains; my dad swearing the whole time. When we finally arrived, the other families were already there, and we were late, due for dinner at the O’Conner’s condo. I didn’t want to go. I was tired and, not only that, I didn’t want to deal with Mathew and his newfound attitude. For once, I was glad Bobby and Mathew would take off. I didn’t want to be around them.

“Can I just hang here?” I asked my mom. “I’m tired.”

“No, you can’t. Ann would be hurt if you didn’t come,” she said.

“No she wouldn’t. She won’t even notice. I can see everyone tomorrow,” I pushed.

“Morgan, you’re coming. Wear what you have on or get changed,” she said.

“Okay,” I said, exasperated at having to get up off the couch, and drag my ass to the bedroom where Pat and I were going to sleep.

I pulled off my sweats and put on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Then I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Hell, you look like hell I thought. My hair was wild, so I gathered it up into a ponytail. I put on makeup; I had started wearing eyeliner like many of the models and drew it out at the corner of my eyes. I softened the lines with a Qtip. I thought it looked sexy.

“Morgan, let’s go,” my mom called.

“I’m coming,” I said, shutting off the light.

“Looking good, missy,” my dad said, giving me a hug.

We walked over to the O’Conner’s condo. I could tell the adults had been cocktailing. There was a makeshift bar on the counter, vodka, whiskey, scotch, gin, lemons, limes, mixers, and glasses, along with an ice bucket. Every adult there had a glass in their hand, Bobby’s parents were crowded in the small kitchen with Ann and Brad, while some of the other parents were in the living area, and they were all chitchatting. The kids who were there were upstairs watching a cop shoot-em-up show on the TV, and Pat and I joined them. Mathew wasn’t there much to my relief.

“Hey,” I said to no one in particular, parking it in an empty beanbag chair.

I was still pissed my mom hadn’t let me stay at the condo. I knew Ann didn’t give a shit, not one adult downstairs gave a shit and I didn’t think anyone in this room did either. I was off in my own world watching them: some were watching the show, some talking softly. I sort of watched and listened, really uninterested in both. Shortly after we got there, Mathew and Bobby showed up. I could hear them downstairs saying hello to the adults. Ann encouraged them to head upstairs to join the other kids. The stairs creaked as they headed up. Mathew came into the room followed by Bobby.

“Move,” someone said as they got in front of the TV.               Mathew looked for a place to sit and, with not a lot of options; he came and sat next to me in the beanbag. When he did, we sort of slipped into each other as the beans shifted inside the bag with his weight.

“Hey there,” he whispered.

“Hey,” I said, continuing to focus on the TV as if I was interested.

My lack of interest in his arrival seemed to prompt him to shift and work his body closer into mine. We had not been physically close in a while, and my heart beat faster and I felt hot, partly because his body was right next to mine. Holy shit, what was this?

It was almost like his being near made me forget all the emotional pulling away I’d done. Like moving the record needle back to the start. Why? screamed in my head. Just like that my feelings were back, the damn yoyo was on the up side. I was so relieved to get up when we were called downstairs for dinner. After I finished, my mom finally let me go back to our condo alone. I tried to analyze my feelings and got frustrated. It was a place to sit, I kept reminding myself. No big deal.

I skied with the girls the next day. Thankfully I would only have to deal with Mathew at night. I realized after a couple of days I was playing a rather obvious avoidance game. If the girls were in the hot tub and the boys came, I would leave. If Mathew was at a condo, and I could go someplace else, I would.

Bobby was being really nice to me, probably well aware of my reason for exits. Several times he tried to get me to join the two of them and I wouldn’t. The fourth night of the trip, I was due to meet a couple of the girls to play Scrabble at one of the condos. Before I was supposed to go, though, I asked Pat if he would go in the hot tub with me because I was sore from skiing. When Pat and I got to the hot tub, it was empty.

“Help me pull off the cover,” I said.

Pat grabbed one side, me the other, and we pulled it back together. Steam rose from the hot tub into the cool night air.

“This is going to feel good,” Pat said, climbing in.

I followed.

“It’s hot.”

“Morgan, you’re so smart. Hot. Tub. Get it?”

“Shut up. You’re constantly giving me shit about my words,” I said annoyed, lowering myself slowly into the steamy water.

I sat on the bench gingerly trying to adjust to the hot. The water swirled as Pat made waves with his arms. Slowly my body relaxed and I leaned my head back looking up into the sky.

“Look at all the stars. It’s so clear out.”

“I know. There’s the Big Dipper,” he said, pointing.

“Little Dipper,” I said, pointing it out. “I love seeing the stars out like this. It’s like it’s a blanket over the cold.”

My conversation with Mathew from years ago popped into my head—the other living things in space. I smiled. I wondered if he thought about things like that anymore. Probably not. The band, the partying, the girls were all that seemed to be on his mind these days.

“How was skiing today?” Pat asked.

“Fun. We took turns playing follow-the-leader through the trees,” I laughed recalling my escapade.

“What?”

Pat could tell there was a story behind my laughter.

“Oh, I got off track and fell into a tree well. I had to yell to have the other girls come back and help me out. My ski was stuck between two branches, and I couldn’t move forward or backward or get it off. It was pretty funny.”

“Guess you had to be there.”

“Come on Pat, have some vision for fuck sake.”

“Hey guys,” he said loudly, obviously addressing someone we knew.

I sat upright to look and Mathew and Bobby were coming down the path.

“Shit,” I said under my breath.

“What? It’s just Mathew and Bobby,” he said, looking at me strangely.

“I know who it is.”

I thought about making an exit, although my excuses to vacate when they arrived were getting pretty stupid. I knew my best defense, when the yoyo was on the upside, was simply to stay away, but it wasn’t always easy. They took off their shoes, hung their towels on the hooks, and got in.

“Hey, Morgan, how’s it going?” Mathew asked.

“Good,” I answered cheerfully.

I certainly did not want Mathew to sense that he had any influence on me.

“Where did you guys ski today?” Pat asked. “I never saw you.”

The three of them talked about where on the mountain they’d skied and what runs they liked, skiing blues versus blacks, boy kind of conversation. I slipped lower resting my head on the edge of the tub as the hot water worked on my sore muscles. I closed my eyes and found myself enjoying listening to them. When I felt someone move closer, I opened my eyes, not moving my head. Mathew smiled down at me.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” he said.

“Am I normally loud?” I asked smartly.

“No, not really,” he said regretfully.

I felt bad. No reason to be a bitch.

“Relaxing is all,” I added.

While Bobby and Pat were caught up in talking about who in the group could ski what, Mathew took my hand in his under the water. He laced his fingers in mine slowly. I looked out of the corner of my eye at him and gave him a dirty look, but didn’t pull my hand away. Whatever, I thought Mathew, being Mathew. After more talk about who could ski what, more like bragging really, I decided to head out.

“I’m off to shower before dinner,” I said, pulling my fingers from his hand.

I stood up on the bench and reached one leg over the edge to the stairs.

“See you over there, kid,” Mathew said, slapping me hard on the rear as I exited the hot tub.

I screamed and Bobby and Pat laughed.

“Hey, watch it,” I said, shooting him another dirty look over my shoulder.

His head was cocked to the left, and he was smiling. Damn it, his blue eyes had that mischievous twinkle they could get. His expression made me soften and I laughed as if I too was laughing it off. As if it was nothing more than a friendly joke.

“See you,” I said.

After dinner, as usual the kids hung out, playing games and watching TV, while the adults visited.

“You want to come with Bobby and me to 7-11?” Mathew whispered.

“Why?” I asked, fearing an ulterior motive than just joining them.

“Just to get out of here,” he shrugged.

I looked into his eyes; he seemed sincere. My newfound determination to keep my distance was not around at the moment, so I went with them. We walked in the moonlight; its reflection illuminating the snow like a layer of mini diamonds. It was so cold, we could see our breath and watched it fade into the night. It made me feel even colder, and I pulled my jacket collar up tighter around me.

“Cold?” Mathew asked, putting his arm around me, pulling me close.

“Freezing,” I answered as I settled into him, feeling the warmth of him through his jacket.

I loved these moments, when it seemed as though Mathew cared. It felt good to be with them, to be included, in whatever they were doing. I realized, once we got to the 7-11, when Mathew approached a middle-aged guy in a Corvette, that the intent was to get someone to buy beer.

“Dude,” Mathew asked. “Can you buy me a twelve-pack?”

Mathew held out money towards him. The guy hesitated as he looked at Bobby and I. He finally shook his head with a grin, no doubt remembering his own days of doing similar things, and took Mathew’s money.

“Sure,” he said, taking the money.

“I’ll be around the corner,” Mathew said.

We waited around the side of the building for him in the cold. He came out and handed the beer and the change to Mathew.

“Stay out of trouble,” he said.

It seemed too easy. I couldn’t believe it. We knew everyone was still at the Gaines' place, partying. The adults would be loaded by now and no doubt staying late.

“Let’s go to your place,” Mathew suggested.

“That’s fine,” I said.

We trudged back to the complex, through the snow, and ended up at our condo where we stripped out of jackets and shoes in the entry.

“Burrr,” I said. “Let’s get warm in the living room.”

Chapter 23

“Okay to start a fire?” Mathew asked, already wadding up newspaper in the fireplace.

Bobby went to get wood that was stacked on the front porch, and I put the beer on the deck in the snow. I pulled three out before I shut the slider.

“If my parents come home, throw the beer over the railing,” I said.

“It’s early,” he said.

“I know, just in case. We don’t need to get busted.”

I watched him stack the wood carefully and strike a match.

“You learn how to make a fire like that in Boy Scouts?” I asked, teasing.

“Yeah, right, I was never a Boy Scout.”

“I know. Probably wouldn’t let you in,” I said as the paper lit and started to burn.

I sat down on the floor close to where he rested on his heels making sure the fire would start. Bobby sat down in the chair closest to it. The little pieces of wood caught fire and started to burn.

“Nice,” Bobby said.

I handed them both a beer. The three of us sat mesmerized by the fire, it felt so nice after our walk outside. Mathew poked at it several times to make it burn better and eventually the fire cracked and popped as we sat around and drank the beer. Mathew sat in front of it Indian style, his knee touching mine.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught, asking someone to buy beer?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“Do they ever say no?”

“Sometimes. If they do, I ask the next guy,” Mathew answered.

Mathew rolled toward the couch and reached out, drawing me with him. He shuffled and then settled, his back against the couch, me between his legs. I let him versus fighting it. My back was reclined against his chest, and I remembered when he did this at the beach. I wondered what he was thinking, just as I did then. He played with my hair with his free hand, rolling it around his finger, and then letting it go. Like he had a fascination with the curl. I felt self-conscious with Bobby watching us. We were on our third beer when Bobby got up.

“I think I’ll head,” he said stretching.

“Dude, there’s still another beer,” Mathew said.

“It’s okay. You drink it or hide it in the snow for tomorrow,” he said. “What time you want to start shredding tomorrow?”

“What, like eight thirtyish, head up?” Mathew suggested.

“All right with me.”

Mathew didn’t move, and when I tried to get up to say goodbye, he held me down.

“See you, Bobby.”

“Later, Morgan,” Bobby said.

Once Bobby was gone, Mathew got up.

“Another beer, kid?” he asked.

“Why not?” I said, even though I was feeling a slight buzz already.

He opened the slider and then handed me a beer before he put another log on the fire and sat down on the couch.

“Come on over here,” he said, beckoning with his finger.

The fire was warm and I hated to move away from it, hated to be vulnerable to him and what he might, or might not do.

“Come on,” he said patting the spot next to him.

I got up slowly off the floor and turned on the TV, flipped around until I found a movie, and turned the volume low before I sat down next to him.

“Who was supposed to benefit from that?” I asked.

“What?” he asked, looking at the TV.

He was clearly unsure what I was talking about.

“Pulling me into you, playing with my hair? Was it for you, or to show Bobby you could get away with it? 'Cause I don’t think it was for me.”

His motivation for these seemingly tender gestures unnerved me, made me second-guess all that I believed to be true. That we were only friends.

“Shit, Morgan, don’t make it complicated. I don’t know. It was just because,” Mathew said.

“I think it made Bobby uncomfortable, and that’s why he left.”

“Don’t think so damn much. That wouldn’t make Bobby leave.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“I just do. If he wanted to stay, he would have. He’s seen it before,” he said.

“Yes, he has. Probably didn’t understand it then either.”

I was frustrated and I folded my arms over my chest.

“He ever ask you about us?”

“Not really,” he said.

“I don’t believe you.”

He put his arm around my shoulder and I stiffened.

“So what am I, Mathew?” I continued. “Some kind of fill-in? When you haven’t had a girl pay attention to you for a while, you pull me in? Do you do it in front of Bobby because there’s a pretty good chance I won’t object? Good old Morgan, she won’t cause a scene.”

He finished his beer and went to get another.

“No.”

“No what?” I asked.

“No, you’re not a fill-in,” he answered.

“What a relief,” I said sarcastically.

He popped the top of the beer and sat back on the couch. He slouched down with his legs slightly spread apart and took a sip of beer. He had on blue jeans and a white turtleneck, his blond hair falling on his shoulders. Football had definitely made him buff, I noticed. I took the beer out of his hand and straddled him on the couch. He looked at me surprised.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” I said, mocking his words.

I took his hand and singled out his pointing finger, putting it in my mouth. He raised an eyebrow, questioning. I kept looking into his eyes while I sucked his finger, running my tongue around it, pushing it in and out of my mouth.

“Oh yeah,” he said.

I could tell by his lazy sexy grin that he liked it. He started to run his free hand down my arm, and I jumped off him.

“No touching,” I said.

He put his arms quickly by his side.

“That’s better.”

I climbed back onto his lap and pulled his turtleneck off over his head. He let me, willingly pulling his arms out.

“Hmm,” I murmured admiring his bare chest.

He waited, watching me. I started at his forehead and kissed my way down to his lips. They were full and welcoming and I felt the urge to bite them; instead I nibbled and teased with my teeth and tongue.

“Ahh,” he sighed.

His moan made me wet and I took a handful of his hair and pulled his head back, running my tongue around his lips and then into his mouth probing, coaxing him. He kissed me, reaching his hands up to my face.

“No touching,” I said, pushing his arms down.

I kissed and sucked softly down his neck. He moaned again. I moved lower: down his chest, down his stomach, right to the top of his jeans and lingered. As I unbuttoned his jeans, Mathew sucked in his breath. I could feel he was hard, and I pressed my tits into his crotch, rubbing against him. When he tried to touch me again, I got up. He looked shocked and I stared into his eyes.

“What do you not understand about no touching?” I asked him, grabbing my beer and taking a sip.

“Morgan, you have me all turned on and I can’t touch.”

“How do you like it?”

My internal conflict was raging and I was feeling mean and fearful at the same time.

“How do I like it?” he questioned, as if I were crazy. “I hate it.”

“So do I,” I said honestly.

It took him a minute before he got it. I saw it register in his eyes.

“Okay. I get it,” he said, reaching his hand up.

I hesitated and then took it. He pulled me down onto him, kissing me hungrily. His tongue, his smell, his skin, help me, love me. He reached under my sweater, pushing my bra up, feeling my breasts, squeezing them, tugging at my erect nipples with his fingers. I wanted him more than any time I could remember and I hated myself for it. I’d been combating my feelings, staying away. Had I unconsciously driven the feelings down so deep I thought they were gone? His kisses washed away the thoughts. I couldn’t think about anything but him and now. You turn me into a crazy person!

“Oh, Mathew,” I whispered, taking his hand to the front of my pants as I helped him with the zipper.

As he started to move his hand lower, I heard voices outside, then stomping feet on the stairs. I jumped off him, zipping up my pants, and pulling my bra back into place.

“Shit,” I exclaimed. “Why now?”

I grabbed the beer cans and headed to the kitchen, hiding them under other trash while Mathew scrambled to put his shirt on. I started laughing, and he shot me a dirty look.

“I can’t help it,” I giggled.

Mathew put a throw pillow on his lap and leaned forward concentrating on the TV.

“Quit laughing,” he said.

I tried, but I couldn’t. The front door opened with my dad’s and Pat’s voices floating in.

“Mathew, what a surprise,” my mom said, slurring slightly, drunk.

I laughed again.

“Where’s Bobby?” my dad asked.

“He headed out awhile ago,” Mathew said.

“Time to wrap it up,” my dad said. “Early day tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Mathew,” my mom said, disappearing into her room.

“Night, Mom,” I said as the door closed.

“I was just getting ready to go,” Mathew volunteered to my dad.

I was sure my family’s sudden arrival was an erection killer. I walked him to the door and stepped out on the porch with him.

“Shit, Morgan, that was close. And you’re over there laughing like an idiot. Get rid of those other beers before your parents find them,” he said. “Man.”

He pushed his hair back and I could tell he was relieved we hadn’t been caught, hadn’t gone to far. He reached out running his finger down the side of my face. I took it and put it back in my mouth, sucking gently.

“Didn’t know you could be so bad,” he said, smiling.

“Now you do,” I said, leaning over to kiss him.

I watched him walk down the snow-lined path until he turned the corner. My mom was standing in the kitchen when I came in.

“You kids have a good night?” she slurred.

“Yeah,” I answered. “Go to bed, Mom.”

“I will once I get water,” she said.

I went to the bedroom to get ready for bed. Pat was in the bathroom so I sat on the bed and waited for my turn. Oh, the beer, shit, I thought jumping up. I went back out to the living room, made sure my parent’s door was closed, and threw the rest off the balcony into the snow below. We would find them later.

I wondered how far we would have gone if my parents hadn’t shown up? I would have gone all the way; I was ready now. I felt triumphant, I’d turned the tables on him a bit and it felt good. I’d been so hot for him, before we were interrupted, and the sensation still lingered. I squeezed my legs together attempting to make it go away. Pat had given me a sly smile when he’d come in the condo, like he knew. I didn’t talk to Pat about Mathew, but he had an idea. Sometimes no words were the best confirmation.

Bobby, Mathew, and I hung together the rest of the week. We found ways to break off from the group and not be too obvious. We would go to whoever’s condo was empty. Sometimes we got beer, sometimes not. Mathew was inconsistent with his attention and affection, and it made me crazy. It made me crazy because I wanted it so bad.

Chapter 24

“So you guys are killing it this season.”

I was lying on his bedroom floor, talking about his football season. Mathew was sitting on the edge of the bed, strumming and playing his guitar. I watched his fingers move and wished they moved so knowingly on me.

“I guess. I would rather be killing it with the band,” he said.

“So how’s that going?” I asked.

He lifted his head and glanced at me smiling.

“We came up with our name, 'Kingdom Come'. What do you think?”

“Mean anything?” I asked lazily.

“It’s our kingdom and it has come.”

“Come how?” I asked.

“For the band, I guess. Coming together, our time, or something like that.”

“I like it. So, what about that football?” I teased.

I knew he played mainly to please his dad; he wasn’t passionate about the game.

“You know, Morgan, you can be such a bitch.”

“Same back at you. Or should I just say asshole?” I said.

I curled myself in an S position on the floor and flipped my hair out, fanning it across the carpet. He watched me and couldn’t help but smile. Since the ski trip, when we were alone, the teasing and touching had intensified—bolder on both our parts, and hotter. Mathew would kiss me randomly. At times tender; at times with a passion that would send shivers down my spine. It would always be intense. I would feel his tongue probing into my mouth, and the physical attraction between the two of us was undeniable. Our hands would roam over and under clothing.

The fear of a parent entering Mathew’s room at the wrong moment kept the clothes mainly intact. I didn’t say no to him, ever. I’d flip-flopped back to wanting to be more to him. I thought if I let him get his way he would come to understand he did have feelings for me. He was especially affectionate when he got high, so I drank or smoked pot whenever he scored.

I loved the way he kissed me. When he did, I ignored everything else: the girls, the current girlfriend, the reality of how confusing our relationship was. My body had absolutely no trouble responding to him. It was my mind that objected.

“Mathew, what are we? I mean our relationship,” I asked, still lying on the floor.

I knew he hated it when I asked about his feelings. He wasn’t particularly good at expressing them except physically.

“We’re friends.”

“I assume you’re aware that most friends don’t kiss their friends like you kiss me?” I said absently.

“Plus,” he said.

“Plus friends?” I asked.

When he didn’t respond, I knew it wasn’t worth pursuing. It would only hurt my feelings. I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it back. He watched me as I stood up.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Leaving.”

He set his guitar on the bed and reached for me.

“Get,” I said, pulling away.

“Morgan,” he groaned as he caught my upper arm and pulled me to him.

He knew I was frustrated. My usual response when I couldn’t stand it anymore was flight, and I turned my face away from him. He put his fingers on my cheek and tried to turn me to him. I turned the other way. I kept trying to escape looking at him, turning to one side and then the other, until we both started to laugh.

“Mathew, really, don’t. You know you hurt me sometimes,” I blurted out.

“Really?” he asked, leaning into me.

I felt his lips on mine before he pulled back briefly.

“Hurt you? How?” he asked, kissing me softly.

He was being tender, slowly pulling me back in. I was so weak when it came to him, I knew it. He knew it. I let him kiss me. His hand slipped under my shirt, and he unhooked my bra with one hand. He put his hand over one breast and then the other. He was gentle. I pulled back and stared at him. His eyes were so intense, it made me feel embarrassed.

My lips felt full, and I wanted to kiss him again, but he just held my gaze. He had both hands up my shirt now. I closed my eyes. Why did I let him? I could feel the tears coming, the tightening in my throat. I concentrated on holding everything back, breathing hard. I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest. When he finally pulled me close to him again, he laid us down on the bed and kissed me passionately. He cupped my ass, pressing me to him. When he stopped, I opened my eyes. The tears, despite my efforts, came.

“I hate it when girls cry,” he said softly.

“I didn’t mean to.”

I slipped my hands under his shirt and let my hands wander down his back to the top of his jeans as I buried my face in his chest. He took one of my hands from under his shirt and placed it on his crotch. I could feel his hardness. Then he took my hand and slid it into his pants. He ran my hand up and down his cock. He’d gotten me to a point I thought I would explode when I heard my mom.

“Morgan?”

“God damn it,” I said, rolling off the bed.

I adjusted my clothes while Mathew straightened out the bed.

“Their timing is amazing. How’s my hair?” I whispered, smoothing it down.

“Looks fine,” he said, flipping his head down and back to un-mess his own.

I moved over to his desk and sat down. He grabbed his guitar.

“Play something,” I whispered.

He’d plucked a few chords when the door opened, and Ann and my mom stood there. Neither of them seemed the least suspicious, which continued to surprise us. There was never a question about what we did behind his closed door. They assumed we were innocent.

“Ready, Morgan?” my mom asked.

I knew it was time to go home. I wasn’t happy, her timing or ours, was always so off. Ann and my mom started back down the hall. I looked over at Mathew and sighed.

“Survived another close call,” he said grinning.

“Too close. If they ever knew anything was going on, we wouldn’t ever be left alone again.”

“I know, now go,” he said, waving me out.

I stood up from the chair and walked over to the bed. I bent down and kissed him hard, forcing my tongue into his mouth. He kissed me back.

“Next time, kid,” he said as I moved away.

“We’ll see about that,” I said.

He smiled. My god, he was beautiful. Looking into his face, I could feel the blood racing crazily in my body. It was so hard to breathe. Again, I was surprised at my attraction. I didn’t think next time would mean anything more than any other. What often shocked me is that I knew there would be a next time despite my feelings, whatever those were on any given day.

I was still a virgin, and he knew it. He even teased me about it. I didn’t want to be anymore. When I was around him, I felt so sexually charged. I couldn’t get the thought of having sex with him off my mind. I wanted to be his girlfriend in the worst way, but even if I wasn’t, it didn’t matter, given the opportunity I would still sleep with him.

Mathew started letting me further into his circle of friends. I got invited to parties and to watch the band practice. It gave me a chance to get to know the guys better. In a way, he treated me like one of the guys, except on those odd occasions. He was comfortable with me hanging around. A couple of guys from school showed interest in me, but I wasn’t open to them. It wasn’t long before a petite blonde named Kim became the flavor of the month for Mathew. He’s physical nature with me became less often, and I missed it.

Mathew threw a lot of parties. When Brad and Ann were home, the drugs and alcohol were kept hidden; when they weren’t home, it was everywhere. Pot was old news. The new drugs of choice were acid, mushrooms, and cocaine. I wasn’t that thrilled with pot, so I wasn’t anxious to try any of the new stuff. I knew Mathew had, he’d told me.

Whenever I was around him, it was hard for me not to think about us. I could look at him and feel his touch. Gayle said I was obsessed. In a way she was right. I hated watching him with Kim. She didn’t like me much either. When I was around, she steered Mathew clear of me. Mathew had explained to her that our parents were friends, and that we’d been friends a long time. She made it clear she didn’t care.

“Fuck her,” I said to Gayle.

“She can try, but she won’t keep us apart. Our parents get together all the time,” I said.

Her being bothered made me want to be around him more.

“She’s another temporary annoyance,” Gayle said.

“You’re right, they never last too long,” I said.

School was out, and Mathew invited Gayle and me to a pool party. Brad and Ann were out of town, and he was watching Sam and Sara. That being said, I knew there would be crazy partying going on. The band was supposed to play. I told him we would come. Gayle and I decided we would walk to his house. We had our bathing suits on under our shorts. I carried a beach bag with my towel and warmer clothes.

“So how are Mathew and Kim?” Gayle asked, knowing it was not a good subject with me.

“Fine if he plays her way. She’s a clingy shit. They fight a lot,” I said.

“He tell you that?”

“Unfortunately yes, I try not to talk to him much about his current fling; doesn’t stop him from talking, though.”

“What do you talk about then?” Gayle asked.

“We talk about the band, music. We talk about friends, school, getting high, lots of things.”

“Sex?”

“Of course, that always comes up,” I said.

“Is that what you want from him?”

“So bad it hurts at times,” I answered.

“Morgan, if it gets that hot between the two of you, why doesn’t he want to date you?”

“Maybe he’s afraid,” I said.

“Shut up. Afraid of what?”

The sun was hot on us as we walked along the sidewalk. A bird chirped loudly, but I couldn’t find it.

“That I would go away like the rest of them; how should I know.”

“Does he still play music for you?” Gayle asked.

“Of course, it’s what he does. I ask him to play, especially when conversations get sideways. He’s so focused then, and I love to watch that.”

“What does he play?” she asked.

“Whatever he feels like, sometimes what I ask for him to play. Not love songs for me if that’s what you’re getting at. You want to know what’s going on with us right now? Ain’t happening.”

“No kissing even?”

“Not very often, and, man, I miss that part.”

“Why isn’t he?” she asked.

“Kim,” I said, “duh.”

“Girlfriends haven’t necessarily stopped him before. You’ve been kinda tight-lipped about Mathew lately.”

“Gayle,” I said in exasperation, “there’s nothing to tell. Besides, I know how you feel about it. I pine over him, and it drives you nuts. I know I shouldn’t always be there for him, but I can’t seem to help it. I want him.”

“Morgan, you can do whatever you want. Who am I to judge? I just hate to see you hurting over him. I think he’s a dick to you.”

I stopped walking, and she turned around.

“I know, Gayle, I know,” I said, sounding defeated.

She walked back and hugged me.

“Thanks. Thanks for understanding my craziness.”

She smiled at me.

“I tolerate it, I don’t understand it,” she said.

Chapter 25

When we arrived, the party was already in full swing; chatter, laughter, and people splashing in the pool. Music was coming from the stereo and I could see the band equipment set up at the far end of the pool, but they weren’t playing. The smell of pot was in the air. There were bags of chips and other stuff on the kitchen counter. It was a mixed crowd, guys and girls, most from the high school I figured.

“Beers in the fridge, or coolers out back,” a girl in the kitchen said. “Help yourself.”

I opened the refrigerator and there was nothing but beer in it. Gayle and I each took one and went out back to the pool. The playing and shrieking in the pool was much louder outside. I glanced around for Mathew and didn’t see him. Kim was talking to Kevin. I looked him over. Kevin was cute; maybe I should pay more attention to him. Gayle and I found a couple of chairs and put our stuff down. We stripped down to our swimsuits.

“New suit?” Gayle asked.

“You like?” I asked, striking a little pose in my white bikini with round silver grommets on each hip and one between the cups.

“It’s very sexy. All you need is the white go-go boots and a pole. You would have every guy here falling over themselves,” Gayle laughed.

“Right,” I said, stretching out the word, being sarcastic.

“Hey, Morgan.”

We both turned to see Kevin approaching. He had moved from Kim to us rather quickly.

“You got a beer, I see,” he said.

“Yep,” Gayle answered for both of us.

Kevin pulled up a chair and sat down with us. The band started at the far end of the pool. I could hear Mathew singing, but still couldn’t see him. There were too many people in front of them. The three of us sat and listened to several of the bands original songs, and then one of Queens.

“Another beer?” Kevin asked when he was empty.

“Sure,” I said, watching as he made his way back to the cooler by the sliding door.

“Remember, he thinks you’re cute,” Gayle said when he was gone.

“Whatever. That only came via Mathew,” I said.

It felt good sitting in the sun, listening to the band. I was enjoying the attention from Kevin. Gayle was definitely working at keeping Kevin hanging out with us. Then the band finally took a break.

“I’m hot, I’m getting in,” I said, moving toward the pool.

I sat down on the edge with my legs in the water. The temperature was perfect, just cool enough. There was a game of beach ball going on in the pool, and everyone was tossing it around. The guys were tackling the girls when they got the ball with a lot of groping and squealing going on. The ball came my way, and I hit it with my palm, shooting it back at the players. I hopped into the water and then dunked underneath. As I came up, I was grabbed around the waist and taken under again. I pulled the hands away, surfacing. I took a deep breath pushing my hair out of my face and opened my eyes. It was Mathew.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, dunking under again to get my hair pulled back properly.

The ball came back towards us, and I jumped in front of Mathew to catch it, but he caught me around the waist, spinning me around. I missed the ball.

“Nice try, kid,” he said, and we both laughed.

I was surprised he used the word kid, because he tended to slip back to Morgan when she was around. We played in the game a very short time before Kim showed up to draw him away.

“Mathew, come help me get some more of the food out,” she snapped.

I smiled at her, one of my kindest.

“Morgan.”

“Nice to see you again, Kim.”

Mathew grinned at me and got out. I watched them walk away and smiled internally, he could have the bitch. I pulled myself up on the side and returned to where Kevin and Gayle were still talking.

“Gayle, you want another beer?” I asked. "I’m going to get one."

“I’m not finished with this one yet.”

“Kevin?” I asked.

He shook his can slightly.

“I can be ready.”

The band started up again as I walked back with the beer. I caught Mathew watching me, and I raised a beer at him.

“Here you go,” I said, handing Kevin a cold one.

We had to shout to talk; the band was loud. I was definitely getting the vibe that Kevin was interested. He’d touch me now and then when he talked and he seemed really interested in what I had to say. It made me feel good, and the beer was helping us both feel comfortable. The next band break, I excused myself so I could go use the bathroom.

“Be right back,” I said.

I tried the main powder room off the hall, but the door was locked. I went down the hall towards Mathew’s room and the bathroom there. It wasn’t occupied, so I used it and checked my makeup—still okay. I adjusted my suit and opened the door.

“Oh,” I said, startled to find Mathew standing there.

He pushed me back inside and locked the door.

“What are you—” I started.

He didn’t let me finish. Instead, he pushed me up against the door and kissed me hard.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled.

He kissed me harder, pushing his tongue into my mouth, pinning me against the door. He was pressing into me so hard it was tough to breath. I relaxed a bit, and he eased up. The circumstances, not the kiss, were what confused me. I could feel his chest warm against me, and he ground his pelvis into mine. I should be angry. What was he thinking? Where was Kim? All this flashed fleetingly through my head.

Logically this should have stopped me, but it didn’t. My body responded to his like some out of control machine. It was on fire. He kissed me passionately as he slipped his hands under my bikini top, and I pressed my breasts into them. I was breathing hard, my heart racing, with thoughts speeding through my head, but my body unwilling to listen. I could feel his erection and I wanted to feel it in my mouth.

“Stop, Mathew,” I whispered as he silenced me again with his kiss.

We made out with abandon, both our tongues seeking, wanting, needing. When he pulled back, I could tell he was stoned. His eyes weren’t focusing too well and he was giving me a sly grin, like he’d just gotten away with something, which of course he had.

“You are a shit,” I said, flushed and embarrassed by my lack of restraint.

“You,” he said, trying to pick his words.

He shook his head slowly and then looked into my eyes. There was a flash of anger or hurt.

“You be careful with the boys,” he said, letting me go.

“Is that what this is about, Kevin?” I asked.

He didn’t answer me. He swayed a little and then leaned against the counter to steady himself.

“Wow, Mr. Free Love himself is warning me to be careful. Mathew, it’s laughable,” I said, suddenly incensed.

He looked hurt. He searched my face.

“Fuck you,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. “Get outta here. I’m sure Kim’s out looking for you. I don’t think you would want her to catch you with your friend.”

I spat as I moved away from the door. He stared at me. I wanted him to break down and say it’s you I really want, but no words came.

“Go,” I said angrily.

He pushed away from the counter and opened the door slowly. Then he paused and turned back to look at me, a look of confusion on his face, as if he wanted to say or do more. I shook my head, angry. He seemed to slump before turning back, then he checked the hall and left.

I relocked the door, my lips felt bruised, as did my ego. I looked at myself in the mirror, at my rosy face. You, stupid girl, Morgan, here you are again. No! How hard is it to say no!? I hadn’t protested at all. I’d kissed him back. I’d let him do what he wanted, like all the times before. Why did he want to kiss me like that when Kim was here? I waited a few minutes for my emotions to simmer down. I splashed cool water on my face. When I left the bathroom, I was angry at Mathew, but most of all at myself. I went back out to the pool with three fresh beers, hoping Kevin was still there. I wanted to work at getting loaded.

“Where have you been?” Gayle asked.

“I had to wait for the bathroom,” I said.

Kevin took the beers, handing one to Gayle, holding the other two in one hand. I was so relieved he was still there.

“Come on,” he said, taking my hand.

He led me to the pool, set the beers on the edge, and jumped in. I followed him in as he popped both cans, handing me one. We leaned our backs against the side. I took a long swig. I was trying to make sense of Mathew. God damn his bullshit. Why repeated in my head until I wanted to scream.

I carefully scanned the crowd for Mathew and found him reclining in a lounge chair with Kim sitting between his legs. A position I had known before. I looked at his face; he was staring at me. I realized he had watched me come back to the pool. He gave me a slight smile. I looked away and focused on Kevin. I wanted to slap the smile off his face. I was hurt, and I wanted to hurt him. Morgan, the toy, was that it? He just teased and played with my feelings because I let him? Was he jealous of my attention to Kevin? Kevin was talking, and I wasn’t focusing on what he was saying. He playfully splashed me.

“You listening, Morgan?” he asked.

“I am,” I said, turning my back to Mathew.

“Morgan, I’m going to head out,” Gayle said, bending down at the side of the pool.

“Where?” I asked.

“Home. I’ve had enough sun and beer,” she said. “I can catch a ride with Keri; she’s leaving. You want to go?”

“No, I’ll stay awhile longer. I can catch another ride or walk,” I said.

“Catch a ride. Don’t let her walk alone in the dark, Kevin,” she cautioned.

“I won’t,” he said.

I was feeling comfortable with Kevin. He unknowingly was taking my mind off Mathew. I also wanted to stay, knowing Mathew was watching. I could only hope it tormented him, me hanging with Kevin. Gayle had been gone awhile when Kevin asked if I wanted to go to his house.

“My parents are out, and we could hang for a while. Watch a movie maybe?” he suggested.

“I would like that, but I’ve either got to find a ride or walk while it’s still light. You heard Gayle about the dark,” I answered.

“My brother Mike, can drive you home,” Kevin volunteered.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Do you need to call him to make sure?”

“He won’t mind. I promise,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Got anything there to drink?”

I needed to know I could keep the buzz going so I had the courage to walk from the party with Kevin, and I figured at minimum he would kiss me. I needed to stay loaded to help me not think of Mathew’s kiss.

“I’ll grab several beers from here, Mathew won’t care. You’ve been to my house. It’s just a few streets over.”

I tried to remember where it was exactly. I could see Mathew and me sitting on the swing in Kevin’s backyard. Oh shit, it was his bedroom, the first cross-over, after I’d tried to set rules for Mathew. How could I forget?

“I need to find Mathew and tell him goodbye,” I said.

I knew my motive was twofold: to say goodbye and for him to know I was leaving with Kevin. It might get to him. I wanted to make absolutely sure he knew.

“I’ll meet you in the entry in a few minutes,” I said, slipping my shorts and T-shirt on over my suit.

I found Mathew in the kitchen, talking. He smiled at me a knowing, sexy smile, which made my blood boil.

“I’m leaving. Thanks for the party,” I said, not feeling as nice as I sounded.

Mathew stared at me, and for a split second, I thought I saw some remorse, and then it was gone.

“You and Gayle off?” he asked.

“Gayle left a long time ago; I’m leaving with Kevin,” I answered.

He came toward me and took my arm moving us around the corner, away from the people in the kitchen.

“Morgan, don’t do anything crazy,” he whispered in a harsh tone.

I looked at him, and the anger rose up in my chest. It rose higher and higher and then welled over and made me feel mean. I bit my tongue a little. A small, frustrated laugh escaped my lips.

“Ha. Crazy?” I said, locking eyes with him.

He stared back at me.

“What’s crazy is the way you act. Now that’s crazy,” I said through a clenched jaw before I turned and walked away.

Kevin was standing alone in the entry and I took a deep breath to try and calm myself. To not appear the way I felt.

“Find him?” Kevin asked.

“Yep. Let’s go,” I said, opening the door and hurrying out.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m perfect,” I said, taking his hand.

We had walked a short distance when he put his arm around my shoulders. It felt good to be with Kevin, but my anger at Mathew was not far from the surface.

“What’s the deal with you and Mathew?”

“Nothing, we're friends,” I answered.

“Sometimes it seems like you’re mad at him,” he said.

Mad, today he’d made me furious.

“He can be challenging sometimes. Our families hang out a lot together, so I see him a lot. Let’s not talk about him.”

We got to his house, and he opened the front door for me.

“In here,” Kevin said, taking my hand and leading me into the family room.

The room was dimly lit, a brown upholstered couch against the window wall facing into the room. Two red armchairs were on the other wall, with a table lamp in between them. A wooden coffee table was in front of the couch littered with magazines. The TV sat across the room from the couch on a metal stand. I sat down on the couch and Kevin set two beers down in front of me.

“Here, open these,” he said. “I’m going to put these other beers in the fridge and give my brother the heads-up that he’s driving you home later.”

He disappeared down the hall while I opened the beers. I walked across the room and turned on the TV. I was surfing when he came back.

“He’s cool with it. Find anything interesting?”

“I just turned it on,” I said.

I flipped through once, then found a western with John Wayne.

“This okay?”

“Sure, I like westerns.”

I’d seen it before, but it didn’t matter. I left it there and

returned to the couch. We sat close together. He put his arm around me. His movements felt a little strained, like he was nervous. I leaned into him and he kissed me. He kissed me gently, timidly, nothing like Mathew, who had kissed me with a kind of hunger earlier. Mathew, damn you, get out of my head! Kevin started to relax as I reciprocated his attention, returning his kiss. I wanted to feel feelings like I felt when Mathew kissed me. Where are you, where is that fire? He started to kiss me more confidently. Kevin got up and turned off the lights. The blue glow of the TV lit the room.

“You looked hot today,” he said, kissing my neck, then coming back to my lips. “Would it be all right if we went to my room?”

I took his hand in confirmation. He led me down the hall. The room was dark, the moon shining through the sliding glass door. I was glad he didn’t try to turn on a light. I looked at the bed. I saw Mathew lying there with his shirt open. No! I blinked my eyes several times, and the vision went away. I went to Kevin, pressing into him. He lifted my T-shirt off. I untied my bikini top and let it fall to the floor. He seemed pleasantly surprised as he put his hands on my breasts. I waited to feel some of the intense desire I’d experienced with Mathew. Nothing. Take the plunge, Morgan, get it over with, lose the virgin title is all I could think of.

Kevin fumbled to undo my shorts. I took over stripping everything off. I had never been naked in front of a guy before. I felt like I should not be feeling so disconnected, I wondered if it was just nerves. “Don’t do anything crazy” I heard Mathew say in my head and I got angry all over again. Kevin took off his clothes. I knew I was going to have sex with him. I knew after this, I wasn’t going to be the “little virgin” anymore. As much as the thought pissed me off, I wished it was Mathew. I hoped Kevin would brag to Mathew. I could only hope it would hurt him.

I concentrated on Kevin, who was making me feel things that were new. Where is the fire? screamed in my head. He kissed me more intensely, running his hands down my body. He moved me toward the bed. When we lay down next to each other, he moved his hand to my crotch. He pushed his fingers into me, turning up the heat, but only a little. I reached for his cock, knowing he was already hard. I stopped.

“What?” he asked.

“Condom,” I said.

“Where? I don’t have one.”

“I do,” I said, reaching over him to my purse.

“You do?” he asked, surprised.

I handed him the condom. I watched him fumble with the package. He looked at me shyly.

“Morgan, I’ve never done this before. I’m a virgin.”

I almost laughed out loud. Here I was mad at Mathew, giving up my virginity to get it over with, and hoping it would ultimately hurt Mathew, and I’d picked another virgin. Great!

“That makes two of us, Kev. Let’s get this virgin thing over with,” I said.

I watched as he rolled the condom on. He got on top of me awkwardly. As Kevin entered me, I felt a stab of pain, then it was gone, and the pleasure started. It was to be short-lived as Kevin finished in a hurry. This is what everyone’s so charged about? What’s so great about that? Afterwards we lay on the bed in each other’s arms. I knew I would never be with him again. I knew I cared about Kevin, and we had shared a special moment, but my heart wasn’t there.

“Can your brother take me home now?” I asked, feeling the need to go.

“No problem,” Kevin said, putting his clothes back on.

I don’t know if Mike figured out what had gone on, but it was a quiet, uncomfortable ride home. I looked out the window into the night, watching the streetlights pass. Kevin held my hand, like it was what he should do. I wondered what Mathew was doing. Kevin walked me to the door.

“Morgan, I had a really good time. Can I see you again?” he asked.

I didn’t feel the connection and I guessed he was being polite more than really feeling it too.

“It was fun. We’ll see how things go,” I answered.

It wasn’t very late when I got home, but I was tired. The day in the sun, the beer, the emotion with Mathew, the emotion with Kevin, was all weighing on me.

“Mathew called,” my mom said. “He asked you to call him no matter what time you got home.”

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” I said as I headed up the stairs to my room.

Chapter 26

Kevin wouldn’t brag to Mathew, in fact he wouldn’t say a word about us to anyone. He told me it was between us and I appreciated that our one time together wasn’t spread all over school. As close as he and Mathew were though I figured he would at least share it with him, hoped he would, but he’d kept his word. I would be the one to throw it in Mathew’s face after a severe bout of teasing from him one evening in his room. My little virgin he joked as our conversation graduated again to sex.

“Has Kevin said anything to you about the day of the pool party?” I asked. “Anything about after we left?”

He looked at me puzzled. I kept quiet as I watched the wheels turn. His lips grew tight, almost as if he was hiding a frown.

“You and Kevin?” he asked.

He waited for me to respond. The way his eyes searched mine sent a chill down my spin.

“No?” he whispered.

I didn’t answer, which answered him. I couldn’t tell if it was relief or hurt I saw in his eyes. Suddenly I felt guilty and looked away. I waited for him to say something, or tease me. Instead he picked up his guitar and started to play. He started with “Wild Horses” then stopped. “I know it’s your fav,” I heard him say. He started again with Styx's “Fooling Yourself”. He didn’t sing. I heard the words in my head. I knew this was his way of losing himself.

I assumed my place on his bed, listening. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he mad? How could he be mad? Had he not had every opportunity to be with me? To be the one I really wanted? He finally put the guitar down.

“Morgan,” he started and paused.

He seemed at a loss as to what to say. I opened my arms in invitation. He came to me on the bed. He laid his head in my lap, and I stroked his hair back from his face. Oh, Mathew, it should have been you.

“Where did you go when you left here?” he asked.

“To his house,” I answered.

“Were his parents home?” he asked absently.

“No, just Mike. He drove me home.”

I played with his hair; running thick bunches of it through my fingers gently.

“How’s practice been going with the band?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Good. We’re writing more of our own stuff.”

“What do you write about?” I asked.

“Life, girls, feelings,” he paused, “lyrics tell a story you know. Do you listen to the lyrics when you hear a song?”

I thought about it a minute.

“I think I listen. I’ve never looked at it closely like that.”

He rolled over onto his back and pulled me around on top of him. He framed my face with his hands. His eyes searched mine.

“What?” I asked.

He wanted something. I waited. I wasn’t going to help him. Whatever his feelings were about my news he was going to have to find the words.

“Are you seeing him now?” he asked.

“Would it matter?”

“Depends.”

I took a deep breath.

“I can’t even pretend to understand you,” I said, starting to pull away.

He pulled my face to his and kissed me. I could feel his desire. I could feel the fire between us. There it is; how do you do that to me? Why couldn’t Kevin? He rolled me to the side as he continued to kiss me, his tongue gently probing, circling mine. Sliding a hand under my shirt he cupped my breast over my bra. I reached around and un-hooked it allowing him to feel, skin to skin. He squeezed and then tugged at my hard nipple and I could feel between my legs go wet with desire.

“Oh, Mathew,” I moaned.

He moved lower and unbuttoned my jeans and pulled the zipper down slowly. I writhed in anticipation. I looked into his face as he slid his hand inside my pants. His fingers reached my pubic hair and then continued further. He pressed them on my clitoris and then rolled them from side to side. I closed my eyes, concentrating not to orgasm. I gave a brief thought to our moms having cocktails by the pool and then it raced out of my mind.

Mathew started kissing me again as his fingers pushed inside of me. I moaned softly, as he moved two fingers in and out of me, in and out, circling, probing, making me wetter and wetter. I moved my body in rhythm with his hand. In my mouth his tongue was searching and teasing.

“Ahh,” I gasped softly.

This sound of pleasure made him increase his tempo. Pushing his fingers into me harder and faster. I wanted him so badly. I knew what an orgasm felt like; I’d had plenty of them on my own, thinking about Mathew. Hell, he could almost get me to orgasm just by kissing me. I reached down and felt his hardness through his jeans. I wished we could strip naked and have sex, but knew it was way too risky. I pushed my body into his as his fingers worked a magic I’d never known. He seemed to know exactly how to take me up the hill to the peak, ultimately sending me off the cliff.

“Mathew,” I whispered as my body arched in a teeth clenching orgasm and then relaxed.

The feeling was intense, so much more than I ever thought possible. What Kevin was unable to do with the actual act, Mathew accomplished easily with just his fingers. I opened my eyes slowly, embarrassed.

“Did it feel like that?” he asked, kissing me softly.

My brain was trying to catch up, my body still tingling. He meant Kevin I realized.

“No. Nothing like that,” I said, doing up my jeans.

“Good,” he said, pleased with himself.

For a reason I couldn’t understand, the knowledge of Kevin seemed to open a door for him.

My dad lost his job that summer. Several months went by until he found a new one, in San Diego. At first he commuted between his job and home. He would be gone for weeks at a time, and I could feel the tension between my parents. They fought a lot. Surprisingly, mom and I actually started getting along.

Then she caught Gayle and me smoking pot one night in my backyard. Where I thought I would catch hell, it brought us closer. She started talking to me like an adult instead of a kid. It was finally disclosed to Pat and me that a move was no doubt coming. My dad wanted to make sure the job would work out before he moved us. I felt like my world was coming apart.

“Can you believe this, Mathew?” I asked for probably the hundredth time.

“I know. Been there, remember how upset I was?”

I recalled discussions, but he also wasn’t having to move hundreds of miles away. He was still in San Jose, still able to see his old friends pretty easily.

“You talked about it, but you didn’t seem that upset,” I said.

“I was. Mad as hell in fact.”

“It seemed like such an easy transition to me,” I said.

“It wasn’t.”

I thought about how easily he had fit in at school, somehow I didn’t think it would be the same for me.

“I feel sad. Mad hasn’t hit.”

“Just don’t cry, okay?” he said as he listened, tuning his guitar.

I’d done that to him more than once recently. He wasn’t good at knowing how to comfort me, except by a kiss when I got emotional.

“I keep thinking this can’t really be happening. Not now.”

Kim and Mathew had broken up right before school started. Neither of us was dating anyone, but we weren’t officially dating each other either. He was busy with the band. It had become the new girlfriend. Football, along with most sports, was becoming less and less important to him. Everything was changing. It frustrated Gayle that, with the door wide open, Mathew and I didn’t become a couple. I stupidly couldn’t answer her questions.

Over Thanksgiving, my parents were off to house hunt in San Diego, even though our house needed to sell before we could move. The market was slow, and I hoped it would stay that way. Meanwhile, Pat and I were staying at the O’Conner’s. Brad and Ann were also going to be out of town, so Mathew and I were to be in charge for three days.

“Party central,” Mathew said.

“Mathew, don’t let it get it too far out there,” I said. “They obviously think we can be responsible.”

This arrangement did not go down well with Pat, Sam, or Sara, but their complaints went unheard. Mathew turned Thanksgiving dinner into a freak fest, inviting several friends over to drop acid.

“Come on, Morgan,” he said as they licked blue stars off a piece of paper.

It looked pretty harmless, but I had heard about kids tripping. Seeing colors, and lines in the air, and shit; I had no desire to hallucinate.

“I don’t want to,” I said.

“Come on,” he said, waving it at me. “Don’t be a baby.”

I didn’t care if they all thought I was chicken, I was.

“No. I’m fine with cocktails. You guys do it.”

Mathew planned for us to cook dinner as a group. Once the acid kicked in for them, I felt as though I was on acid. They said they saw colors and talked about nothing that made any sense. They tried to help cook, and they got down and watched the floor breathe. They would laugh at things that I apparently couldn’t see.

Dinner was a disaster. The turkey was raw, as they hadn’t turned on the oven to the right temperature. The mashed potatoes, from a box, had too much water and turned out like soup. I gave up. I told Pat and them to eat cereal. I cleaned up the kitchen while Mathew and his friends tripped. I went to bed in the guest room, locking the door. I didn’t want crazy people waking me up. I slept fitfully as the party raged into the wee hours.

It was quiet when I woke up and I lay in bed listening for any sign of sound before I got up. I walked out to the kitchen to survey. It was a disaster, as was the family room. There were beer cans and glasses all over the place, ashtrays with cigarette butts and ends of joints. I quietly cleaned up and made some coffee. Man, if that’s what acid did to you, no thank you. I sat at the kitchen counter and called Gayle.

“Wow, Morgan,” she said when I had told her the story.

“I know. Pat, Sara, and Sam didn’t understand why they were so stupid. They’ve been pissed about the whole deal anyway. They stayed far removed, at the other end of the house.”

I chuckled about Mathew and his friends being so out there. Crazies.

“It was sort of funny to watch. This will be a Thanksgiving I won’t ever forget.”

“You sleep with him?” she asked.

“No. He was more into partying than anything.”

I’d been disappointed he’d preferred a party than to us hanging.

“Where is he now?”

“Sleeping, I guess,” I said. “I haven’t seen him yet this morning. Haven’t seen anyone. He’s having another party tonight. Come hang with me please. I need someone normal; you can spend the night,” I pleaded.

“If I have to watch people watch the floor breathe, I’ll lose it.”

She hesitated. Gayle didn’t much like big parties, she drank, but she wasn’t a big drinker, and she hated it when people got out of control.

“Please? We can get drunk together, ignore the rest,” I begged.

“Okay, but I’m locking myself in your room if it gets out of hand.”

When I hung up, I walked down the hall to Mathew’s room. Jack, one of his band mates, was in his bed. Both Sam's and Sara’s doors were closed. When I went to the master bedroom, Mathew was on his stomach, spread diagonally across the bed with his clothes still on. He looked peaceful, and I turned to leave.

“Morgan,” he mumbled, not moving. “Is the house a wreck?”

“The wreck you left, I’ve cleaned up already. How do you feel?” I asked, sitting on the bed.

“Pretty foggy,” he said, not moving.

“I would think. You guys were so out there.”

The room smelled of stale beer mixed with the slight smell of him. A small stream of light filtered through the middle of the heavy curtains and splashed across the end of the bed.

“Sorry dinner was a bust.”

“Not your typical Thanksgiving for sure,” I laughed. “I invited Gayle to come tonight. Same crowd coming? I hope not.”

“Naw, just the band guys,” he answered. “Did Jack stay?”

“Yeah, I found him in your bed. Thought it was you, so I climbed in naked. He was so fine.”

I wanted to give him a visual; an I don’t care that you didn’t want to be with me attitude.

“Fuck you, you’re lying.”

I didn’t answer him and sat quietly. He finally turned his head to look at me. His eyes were squinting and he pushed his hair off his face, which seemed a tad puffy.

“Jack wouldn’t cheat on his girlfriend,” he said.

“Now there’s a rare animal,” I teased.

He grabbed a pillow without lifting his head and whacked me with it. I laughed and got up off the bed.

“Let me sleep some more,” he said, closing his eyes.

I spent the day alone by the pool, reading. It wasn’t bathing suit weather, but the sun was out and it was warm. Gayle showed up about five. I heard her through the screen door. Mathew hadn’t done much all day. He’d been lying on the couch, watching TV.

“Poor baby, hung-over are you?” she asked him in a condescending voice.

“Nothing that a good party won’t cure,” he said.

Gayle chuckled.

“What time are Jack and the boys coming?” I called from out back.

“I told them sevenish,” he answered.

The screen door opened, squeaking, and Gayle came and joined me.

“Nice day,” she said.

“Yeah, way to nice to sit inside all day and nurse a hangover.”

Sara, Sam, and Pat had again sealed themselves into the back part of the house to watch television by the time the guys got there. Sara threatened to tell our parents about us drinking when they got home. Good thing she didn’t know about the drugs, although I knew Pat would never nark me out about anything, Sara might.

The guys were mellower. We drank Jack Daniels and Coke. We swam and sat in the hot tub. Mathew brought a joint out, and we passed that around. The other guys had slowly moved inside and were watching sports while Mathew, Gayle, and I were left in the hot tub.

I was feeling loaded, a little lightheaded, giggly and showy. Pushing into Mathew I was being very flirty while poor Gayle was putting up with us. I was standing, facing him in the hot tub, teasing him by flashing my boobs. Gayle just ignored me. At one point I climbed into his lap and rubbed my breasts against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him, his hands then running down my back to my ass. I was feeling very turned on, but didn’t think with all these people around that anything was going to happen.

“Let’s go get naked,” Mathew said.

I looked at Gayle, and then at Mathew. His suggestion was so left field. I was flirting, but hadn’t expected that.

“Who?” I asked.

“All of us,” he said, circling his finger around the three of us.

“You’re high,” I said, laughing.

I pulled back from him to look into his face.

“I’m serious,” he said.

I didn’t dare look at Gayle. She knew Mathew and I had never gone all the way. I thought his proposition would be offensive to her.

“Mathew, take Morgan, I’m good,” she said, knowing what I wanted.

“Not that I don’t have my own dirty motives, Gayle, but you would be the only girl left with the guys, no doubt, horny guys. If you don’t go, no one goes.”

I knew she could go to the guest room, but I was just drunk enough to think his proposal could be fun. I wanted to hear her answer.

“Such chivalry,” she said.

“Such what?” Mathew asked.

“Never mind,” she answered.

I looked away, out into the night, trying not to laugh. Surely he was just teasing about the three of us.

“'Nother drink, anyone?” I garbled slightly, getting up. “I know I need one.”

They handed me their plastic glasses and I went inside and made us new drinks. The guys were all glued to whatever was on. They had most of the lights off in the room and the colors from the TV flashed on their faces. They all looked high.

“Jack, can you open the door for me?” I asked, balancing the three cocktails in my hands.

He leaned over and grabbed the end of the slider and opened and shut it, never taking his eyes from the TV. I set the drinks on the edge of the hot tub and got back in the water.

“Let’s go,” Gayle said, standing up.

I looked from one to the other in utter disbelief.

“You’re not serious?” I asked.

“Come on, kid,” Mathew said, taking my hand. “Grab your drink.”

What had transpired while I was gone? We got out and toweled ourselves dry and I followed Mathew and Gayle robot-like through the family room. The guys watched in disbelief as the three of us disappeared into Ann and Brad’s master bedroom.

Chapter 27

I’d envisioned Mathew and me together many times, so many times, but never like this.

“Let’s go for it, have some fun,” Gayle whispered to me.

I knew she had to be drunk to ever go along with this. I could tell Mathew was turned on by the whole idea. I could see it in his face and in his wide-eyed sexy grin. He would have told me if he’d ever been with two girls at once, this was a first. I took a gulp of my drink, the alcohol helping me, making me feel daring. Mathew stood watching me, challenging me with his expression as he pushed his suit down to the floor to free his cock. My mouth went dry when I saw he was already hard. I slowly stripped off my bikini in front of the two of them. Mathew came to me.

“You look hot, kid,” he said roughly, pulling me to him.

Our naked bodies pressed together as he kissed me hard and took my hand, shoving it down to feel his cock. My breath caught, and my heart raced, as I took his rock hard penis in my hand. I opened my eyes to see Gayle lying on the bed, still in her bikini, watching the two of us with an amused grin. I dropped down to the floor and took him in my mouth sucking, licking, moving him in and out slowly.

“Hmmm,” he moaned.

Of course I’d never given a blowjob, but I’d heard enough to guess at what he’d like. Similar to how I’d sucked and teased his finger in Tahoe. I gave him just enough then let his cock go and slithered up his body and pulled him towards the bed.

“Gayle?” I asked.

She smiled and stripped from her suit while Mathew and I watched. Our relationship was finally going to come full circle, as a threesome. I started to laugh.

“This is crazy,” I chuckled.

“After you,” Gayle teased.

Nothing had ever made sense with Mathew, why start now. I climbed onto the bed and Mathew lay down beside me running his hand down my neck over my breasts and then between my legs. It was so nice to be able to move unobstructed by clothing. He pushed his fingers into me, in and out slowly, then circling my clitoris. My head was spinning, and not from the alcohol, but from desire.

“Fuck me, Mathew,” I begged.

He rolled on top of me and entered me hungrily, his hard cock spreading me, sending shivers through my body. I felt like I’d been hit by an electrical shock. He pumped his hard member in and out of me, and then harder at times making me reel. Intense feelings spread through my body like fire. Thrusting himself in and out of me, I couldn’t take my eyes off his face as I writhed in pure pleasure beneath him. I didn’t want it to end. Gayle ran her hand down his back reminding me she was there.

I pushed him away reluctantly towards her, I didn’t want to be fair, but felt that I should. After all, it was her decision that got us here. I watched as Mathew pleasured Gayle and surprisingly I wasn’t jealous. Mathew tried subtly to encourage some girl on girl action, but I wasn’t going that far. After Gayle had her fill she pushed him back towards me. I was so turned on from him, and watching them, that I pushed Mathew onto his back and mounted his cock. Rocking my body hard on to him, feeling his hardness press further into me each time.

“Uh,” he growled.

I sat up slightly and he covered my breasts with his hands squeezing them. I could feel my desire building and rocked faster and harder. He grabbed my hips and ground me onto him, his face was taut, his breathing hard. When I climaxed I screamed out in pleasure.

“Uh,” he moaned and then relaxed, as I fell back onto his chest, completely spent.

Mathew had us both several times that night and into the early morning hours. Each time he was able to bring me to a delightful intense orgasm. I was surprised his being with Gayle didn’t bother me more. I think being high had given us both the courage, to be wild. Gayle wasn’t hot for Mathew like most of the girls. She thought he was a looker, but half the time she was mad at him for the way he treated me. Maybe that was the difference; I knew our night was a one-time thing. I didn’t have to worry about anything going on there. The three of us lay in the bed, Mathew in the middle, and talked afterwards. I didn’t remember saying goodnight, or falling asleep.

I woke to find Mathew spooned around me. I lifted my head to look at Gayle, but we were alone in the bed. I rubbed my temples. Nice headache. I lay still listening, but there was no sound in the house. What the hell had I done? It seemed like such a good idea last night. Where was Gayle? I moved Mathew’s arm and slipped out of the bed. I went in Ann’s closet and found a robe and quietly left the room with him still sleeping.

I knew Gayle wouldn’t go home that late, or that drunk. She was still here somewhere. I found her in Sara’s room in the free twin bed. Mathew’s room and the guest room had some of the guys sleeping in them. I tapped her, and she woke easily. I motioned for her to follow. We went to the living room and sat down on the white sofa. I tucked my feet up under the robe. She looked into my face searching my eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

I shook my head.

“I was going to say the same thing to you. Mathew suggesting such a thing and us crazy and high enough to go along,” I said smiling. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, not concerning me anyway. Now if you’re sorry you had sex with him, that’s another story. He sucked, don’t you think?”

“He was loaded,” she said.

I grinned at her and she smiled.

“He didn’t suck, and you know it.”

“No, he didn’t suck. I rather enjoyed it actually,” she said.

“Okay, you don’t have to go that far.”

I could feel a flutter in my heart.

“Where is he?” she asked.

“Still asleep, two girls wore him out last night,” I said, trying to make it light.

Gayle smiled at me. It wasn’t pity, but something like it. Her knowing my feelings for him I took it as more of an Oh, Morgan look.

“Go back, Morgan, make love to him like you want to. Like you’ve wanted to for frickin' ever.”

I looked at her and sighed as tears welled in my eyes.

“What made you say yes last night? What happened when I went to make drinks?” I asked.

“I asked him if he was really serious. He said yes, almost daring me. I thought about you. How much you’ve wanted him. How often I’ve listened to your pain. How much I’ve wanted to kill him for hurting you. I was high enough to have it make perfect sense. Not sure if I was sober, and in the light of day, I would have felt the same. If you were willing, I figured we’d have fun. When I told him I would do it, I could tell he was shocked.”

“I was shocked. I’m sure he was throwing it out there, thinking that it would never happen,” I said.

“I couldn’t not take his dare. I felt like it was you and me having the upper hand. After I said yes, he didn’t have a choice but to go. Game on,” she smiled.

I kissed her cheek.

“Go back to bed. I’ll need you later,” I said.

“I need the sleep,” she said, getting up to leave.

I dropped the robe by the side of the bed and silently crept in beside Mathew. As I slid in, he stirred.

“Morgan, it is you. I was wondering if I was dreaming.”

Oh, brother!

“No, you don’t, Mathew,” I whispered. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember the whole thing, every thrust of it. I don’t care how high you were. You know.”

He opened his eyes cautiously, first one and then the other.

“Are you pissed at me?”

I stared into his face as his eyes searched mine.

“Hmmm. How do I answer that exactly? I think, in one way or another, I’ve been pissed off at you since I met you.”

He pushed into me.

“Where’s Gayle?” he asked, closing his eyes.

“She left saying something about the worst sex she’d ever had,” I said.

He opened his eyes in surprise and I laughed.

“She all right about it?”

“She’s fine. Tired. She moved to Sara’s other bed,” I said. “Maybe the real question should be if I’m all right with it.”

He grinned at me and I reached out to run my finger over his lips.

“What do they call that?”

“What do they call what?”

“Three? There’s a word for it.”

“Ménage a trois. And now that you know the term, forget it, because it’s not happening again. With me anyway.”

“Can I make love to you? Can I do it right, Morgan?”

His look was sincere and I felt the butterflies flipping wildly in my stomach.

“It’s about time,” I answered, pulling myself close to him.

He kissed me gingerly at first and then not so. We were able to take our time. Exploring each other’s bodies completely. No worrying about being caught, no clothes binding us, no rules binding us, spoken or unspoken. We made love and then fell back asleep. I woke to his kisses, and we made love again. We showered together, touching, lathering, and touching some more. I made him go get both of us clothes. When we came out of the bedroom, Sara, Sam, and Pat were out by the pool. Gayle and the other guys had gone.

“Just missed Jack,” Sara volunteered. “No party tonight, Mathew.”

It wasn’t a question but an order.

“No, no party tonight,” Mathew answered her.

They knew we were in the bedroom together, but nothing was said. That night we cooked a noodle casserole Ann had left us and I made a salad. Mathew played his guitar for us. A truce was reached between our siblings and us. Seeing it was Mathew's and my butts on the line, it was a good thing. No one was going to say anything. Mathew and I sat up late, talking. He opened a bottle of wine. When he thought it was safe, he took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

“This must be what a date feels like,” I teased.

“Better,” he said.

“How so?”

The carpet felt nice on my bare feet as he took me into his arms close to the bed.

“I’m comfortable with you,” he said.

“That’s taken what? Over three years or so of torturing me?”

I pushed him away onto the bed and climbed on top of him. He grinned up at me as my hair fell towards his face. He smelled like Mathew again instead of chlorine.

“Mathew, you freak me out by what a dick you can be,” I said and then smiled.

“I don’t mean to be.”

“I wonder?” I said, unbuttoning his shirt. “Have wondered more than a time or two.”

He reached up and rested his hands on my hips.

“Should I remind you of a few of the times?”

“No.”

He smiled, knowing I was going to anyway.

“Let’s see,” I said, putting my finger to my chin. “Tahoe, Mammoth, Rio del Mar, your bathroom, last night, anything ringing a bell? That doesn’t even account for all the times in your room.”

He reached up under my shirt, his hands warm against my skin, he felt my stomach and then went up towards my breasts, which were harnessed by a bra. He waited for me to continue. I took my shirt off over my head and he stared. I liked the look in his eyes, a longing, something I hadn’t seen. I’d seen lust, and a lot of other things, but not longing. I didn’t think the look would stay or change our status.

“Last night?” he questioned.

“Mathew, leave Gayle out of this, now and forever. What she did last night was for me, not for you.”

He gave me a questioning look.

“She knew I wanted you, so she agreed to your suggestion. Shocked the shit out of me, I might add. If you don’t believe me, ask her. I feel guilty she went along with it. So don’t go getting some big guy ego that you had two girls at the same time. So I’m perfectly clear, only one of them actually wanted you.”

He listened without interrupting me. I knew I was stretching it a bit, but Gayle wouldn’t mind. I paused, taking my bra off as I wiggled a little lower so I was more on his crotch. He sucked in his breath and I took his hands, putting them on my breasts. I think he knew better than to talk.

“Mathew, you have made me crazy with wanting you. Tell me you didn’t know that?”

He reached for me, trying to pull me to him with a look of denial.

“Fuck me, Morgan,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

His words made my crotch tingle and ache.

“No, tell me otherwise, tell me you had no clue,” I said, resisting.

He grinned his lazy sexy grin and I wondered if he really could make me orgasm just by kissing me.

“Maybe a little,” he said holding up his fingers with a small gap between them.

I poked him hard in the chest and he grunted, caught off guard. I could tell he wasn’t sure where to go from here. Where did we go from here? There hadn’t been talk of a relationship because I was just happy in the moment, and he didn’t bring it up.

“This doesn’t change a thing ‘friend’,” I said, finally bending down to kiss him.

I kissed his lips with little butterfly kisses. I teased around his lips with my tongue, then kissed across his face then bit and kissed his ear gently. I put my hand over his heart and felt it beating rapidly.

“Do you ever feel a connection between us?” I asked boldly.

“Of course I do,” he said, running his hands down my body.

I’d asked the wrong question. I meant emotional and he took it as physical. I knew we had that. He slowly took the rest of my clothes off, laying me back on the bed. He stood and took his clothes off as I watched. Seeing him naked made my loins ache and I squeezed my legs together in anticipation as he climbed on the bed next to me.

“I don’t have much experience in this area,” I said suddenly feeling shy.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s new between the two of us, we’ll learn.”

He taught me things I didn’t know. He made me feel things I had only heard of and doubted to be true. He was patient, teaching me as we went along. He never made me feel like a novice. I had no doubt he was trying to make up for some of his past behavior. Between our lovemaking, we talked. The bed was like an island with just the two of us, no other influences. I didn’t want to leave it.

“Morgan,” I heard him whisper, pulling me up from sleep.

I felt him shaking me gently. I tried to grasp where I was. I remembered when I opened my eyes and saw his face. I rolled my body into his; hugging into his side and he wrapped his arm around me. It felt so cozy; sometime in the night we’d gotten in the covers.

“Um,” I sighed.

He stroked my hair lightly as he held me. I could tell by the opening in the curtain that it was starting to get light.

“What time is it?” I asked softly.

“Early,” he said. “We should get back to our rooms before everyone gets up. I don’t want to piss any of them off again.”

I squished into him a little harder.

“Can we do it one more time?” I asked sleepily.

“Man, get you started, kid,” he chuckled, rolling onto me.

Later, when I crawled in the guest bed alone, the smell of him lingered on me. I liked it. My crotch ached from all our lovemaking, but in a wonderful way. I would be foolish to expect this would push us into anything more than what we were, but I hoped. I finally fell into a deep sleep. I slept late. Everyone was up when I walked into the kitchen in my sweatpants and T-shirt. Mathew smiled at me.

“Any chance I can get some coffee?” I asked no one in particular as I pulled my hair back, figuring it must look wild.

“None made,” he said, getting up from the counter. “Your hair looks fine.”

He pulled the pot out and filled it part way with water. I watched him as he moved, watched his hands in particular. The magic they could do. He turned the machine on.

"I can’t believe you drink the stuff.”

“I started about thirteen. My mom called it cowboy coffee, lots of sugar and milk, made me feel grown up. Less sugar and milk now,” I said.

He laughed.

“Would think cowboy coffee was the opposite, black and full of grounds.”

“I don’t know, maybe she never had cowboy coffee, just liked the expression.”

When the coffee had brewed, I poured myself a cup. I sat listening to the TV as I drank it. I couldn’t get last night out of my head. I wanted to ask what now, but stuffed it down instead. I knew it would just be what it was, he was either going to change things or not, and I guessed not, especially now that we were moving.

“Mathew, we’ve got to finish getting the house cleaned up before they get back,” I said, referring to our parents.

“I know,” he said.

There was to be no help from Sam, Sara, or Pat, which is what scored us their silence. Mathew and I had agreed to clean up the whole house.

“One more cup of coffee first,” I said.

Chapter 28

Christmas was approaching and the weather had gotten cooler. My dad was still commuting and trying desperately to find a job in San Jose so we didn’t have to move. The house still wasn’t sold, so they lowered the price. Pat and I prayed he would find something else before it did sell.

It was my turn to lean on Mathew, voicing my discomfort and resentment. Since Thanksgiving we had not had sex. I had not asked for any type of commitment or promise after our nights together. If I left the emotional part out, it seemed to work. One big reason was we hadn’t had any good opportunities. The physical exchanges in his room hadn’t stopped however. When I learned through Keri that he was on the trail of another girl, I decided to give up. The potential move, and his inability to see me as anything but comfortable, was too heavy a burden right now.

“We’re friends, back to friends,” I answered Gayle when she asked me what was going on.

“After all the shit that’s gone down, you’re friends? Friends don’t behave that way. You don’t fuck your friends, Morgan, excuse my French. You don’t expect your ‘friend's’ best friend to join in. You’re not friends,” she said, annoyed.

I felt my face get hot and then a tightening in my throat, as the tears burned at the back of my eyes.

“What are we then?” I lashed out as I started to cry.

She gave me the oh, Morgan look.

“I don’t know what you are. How can I define it?” she said calmly. “You start, you stop. You love, he doesn’t; you hate, he wants; you give in to him. Morgan, it’s crazy.”

This wasn’t anything we hadn’t talked about or that I didn’t know. I’d had my self-loathing regarding my feelings.

“So fucking what? So crazy is what I get with him,” I said raising my voice, the tears running down my face. “It’s all too much, besides I already told you I’m giving up. Drop it already.”

I reached for a Kleenex beside her bed.

“Giving up? You’ll give him up till he wants you again.”

“Watch me, Gayle,” I said more determined than I felt, although I couldn’t seem to stop the tears.

“Besides, if we move, which looks highly likely, I have to give it up,” I sucked in a big breath, trying to calm myself.

“Don’t,” she said, coming to me.

“I know you hate it when girls cry,” I choked out a laugh, thinking of him.

I broke down again when she hugged me.

In March, our house sold, and I started dating Ben. Ironically, he was a football player Mathew had introduced me to at a party. He was two years older than me, tall, about six feet two, wavy brown hair with grey eyes. He said all the right things to my parents and me. They liked him. Gayle was over the top about Ben; he was perfect for me, the good guy, finally. I couldn’t help but wonder whether part of her enthusiasm was the distance he kept me from Mathew.

Mathew was involved heavily in the band, the parties, the girls, and Ben didn’t like him much. Kingdom Come was starting to play at local events, and Ben and I went with friends several times to watch the band play. The fact that Mathew and I were friends seemed to bother Ben. If Mathew knew I was there, he would seek me out, almost like he was trying to make Ben uncomfortable. We were at a party where Kingdom Come was playing. One where I hadn’t known they would be there, and Mathew approached us on a break. It was loud, the crowd all talking and laughing.

“Hey, Big Ben,” he slapped Ben on the back. “How’s it going, dude?”

“Good, Matt,” he answered loudly, obviously not happy to see him.

“Hey, kid,” Mathew, shouted, holding his arms open, sporting his lazy sexy grin.

“Hey,” I said, hugging him quickly.

Ben shot me a warning glance. Mathew caught it and laughed.

“Chill, dude. Morgan, and I have been friends a long time, you know that.”

The way he said friends left the term sort of open and I knew he’d done it intentionally. People pushed around us making their way in the crowd.

“He treating you right, Morgan?” Mathew asked, knowing he was getting to Ben.

I could feel the tension rising, feel the hairs rise on my arms. I didn’t understand Mathew’s motivation, wondered why he cared that I was with Ben now.

“Yeah, Mathew, he treats me right.”

Mathew glanced from me back to Ben and smiled.

“Good. Good,” he said jollily, slapping Ben on the back again. “If he doesn’t, you let me know.”

I saw Ben clench his jaw and I thought he might hit him. Mathew was strong, but Ben had a lot of height on him.

“Gotta run,” he said and was gone.

He disappeared easily into the crowd.

“What an asshole he is,” Ben said.

The exchange had made me tense; my stomach was in a knot. The big-brother attitude from Mathew didn’t sit well with me either.

My time with Ben did keep me from being around Mathew; he did everything in his power to make sure of it. Ben was possessive, and I was in love with the fact that someone acknowledged wanting me. A girlfriend, open and claimed, for the first time. As Ben and I grew closer, so did our moving date. I could not believe I’d finally found a boyfriend, and now I had to go.

“Ben, I can’t stand this,” I cried to him.

“I know, baby. We’ll make it work,” he said. “You’ll be back in less than a month. I’ll wait.”

“What then? I leave again, and you’re here and I’m way the hell down there.”

“We can write, call, let’s take it a step at a time,” he said, trying to soothe me.

I didn’t feel reassured. Ben was good-looking and a looker. I had caught him on more than one occasion, checking out girls while I was right next to him. “Rubber Necker” Mathew called him. I thought about numerous words I could call Mathew, womanizer, cheater, my one time fuck buddy, my friend, then decided no. None of it mattered.

My parents had agreed to send me back to San Jose for a couple weeks once school was out, in an attempt to calm my distress. The scene in our driveway the day we left was so sad. All the neighborhood kids were there, most crying. I was crying, my heart aching, feeling like it was being torn from my chest. Ben held me close. Gayle was beside herself like I had never seen her. We’d gone to the O’Conner’s the night before for goodbyes. Mathew had held me tight, tenderly, lovingly rocked me.

“I’ll really miss you, Morgan,” he whispered.

His touch brought back thoughts of him and me, and I pulled away somewhat disconcerted by them.

“Play something for me,” I asked, forcing down the tears. “Nothing that will make me cry, okay?”

“You got it.”

I would miss him terribly. As much as he had put me through, we had a unique friendship. I wasn’t closer to anyone other than Gayle, not even Ben. I’d shared so much with him in this very room.

It was Cinco De Mayo when we arrived in San Diego. The drive was hateful, and Pat and I had cried for different reasons the whole way. My world had indeed shattered. I understood Mathew’s mad. “Mad as hell” he'd said. It summed it up perfectly. How could my parents do this to us? I started a new school, which ended a month later with not one new friend. The cliques were established; I was the new girl.

The girls didn’t want to know me, and the boys, if they did, were afraid of the girls. Knowing I was going back to San Jose for a few weeks was the only thing keeping me sane. Ben and I talked on the phone. He couldn’t wait to see me. I couldn’t wait to see him. Mathew even called a couple of times to see how I was doing. My parents arranged for me to spend a week at Gayle’s; the second week at Ann and Brad’s. Ben picked me up at the airport. I’d given up any cigarette smoking.

“Hey, babe,” he said, kissing me at the gate, bringing me flowers.

“Ben, this is so nice,” I said, feeling loved. “You can’t even know how happy I am to be here.”

“Pretty good guess,” he said, kissing me again. “I’m proud of you for giving up the cigs, they were nasty.”

The first week flew by. Ben and I spent most of our time at the beach, hanging out. Gayle joined us now and then for a movie or dinner. He packed in activities, and it seemed I couldn’t get him alone for more than a kiss, which perplexed me.

“Gayle, he seems different,” I said as we sat in her yard.

“No he doesn’t,” she said.

“Maybe I’m just feeling insecure. I have two weeks, and then I leave again. He’s not going to wait for a girl who lives seven hundred miles away.”

“Morgan, just have fun. Don’t get yourself down about leaving, focus on being here. I’ve been so glad to hear happy in your voice.”

“I know,” I said.

Gayle and I had talked on the phone a lot—my mom hid the bills from my dad. It was expensive, long-distance calls, but she knew I needed a friend.

“Okay, Mathew’s tomorrow. Will you be glad to see him?” Gayle asked.

“I guess. I didn’t leave with us in the best place,” I said. “Ben and all.”

“What fucking ever,” she said. “Ben doesn’t know anything happened with you and Mathew does he?”

“No,” I shouted. “He would kill me, even if it was before him. He’s not a real Mathew fan, as you know. Thinks he’s too cocky. I think there is a bit of jealousy on Ben’s part because the girls rubber neck Mathew.”

Gayle laughed, and laughed, and I joined in.

Ben dropped me off after our date the following day. He’d expressed his annoyance that it was Mathew’s house. I’d pointed out that the O’Conner’s were my parents friends and had willingly offered me a place to stay, his mother certainly hadn’t. It felt strange to ring the doorbell.

“Hey, Ann,” I said when she opened the door.

“Morgan,” she said, stepping out and hugging me tightly. “Ben, good to see you again.”

“You too Mrs.-“

Ann frowned at him.

“Ann,” she corrected motioning us inside.

“I’ll get her stuff,” Ben said, heading back out to his car.

Ann squeezed me again.

“It’s so good to see you,” she said, leading me toward the family room and sitting down in a chair. “I miss your mom and you so much. You can’t imagine.”

I could imagine, mom and I had cried together several times about being so far away.

“She misses you too. She hasn’t made any friends yet. Me either.”

Her face softened and she smiled at me.

“You both will, be patient, give it time.”

I heard the front door open again.

“Morgan, where should I put your suitcase?” Ben called.

I jumped up and went back to the entry, then led him to the guest room.

“Right here,” I said, turning on the light as he set my things down.

“Nice place,” he said, looking around the bedroom and then the living room.

“Nice? It’s more than nice,” I said.

This house, so familiar and comfortable to me; “comfortable” I heard Mathew say, he’d called me comfortable once. I looked down the hall towards his room.

"Come on,” I said, taking Ben’s hand.

We sat with Ann and talked, and I could tell she liked Ben.

“I can see you’re in good hands,” he said finally. “I’ve got to get going.”

I walked him to the door, kissing him goodnight. Yes, something was missing. He hadn’t pushed for more, almost had made it impossible for more.

“See you in the morning,” he said.

I shut the door feeling down. I was glad I had Ann, she seemed to enjoy talking with me.

“Mathew’s out, but guess you probably figured that out,” Ann said when I sat back down.

I hadn’t asked. I stayed up talking with her, hoping he would get home. When she turned on the news I figured it was time to go to bed. Brad had been in and out during the evening; Sara and Sam had already headed to bed.

“Maybe I’ll see him tomorrow,” I said when I decided to go to bed.

I was out early the next morning. Mathew was apparently still asleep. He was doing gigs with the band at night, sleeping late. Two nights passed, and I had yet to see him. The memories were weighing heavily on me. I remembered the last time I’d slept in this room, not even seven months ago. The night I’d crawled into the bed after lovemaking, his smell still lingering on me. Maybe he was avoiding me because of Ben. No, Ben didn’t intimidate him. I’d gone into his room more than once. Even picked up a T-shirt and breathed in his smell. I’d handled his guitar, running my fingers along the strings. Sara caught me once, standing in the middle of the room.

“Morgan,” she said.

Her voice made me jump, and I turned to look at her.

“Hey-” I said, feeling like an intruder.

I stopped, realizing anything I said would sound stupid.

“It’s okay,” she said, “I don’t think he would mind.”

Then she disappeared down the hall. I wanted to see him I realized. I wanted to talk to him, catch up, feel like we were still close.

Sara, Ann, and I sat in the hot tub and talked that night. It was dark, the night air somewhat cool. I looked up into the sky; the stars were bright as was the moon, which made me think of green men. We talked and laughed about the beach and ski trips. I thought about Mathew lacing his fingers in mine in Mammoth in the hot tub. I thought about having been with Ben all day, and how his behavior was starting to bother me. He seemed distant and aloof. I flashed back to the night with Gayle in this very spot. I thought about what had played out that weekend. How crazy it had gotten with the three of us. We were both nuts for letting it go there. I saw Mathew lying naked on the bed with the two of us. It was too much.

“I think I’ll go shower,” I said. “I’m tired. I’m ready to get in bed and read.”

“You go ahead,” Ann encouraged.

“Sleep tight, Morgan,” Sara said.

I stepped out, grabbed a towel, and headed inside. The shower felt good. I let the hot water run down my back for a long time. I dried off in the steamed-up bathroom and put on a nightgown and robe. My hair was wet, but I wasn’t up to blowing it dry. Sara was standing in the hall when I came out.

“Sorry. I know I took too long.”

“Mathew’s home,” she said.

“Oh, that’s good” I said, heading to my room.

“Aren’t you going to go see him?” she asked. “He’s up.”

“Like this? I don’t think so,” I said.

“Go,” she said.

Sara and Mathew were at odds more often than not, so I was surprised at her encouragement. I looked towards his room. The door was closed.

“Sara, maybe in the morning,” I said, moving down the hall.

I read for a while before I turned off the light, just drifting off to sleep when I felt a presence. When I opened my eyes, Mathew was standing next to the bed. I propped myself up on my elbows, and he came and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hey, Mathew,” I said softly, bending forward to hug him.

He held me tight for a long while and I didn’t try and pull away.

“I’ve missed you,” he said softly, his hair brushing my cheek.

When he released me, he took my hands, and moved in closer as I leaned back in the bed against the pillows.

“Really missed you.”

“Mathew, I’m tired, I’m involved, and no doubt so are you. Go to bed. Let’s catch up in the morning.”

He hadn’t let my hands go, squeezing them instead.

“Morgan, I need you,” he said in the dark.

He missed me? He needed me? Had Mathew ever needed anyone? Did he miss my friendship or our crazy physical relationship? Mathew hadn’t used these kinds of words with me. I wasn’t clear on their meaning, not from him.

“I’m with Ben and—”

“Do you love him?” he asked, cutting me off.

I thought about his question: love, another word so foreign to our vocabulary. Did I love Ben? Did I? I’d never said it to him. Why would it matter if I did or didn’t? While all these questions raced through my mind, Mathew moved closer, pulling our hands to his chest. Oh, Mathew, what is it about you? How can you suck me in so completely? Make me want to do things I know are wrong? He brought my hands to his face and kissed them, his lips felt like fire. I pulled my hands away.

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

“Know what?” he asked, distracted.

“If I love him.”

I felt my throat tighten. Why was he asking me this? Now I had to think. He lay down on the bed next to me and ran his fingers through my hair. I shivered. This was the gentler, more caring Mathew I had known from time to time.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

“I think so. I don’t know,” I said, hesitant and confused. “It’s seems different with Ben now. Like my being away has changed something. I don’t know if it’s him or me. There’s this unspoken distance I feel. Gayle thinks I’m imagining it, but it’s like he’s going through the motions but not really there some times.”

I realized Mathew’s question made me confront my doubts and I didn’t really like it.

“He’s not for you.”

Who did he think was for me? Him? I wondered. He moved in and kissed me softly. When I let him, he took it to the next level, the kind of kiss that used to send me over the edge. An edge Ben had never sent me over. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face into his shirt. In one simple exchange, I was back, back to Mathew and me.

“Can I get in bed with you?” he asked uncertainly.

“What about your parents?”

“They’ve gone to bed. I made sure before I came in.”

Without me answering he stripped off his clothes and got in next to me. He wrapped his warm naked body around mine and it didn’t feel weird like I thought it might. I sat up, lifting my nightgown over my head and let it drop to the floor. He pulled me to him, pressing our bodies into each other and kissed me. Kissed the tender skin on my eyelids, my cheek, and then down my neck. I inhaled deeply. Then he kissed my lips and gave me that kiss.

That kiss, the edge, the one that could make me instantly wet. His tongue seeking mine probing just the right way, making me forget there was anything but us. He traced his fingers down my shoulders and chest and teased my nipples. He rose up and followed the same trail with kisses and his tongue. He squeezed my breasts as he sucked on my nipples, which hardened with desire.

“Ah,” I moaned.

“I’ve missed you.”

His words. At this point I didn’t care what his words meant. He kissed down my stomach and then spread my legs and kissed me there to. And then his tongue, his exquisite tongue, moved around my private parts, entering me, licking, sucking: making me want to buck and scream. He plunged his fingers into me and as he did so I arched and moaned in orgasm.

“Good, god,” I breathed.

He softened his touch between my legs and moved back up to my lips. I could taste myself in his mouth, starchy and sweet.

“That’s only the start kid,” he whispered.

I pushed him up and kissed his chest and down his body moving him higher until I could take his cock in my mouth. He tasted salty sweet like the rim of a margarita glass. I licked and sucked and moved him in and out of my mouth. He groaned and the sound sent shivers through me. I ran one hand up his chest and could feel the hammering of his heart. He pulled back and moved down my body.

When he entered me, he rocked into me slowly, letting me get into the rhythm with him. I put my hands on his face and pulled his lips to mine, wanting his warm tongue in my mouth. I tried to move faster, but he held me back until it was almost painful and then when he was ready, he took it faster, riding us to the peak, where we both exploded. It was more intense than anything I’d ever experienced, even with him. Maybe he did need me; maybe I needed him. In the dark, in this moment, Mathew was all I wanted. I lay in his arms, my head tucked below his chin as he stroked my hair, relishing the smell of sex in the air.

Chapter 29

“So what about Ben?” he asked guardedly.

I hadn’t thought about Ben since Mathew started kissing me. “I don’t want to talk about Ben.”

I had never had feelings with Ben like I did with Mathew, never.

“We need to.”

His choice of words was curious. What we?

“Mathew, what do you want me to say?” I asked.

“You don’t love him, Morgan.”

It was more of a statement than a request. I ran my hand down his chest.

“The expert on love here,” I whispered. “Is that what you want me to say, that I don’t love him. Does it really make a difference?”

He ignored my question. We’d just had sex with reckless abandon and I wondered why it mattered what I felt about Ben.

“I’m pretty sure he’s been seeing someone else while you’ve been gone. Rumor has it anyway. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Here was a boy who had clearly hurt me over the years, worrying about me getting hurt. In one respect it was sweet and in another so out of character. I thought about Ben seeing someone else. He was a ladies’ man for sure. He was possessive on the one hand, but had no trouble blatantly looking on the other.

“Maybe that’s the distance I feel. We’re supposed to go to the beach tomorrow,” I said, not knowing how I felt about that now.

Mathew let the statement hang. If he just wanted me to confirm I didn’t love Ben, what did that do? Was I supposed to throw Ben to the curb over a Mathew moment?

“What a mess,” I said.

It was hard to be rationale in Mathew’s arms after how he’d just made me feel, was still making me feel.

“Tell Ben you’ve made other plans.”

“What other plans?”

“You-and-me plans,” Mathew stated like there was no question.

I chuckled as I snuggled into him.

“He’s always been so fond of you. That should go down well, ‘I can’t go today, Ben, because Mathew made plans for us.’ What kind of you-and-me plans?”

“The beach.”

“Mathew, you realize what you‘re asking me to do, right?”

He lifted my chin and kissed me softly.

“Lose Ben,” he said.

I fell asleep in his arms. When I woke, he was gone. I lay in bed thinking about what he said—he’d asked me to lose Ben. It was a simple request, but I wasn’t sure how to handle it, or if I wanted to handle it. It could have been a Mathew moment. I’d dreamed of Mathew and Ben, and they were arguing. Ben was calling Mathew a liar. Saying he told me there was someone else for his own benefit. I was unsure of my feelings and myself. What did I want? I wasn’t sure if Mathew was serious. I didn’t understand his request.

Ben was supposed to pick me up at noon. I looked at the bedside clock, eight fifty-three. I rummaged through my suitcase for clothes and headed to the shower. Mathew must have been waiting for me to wake because he met me in the hall. I was sleep-deprived from our late evening and feeling it. I smiled shyly.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, smiling back.

“You’re joking right?” I asked.

Sara came out of her room and saw us.

“Morning,” I said to her.

I felt awkward, standing in the hall in my nightgown.

“I was headed to the shower,” I said hurriedly.

She looked from me to Mathew and smiled.

“Morning,” she said and headed toward the kitchen.

I pointed at Sara’s back, at Mathew, and then me.

“She know anything?”

“I assume some. She’s never asked me, but she’s pretty tuned in.”

“Okay, then,” I said, clutching my clothes in front of me.

I turned toward the bathroom, not sure what else to say. I was closing the door when he pushed it back open a crack.

“When you’re finished, call Ben. I plan on heading to Santa Cruz about eleven.”

He planned on taking me to the beach after all. Now I was forced to make some sort of decision. One look in the mirror told me Mathew had lied. My hair was disheveled, and I had mascara under my puffy eyes, argh. I showered, letting the hot water run over my body, trying to decide what to do. I dried my hair and put on my makeup and still didn’t know what to do. I looked in the mirror, not too bad for a girl who was up half the night. When I opened the door, Mathew was there.

“We’re going to the beach, you and me, go call Ben,” he said firmly.

I was surprised how happy I felt. What was I going to say? I slept with Mathew last night, had the most incredible orgasms, and I’m going to the beach with him instead of with you. I went to the laundry room to use the phone that was there so I'd have some privacy. Ben’s mom answered the phone.

“Hi, it’s Morgan. Is Ben there?” I asked.

Ben’s mother had always made me feel like I was stealing her son, not hostile exactly, but uncomfortable.

“Yes, hang on, I’ll get him,” she said, resting the phone on the counter.

I could hear her calling him, pictured his room down the narrow hall. The receiver scraped across the counter as he picked it up.

“Hey, babe,” he said.

His voice tugged at my already raw emotions. Get it over with, Morgan.

“Ben, my plans have changed for today.”

I swallowed hard. Was I really doing the right thing?

“I heard rumors last night that you've been seeing someone else,” I blurted out.

There was silence at the other end. I guessed Mathew knew it was more than a rumor.

“Who did you hear it from? Mathew?”

His tone was caustic.

“It doesn’t matter. Are you seeing someone else?”

“Morgan, it’s nothing really, a close friendship,” he said. “You of all people certainly know that someone of the opposite sex can be a good friend.”

His tone was sarcastic. He tried to play it down, smooth things over. It was a girl he’d met in one of his classes, they’d talked, had lunch a couple of times. I could hear it in his voice, he was right; I knew too much about good friends. His new friendship was no doubt the detachment I felt. When I hung up, we both knew it was over, although we hadn’t officially said it. I didn’t feel sad, although I wondered if that would come later. The excitement of being with Mathew was probably overshadowing the sadness for now.

“You okay?” Mathew asked, walking into the room.

He had been listening. I was sure of it. I nodded my head yes.

“Good, let’s get ready to go,” he said.

On the drive over the hill, he talked about the band and what big strides they were making. They were scheduled to play at the fairgrounds this summer. He told me about his being at odds with his dad about his music. How he resented some of the pressure his dad put on him. He asked me about San Diego.

“So far I hate it,” I answered.

“It seems like a cool city.”

“It is, and pretty, but I would rather be here, with friends.”

“Haven’t made any friends yet?” he asked.

“No, being the new girl—unlike your experience—is not easy. The girls don’t like me.”

“'Cause you’re pretty,” he said with a grin.

I smiled. This was all so different, a different Mathew than I was used to. A Mathew I had only seen glimpses of.

“We’ll stop at Togo’s in Santa Cruz to grab some lunch for later. I’ve got beer in the trunk,” Mathew said.

“What’s Togo’s?” I asked.

“They have killer subs, kind of a new place I’ve discovered,” he said.

We drove over the hill, he sang with the radio, and seemed genuinely happy. When he stopped the car in front of Togo’s, he leaned over and kissed me.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

“Me too.”

I thought I should feel guilty about Ben, but I didn’t. The butterflies in my stomach were too excited about being with Mathew.

“What do you like?” he asked, looking up at the sandwich board.

“You order for me. You know what’s good.”

I tried to give him money, but he wouldn’t take it. He obviously knew the spot we were going to. He drove into a neighborhood and parked the car. He took the towels and my beach bag out of the trunk.

“You carry these,” he said, handing them to me.

He grabbed the cooler and the bag from Togo’s. I followed him down a dirt path through the trees down onto the beach. It was a really pretty spot and somewhat secluded.

“Guess you’ve been here before,” I said, knowing I couldn’t find it again without him.

We spread out towels and helped each other get tanning lotion on, the smell reminding me of beach times in the past, his touch making my heart race. I kissed him lightly.

“Ready for lunch?” he asked, digging into the Togo’s bag and handing me a sandwich. “Beer?”

“Of course. You still accosting people in liquor store parking lots?” I asked, remembering the Mammoth trip.

“When needed,” he chuckled. “Have to get the goods one way or another.”

“I remember that night so clearly. I wanted to be with you so bad, but I was pissed at you and Bobby for always taking off together. When you two were together, I pretty much wrote you off.”

He cocked his head and looked at me.

“You did?” he asked, his mouth full.

“After Bobby left us alone that night, I thought maybe you would do something, and when you didn’t, I decided to go for it.”

The lazy sexy grin spread across his face making my knees feel weak. The thoughts of last night suddenly filling my head.

“You started with the finger thing,” he said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

“If my parents hadn’t come home, would you have gone all the way?”

I don’t know why, but it was important he validate some of my past feelings, like I wasn’t crazy.

“Maybe. I wanted to. You had me pretty horny,” he said.

“Like last night?”

“Hmm, last night doesn’t hold a candle to it.”

We ate our lunch, catching up on what had gone on since I moved. I told him more about San Diego. How lonely I felt there.

“Give it more time,” he suggested. “Let’s cool off, hottie.”

He reached for my hand, and we walked down to the ocean, holding hands. This was a Mathew I had only fantasized about. The water felt cold and I tried to go in slowly, but the playful Mathew wouldn’t have it, and he pulled me in, protesting. Once we were in, it didn’t feel so bad, and we swam out to where the waves weren’t breaking on us and floated on the surf. He held me to him as we floated.

“Not that cold once you’re in,” he said.

Up against him, no it didn’t feel so cold.

“Okay, there is one good thing—the ocean's warmer in San Diego.”

“Baby steps,” he said.

“Ah,” I shrieked as he untied my top.

“I’m copping a feel,” he said, playing with my erect nipples.

“Obviously,” I laughed. “Now that you got a feel, can we get out?” I asked.

“I’m not finished,” he teased, sticking his hand down my bathing suit bottom.

We lay flat on our backs in the sun holding hands. It felt lazy and warm. He would reach over and run his fingers down my side or my stomach, which in turn would make me want to kiss him. I would lean over and kiss his lips, his neck, his chest. And now and again he would pull my face to his and give me that kiss.

“Mathew?” I asked as I traced my fingers down the golden hair below his belly button to the band of his swimsuit.

“Hmm?”

He grabbed my hand and placed it on his cock rubbing through his suit. I felt the swelling between my legs and the blood race to my heart. We didn’t seem to be able to keep our hands off each other. He slowly rolled over on top of me, grinding his pelvis into mine.

“People can see,” I said self-consciously.

“So what? If they're lucky, they’ll get to see the suits come off,” he said, looking mischievous.

“Uh-uh,” I said, scanning the beach.

No one was close by, but there were still people in site. I pulled myself from underneath him to one side, resting on my elbow so I could look at him. This person that could make me act crazy.

“What’s going to happen now?”

“Happen right now?” he asked with a grin.

“You know what I mean?”

I hated that I wanted answers, couldn’t just go with the moment.

“Well, I’d say for the rest of your stay, more of this. Morgan, let’s not plan. Let’s agree to let it happen,” he said.

I was fearful that this was a fleeting moment and, come tomorrow, everything would change back to his normal MO.

“I’ll agree to let it happen, if you promise not to hurt me.”

The move to San Diego had sealed the fate of us being together for any length of time, and we both knew that. It wasn’t like we were adults and had a choice where we lived.

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said as he put his hand to his heart.

“I’m going to hold you to that. You do, and I’ll call Ben and ask him to kick your ass. He would no doubt honor that request.”

I chuckled and he smiled at me.

“He never liked me.”

“Maybe he had a feeling about our friendship. I know he was jealous of our time together.”

I untied my bikini top and let it fall. I pressed myself into his chest, my breasts against his skin, my softness against his roughness. I ran my tongue up his neck to his ear and traced the outside and then stuck my tongue gently in it.

“You’re gonna get me hard,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around me.

“That’s okay with me. I want you to teach me everything that makes you happy,” I said.

“You made me happy when you let me into your bed last night. You made me happy when you agreed to lose Ben.”

I rose up slightly and looked into his face.

“When you asked me if I loved him, I realized it wasn’t right, but I wasn’t sure why you cared. Your motives almost always confuse me. With Ben, I guess, I was in love with the idea of love. We only were together those few short months before I moved. I should have guessed once I was gone, he would be off to someone new.”

I pushed my pelvis into his, communicating how much I wanted him, even now. He kissed me and once again we had a make out session that was unbelievable.

“I’ll be coming for you tonight, kid,” he whispered in a husky tone.

“I’m good with that,” I said, knowing I was in new erotic territory. “So good with that. Make sure we don’t get caught. Your mom would kill us.”

I only had three nights left in town. We kept our relationship hidden at the house. For the next three days, Mathew and I would go to the beach so we could be alone together. He took me to the Boardwalk, and we rode the Big Dipper. He even took me underneath the boardwalk and kissed me.

“You wanna do it here?” he teased, sliding his hand up my shirt.

“No. I still think that’s gross.”

“Teasing,” he said.

“I know,” I said, not so sure he was.

He wasn’t afraid to show his affection for me in public. He held my hand and put his arm around me. My heart ached when I thought about going home. Gayle came over to Mathew’s house a few times to visit. I was happy to see that neither one of them made it feel awkward. She was miffed at me for breaking it off with Ben and spending all my days with Mathew. She was sure that Mathew would use me and hurt me. I did feel used, in the best way I’d ever been used, and I swore to myself I wouldn’t be hurt.

“Gayle, get over it,” I said when we were alone by the pool. “This has been the best thing for me. He’s made me happy. It, unfortunately, will end; we both understand that. We’ll still be friends when I go home.”

“So you’re still the friend, even now?”

“Okay, friends plus,” I said, using Mathew’s term. “Why do we have to name it? What’s our choice, Gayle? We’re sixteen and still in high school. We live with our parents. We now live in different cities, far, far away. Now friend is about the only option unless I want him to start lying to me like Ben did.”

“Don’t be so fucking rational for once,” she said frowning.

“He’s the best lover, ever,” I whispered.

“No details, please.”

“Shut up. You already know a lot of the details, you bitch.”

She smiled.

“Let’s not go there. I’m glad to see you happy, Morgan. It’s scary how happy he can make you sometimes.”

On our last night together, Mathew and I made love and talked till morning. It had only gotten better between us; time after time he was able to make me feel things I couldn’t imagine. He was sorry to have me go. He would miss me. I believed him. He drove me to the airport on Sunday. We had been lovers for four days, and he’d rocked my world. I didn’t want to go. Mathew joked around and played loud music, singing along, all the way to the airport. He tried to keep it light so I couldn’t be sad. He put his arm around me and walked me into the terminal. We sat at the gate, holding hands.

“Mathew?” I asked, searching his face.

He leaned over and kissed me.

“Morgan, we agreed at the beach to let what would happen, happen,” he said.

“No, you agreed really,” I said, looking away.

“Don’t cry,” he said, turning my face back toward his.

“I won’t. I know you hate it,” I said, forcing a smile, fighting to keep the tears back. “I scarred you for life, crying during Jeremiah Johnson, didn’t I?”

Mathew, Sara, Sam, Pat, and I had gone to see the movie together when it first came out. Mathew had sat next to me and I’d cried hard.

“What were we, twelve, thirteen?” he asked.

“Thirteen. That scene, where Jeremiah’s family gets killed, you told me you would move if I didn’t stop crying,” I said.

I remembered I was so glad to be sitting next to him, our arms touching slightly. Bathing in pure pleasure just to be close to him.

“How do you remember stuff like that?”

He grinned and squeezed my hand. Oh, Mathew.

“I remember a lot when it comes to you.”

“I’m sorry about threatening to move,” he teased.

“It’s not fair. I don’t want this to end, you and me.”

“We’ll keep in touch, you’ll come back,” he kissed me softly.

When the last boarding call came, he hugged me tightly to him. People rushed around us with their luggage. I waited until the last passenger had entered the door to the gate before I pulled away.

“Take care, kid,” he said, smiling.

I turned and walked quickly towards the door. I didn’t look back. I didn’t want him to see the tears.

Chapter 30

The school year was a hard one. I missed Mathew. I missed my friends. I tried to make new ones, but it wasn’t easy.

“When are you coming back?” he’d asked on our last phone call.

He wasn’t great about keeping in touch, only calling occasionally, mostly I figured when there wasn’t a girl around. I had to be realistic, he wasn’t waiting for me, and he was the lead singer in a rock and roll band.

“I don’t know yet. I’ve got to work it out with my folks.”

It was during the last week of school when Gayle’s mother called me. Gayle had been hit head-on by a drunk driver on the expressway. He had been going the wrong way and she was in the hospital. Gayle had been crushed by the steering wheel and the front of the car. They’d had to cut her out with the Jaws of Life. It had broken both her legs and crushed a kneecap. She would be a long time healing.

“Jane, I’m coming right away,” I said.

“Morgan, she doesn’t want anyone to see her. She’s almost in a body cast. She might not be happy about it,” Jane said.

Jane wasn’t very persuasive and I thought she might actually be feeling it would be a good thing for Gayle if I came.

“I don’t care what she looks like. I need to come support her, be there for her. I was coming at some point anyway. Is it all right if I plan to stay awhile?” I asked.

“You can stay as long as you like,” she said.

I planned on a month. My mom spoke to Ann about staying at the O’Conner’s too if need be. Mathew was never far from my mind during the school year and I’d written him letters. He never wrote back. When we talked on the phone it was like we hadn’t missed a day, we talked about everything, except other relationships. We’d come to an unspoken agreement to not venture there. From digging with Gayle, I knew he’d dated, but it didn’t sound like any one seriously. Kingdom Come was playing around town in San Jose, all kind of gigs. The party scene followed the band and with it the girls. I didn’t even want to think of the girls that followed them.

I had gone to a few parties in Escondido over the school year, nothing that interested me much. The kids at my school didn’t seem as experimental as the San Jose crowd. I didn’t see much except alcohol and pot. I felt like I’d gone backwards in time from where I’d come. Even the boy, girl relationships seemed immature compared to what I knew, or thought I knew. I tried to be interested in the boys but wasn’t. I compared them to Mathew, and no one measured up.

I flew into town the day Gayle got out of the hospital. Mathew had promised he would pick me up. And he was there, waiting at the same gate I’d walked out of last summer. He was leaning against the wall, wearing loud clothes he’d started to love—I smiled at his paisley button-down shirt and white shorts. Tan, with his blond hair longer, he looked wonderful. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I had told myself not to expect too much, not be disappointed.

My heart thumped in my chest and butterflies filled my stomach, and I wanted to race into his arms, but held back. When he saw me a big smile spread across his face. He didn’t move from his position against the wall, instead waited for me to reach him. I filed along with the exiting crowd.

“Hey, kid,” he said pushing off of the wall when I reached him, grabbing me up in a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

I sucked in my breath; he’d missed me, and was willing to say it.

“You don’t even know.”

We talked as we walked through the airport and then at baggage claim, about the flight, his parents, my parents, school, the weather, and Gayle. When we got in the car, he finally pulled me to him. The time apart vanished when he kissed me. My feelings came rushing back like a tidal wave, making me light-headed.

“I have a place we can go,” he said accompanied by his sexy grin.

I took this to mean we were back. The relief spread through me like warm water. Suddenly I was very aware of how much I had worried about this moment. As much as I wanted to go with him, I knew Jane was expecting me. Gayle didn’t know I was coming, and I couldn’t risk messing up the surprise.

“Mathew, I have to go to Gayle’s first. We’ll have time,” I said, pulling him back to me.

He held my face with his warm hands and gave me a quick taste of that kiss. My body responded to his touch like there had been no distance. He sat back in his seat smiling and started the car. I watched the muscles in his arm as he turned the key.

“I don’t like the answer, but I understand. I hear she’s in pretty bad shape,” he said.

As we drove I asked Mathew what he knew about the accident, and he gave me the short version of what the papers had reported.

“I will call you about getting together,” I said when he dropped me at Gayle’s.

I physical ached to be with him, and still I worried what this trip would mean, wanting to get the Mathew back from last summer so badly.

“Make it soon,” he said.

Gayle was in the family room when I arrived; she started to cry when I walked in the room. Her whole lower body was in casts as was her wrist. White plaster ran the full length of each leg and then stopped at her hips, then another cast was around her pelvis. It looked miserable. Small cuts ran up and down her arms from the glass. I started to cry too. We’d been friends since we were eight. We grew up together, shared a lot of secrets, and always were there for each other. I went to her, hugging her gently, afraid if I touched her I could hurt her.

“Gayle, I’m so sorry,” I cried as I tried to ignore all the casts.

“I had planned on such a good summer, I was looking forward to your visit, and now it’s been completely destroyed,” she sobbed. “And who knows how all this will turn out, even the doctors aren’t sure.”

Jane had forewarned me, but it still shook me. The first few days, I stayed solely with Gayle. We played games, watched movies on TV, I read to her. I helped Jane get her up and move her around. I talked with Mathew on the phone every day. He wanted to see me bad. Gayle and I caught up on the school year: our old friends in San Jose, my new friends in San Diego.

“Tell me about Mathew,” she finally brought up one afternoon.

I smiled, feelings for him flooding into my head and heart.

“He picked me up at the airport, and so far so good.”

She shifted her position slowly and just watching her was painful.

“Morgan, be cautious,” she said, concerned.

“With Mathew, my Mathew, have I ever been cautious?” I joked.

“I’m serious.”

The TV was on low in the corner of the family room, voices on it almost inaudible. There were shelves above it that were full of books; Jane loved to read.

“Gayle, I wouldn’t expect anything different from you in regards to him. I’m a big girl. Mathew’s been in my life for years. You don’t think I know what he’s capable of? Good and bad?”

She moved her arm and I was tempted to jump up and help her, I felt so useless.

“He’s changed,” she said softly.

“Changed how? He looked the same to me, maybe even hotter. He still kisses me the same. He still makes me feel the same,” I said fanning my face.

“Oh god, already?” she moaned.

“Relax, we just kissed. I had to see you first.”

She rolled her eyes at me.

“Banged-up me over sex with Mathew? Now that does shock me,” she smiled. “Surprised you two didn’t do it while he was driving you here.”

“Believe me, I thought about it,” I laughed.

“Morgan, you’ve been away. A lot can change.”

I suddenly felt like there was more behind her concern. I thought maybe she knew about a girl he was seeing and didn’t want me to know. I thought about Ben, and last summer.

“Just tell me what you want to warn me about.”

“The band plays a lot now: parties, clubs. They're well known. They play together. They party together. There are groupie girls who follow them around, and he’s more than popular. He’s really into it all. He likes the attention, thrives on it, Morgan.”

She had been to a fair share of events where Kingdom Come played. She probably was leaving out parts that might hurt me. Parts she’d witnessed firsthand.

“Gayle, this isn’t new…girls fawning over him.”

“Not new maybe, but more. Don’t expect it to be the same as last summer. Be prepared.”

Her words stung.

“I can’t expect it to be the same. For one, it can’t be because I want to hang with you,” I said defensively.

“You know what I mean.”

I turned from her and stared at the TV. I’d prepared myself hadn’t I? I’d told myself not to be disappointed.

“Okay, if it’s not, it’s not. That also would not be a surprise with Mathew. We have an understanding to let it be whatever it is,” I said.

Gayle gave me an exasperated look.

“Morgan, you are so full of shit. You talk big. You have loved him forever. You are blind when it comes to him, girl. I know you’re tough, but not where he’s concerned. Don’t let him hurt you.”

She was vulnerable and hurt, physically and emotionally. She didn’t want me to get hurt emotionally for more than one reason. She was not up to it.

“I won’t, I promise,” I answered.

If I did get hurt, I wouldn’t burden her with it. I owed her that.

“Since when did I love him forever?”

“Whatever,” she said, “keep lying to yourself.”

I called Mathew that night, and he asked about Gayle.

“She’s definitely fragile,” I said.

“Can you please get out tomorrow night?” he asked. “And stay?”

“Where?”

“We can stay at Jack’s place,” he said. “Dinner first?”

“A date,” I teased.

“No, more comfortable,” he said with a smile in his voice.

I told Jane I wouldn’t be back that night. She was cool. She knew what was going on and didn’t pry. Gayle had filled her in. When Mathew picked me up, he seemed anxious. I thought maybe he wanted to go straight to Jack’s.

“Where are we going?”

“Circus Room,” he said.

I laughed and he grinned at me, knowing.

“You’re kidding?”

The Circus Room was a funky pool bar that served a mean burger in Old Almaden. Our parents had taken us there many times. I remembered us as kids shooting pool while our parents had drinks.

“No, I’m not kidding.”

I actually thought it was cool, a place from our past, a place that connected us in more ways than now. When we walked in, Mathew said hello to the bartender and got us a booth, sitting next to me instead of across.

“Hey, Matt,” the waitress greeted him with a smile.

This was clearly a place where he was known.

“Betty, this is Morgan,” he introduced us.

She was mid-thirties I guessed, bleached blonde hair, rough around the edges. I could tell she liked his looks.

“A pitcher to start,” Mathew said.

“You got it,” she said as she turned back toward the bar.

My mouth dropped open. No I.D.?” I leaned towards him.

“So, you own the joint or what? She didn’t even card us.”

“That’s why I come here.”

Betty brought the pitcher with two frosted glasses. Perfectly frosted, I could tell they’d been in the freezer. Mathew poured us both a beer, down the side of the glass, no foam. I flashed to Kevin’s party, which seemed so long ago.

“You two eating?” Betty asked.

“Yeah. Burger?” he questioned.

“I could do a burger.”

“You got it,” she said, setting down silverware.

We drank beer and talked while we waited for the food. Mathew caressed my leg and kissed me frequently. Gayle’s concerns seemed ridiculous now. Betty brought the burgers, with a smile that gave me an indication of her thoughts, set them on the table. He affected women, all ages.

“I forgot how big they were,” I said, seeing that it almost filled the plate.

I could only eat half. Once we finished the pitcher, I could tell Mathew wanted to get going.

“Let’s go,” he said, throwing money on the table.

“Do you want to take this?” I asked.

“Not really,” he said.

“Take it. Jack might be hungry.”

Betty boxed it and smiled again at Mathew.

“Good now?” he asked.

He reached for my hand, pulling me from the booth. The smell of burgers grilling filled the parking lot, thick smoke rising into the air. It made me remember the night my mom broke the light over the pool table with her stick. We were there with the O’Conner’s and my mom had challenged Brad, and she was actually winning. When she called the pocket for the eight ball, we all watched. She lined it up perfectly and sunk it. She was so excited, she jumped up, lifting her cue straight up, shattering the light. Glass fell all over the table. Oops. Memories were so weird.

Chapter 31

“What next?” I asked as I got in the car.

“Jack’s. I stay there pretty often.”

Jack was in the band and lived in a house off Camden Avenue with his girlfriend. Older than us, he was the one I’d teased Mathew about crawling into bed with. When we got to the house, there was a small party going on.

“Hey, Morgan,” Jack said when we walked in.

I hadn’t seen Jack since the crazy Thanksgiving. He came over and gave me a hug. Jack was a tad taller than me, Italian, olive skin, long brown hair that was layered in front, dark brown eyes, handsome.

“Good to see you,” he said.

I wondered if Mathew knew about the party, because if he did, he hadn’t mentioned it.

“Drink? Beer, wine, hard stuff?” he offered.

I could smell pot, but no one was currently smoking.

“Come on,” Mathew motioned, and I followed him into the kitchen.

“I’ll stick with beer,” I said.

He grabbed two beers from the fridge and handed me one. He poured himself a shot of Jack Daniels from the bottle that was sitting on the counter, throwing it back.

“Yes?” he asked, holding the shot glass towards me.

He poured me one before I answered, handing it to me. I threw it back. We partied for a while. I talked to Jack’s girlfriend, Emily; not exactly what I was hoping for. I couldn’t drink any more; I was loaded. I watched Mathew have a couple more shots and could tell he was feeling no pain. A joint got passed around, and I declined. A pretty blonde kept flirting with Mathew.

“Oh, Matt,” I would hear her say and then laugh.

I wondered when he had started letting people call him Matt. It had always been Mathew. I noticed she was friendly with her touch as well. They were far enough away that I couldn’t hear their conversation. People were chatting and laughing around me, and all I could think of was bed, and preferable with Mathew. I went to where he was talking and pulled him off to one side.

“Mathew, where are we sleeping?” I asked, hoping he was as ready as I was to be alone together.

“Downstairs,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

I followed him down the stairs. He opened a door to a small room that was pretty stark. It had a queen-size bed and a dresser with an oval mirror above it. There were several guitars leaning against the wall: acoustic and electric. The bed was made, with what I hoped were clean sheets.

“This work?”

“This works,” I said, putting my arms around his neck and kissing him.

“You don’t want to party anymore?”

“I’m done partying. I want to be with you.”

He gave me a boyish grin, not the one I expected, not the one that made me hot with desire.

“Okay, I’ll go say goodnight,” he said.

I used the bathroom, brushing my hair and teeth, washing my face. Mathew wasn’t back when I finished. I lay down on the bed in my clothes, listening to the party continue upstairs. I started watching the clock: fifteen, twenty minutes, an hour. I picked up his guitar and strummed it; this wasn’t cool. I heard the blonde laugh. I thought about leaving, wanting him to find me gone, and realized I was stuck. Tired of waiting, I looked for something to throw on as a nightgown. I found one of Mathew’s T-shirts in the dresser. I undressed and put it on, it smelled like him. I felt weird getting into this strange bed alone. I closed my eyes, thinking he would be there any minute. The longer I lay there, the madder I got.

Was that why he’d seemed anxious, anxious to party? I couldn’t stop analyzing. I tossed and turned trying to go to sleep to no avail. When he finally crawled into bed, I glanced at the alarm clock. Three a.m. My blood boiled.

“Morgan?” he whispered.

Wide-awake, I lay still, my back to him. He pressed into me, he was naked and warm.

“Morgan, it’s me.”

He shook my shoulders gently. When I still didn’t respond he pulled me over onto my back.

“Well, I would hope,” I answered, angrily.

I could tell he was higher than when I left him. He smelled of liquor and pot.

“You’re still dressed,” he said, running his hand down my side feeling the T-shirt.

He pulled at me to face him.

“Don’t be mad,” he said, kissing me tenderly on my nose and lips.

“I’m not. I’m asleep,” I said pulling my face away.

He rubbed my back a minute through the T-shirt and then moved his hand underneath, skin to skin. His fingers fluttered lightly across my back.

“Go to sleep,” I said.

I wanted to punish him. He kept feeling me, my back, my shoulders, down to my panty band and then up. Patiently persistent, he wasn’t giving up, and my determination to resist was fading. I wanted his hands on me, could feel the sensation between my thighs, the yearning. He leaned in to kiss me again and I let him. He gave me quick soft little kisses around my lips and I found my heart beating faster as he teased. When I responded he caressed my lips gently with his tongue, then sucked lightly on my lower lip. I pushed my tongue into his mouth coaxing, wanting more.

His hands roamed from my back to my breasts and as he pressed into me I could feel his hardness. I reached for his cock and pressed it against my lacy panties. He let out a vulnerable moan and my body quivered. He kissed me more passionately as his hand moved lower underneath my panties to my clitoris, and there he lingered. When I couldn’t stand it any longer I took his fingers and pushed them inside me.

With his free hand he pulled the T-shirt up, and I frantically helped him take it off. He slid knowingly down my body and took my panties in his teeth and leisurely pulled them down my legs and off. He got on his knees and stared down at my naked body. The moon illuminated the room just enough that I could see the raw desire in his face. I spread my legs and touched myself, letting him watch.

“Mathew,” I whispered.

He urgently pulled my hips to him and thrust into me. We made love like hungry animals, needing to be with each other. It was fast and furious, our ragged gasps mixed in chorus, and when he let out a guttural moan, it shattered what reserve I had. My body trembled in orgasm.

“Oh, Mathew,” I said, falling into him.

Letting him wrap himself around me, I was finally able to sleep. I woke up with a small hangover: the Jack Daniels. Mathew was asleep next to me. I reached out and ran my fingers through his hair. He stirred. I wanted him again, wanted more of last night, wanted the reassurance we were back. I waited for him to wake, but he didn’t. I started kissing his neck, then down his chest. He lazily rolled onto his back, his eyes still closed. I wasn’t sure if he was waking or not. I licked lower on his chest, then lower.

“Hmm,” he moaned, “keep going.”

I moved down his body kissing, licking. When I got down to his cock he was hard and I tantalized him with my tongue. He was awake now. I pushed his cock through my moist lips into my mouth, and then ran my tongue around it. His hands moved down to my shoulders and neck and he gently stroked them.

“That feels so good,” he whispered.

His words, I had to resist the urge to climax. I sucked, moving him in and out of my mouth, using my tongue to further his pleasure.

“Come here,” he said.

I stopped and moved up his body, my breasts rubbing against him. He pulled my face to his, pressing his lips to mine, kissing me as I looked into his eyes. He put his hands on my hips pulling me higher so he could enter me. I whimpered with desire as he lowered me onto him, filling me. This time we took our time, moving rhythmically with each other, savoring it. It was a slow intense climb of pleasure. If I tried to move it faster, he slowed me down. When he finally took us both there, it felt like an electrical shock shooting through my body. Afterwards, I lingered on top of him, tracing my finger along his lips and down around his jaw.

“Whenever I’m with you, I’m amazed at what you make me feel,” I said.

“When you got the best, kid…” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

“The best?” I questioned teasingly.

“Had better?”

He flipped me on my back, tickling me. I squealed and tried to pull away from him.

“Have you?” he asked holding me still ticking.

“Stop,” I laughed.

He was grinning and tickling and finally I was able to pull away.

“Not yet, but I’m still looking,” I teased.

I curled into the nook of his chest and underarm, our scent still lingering on him.

“How come you didn’t come to bed till three?”

“I shouldn’t have gone to say goodnight. I got talking again, and time slipped away.”

I ran my finger around his nipple.

“The blonde giving you so much attention, you forgot what you had waiting for you downstairs?”

“Not a chance,” he said, rubbing his hand down my arm.

“Sure?”

“Sure.”

He moved slightly and pinned my hair under his shoulder and I pulled at it to get it free and adjusted my head.

“Who is she? She obviously has the hots for you.”

“She chases the band, she’s a groupie,” he said.

“You aren’t attracted to her?”

“How’s Gayle doing?” he asked, switching the topic.

I let him; I probably didn’t want to know.

“Every day she gets better. It will be a long haul.”

“I’m sure. She approve of you seeing me?” he asked.

I looked up into his face.

“No. She warned me.”

“Warned you? About what?” he asked.

“Your bad boy ways,” I said, kissing him. “She’s worried. She doesn’t have a lot of faith in you. Can you blame her?”

I flashed back to her in his living room the morning after the three of us ventured down the path of a threesome. It seemed like such a long time ago, such a different place than we were now. I remembered those desperate feelings of wanting Mathew, ones that made me feel like I might implode. And Gayle, that she’d agreed to a threesome at all, with Mathew, go figure.

“She hates me,” he said.

“No, she doesn’t; she’s protective of me. I told her I’m a big girl.”

“Come here, big girl,” he said in a husky voice.

We showered together before he took me back to Gayle’s. I felt so content, so free. It felt so natural to be with him. Gayle was right: it wasn’t the same, it was better.

Chapter 32

“Kingdom Come is playing at the Apollo Saturday night. I really want you to come see us play. Can you fit that into your Gayle-schedule?” he asked as we sat in Gayle’s driveway.

“I’m sure I can. I really wish she could come; we’d plan to do so much together this summer. I feel bad she’s so stuck right now.”

Mathew reached down and wiped the dust off his 8-Track player with his finger.

“I can pick you up, but you would have to go early and wait around. Or you could catch a ride with, who?” he asked, thinking.

“Maybe Keri’s going,” I suggested. “I’ll check with her.”

“Let me know,” he said, leaning in to kiss me.

The Apollo was a private club with a mixed crowd. If you were twenty-one, they put a wristband on you so you could buy a drink. Keri hadn’t planned to go, but decided it sounded like fun.

“You coming back tonight?” Gayle asked.

“I’m not sure. Keri said I could catch a ride back with her if I need one. How do I look?”

I gave a quick spin in my tight jeans and a clingy low-cut pink top that emphasized my cleavage. I’d straightened my hair, and it hung loose and thick. I had applied my eyeliner and mascara with a heavy hand, making my eyes stand out.

“Did you look in the mirror? You know you look good,” she said sadly.

“Oh, Gayle, I feel bad,” I said, remembering it was going to be a long time before she felt good about herself again.

The Apollo was crowded. Keri and I were on the band list, so we got in free. The bouncer put wristbands on us without asking for our IDs and we headed backstage where Mathew had told me to meet him.

“Backstage?” I asked the bouncer.

“There,” he said, pointing to a door across the facility.

Keri and I walked through the crowd, excited to see so many people here to watch them. The large room had high ceilings and no windows and smelled sort of stale, a hint of liquor, smoke, and body odor all combined. Music played from speakers mounted to the wall as the crowd waited for the band.

“Hey, girls,” Sean said as we came through the back stage door.

“Hi, Sean,” I said, hugging him before introducing Keri.

The back room was smaller with couches and chairs, and a bar running along one wall. I saw Mathew at the far end of the bar. He was dressed in bell-bottom jeans and a white button-down shirt with ruffles down the center, unbuttoned halfway down his chest. He caught me checking him out and smiled. The feeling that shot through me was intense; just looking at him could get me excited.

“He taken?” Keri asked, referring to Sean. “He’s cute.”

“Taken,” I said, moving toward Mathew.

He didn’t break eye contact and I could feel my pulse race.

“Looking good,” I said as I reached him.

“So are you.”

I smiled as he undressed me with his eyes. The room was full of band members, girlfriends, and groupies, all partying; it was loud. I felt awkward, not sure how to act with him around this group.

“How long till you start?” I asked.

“Maybe twenty minutes, I’m not sure what time it is. Chris will let us know. You and Keri want something? Beer?”

“I’ll do a beer,” Keri said.

“That’s fine,” I answered.

Mathew went and pulled two cold ones out of a sink behind the bar filled with ice and beer.

“Who’s Chris?” Keri asked.

“Their manager.”

“They have a manager?” she asked surprised.

“They're serious. They want to go big,” I said.

“Over here, girls,” Mathew said as he took my elbow and led us to a grouping of upholstered chairs. He dropped down in one and pulled me onto his lap. Keri sat in the one next to us as he handed us each a beer. It was sort of hard to talk, people were chitchatting, laughing, partying, all heightened by the anticipation of the band playing. The noise level was high. I relaxed into Mathew and sipped my beer, observing the group.

“Hey, kid,” he said, patting my thigh. “Showtime.”

Apparently I had missed the signal. I got up, letting him stand. He stretched and then put his arm around my neck, ducking in for a rather passionate kiss.

“See you back here at break,” he said, moving toward the door.

Keri shook her head with a grin.

“What?” I asked innocently.

“After his kiss, you got a look like you could drop him and do it here.”

“So? What’s wrong with that?”

She laughed.

“He looks hot tonight, lucky you,” Keri said.

“He looks hot all the time,” I sighed, feeling very lucky.

We worked our way close to the front of the stage as the band started. Mathew was in front with the lights focused on him. They were pink, white, and blue and they made his white shirt really stand out. One couldn’t miss the blonde hair either; he definitely had the rock star look. He plugged the cord into his electric guitar and then turned back the band. When the other members nodded at him he turned back to the crowd and stepped up to the microphone.

“Welcome everyone, we’re Kingdom Come.”

The crowd cheered and whistled.

“One, two, three,” he said, starting the band with “Grand Illusion” by Styx. The energy in the room was amazing; I’d never seen him play at such a large venue. The first set they played were artists we all knew and listened to: Eagles, AC/DC, Cheap Trick, Queen. Keri and I sang and swayed to the music with the crowd. It was evident Mathew was comfortable on stage and quite the showman. His talent never ceased to amaze me. Every break, Keri and I went backstage to join the band. As the evening went on, so did the partying.

“You want a line?” he asked.

“Cocaine?” Keri asked.

“Not if you see shit,” I said, remembering the acid.

“Keri, you’ve done it. Tell her what it’s like,” he said. “You don’t see shit.”

He made a funny face and I turned to Keri.

“It’s sort of like speed. It makes you happy and up,” she said.

I had done speed with her before.

“You’ll like it,” she said smiling. “Really like it.”

Mathew took us into a secluded corner, and we did a couple of lines. Some of the groupies were getting wild backstage: several girls dancing on the bar and being loud. It was fun but I could see how this could get out of control.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, leaving them to use the restroom.

When I returned, the blonde from Jack’s was sitting on his lap. Keri saw my expression and looked at Mathew, then back to me. I stood staring, not sure what to do. When he saw me, he pushed the girl up from his lap. He smiled at me in a reassuring way.

“Morgan, come here,” he said loudly, patting his leg.

The blonde gave me a disgusted look before she slunk away. I walked over to Mathew.

“She aggressive or what?” I asked, taking her place on his lap.

“Can be,” he said.

“That girl is obviously after you. Do you two have something going that I’m interrupting, because I can go,” I said trying to sound casual, like it was no big deal.

“She’s a groupie, Morgan. There are a lot of them that hang around the band. You can see it,” he said, sweeping his hand across the room. “It doesn’t mean there’s something going with them. They flirt, we flirt.”

“And sometimes you guys sleep with them?” I dug.

“Sometimes.”

The honesty was brutal. I hadn’t given the groupie thing much thought, having never dealt with it before to this extent. This, I realized, was what Gayle had warned me about.

“Her?” I asked, knowing I didn’t want to know, but not able to help myself.

He looked at me and was silent for a minute.

“She wants more, Morgan, I don’t,” he said finally.

My heart took the hit; I could feel it constrict. I shouldn’t be hurt, but I was. I swallowed trying to force my feeling down, I couldn’t be possessive, I didn’t even live here anymore. No expectations, remember.

“You’re on,” Chris shouted.

He was a small wiry guy with thin long blonde hair.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he said, leaving me.

He’d slept with her, and she was still after him. I couldn’t think about it, couldn’t think of them together.

“You all right?” Keri asked behind me.

“You see that? I knew there were groupies, but I didn’t realize there were so many of them, so many after them. Some of these girls, are so forward,” I shook my head.

“Come on, they’re playing,” she said, opening the door.

I followed her out to the dance floor, but instead of watching Mathew, I couldn’t help but focus on the crowd of girls practically throwing themselves at the band. I realized he could have his pick. I saw the blonde at the front of the stage below Mathew, reaching for him.

The song ended, and she yelled something to him and he bent down. It looked like she was trying to give him something. When he was close enough, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He pulled her arms from around his neck and stood up. If it had ended there, I would have been okay, but it didn’t. The groupies cheered and screamed. During the next song, he pulled her, as well as a couple other girls, on stage and let them dance.

“Why her?” I leaned into Keri, so she could hear me.

I watched the stage, my eyes glued to Mathew, the blonde danced suggestively at him. He knew that I knew, why her? He played and sang moving with the music his hair flying, now and then raising his leg in an exaggerated movement. When the song ended the girl again threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“This is bullshit. Let’s go,” I said, feeling the pressure in my chest.

“Go?” Keri asked.

“Yes, leave. I don’t have to watch this,” I said. “He knows I’m here, why’s he letting her on stage out of all the girls yelling for him?”

“Morgan, it’s typical, the girls I mean, they want him.”

I stared at him, my eyes burning into him. He finally scanned the crowd and found me. My heart was pounding, my breathing shallow. This must go on all the time screamed in my head. He held my gaze, no smile, no grin, no reassurance. I felt like he was testing me. I looked away as tears started to well up in my eyes.

“Get me out of here,” I hissed.

Maybe he was still having a relationship with her and didn’t want to tell me. I wanted to run away from him, from my feelings. I glanced back up at him and flipped him the bird. His head jerked back in question and I waved bye-bye as he led the band into the Rolling Stones’ “Some Girls”.

“Some girls give me money, some girls buy me clothes,  some girlsgive me jewelry, that I never thought I'd own.”

He stared at me as he sang and shook his head no as I turned to leave. The song could not have been more appropriate. I was just some girl, right along with the rest. I plowed through the crowd, Keri behind me, feeling an urgent need for fresh air. When I burst out the front door into the night I felt a tear slide down my cheek, which I wiped away quickly.

“Keri, I’m sorry about asking you to leave before they finish,” I said as we walked through the parking lot to her car.

“It’s okay, really.”

My steps were purposeful and quick and Keri had to hurry to keep up with me.

“I’m guessing you’re pissed off at him?”

“Yeah, it’s not all his fault, but he encouraged her. She was over at Jack’s the night he didn’t come to bed till late. If that hadn’t happened, maybe it wouldn’t bother me so much. She’s got it for him, and he’s not pushing her away. He knew I was watching,” I said.

Keri unlocked the car and I got in. I felt the hurt transition into anger.

“Knowing he slept with her pisses me off. He left me alone the first night I saw him, till three a.m., when she was around and now this, it’s bullshit.”

Keri started the car. She leaned over and gave my knee a squeeze as I stared out the window. I could hear the base from the band still thumping in the parking lot.

“She’s slept with them all,” she said.

“Who? The band?”

I pictured the guys. She didn’t say anything.

“No, shit, the true meaning of sharing. Fucking slut,” I said and Keri laughed.

Gayle was surprised when I showed up.

“Didn’t expect you back,” she said half asleep as I crawled into the other bed.

“Go back to sleep, sorry I woke you,” I said.

“I wasn’t asleep. Not too easy to sleep in these casts.”

I lay in bed, hoping he would be upset that I left. I hoped even more that he would go home alone; I had my doubts. I curled toward the wall and felt the tears come.

In the morning, I told Gayle what happened. I knew she wanted to say told you so, but she didn’t. Mathew called Gayle’s house for three days before I’d take his call. Poor Jane tried to make nice excuses to him as to why I couldn’t come to the phone. He called Keri and asked her to ask me to call him. I didn’t. I wasn’t ready to forgive him. I hadn’t had much time with Mathew and I felt like the time I’d had was compromised by another girl. I couldn’t stop thinking about last summer; I wanted that Mathew.

“Maybe I’m being too hard on him,” I pondered to Gayle.

“Not,” she fired back.

Gayle didn’t sugarcoat it about Mathew. She’d seen our relationship up close and personal.

“Morgan, I’m coming to pick you up,” he said when I took his call.

“Pick me up and what?”

“God damn it, Morgan, I want to see you. We can figure out the what after that.”

I wanted to see him too.

“Come get me,” I relented.

Mathew drove me to the park by my old elementary school. The eight-track player blasting out Led Zeppelin’s "Good Times, Bad Times". “In the days of my youth, I was told what it was to be a man.” Mathew had taught me to listen to the words. I couldn’t listen to a song anymore without trying to figure out the story. I felt like this story was too close to ours, good times, bad times.

When he shut the car off, I got out, walked over to the swings, and sat down on one. He followed, taking the swing next to me. I’d been silent since he picked me up. He reached out and took hold of the chain on my swing and pulled me to him. I looked into his eyes. Since I’d left the Apollo I’d tried to identify my feelings, mad, sad, frustrated, none were really the right word. Mathew hadn’t promised anything. I hadn’t even asked him to, so how could I be anything really; except maybe disappointed he wasn’t behaving the way I wanted.

“You’re not sorry, so please don’t say that. I know there are no promises, Mathew,” I paused. “I can live with that. What I can’t live with is you throwing it in my face. Don’t make me feel foolish. If you don’t want to be with me, don’t ask me.”

He dropped his head back slightly, his blonde hair falling behind him, the sun catching its gold color.

“I want to be with you. Morgan, you’re upset over nothing. You ran off over nothing,” he said.

“Nothing? Do you really believe that?” I asked, my voice rising.

He grabbed the other chain, rotating the swing so that I was face to face with him. I kicked at the sand, watching my foot to avoid looking at him.

“Mathew, it wasn’t nothing. The first night I’m with you in a year, you don’t come to bed till three, while that girl—”

“Brook.”

“While Brook is around, fawning over you. Then, oh-here-we-go-again, she’s on your lap back stage. Then she kisses you, and you fucking pull her on stage,” I said. “If this is what I have to watch to be around the band and you, I don’t want it. I don’t want to feel like I’m with you, when I’m not.”

He listened, swinging me back and forth into him with small movements, our knees gently rubbing each other’s. The sun felt warm on my face.

“Try to remember that, would you?” I finished.

He stopped swinging me. He took my hand, tugged me out of the swing, and we walked over to sit on the grass. He pushed me onto my back softly. The sky was blue, like his eyes. He lay down next to me on his side, propped on his elbow. He picked a blade of grass and ran it around my lips.

“That tickles, you know?”

“Hmm,” he murmured.

I pulled the grass out of his fingers and took his fingers and put them in my mouth. I sucked on them, running my tongue around them, pushing them in and out of my mouth. Reminding him of sensations he’d felt on another part of his body. He closed his eyes.

“Mammoth,” he said, surprisingly recalling the first time I had done this. “I was shocked and excited. I didn’t know you knew about those things. Didn’t we get interrupted?”

I pulled his fingers out and kissed the tips.

“I knew about things. You didn’t want the things, back then. I think that was like the hundredth missed opportunity with me,” I said, pulling his face down to mine.

Chapter 33

“Morgan, party next Saturday. Will you come with me?” he asked. “Band’s going to play.”

I didn’t want a repeat of the Apollo, the band, the groupies, the girls. The scene was still fresh in my mind.

“Am I with you or just invited?” I asked.

“Coming with me,” he said.

“What time you picking me up?” I asked.

“It starts early. I’ll come get you at noon,” he said.

Even with his answer I still had my doubts. I knew there was a certain element to the band playing that was beyond his control, however he could seize it or not.

“I’m not sure if you are brave or stupid,” Gayle said.

“Must be stupid; something about him makes me that way. You know that.”

Gayle was quiet for a long time. Her forehead slightly wrinkled, I could tell she was thinking.

“Remember that time with the three of us?”

“No, Gayle, I don’t remember,” I said sarcastically.

“When you excused yourself to make new drinks, I knew you wanted the subject changed. Mathew wasn’t dropping it. ‘Come on, Gayle’ he dared. ‘If you say yes, she’ll go’ he said. I didn’t tell you then about that night, but he was determined. He wasn’t teasing like you thought. He knew my loyalty was to you, and he was playing it. Challenging me,” she said recalling.

I leaned back in the chair listening. She was on the couch in the family room, one of her more comfortable spots.

“I wanted to call him on it, force his hand. I decided to tell him yes knowing you wouldn’t agree to it. I was absolutely sure you wouldn’t agree to it, not with your Mathew; I had you so wrong. I thought you would be pissed at him for suggesting it and pissed at me for saying yes. I thought you would blow up. When you said yes, I was stunned. I felt stuck. I thought he would back down, and when he didn’t, I had to go, because you’d agreed.”

Hearing her explain it that way made me feel like I’d been so desperate and naïve. Which in reality I’d been both of.

“Gayle, I feel bad, embarrassed even,” I said.

“Don’t,” she said waving her good hand. “It ended up being fun.”

I laughed.

“We were pretty damn loaded, even you. I thought he wouldn’t go through with it. I mean, who really does that shit? I really did think he was teasing,” I said.

“Ah, time to get the virgin thing out of the way anyway,” she said.

“No way?”

My expression must have been funny because Gayle started to laugh and then I joined in, and the two of us almost busted a gut laughing. Jane opened the door and looked in.

“Are you two okay?” she asked smiling.

Gayle wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Yeah, Mom. Morgan’s just cracking me up is all.”

I could tell by Jane’s expression that she was delighted to hear Gayle laughing. She retreated and shut the door.

“Ah, funny night,” Gayle sighed.

“When I went back to Mathew that morning, I told him to leave you out of it, forever. I told him not to jump on the ego train, as there was only one girl in the room who really wanted him. That if we weren’t high, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“That was part of it, but I don’t know,” she paused, smiling. “The things we do for our best friends.”

“Good thing I didn’t wake up hating you for sleeping with him,” I said.

“Remember. Sharing,” she said.

“Right, one of Mathew’s better traits.”

Gayle was getting better physically and emotionally. Jane was glad that I had come. Despite her concerns about Gayle’s reaction, it turned out to be a good thing. I truly felt like I was helping, if nothing other than amusing her with my antics with Mathew. A Mathew who was picking me up that Friday afternoon.

“If he’s called Brook off, I won’t be home tonight.”

Gayle chuckled as she inspected my appearance.

“I won’t wait up,” she said. “You look fabulous by the way.”

I did a little spin in her room.

“If Mathew isn’t proud to be with you, he’s truly an idiot. Oh, oops, I already think that.”

I frowned at her.

“Gayle, you don’t think he’s an idiot. You like him.”

“I like him fine. Just not where you are concerned.”

I’d put on a short jean skirt with a sheer, white pattern-on-pattern spandex shirt. The skirt high, the top cut low.

“Boobs look good?” I asked her.

“Great,” she laughed. “Remember when you thought they were never going to grow?”

I looked down at my boobs. I certainly did remember that.

“They took their sweet time,” I said, smiling.

Mathew confirmed Gayle’s assessment when I got in his car.

“Kid, looking good,” he said, kissing me.

When we got to the party, outside the house in his car, he kissed me again.

“Ready to party,” he said, taking my hand.

There were a few people in the house, but most were out back. It was a big yard and a beautiful warm summer day. There was a keg on one side of the patio. I followed Mathew over, and he poured us both a beer.

“Hey, Bob,” Mathew said as Bob, the drummer, walked up and joined us.

“Mathew, we’ve got most everything set up,” I heard him say.

I tuned them out as I looked around the party, the sound of people having fun filling my ears. I knew the band members, but few others. I recognized some of the groupies. The smell of pot was prevalent. Mushrooms, acid, and cocaine could no doubt be had for the asking. I kept close to Mathew for a while, but it wasn’t easy as he knew everyone. He drifted back and forth to me between sets and socializing. I could tell the guys were more into partying today than playing. I landed in a group that was recounting episodes from different gigs. Some of the stories were very entertaining.

“You having a good time?”

I looked up to see Sean as he sat down next to me.

“I actually am for not knowing very many people,” I said.

He asked me about San Diego and how I liked it there. He had been there once a long time ago on a family vacation. He remembered the roller coaster at Pacific Beach. He caught me up on the band. Places they had played, upcoming gigs, hopes for their future. It struck me as odd suddenly that Mathew and I never talked about that kind of stuff. Sean told me he was currently broken up with his girlfriend, and he was bummed about it. I wondered if the groupie’s had been too much for her too.

“You want to do a line?” he asked.

“Love to,” I said.

I followed Sean to the bathroom where he pulled out a mirror from under the cabinet. He took a small paper packet out of his wallet, opened it carefully, and dumped some cocaine onto the mirror. He got out a razor blade and chopped up the white chunks, the razor tapping against the glass. I watched silently as he drew out four fat lines with the blade. He rolled up a dollar bill and handed it to me. I’d seen this whole sequence with Keri, with Mathew, with Mathew’s friends; cocaine had become increasingly popular.

“Here you go,” he said backing from the counter and the mirror.

I bent down and held one side of my nose closed while I snorted one line and then switched nostrils and snorted the other. He did the same. I sucked air in through my nostrils pulling the powder higher.

“Thanks,” I said.

We worked our way back outside and filled our beers at the keg. We were standing there talking when I spotted Mathew across the yard with a group of girls. I observed him as Sean and I talked. I could tell he was being flirty, typical Mathew. A few people came to refill beers, and Sean moved onto a new conversation. I listened, watching the scene across the yard. There was a tall brunette who kept running her hand down Mathew’s arm as she talked. Bob and his new girlfriend walked up to the keg and blocked my view.

“Morgan, this is Kara, my girlfriend,” Bob said, introducing her.

“Nice to meet you.”

“I understand you’re from San Diego. I love that place,” she said.

I talked with Kara for a few minutes before she and Bob moved off. I looked for Mathew and didn’t see him. Sean motioned with his head toward the house, and we headed back to the bathroom together. Sean was taller than Mathew with long, dark brown hair, and hazel eyes with long dark eyelashes. As I watched him go through the routine again, I realized that he reminded me of Rick Springfield. I could see why the girls found him attractive. Keri’s words rang in my head about blonde Brook: she’s had them all. I almost laughed. Thank god, I hadn’t seen her today. When Sean and I stepped out back again, I looked for Mathew and felt my breath catch.

“What?” Sean asked, following my gaze across the yard.

I could feel my blood rising. It kept rising until it was hard to breathe, hard to think. When Sean saw that Mathew was sitting, kissing the brunette, he suggested he refill my beer. I watched to make absolutely sure it was him and then turned away. It’s nothing resounded like a broken record in my head.

I was offered a joint, which I accepted. I took a hit and then another before I passed it on. Make a scene or get loaded; I decided loaded was better.

“Sean, can we do another line?” I asked, hanging on his arm.

We certainly didn’t need another, but I wanted out, away, to forget about what I’d just seen, nothing.

“Let’s do it,” he said, putting his arm across my shoulders, leading me towards the house.

Sean locked the bathroom door and I sat down on the edge of the tub and put my chin in my hands.

“Do you know Brook?” I asked.

Sean looked up from cutting the coke.

“Groupie Brook?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered as he handed me the rolled bill.

I took it from him and stood up. The blood rushed to my head and feeling unstable, I took a hold of his arm as I bent down to snort my lines.

“I know her. She follows us around pretty closely.”

I handed him the bill.

“Are she and Mathew…?”

I let the words fall. First Brook, now a new one. I couldn’t ask about the brunette; I didn’t even know her name.

“What? Dating?” he shook his head. “No. Why?”

“Are they still fucking?” I asked.

Sean was a little taken aback. He stared into my eyes and then grinned at me.

“No. I think that was just a one-nighter.”

“She sure hangs on him,” I said.

I wanted to ask him if he’d had a good time with her, but thought better of it. He finished his lines and put the bill back in his wallet, the mirror on the back of the toilet. I put my hands on his shoulders. He stood still, watching me. I leaned in and kissed him. He didn’t hesitate in returning my kiss. He leaned against the sink counter, his legs spread slightly, pulling me in between them. We made out like that for a long time before he pulled back. His eyes were half closed and sexy.

“That was unexpected,” he said, his arms still partially around me. “I thought you and Mathew…”

“Screw Mathew,” I said, cutting him off. “You saw what I saw. We’re friends.”

Chapter 34

I was angry and my anger was playing out in a potentially disastrous way. I knew I was playing with fire, but couldn’t seem to stop myself.

“I don’t want to get in the middle of something,” Sean said.

“You’re not,” I said, kissing him again.

He was a really good kisser, almost as good as Mathew I thought and stopped myself. Someone knocked on the door, and we moved into the hallway, still talking. I saw Mathew coming down the hall behind Sean. Sean’s height was blocking me, so he was probably coming to use the restroom. I reached up, locking my arms around Sean’s neck, leaning into him for another round of kissing.

“Umm,” I moaned softly.

Sean rested his hands on my hips. It took Mathew getting right up on us to realize it was me. I saw him do a double take. He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Sean.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mathew asked.

I could tell by his tone he was pissed. Mathew looked from me to Sean and back again.

“What the hell are you doing, Morgan?” he asked, his voice tight and controlled.

“I’m having fun. What are you doing?” I threw out lightly.

“Shit,” Sean said, realizing he was in the middle of something. “Matt, I wasn’t trying to move in. She said you were only friends.”

I felt bad for Sean. I looked from Sean to Mathew and his eyes narrowed at me, warning. I wanted to scream at him.

“It’s cool, Sean. Morgan, let’s go,” he said, pointing down the hall.

“I don’t want to go,” I protested, running my hand down Sean’s arm.

Mathew put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed as Sean backed away slightly.

“Let’s go,” he said again more firmly.

“Go,” Sean said, patting my hand that was still on his arm.

I was sure he didn’t want to be part of a scene. It wasn’t fair to drag Sean in although I wanted to lash out at Mathew in the worst way.

“Thanks for everything,” I said, kissing his cheek.

Mathew watched and then started down the hall. I knew I had better follow. He opened the front door to the house, letting me out before him. When we got into the car, he sat a minute then gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands.

“What was that?” he asked, looking straight ahead.

“What was what?” I asked naively.

“Don’t fuck with me, Morgan,” his voice was raised.

“Oh, Sean?” I asked.

“Yeah, Sean,” he spat out.

“Well, I think it’s this thing called kissing,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, the same thing you were doing with the brunette.”

I leaned across the car getting right in his face as I said it. He took a deep breath, and I could see sweat on his upper lip. His eyes flashed at me, and I sensed his anger. He balled his fists and banged them on the steering wheel, which caused me to jump.

“Don’t do that to me, Morgan.”

“Don’t do it to you? What about me?” I demanded, sounding more hurt than I wanted to.

“I don’t even know her,” he said, leaning his head back on the seat and pushing his hair back with one hand.

“Oh, and that makes a difference? Because I know Sean, I shouldn’t be kissing him?”

My voice was raised, my anger had returned, the blood pulsing rapidly in my neck.

“Screw you. I’m going back to the party,” I said.

I opened the door, starting to get out.

“No, you’re not. We’re leaving. Shut the god damn door,” he said, grabbing my skirt and pulling me back into the car.

We rode back to Jack’s without another word. There were so many things I wanted to hurl at him and yet the screaming inside my head drowned them out. I hardly remembered the drive to his place.

“Get out of the car,” Mathew ordered as he shut off the ignition.

I opened my door, stepping out into the sunlight, and followed him into Jack’s. I was glad no one was home, if we were going to fight, best not in front of everyone. I walked into his room hesitantly; he shut the door hard behind him and sat down on the bed. He put his head in his hands, his hair falling forward. I knew I had pissed him off, but I didn’t care. About time he got some of his own god damn medicine. I leaned up against the door, crossing my arms over my chest, watching him, waiting. Wondering what he could possibly accuse me of, when he had started it. He angrily kicked off his flip-flops, took his shirt off, then looked up at me. I was high and could tell by his eyes he was too. I’d seen Mathew mad on occasion, but this mad was being directed at me. He had made it clear over the years he wasn’t jealous of me, so I didn’t understand his anger. Was it because it was Sean?

I was trying to reason out the emotion when Mathew came at me, shoving me up against the door. He pressed the air out of my lungs, and my knees buckled slightly, but his weight kept me pinned. My heart was racing, as was my mind. He pressed his body into mine. I put my hands between our chests and tried to shove him back. He didn’t go far. Our eyes locked. He was angry all right and so was I. I’d never thought about hitting him before, but I did now. I balled my fists at my chest.

He circled my wrists firmly with his hands, forcing them down to my side, pushing back into me, covering me with desperate, forceful kisses. My lips, my neck, down my shirt. The harder I tried to move away, the harder he worked to keep me there. He reached down and pulled my jean skirt up and tried to put his hand between my legs. I squeezed my legs tight together to block him. Pressing harder into my chest, he put his hands firmly on my hips, dragging his hands down, yanking my bikini underwear down to my knees. The yearning between my legs surprised and frightened me.

I wanted to stay mad. He slid his hands under my shirt and shoved it and my bra up, exposing my breasts. Mathew pushed his bare chest into mine, skin on skin. His breathing was ragged, and I could feel both our pulses racing. Oh, I wanted to moan. I hated that even now he could make my body react. He ran one hand up my thigh, cupped one of my butt cheeks and squeezed. It was a cross between pain and pleasure. He pushed my skirt up farther.

“Mathew, don’t,” I whispered, wanting him to settle back.

“Don’t what, Morgan? Give you what you want?” he answered tersely.

He covered my mouth, kissing me deeply before I could answer. I backed down and relaxed which made him not press so hard into me. He unbuttoned his shorts and pushed them down, kicking them to one side when he worked them off. He ground his pelvis into me. His cock was hard and he tasted like beer and salt. I could smell his skin: a combination of his soap and sweat. He squeezed my breast hard, and I let out a gasp. I wanted him, my resolve to stay mad disintegrating, at the same time despising my weakness for him.

"Mathew," I managed to get out before he crushed his mouth into mine again.

I quit resisting and kissed him back. He wiggled a knee between my legs and spread them slightly and then more so with his hands. His touch and the simple motion of spreading me made me want to orgasm. Looking into my eyes he circled my nipple with his finger until he made it hard, a sexy grin spreading across his face. Then he ran his fingers down my body, around my breasts, down my stomach, and past my twisted skirt. I sucked in my breath as he went lower, between my legs where he lingered only briefly before he thrust his fingers into me.

“Oh,” I moaned.

I couldn’t mask the desire in my voice. He pushed his fingers in and out of me, circling, teasing, coming just to the outer limits and then in again. He finally pressed himself into me, making me feel his hardness. Together we worked to pull the remainder of my clothes off and I let him enter me up against the door. What had started out, as anger and resistance had become pure lust. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and then wrapped my legs around his waist. He carried me to the bed that way. His face was a mixture of emotion. He seemed desperate, almost primal, and I let him take me there with him. He pounded into me with a need that took us both to the edge. I dug my fingers into his back as we plunged down the other side. Still breathing heavily Mathew rolled onto his back, his eyes closed.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” I whispered.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant. I thought about asking when I realized he was asleep. It was still light out. I pushed his hair back, playing with it, loving his thick, blond hair. I gently arranged it around his shoulders. The tightness I had seen earlier in his jaw was gone. I traced my finger around his mouth, around his lips soft and full. I’d sobered up, but the cocaine had me wide awake. I lay there, and watched him sleep while I replayed the day’s events in my head. I shouldn’t have pissed him off with Sean. Sean. I hoped he would forgive me. By now he realized I had lied. I had enjoyed kissing him, which surprised me. I smiled, recalling Mathew’s expression of disbelief. Knowing he deserved it didn’t make me feel any better about what I’d done.

The light finally faded from the room, and I slid down beside him. I took his limp arm and wrapped it around me. I wondered how many other girls had shared this same bed with him. Brook even. Don’t think about it I told myself. I listened to him breathe. Mathew, keep me here was my last thought before I fell asleep. I woke sometime in the night, hearing other people in the house. I couldn’t see the clock; it was dark outside. In between sleep and partial wakefulness, I would hear a loud voice or laughter. It seemed to go on a long time. The light was filtering though the blind when Mathew started to stir. He was on his side, facing me.

“Morgan,” he said softly.

He took my hand gently and pushed it down to his cock. I was amazed to find him hard already. He opened his eyes and leaned across the pillow, kissing me softly, almost tentatively. I pressed my body into him.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he stroked my hair and kissed my forehead. “Sorry about yesterday.”

I waited, in no hurry to verbalize my forgiveness, our necessary mutual forgiveness. I let him hold me. Let him feel my body, keeping silent. I knew he wouldn’t move further unless I gave him some indication that it was okay. I kissed him and let him caress me until I could tell his desire was almost painful.

“Don’t ever fuck me like one of your groupies again. You want it rough, make sure you understand it’s me,” I said finally.

He buried his head into my shoulder, his hair falling across my face; when he lifted his head, he looked into my eyes.

“I was loaded and mad. Not a good combination, but trust me, Morgan, I knew it was you.”

He leaned in and kissed me so tenderly, I thought my heart might break.

“Love me,” he asked.

When we made love this time, I felt like I was drowning in him. It was like waves coming in and pushing me down. My emotions so close to the surface, I was afraid they might spill out. I held on, hoping this Mathew would stay.

Chapter 35

“Shower?” he asked.

“That would be nice.”

I was ready to start over, wash yesterday away. Gayle’s words played in my head. “You’ve loved him forever” she said. What was love? Was it supposed to feel like this?

“I’ll make you coffee,” he said, drying off. “Cowboy if you want.”

I smiled remembering that morning after.

Jack and Sean were having coffee in the kitchen when we came up from downstairs. There were empty beer bottles, liquor bottles in varying stages of empty, and evidence of other party paraphernalia on the table and counter tops.

“Mornin',” Mathew said as he pulled two coffee cups out of the cabinet.

I was standing back in the doorway.

“Morgan, you can sit down,” Sean said, pulling out the empty chair next to him.

Mathew looked over his shoulder at me.

“Stay awhile,” he said, motioning towards the chair.

I felt overly self-conscious. My behavior with Sean had been awkward and I wondered if he’d told Jack. Being in the same clothes from the day before, Jack and Sean were fully aware I’d spent the night with Mathew. Sean shot me a knowing smile as I sat down. Mathew poured us coffee and brought it to the table. I was astounded he was having some. He didn’t bother removing the booze bottles, he just pushed them into the center of the table. The movement causing the smell of stale beer and cigarettes to swirl strongly.

“You boys getting started or just finishing?” Mathew asked.

I picked up my coffee cup, the roasted aroma filling my nose.

“Neither,” Jack answered. “Haven’t cleaned up yet from last night.”

“Looks like we had a party that I missed,” Mathew said.

I sat quietly, sipping my coffee. I hoped Mathew wouldn’t bring up anything to embarrass Sean or me.

“What happened to you yesterday? You bugged out early,” Jack said, scooting his chair back, going for more coffee.

The pot was empty. Jack dumped out the dregs.

“Another pot, anyone? Morgan, you’ll have another cup, won’t you?” Jack asked, already making one.

“Sure,” I answered.

I was dreading what Mathew might say. I wanted him to get it over with. Jack came and sat down as the coffee brewed.

“So where’d you go?” Jack persisted, looking at Mathew. “I thought we were going to play more.”

Mathew looked at Sean and then at me.

“Oh, Morgan and I had a little incident,” he began, then took a sip of coffee.

I shot a sidewise glance at Sean. Oh god, here it comes. I braced myself.

“Apparently she was in dire need of some kissing, and one thing led to another,” he said as he patted my leg.

I felt my stomach tighten. He had chosen words carefully, to warn me, and to let Sean know that we had it going on.

Gayle and I lay in the hammock together in her yard later that afternoon. It took Jane and me to get her into the thing, and I was nervous about getting her out. We were reading magazines, but I couldn’t focus. I kept thinking about his words: love me. Could he mean emotionally? I wasn’t sure.

“So the party was fun?” Gayle asked absently.

“Yeah, after-party was even better.”

“Mathew behave?”

“Fairly well.”

I didn’t always tell Gayle everything when it came to him, and she in return didn’t tell me some of her true feelings.

Mathew took me to the beach later that week. The cooler was packed, and we stopped by Togo’s to pick up lunch.

"Same spot?" I asked as we were waiting for the sandwiches to be made.

"That okay with you?"

“Definitely.”

Recalling our time there last summer had often helped me get through the school year. Once we spread out our towels, he popped us both a beer. A cold beer always tasted good on a hot day, and we settled back and watched the people on the beach in silence.

“Lotion?” he asked, handing me the Sea and Ski.

I squirted the lotion into my palm and rubbed my hands together. I started with his back and rubbed it in, taking my time, feeling the muscles under his warm skin.

“Other side,” I said.

He obliged and flipped to face me. I warmed the lotion in my hands and then spread it across his chest. He reclined back on his elbows, his face tilted up, watching my face as I concentrated on rubbing the lotion into his pecs and down his tight stomach. I teased with my finger, my serious look gone as a dreamier smile took its place. I thought back to the last time we made love, and I ran my finger under the band of his swim trunks.

“Careful, kid,” he said, picking up the lotion.

“My turn,” I said as I sat back on my heels, my focus on him.

He cocked his head in a gesture I had come to know had numerous meanings, but mostly trouble. There was a side of him that could be so childlike and playful. I flipped my hair around my shoulder, and lay down on my stomach, anxious to feel his hands on me.

“Awk,” I yelled arching when he squeezed a cold blob from the lotion tube onto the middle of my back. “Damn, at least I warmed it up first.”

I rolled onto my side to glare up at him, and he laughed, reaching a hand out to force me back down onto my stomach.

"I'll warm it up," he said as he straddled my body.

He started working the lotion into my back and down the sides, slowly slipping his hands underneath me, caressing the sides of my breasts, letting his fingers slip underneath my top, teasing me with how close he came to my nipples. I groaned when he moved down my legs, not wanting him to stop. He started at my feet, rubbing and stroking, a sensual foot massage. I didn’t remember him ever rubbing my feet. Mathew slowly worked his way up my legs, repeating the strong, steady strokes on my calf muscles. By the time he got to my thighs, I had no doubt he was purposely turning me on.

I could feel the heat and moisture between my legs as he stroked and massaged, his fingers slyly slipping under my bikini bottoms, brushing me ever so slightly down there. I wanted to push into him, force his hand further beneath my suit, but I resisted.

His command to turn over was like a slap, and I protested. He only laughed and ordered me again to flip over onto my back, promising more.

Suddenly eager, I flipped over as he took a sip of beer. He leaned in and kissed me, his mouth cool initially and then not. His tongue warm against mine, only making me feel hotter. I never felt like I could get enough of his kisses. He pulled away and took another sip of beer and went back to the task at hand. I watched him put the lotion into his hands this time and rub it together. He held up his hands covered in white before he smiled and came directly at my boobs.

“No, you don’t,” I cried out as I scrambled backwards in a crab walk, laughing.

“Come here, I’m teasing you. I can’t mess up that cute bikini you have on. But beware, later it’s coming off.”

His words sent a shiver through my body, and he saw it.

“What was that?” he laughed.

“That was what you can do to me when you don’t even touch me.”

“I like it,” he said with a smirk. “Come on, let me finish.”

Slowly, cautiously, I moved back towards him. We lay close to one another enjoying the sun and after lunch, we walked down to the water.

“It always feels so cold here,” I said, stepping into the surf.

It swirled around my feet and then retreated leaving a thin layer of foam behind.

“San Diego has spoiled you.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” he said, pulling me into the water.

He held me as we floated in the waves, and the warmth of his body in the cool water was welcome. We were in and out of the water most of the day and I could feel my body tanning, turning golden brown. Late in the day we walked down the beach, holding hands. People were scattered about the sand, with brightly colored towels, umbrellas, as kids played by the water, laughing, screeching, some building sand castles. I breathed in the salt air and remembered other times, times I had longed for this. We came to a stream, run-off from the mountains that ran into the ocean.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” he said.

We followed the water up the beach into the trees and into an area where the water pooled before it ran down to the beach.

“This is pretty,” I said.

Mathew wasn’t paying much attention. He seemed to be looking for something. He reached down, and I saw what it was. He picked up a frog and put it in his hand.

“Look how cute he is,” he said like a child.

“You remembered,” I said with a wide smile as he cupped his other hand over the frog as it tried to jump.

“No, no, little fellow,” he said, lowering the frog back gently to the water.

We watched as he swam back into the undergrowth. It touched me that he had thought to bring me here, to share a frog.

“How did you find this place? As many times as I’ve crossed that run-off, I never thought to follow it up.”

He leaned toward me and draped his arm around my shoulders.

“Bobby and I found it years ago. It was a good place to hide,” he said.

“Yeah, hide from me. I always wondered what you guys were doing.”

“You never acted like you cared,” he said with a look of surprise.

“Good, that’s exactly what I wanted you to think.”

As we walked back down to the ocean, he teased and pushed and tugged at my bathing suit bottom.

“Stop,” I said as I slapped at his hand.

“It’s time,” he said.

“Time for what?”

“Time we head back over the hill to Jack’s.”

“You think?” I smiled, knowing exactly his intention.

He wanted the clothes off, he wanted to make love. Sexual tension had been building throughout the day, heightened by the sun, the beer, the touching and kissing.

“What a perfect day,” I said, taking his hand.

It was just the two of us, alone together, no outside influence, no one to distract him.

“Ain’t finished yet, kid.”

When we got back to Jack’s, no one was around, and we went straight downstairs. Mathew picked up his electric guitar and started to play. When he played without the amp, it was a high-pitched, plucking sound; I didn’t like it.

“Play something on the regular one,” I asked.

I wanted to shower, but instead I sat down on the bed next to him. He smiled as he traded guitars. I watched his fingers move on the neck, making music come from the guitar. He sang, and I listened to the words, words that I knew by now, stories that we had talked about.

“Play 'Wild Horses'.”

He started, and I sat riveted, listening to a song I had heard so many times. I pictured the firelight on his face, the night on the beach by the bonfire, the embers drifting into the air, the night he stole my s’more.

"Wild, wild horses, I’m gonna ride them one day,” he sang softly.

He finished, setting the guitar down pulling me back from that time and those despairing to be with him feelings.

“I still love to watch you play. I’m so jealous of your, or anyone’s, ability to play an instrument,” I said.

He stared into my eyes and I wondered if I looked lost, memories haven taken me back in time.

“Stand up,” he demanded.

“Shower?”

“Just stand up, Morgan.”

“Okay,” I shrugged, pushing myself from the bed.

I stood in front of him, and he leaned back on his elbows.

“Now take your clothes off.”

It was light in the room, and I suddenly felt shy. I think he could sense it and as he looked at me he took his shirt off and undid the button on his swim shorts. I could see the thin line of blonde hair that trailed from his belly button down into his shorts, and my heart started to beat faster.

“Take it off,” he whispered in a husky tone.

I unbuttoned my shorts and peeled them down. He nodded at my shirt. I pulled the T-shirt I had on over my head and stood in my bikini. I’d been with him in this all day, and yet, now I felt naked.

“The top.”

His words sparked an electrical storm in my brain, stroking my ego, tickling the farthest corners of my mind. He watched as I untied the ties, taking it off, tossing it towards him. I took a deep breath and waited.

“Now the bottom.”

I spread my legs slightly and untied one of the strings on the side. The bathing suit dropped slightly and I played with the ties with my fingers. I watched his eyes widen, his expression communicating how much he wanted me. I could see his cock pushing against the fabric of his suit. I pulled the second tie letting the bottom fall to the floor. My breath caught, and I started to move toward him.

“Nope,” he said. “Turn around for me real slow.”

I did as he asked as my heart hammered in my chest. He watched in fierce concentration. When I faced him again, he stood and came to me. He took me into his arms and kissed me, while he ran one hand down my back and over my ass. I moaned softly. He slipped his suit off and taking my hand led me to the bed. I buried my face in his neck, kissing him. He went slow, tantalizing my body, slowly bringing me to points where I was ready to beg. When he finally entered me, my body arched with need into his.

“Ah,” I sighed.

He kept the pace slow at first, like waves washing onto the beach and receding. I was relishing every movement, savoring the smell and feel of him. When we got to a place where our breathing mixed like music, I couldn’t stop myself from quickening the pace. I pulled him into me, taking us higher, until it escaped from our chests, the sound of us going over the rim. We lay on our backs afterwards on top of the covers, side-by-side.

“Why is it you can always get your way with me?” I asked.

He was silent for so long, I thought maybe he had dozed off. He rolled onto his side towards me.

“Can I?” he asked seriously.

“It seems. Pisses me off,” I said, frowning.

He gave me a sexy grin. One that said, really was that you being pissed off just now?

“Why does it piss you off?”

“'Cause you can be so thoughtless and mean sometimes.”

“I know I can be a jerk; it’s part of my charm.”

I pushed his chest hard, causing him to roll back. He laughed and rolled back, this time on top of me, pinning me to the bed.

“You know it is, and you like it,” he teased.

“No, I don’t.”

“Do.”

I stared into his eyes and wondered if what he said was true. I guess I did, I put up with the bad Mathew because the good one was just too good.

“Mathew, what are you thinking, I mean about us? Do you think about it that way, as an us?”

Asking him to try and define us was always risky.

“What do I think?” he pondered.

I could see the wheels turning, hoping his answer was at minimum gentle.

“Morgan, you’re a great friend. One of my best friends. You’re a great lover. I think we both are happy when we’re together, well most of the time,” he added. “So don’t wreck it with overthinking it.”

I pushed him to the side and hugged him to me. What he said was true. Logically, I understood the dynamics of our living in different cities had sealed our fate.

“Will you stay?”

“Only if you play nice,” I answered.

Mathew dropped me off at Gayle’s the next day.

“The good Mathew I take it?” Gayle said.

“Can you tell?” I flashed her a cheesy smile.

“When it comes to Mathew, you’re easy to figure out. You’re so strong in so many ways, but not where he’s involved.”

“Oh, news flash,” I said.

“How does he do it? How does he keep you coming back? It’s got to be more than the sex,” she asked. “I don’t get it.”

I looked out into her backyard. The trees were mature and full, the grass bright green surrounded by raised beds where flowers bloomed. Bees were fluttering about them. The sun was hitting a yellow blossom just so, that it almost looked artificial, beautiful. I thought about her question and then smiled.

“It’s funny because our physical attraction is undeniable. He can look at me and get me started. He knows it and likes it. There is never an issue when we are in that mode. It’s when the rest of the world comes in to play. Then I’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of who I get. Good Mathew or bad Mathew,” I said, putting up my hands like a scale. “There’s the constant performer, the selfish one I guess and then the real one. When it’s the two of us alone, I get the real one. Unfortunately, on the outside, they look the same, so he can confuse me. Sometimes when I think I have the good one, the bad one shows up.”

Gayle shifted uncomfortably in her chair. The plaster from her casts making a scraping sound as she did.

“Confuses the hell out of me. I know when it’s good, it’s good for you, but you put up with a lot of bullshit in between.”

“Not that much,” I defended.

He had such a persuasive way of making me forget the bad times. My memories always seemed foggy when it came to those.

“No? What are you to him exactly? Have you ever asked him, Morgan? Are you his girlfriend when you come to town? Or a temporary plaything?” she asked, pushing me.

I frowned at her.

“That’s mean, Gayle.”

“It’s not mean. It’s an honest question from someone who cares,” she said.

I looked back at the yellow flower and fixated on it.

“What do you want me to say, Gayle. He uses me? Maybe. He doesn’t make me feel used, most of the time,” I qualified, my voice a level higher. “You’ve asked me if I love him. I’ve denied it, even to myself, up till yesterday. I realized as I watched him play that I do. So you’re right, I’ve always loved him. Happy? Do we talk about love? No. Have I ever told him that? No. Has he ever said anything about loving me? No. Would it change a thing if either of us did? I am a whopping seventeen. I still get on a plane next week to go home, and we go back to our different lives. This is what I get with Mathew, Gayle. Do I like it? No, but I’ve come to accept it.”

When I finished I looked back at her, and she stared at me. She looked better. The cuts had healed on her arms. The color was back in her face. It would still be weeks before the casts came off, and then physical therapy would start. She still had a long road.

“Sorry,” I said, feeling like a child who’d had a tantrum.

Then she started to laugh. It was my turn to stare. She laughed really hard, and as I watched her, I couldn’t help but laugh too. I had no idea what we were laughing about, but it went on and on. When we both stopped, I waited as I was winded. My stomach hurt from laughing so hard and tears had run out of the corners of my eyes.

“Okay, clue me in on the joke,” I asked.

She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

“You finally admitted that you love him. That somehow explains a lot of your stupid behavior over the years,” she said.

“Keep it to yourself,” I said.

Chapter 36

“Where you two off to today?” Gayle asked, as she watched me get dressed.

I’d thrown on a red and blue striped bikini and was covering it with jean shorts and a loose white tank top.

“He’s taking me to a beach party.”

“Sean going to be there?” she teased. “Sorry, I just love that story. I wish I could have been there. Would have loved to have seen Mathew’s face.”

She laughed and leaned back against the wall behind her bed.

“Hope so, in case I get ‘desperate for some kissing’,” I teased back.

“Don’t go there,” she cautioned.

“You trying to protect Mathew? How un-you,” I said astounded.

“He doesn’t need my protection. What time is he picking you up?”

“About ten thirty, he said.”

When he rang the doorbell, I gave Gayle a quick hug.

“Have fun, Morgan.”

I smiled at her and then disappeared down the hall towards the front door. The sun was bright as I stepped into the courtyard.

“She still won’t come say hello to me?” he asked from where he was seated on a stone bench.

I dug in my bag for my sunglasses.

“Yeah, she’s going to struggle out on her crutches to say hello. It’s hard enough just getting her around the house.”

He jumped up and I followed him to the car. He leaned to kiss me once we were inside as he slid in an eight-track. Styx blared out of the speakers, and he reached to turn it down.

“She hasn’t seen anyone but me, and her family of course. She doesn’t want anyone to see her yet. It’s sad. I don’t know how long it will take her to get over this. I’m glad my parents let me come spend time with her.”

“Me too,” he said, patting my thigh.

We drove over the hill, Mathew singing along with the songs.

“And you’re just fooling yourself if you don’t believe it," he belted out with the band.

“Where is the party?” I interrupted.

“You’re killing yourself if you don’t believe it,” he went on with the song, singing a few more lines before he answered me.

“Capitola. We’ll park at Bobby’s and walk down.”

Bobby’s grandparents' place sat on the cliffs above Capitola beach. It was a flat roofed two-story beach cottage, with large windows in front that looked out to the ocean. The wood exterior had weathered to grey and the white paint was peeling on the trim around the windows. A massive pine tree grew to the side of it. I had been there several times with my parents and the group, parties, functions, a day at the beach. Bobby was sitting in one of the wooden rockers on the front porch when we pulled up. He was kicked back and enjoying the sun. I hadn’t seen him since I’d moved.

“Hey,” I said, jumping out of the car as Bobby stood up.

Mathew gave Bobby the heads up hello as he went around and popped the trunk to get the cooler and our towels. I hurried across the dirt parking area to the small cement porch to hug him. He had on dark shorts and a worn T-shirt, a rolled up towel sat in the rocker next to him.

“You still hanging out with this bum?” he teased as he hugged me back.

It was a good squeeze and I could feel the strength in his arms. He looked tan and healthy, and taller.

“Can you believe it?” I smiled, looking back at Mathew.

He stood awkwardly with his arms full, holding all our stuff.

“Ready?” Mathew asked, shutting the trunk.

“Ready,” Bobby said, picking up his towel.

I went to Mathew and he handed the towels to me, and we headed across the street to the edge of the bluff. We followed the somewhat steep dirt path, which wound its way through ice plant, down to the beach. The path was dusty and the fine particles stuck to our feet and legs. As I talked to Bobby on the way down I could already feel the warmth radiating from the sand. I looked out at the ocean and then onto the beach and could pick out Jack and Bob in the people gathered.

The beach right below us was sort of a cove and the water didn’t crash onto it like it did further down. Snippets of talk and laughter filtered up at us. Once on the sand Mathew put the ice chest down and pulled out a beer. He opened it, and handed it to me. He took out two more and put them in one hand and opened them, giving one to Bobby. Mathew looked down the beach as he took a sip.

“Hey, Matt,” Bob called catching his eye.

I noticed he was with his girlfriend.

“How’s it going?” Mathew called, moving towards them.

I put out my towel and sat down. Bobby did the same, then took off his T-shirt.

“That’s not the same Stanford T-shirt from Rio del Mar days?” I asked noticing the lettering was almost worn off.

“Same one, love it, it’s just getting nice and soft.”

“I remember your mom buying that for you at one of the football games, it was big on you then. Didn’t we have a tailgate party in the parking lot with everyone that day?”

“Good memory,” he said grinning.

I wiggled out of my shorts and took off my shirt, adjusting my bikini.

“What have you been up to?” I asked Bobby as I watched Mathew walk away.

His butt looked good in his tight shorts. I watched him and then glanced around at the group. The girl ratio was not in my favor, too many. The last party crossed my mind. I sat with Bobby, catching up on things that had gone on since we’d seen each other. It was easy to be with him, not like before when I hadn’t exactly been welcomed to join him and Mathew. We talked as I observed Mathew work his way through various groups of people. He was talking, flirting, laughing, and having a good time; he was definitely in a party mood.

“So tell me about your friend. How’s she doing?” Bobby asked. “Mathew told me it was a terrible accident.”

I told him about the accident, about Gayle’s progress. He was very sensitive and concerned about her mental well-being. Said that many times the scars heal, but the memories linger.

“She still has a long road ahead of her, but she’s doing good.”

I saw Mathew looking back up the path. I turned from Bobby slightly to see who it was. It was the brunette from the last party with two blondes. Mathew watched them walk down to the beach. He must have felt me watching him because at one point he broke his gaze and looked at me. He didn’t smile, nor did I.

“Hey, girls,” I heard him say when they walked up to him.

“Hey, Matt,” the kissing one from the party said very coyly.

They were far enough away that I couldn’t hear them very well. She seemed to be introducing the other girls. I could feel the hairs on my arms tingle with dread.

“Who’s that?” Bobby asked following my gaze.

I swallowed hard.

“That would be Anna.”

When I’d pushed Mathew after the last party, he’d admitted to knowing her and told me her name. I hadn’t pushed on what she was to him. I didn’t want to know.

“That Mathew’s new girlfriend?” Bobby asked.

So, Mathew’s mentioned nothing to you of us? Us, did that even exist? I watched them flirt. She laughed at something he said, grabbing his arm, as Mathew threw his head back. I could feel my jaw tighten.

“Not that I’m aware of,” I answered stiffly.

Anna’s body language was pretty clear, throwing out a hip, leaning forward towards him, her touch as he spoke. The scream was on the verge in my head. Bobby reached for my chin and turned my face to look at him. I blinked slowly. When he looked into my eyes, I could see it register with him.

“Do you want to take a walk down the beach?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” I said, standing.

“Grab a couple,” he said, pointing to the ice chest.

I opened it and grabbed two cans. I turned my back to Mathew and the group and headed off with Bobby. I could feel the lump in my throat. We walked a long ways before he spoke.

“He doesn’t mean to hurt you,” he said.

“Who says I’m hurt?”

“Okay, frustrated, mad, whatever,” he said. “Morgan, I know you well enough to read you a little. Mathew is Mathew.”

The lump had spread into my chest and it felt like a weight was pushing down on me.

“Do you know how many times I have said that to myself?” I said, irritated.

Bobby didn’t have to answer that. I knew he could imagine.

“He invited me to this beach party, so I thought it was to be with him. Wrong again it looks like. Every time I think he won’t work the chick angle right in front of me, he does.”

A wave rolled in swirling up my leg, splitting and falling back.

“He’s a party guy. He’s friendly, outgoing. It doesn’t mean he’s working the chick angle,” Bobby tried to defend him.

The breeze was blowing my hair into my face and I reached to pull it back, wrapping it around itself, and tucking it into a makeshift bun.

“I caught him kissing her at the last party he took me to. You know what he said when I called him on it, 'I don’t even know her'. What kind of lame ass answer is that?”

Bobby laughed and I recalled the time we’d laughed together about Mathew’s lame pick-up lines on the Santa Cruz Boardwalk.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but you sounded just like him.”

“Okay, and here’s the lamest part. He thinks if he doesn’t know her, it makes it all right.”

“Let’s sit,” he said, stopping by the water.

We sat down, facing the ocean, and I handed him one of the beers. His olive skin was tan I noticed. I still found him handsome and I wondered why I hadn’t fallen for a normal boy like him.

“We have a weird relationship,” I said.

We watched the waves crash on the sand, the foam roll up the beach, and then retreat. There were three young girls playing in the waves, chasing them in and out, laughing with delight. I put my chin on my knees.

“What do you know about us, Bobby?”

“I’m not sure what I know.”

“Bullshit,” I said.

Bobby had his hands draped lazily around his knees and he pulled back slightly.

“Some. Mathew isn’t a big talker. I know the two of you have been together.”

“Together?” I questioned. “Do you know we’ve been lovers?”

“Yeah, I figured that from things he's said.”

I could tell he didn’t want to say too much, always protecting Mathew.

“Lovers for years,” I added, perturbed.

Bobby didn’t say anything. We sat watching the ocean.

“I feel like that,” I said, pointing to the girls.

Bobby watched the girls for a few minutes.

“Like what?” he asked, confused.

“Up and back. One minute I’m in, the next I’m out. Just like the ocean, he’s unpredictable. It fucking drives me crazy. I don’t even live here, Bobby. How hard can it be to be nice for a short time? If he simply wants to be friends, why does he keep inviting me, taking me to his bed, and then playing right in front of me like this?”

He didn’t answer me, he didn’t know how to. I told him about Anna and Sean at the last party, disclosing my retaliatory behavior. The emotions were churning in me, a mixture of hurt, fury, and frustration with myself. I clasped and un-clasped my hands as I spoke. I told him how pissed Mathew was about Sean, never blaming himself for any of it. He listened. We finished our beer.

“Let’s head back,” I suggested, standing up.

We walked back down the beach and resumed our spot on our towels. Bobby dug in the cooler and got two more cold beers.

“Bobby, you don’t have to hang if you don’t want to, go mingle.”

“I really don’t know that many people, I’m good.”

“Thanks,” I said, glad he was staying.

He gave me a reassuring pat on my back, his hand was warm. I don’t think Mathew was even aware we had gone. I watched him. He was in his element: the leader of the band, the guy the girls wanted, the party boy. The part of him I loved wasn’t in this mix. Somewhere in there I didn’t fit, didn’t want to fit. I saw Anna put her arm around him and press her chest into his side. He flipped his hair back, something he’d been doing since I met him, and did regularly when he was on stage. The drunker they got, the more they flirted with each other. I was tired of watching.

“Bobby, I know this is asking a lot, but can you take me home? I’m feeling a bit tortured.”

I knew it was a big inconvenience. The pressure in my chest had become a dull ache and a part of me wanted to shock him, that I would leave, would run.

“If you can’t, I can probably find someone else,” I said.

“I can take you. Are you sure that’s what you want?” Bobby asked.

“Absolutely sure. I don’t want to wait for the second act.”

He searched my eyes and then rolled his head to the side like he wasn’t sure that’s what I should do.

“Go tell Mathew I’m taking you home,” he said.

“No, let’s just go,” I pleaded.

The movement of my head made my bun come apart and my hair fell down around my shoulders.

“No. Go, tell him you’re leaving.”

“Shit, Bobby, why? It seems pretty clear it doesn’t matter,” I said, irritated he was asking me to do this.

“Go, tell him,” he said adamantly.

I walked reluctantly across the stretch of beach to where he stood talking with Anna and several other people. As I walked up, he looked into my eyes.

“Morgan, do you know everyone here?” he offered as if I’d been included all along. “This is Anna, Susan, and Mary.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said curtly before I turned back to look at him.

“Mathew, I’m heading out,” I said, and I saw Anna smile.

He looked surprised and glanced around in search of another person.

“With who?”

He spread his legs digging his feet into the sand, and crossed his arms in front of him, a sort of defiant stance. I looked down at his fingers that were wrapped around a beer.

“Bobby’s taking me home.”

“Really?!”

This seemed to surprise him even more.

“I’ll see you later,” I said and turned without waiting for a response.

I headed back toward Bobby locking my eyes on him not wanting to look back. I’d wanted to slap the smile from Anna’s face. She hadn’t won; I just wasn’t willing to play the game. Bobby had already gathered our towels and was heading for the path. I followed him. Mathew caught up with me halfway up the hill.

“What are you doing, Morgan?”

“Bobby’s taking me back over the hill.”

I said it like it was perfectly normal, like why would you ask?

“Why?” he asked, baffled.

“Mathew,” I said, stopping abruptly and facing him. “I told you before, don’t make me watch. Go have Anna, have anyone you want, don’t expect me to like it.”

“Morgan, it’s not like we’re a couple.”

I stared at him in disbelief. I saw the handsome face, and I wanted to lash out at him. What he said felt like a knife through my heart. I clenched my fists together, trying to control my emotions. Right that moment I hated myself for ever believing there was a remote possibility of an us.

“You know, you’re absolutely right, so it shouldn’t faze you if I leave,” I said, sounding much calmer than I felt.

He grabbed my arm and squeezed.

“Let go of me,” I said almost in a growl.

He loosened his grasp.

“Since our outings to the beach usually end with a good fuck maybe Bobby can oblige today,” I said caustically.

“Morgan, don’t screw with me,” he said.

He clenched his jaw. I knew he was angry.

“Oh, no, Mathew,” I said mockingly. “And why sugarcoat it, don’t you mean fuck with you? I don’t want to fuck or screw with you. I don’t need to.”

I yanked my arm out of his grasp and headed up the hill. He didn’t follow. When I got to the top of the hill, I saw Bobby standing by his car. He got in slowly as he watched me walk toward him. I think he thought Mathew would follow me and protest. He had given Mathew an opportunity to make it right, insisting I tell him I was leaving. The drive back over Highway 17 seemed to take forever. I was angry, and my heart hurt, like a hand had taken hold of it and was squeezing tighter and tighter. I replayed his words in my mind. There were so many things he could have said to stop me, instead he’d chosen words he knew would hurt me. Bobby didn’t talk until we were almost to Gayle’s. I couldn’t expect him to know what to say.

“Morgan,” he finally started.

His tone was sweet and I could feel the tears push from behind my eyes. I inhaled deeply to stifle them.

“Please don’t, Bobby. Don’t make excuses for him. There aren’t any. If I overreacted, so be it. He just keeps piling it on.”

I didn’t want Bobby to feel guilty over actions that had nothing to do with him. I didn’t want him to feel bad for my feelings.

“I said something really mean to him, about you, out of anger.”

“About me?” he asked, taken aback.

I looked out my window at the landscape passing by so I didn’t have to look at him.

“Yeah, I feel embarrassed to even tell you, but I don’t want you to be blindsided by him.”

“What could you say about me that he would worry about?” he asked.

“I said I might fuck you.”

He laughed an uncomfortable laugh. When I turned to look at him he gave me a small smile.

“No way.”

“Yeah, way,” I said, visualizing the exchange on the hill.

“So what should I say happened?” he chuckled.

I stared at him thinking, and he finally glanced from the road to me.

“Tell him it’s the best fuck you’ve ever had.”

“Guess that means you’re seriously mad,” he laughed.

Bobby got out of the car and hugged me tight to him when he dropped me off. It felt like he was consoling, like he knew how I felt.

“Morgan, it's Mathew,” he said at a loss for words.

“I know, Bobby. I’ll be okay regardless, don’t worry.”

Keeping up with the anger was the only thing that kept me from tears. Gayle was sitting in the family room when I came in the garage door. I didn’t stop when she locked eyes with me. I headed back to her bedroom and calmly shut the door. I threw myself on the bed, burying my face in the pillow. It was some time before the door opened.

“The bad Mathew, I presume,” she said.

I didn’t answer, hoping she would go away, embarrassed by my circumstances. She sat down on the side of the bed and rubbed my back.

“Nice making me gimp down the hall to you. I’m sorry, Morgan.”

The tears came silently.

I spent the remainder of my time in town with Gayle. I didn’t try to reach Mathew. He didn’t try very hard to reach me. He called once. I hadn’t taken it. I left San Jose without seeing him again. I came back to San Diego determined to put Mathew behind me. The balance of the summer, I spent a lot of time at the beach with friends. There were lots of parties. The ocean was warm. There were lots of boys. I finally found some acceptance my senior year at San Pasqual High School. I wasn’t the new girl anymore.

I serial dated, no one serious. I became a use-and-discard date, but this time it was me doing the discarding, I didn’t want anyone too close. More than a few boys were hurt by my inability to have anything more than fun. Love wasn’t an option. Mathew sent me pictures of the band with short notes, a flyer from a performance, a post card. He never said anything about us. I ignored it, never responded to him. I went to the senior prom with one guy and to graduation night at Disneyland with another. I had casual sex that meant nothing, and I wondered if I was broken for good. Gayle and I talked on the phone often. While she was dealing with the physical effects of her injuries, I was dealing with emotionally dissecting myself.

Neither was easy.

Chapter 37

“When you coming this summer?” Gayle asked over the phone.

It was hard to believe an entire year had passed. Gayle was back to her normal self. Her injuries had healed and she said she no longer dreamed about the accident.

“I’m not sure I’m coming at all,” I answered.

“You have to come. We’re free, done with high school. I’m better. We can hang and go to parties. I want you to come,” she begged. “I’ll find out where Kingdom Come is playing.”

“That’s exactly what I need,” I said sarcastically.

She knew I was kidding.

“You talk to him yet?” she asked.

“No. He’s sent me some stuff on what the band is up to. Not really a letter, just keeping me in the loop or on the line.”

Even the stupid little things he sent made my heart jump, made the memories fill my head.

“Are you still seeing that one guy?”

“John? No, didn’t do it for me. Our lives are too different.”

She sighed and I could picture the frown on her face.

“It’s always something with them,” she scolded.

“I’m apparently not girlfriend-boyfriend material,” I said. “Anyway, my flight gets in Friday, July first, at two thirty.”

I was rolling a pencil on the Formica kitchen counter as I stood leaning against it, the phone to my ear. Gayle had told me anytime in July would be fine.

“You shit, you planned on coming,” she said.

I laughed.

“I’ll meet you outside baggage, so you don’t have to park.”

“I’ll meet you at the gate, just as easy,” she said.

“Sure Jane will be cool with ten days?”

“Of course she is.”

I couldn’t wait to see Gayle, couldn’t wait to see her walking on her own again.

When I walked through the gate, I searched the crowd for her. Not seeing her, I started down the terminal toward baggage claim. I figured we hadn’t communicated correctly, and she would be outside baggage.

“Hey, kid,” I heard him say.

I froze, knowing instantly it was Mathew. I waited until he was in front of me. My eyes locked with his, my mind racing. Mathew? Mathew? How? Before I could answer my own questions, he caught me up and pulled me into his arms, kissing me hard. Almost desperate, like he was afraid of what I might do. When I pulled back, he didn’t release me. I had to arch my back to pull away enough to get a good look at him. He hadn’t changed much. His hair was shorter. It was obvious by his tan he had been hanging out at the beach. His blue eyes searched mine for a response. I smiled slightly, and he smiled back. I shook my head and took a deep breath. I was numb, in shock. I was having a hard time identifying what I was feeling actually. I waited. Sad, mad, shock, all rolled in one. Where was Gayle?

“You have no idea how hard it was for me to convince Gayle to let me come,” he said.

It was like he’d read my mind. I stared at him like he was a mirage.

“How did you know I was coming?” I asked, perplexed.

“I figured you would, so I called Gayle when school ended. She didn’t want to tell me much to begin with. She’s like a mother bear when it comes to you.”

“Just regarding you,” I said firmly.

I could picture Gayle telling him what a dick he’d been last summer, she wouldn’t hold back. I hoped she’d given him a verbal whipping.

“You’re not mad I hope?”

I was surprised. I didn’t have a response. I let him take my hand and walk me to baggage claim where we waited for my bag. I could feel him watching me, waiting. I was dumbfounded at Gayle. The bag finally came and, as I reached for it, he reached past me and removed it from the conveyor belt. When we got to his car, he put my bag into the trunk and followed me to the passenger side of the car. As I reached for the handle, he put his hands on my waist, gently pushing me up against the car. Our conversation so far had been uncomfortable and awkward. Gayle, I’m going to kill you is all I could think. She’d put up with so much from him on my behalf, why this? I wanted to run, run back home, far away. How did I answer him?

“I’m absolutely stunned you could talk Gayle into this,” I said. “You did talk her into this, right?”

“I have my ways,” he grinned.

“So you did, I mean, talk her into it. How?”

I felt betrayed. Why would she do this? Especially knowing how last summer ended, and how hard I had tried to wiggle him out of my heart. He leaned in to kiss me. I turned my face.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to get over being mad,” he said.

“Big of you,” I answered.

He opened the car door for me. We hadn’t gotten very far out of the airport when he put his hand on my knee.

“Jack’s or Gayle’s?” he asked.

“That’s bold, very bold. Gayle’s,” I shot back.

I’d heard that he had moved into Jack’s officially from his parents' place. I knew the band was very popular and playing all around the San Jose area, I knew about the female attention he was generating. Gayle, despite her feelings about Mathew and me, kept me up to date. I watched the traffic out the window. What the fuck was she thinking? I truly couldn’t understand any of it; I was dumbstruck.

“Jack’s it is then,” he said, pushing the eight-track in.

Carly Simon came blasting out. He sang the words to "You’re So Vain". I couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t much like my sappy kind of music.

“I’m learning,” he said glancing at me.

“Learning what? I hardly imagine you up on stage doing Carly Simon.”

He took the exit towards Jack’s not Gayle’s.

“I said Gayle’s,” I repeated firmly.

He wasn’t listening. I had mixed emotions about being with him. The butterflies were confused, but they were there, as was the pressure in my chest.

“She’ll be waiting, Mathew,” I said, frustrated.

“I told Gayle not to wait up.”

“You’re just plain bad,” I said, feeling dazed.

He was quiet a minute while I stared out the window. He still could get to me, even if I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

“I think we established that a long time ago.”

“I’ve been set up,” I said softly.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Gayle’s motive. I would have guessed she would have told Mathew to go drown himself. Instead she let him pick me up. He had told her not to wait up? She was biting her tongue. Gayle was doing what she thought I would want. It had nothing to do with Mathew’s ways. She was forcing me to make my own decision, hoping I would make the right one. I heard her voice “it makes sense about your stupid behavior”. Was I even capable of love or was I truly damaged goods? Damaged goods I thought.

“Are you dating anyone in particular or just the normal steady stream?” I asked.

I wanted not to care. In a way I already knew the answer, he wouldn’t have gone to lengths to pick me up if he had a girlfriend.

“Nobody in particular,” he said.

“I guess Anna didn’t work out so well?” I asked, tormenting.

“Anna who?” he answered.

They had in fact dated last summer after I left. Bobby had reluctantly confirmed that for me.

“I’m an idiot, okay? I’m sorry,” he said.

I stared straight ahead, wondering what the hell I was doing. Why I even got in the car. Our exchange on the path in Capitola filled my head, colliding with flashes of our days alone on the beach. Unconsciously I raised my fingers to my lips and I saw him smile out of the corner of my eye. Gayle, what have you done to me?

“There’s no sorry, remember?” I said.

When we walked into Jack’s house, I could hear Jack talking in the backyard. Mathew went to the refrigerator.

“Beer, wine?” he asked.

“Got any white wine?”

Yes, a drink would be good I thought.

“I do. This is something new,” he said.

I stood in silence watching him, the muscles move in his arm, his fingers, while he uncorked the bottle and poured me a glass. I numbly took the glass from him and he got himself a beer. He took my hand, and quickly ducked in for a kiss on my cheek. We walked out back into the sunshine.

“How are you?” Jack asked as he stood, giving me a big hug.

It was all too familiar, this house, this yard. Please let me blink and be in Kansas: Dorothy, there’s no place like home.

“Emily,” I said, hugging Jack’s girlfriend as she stood.

“It’s good to see you again,” she said smiling.

Mathew pulled up some lawn chairs for us on the patio, and we joined them. He kept glancing at me and I wondered if he could sense my thoughts, the urge in me to run. It was a hot afternoon, and Mathew’s car had no air conditioning, so I was sweating. The wine tasted refreshing, and I drank half of it in a few sips. A sprinkler rotated on the lawn, sending water one direction then the other. The water seemed to be making the air somewhat cooler. I could smell the familiar sweet scent of jasmine in the air. The sky was clear and blue. I felt stiff, like my body was in defense mode. I looked at Mathew who was still watching me. I finished my wine wanting the liquid to slow my mind. Gayle, what have you done screamed like a siren in my head. I pulled my hair up, twisting it into itself so I could get it off my neck.

“Can I get another glass?” I asked, a little embarrassed I’d finished it so fast.

“I’ll get it,” Mathew said, jumping up.

“There’s another bottle in the pantry,” Emily said. “You might want to put it in the fridge.”

Mathew walked to the back door his blonde hair gleaming in the sun. He brought me back another glass, much fuller, I noticed. Emily winked at me. I felt the tension from the airport exchange start to ease.

“How long you here for?” Jack asked.

“Ten days,” Mathew said.

“Staying with us?”

“No, with Gayle,” I answered, shooting Jack an are you kidding look.

He and Emily knew about my last exit. Mathew smiled at me apprehensively. I had the feeling he was going to try and change that. I realized how much I’d missed him. We sat having cocktails, enjoying the afternoon. It was nice just the four of us talking and laughing.

“Jack, can I use the phone?” I asked.

“Use whatever you need while you’re here, especially Mathew, I’m offering him up right away,” he said, laughing

Mathew shot me a questioning look and watched me as I went inside. I picked up the phone to call Gayle. I stood holding the receiver; the line buzzing, and then put it back down. She would have questions that I currently couldn’t answer. I opened the fridge and poured myself another glass of wine. I noticed Mathew had put the other bottle in. I leaned against the counter, trying to sort my feelings; it wasn’t coming very easily. Emily came in the back door.

“I was going to grab us some cheese and crackers or something,” she said.

“Can I help?” I asked, feeling silly she’d found me standing alone in her kitchen.

“No, go relax with Mathew,” she said, pulling stuff from the fridge.

“Not sure about that one, Em,” I said.

“Nonsense,” she said, shooing me out with a wave of her hand.

“Yeah, pretty much what it’s been, nonsense,” I said.

I un-did my hair and shook it out.

“Stop. He’s missed you,” she said.

I went back outside, thinking about him missing me; wondering if he was capable of such a thing or if my timing was just convenient. A slow time in the girl parade. Emily followed shortly after with a tray that had all sorts of goodies for us to snack on.

“Thanks, Emily, for the food,” Mathew said.

I nibbled on a cracker, but didn’t feel hungry. I liked the effect the wine was having on me. The crazy feelings that had been going on inside numbed.

“I think I’ll help myself to another if that’s okay?” I said, standing.

“Pour away,” Jack chuckled.

I went into the kitchen and poured another glass finishing the bottle. I was sure they were talking about me. I left my glass on the counter and used the bathroom. I rinsed my face and then stared at my reflection in the mirror. You should run, Morgan. When I came down the back steps, they stopped talking. I looked at the three of them.

“Okay, guys, what’s going on?” I asked. “I feel so awkward already, and now you’re talking about me.”

Mathew stood up and he looked so good that it was almost like a physical stab to my senses.

“Don’t mean to be rude, but I need to talk to this girl,” Mathew said, extending his hand to me.

I didn’t take it. I wanted to stay and smell the jasmine, watch the sprinkler, drink more wine, anything but be alone with him. Sadly I knew it wouldn’t take much for him to pull me in. Everyone’s eyes were on me.

“Go on,” Emily encouraged, “you need to go.”

She had always liked me, been kind to me, like Jack. I was outnumbered, so I followed Mathew, familiar with the path to his room. It didn’t look so stark anymore. His things filled the top of the dresser, and he had put pictures and posters on the wall. There were several pictures of Kingdom Come on stage. A couple of him jamming live on his guitar, hair flying, one leg raised. I knew exactly why the groupies wanted him. I circled the room, looking at things, aware of him watching me. I finally sat down on the bed. I knew he sensed my discomfort.

“Let me fill your glass,” he said, taking my half-full wine glass from my hand.

“Can you play for me?” I asked, looking over at his line of guitars.

“What do you want to hear?” he asked.

“Whatever you feel like playing.”

“Let me get the wine first,” he said.

“You’ll have to open the other bottle.”

He smiled. It took him awhile to get the wine. I figured he was talking to Emily. I picked up his old guitar, the one I had known from the start. I rubbed the wood, pictured his fingers on the neck, plucked a string, it made me sad. I remembered all the times in his room, at the beach, the ski trips; my memories were from the simple times, not the band times. The band world wasn’t a world I knew. I didn’t fit in that world. I wondered where he thought I fit in, why I was here. Oh, Gayle. He walked back into the room with my wine and shut the door slowly.

“Here you go,” he said, handing me my glass.

He picked up his acoustical guitar, the one I just put down, and sat on the bed next to me. His first song was Led Zeppelin’s “How I Wish You Were Here”. I listened and was sure he had chosen it specifically, knowing I would hear the words, the story.

“We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year. Oh, how I wish you were here,” he sang.

Next he played “Wild Horses”. He started on a song by Styx, which I recognized but couldn’t remember the name of. I got up and went to the bathroom as he played. I brushed my hair and touched up my makeup. I was definitely feeling the wine. I ached to touch him, lay with him, an effect he had on me by just being near. Near enough I could smell him, the lemon, vanilla, light musk smell all wrapped into one that made Mathew, Mathew. I took off my clothes, except my bra and panties.

“You’re drunk, Morgan,” I whispered to myself in the mirror.

My girlfriends in San Diego had turned me on to Victoria's Secret, and I only wore cute lingerie anymore. I had on a matching set that was pale pink with some black satin trim. The bra was a push-up, cut low, and it made my breasts look full. He would like it. He was still playing, but looked up from his guitar when I came back into the room. He stopped. I could see his pupils get large.

“Had you planned on a hot date or what? 'Cause you certainly weren’t counting on me,” he said, setting the guitar to one side.

I smiled as the butterflies soared into my chest.

“I’ve gotten into nice lingerie. And no, I wasn’t counting on you.”

“I like it,” he said undressing me with his eyes.

He smiled up seductively at me before he reached out and lightly ran his hands over my bra, down my sides, moving to my rear, and then down my legs. His hands were warm and sensual and I shivered. He gazed into my eyes as he pulled me to him and then kissed my stomach. He could play my body like he did his guitar; he knew just how to touch me. Just how to ignite the fire within me.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

“So I’ve been told…”

“Can I kiss you?” he pleaded. “You haven’t even let me kiss you, Morgan.”

I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. He’d erased time.

“I haven’t decided if I’m finished being pissed off at you yet,” I said.

I knelt down between his knees and leaned in to kiss him. His lips were soft and he put his hand on the back of my head cradling it. I wanted to ravage him, feel him inside me, feel his skin next to mine, but I could tell by his touch he wanted to relish it. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, circling, seeking my tongue, slowly giving me that kiss, over and over, the one that was able to send me to the moon with desire. He ran a hand around my back reaching for my bra clasp, opening it easily singlehandedly. As it fell forward from my body I could feel my nipples get hard and I moaned.

He leaned away from me slowly removing the bra down my arms. Seeing my hard nipples he leaned in to suck on them leisurely, one at a time, he cupped my breasts in his hands and squeezed tenderly. I dug my fingers into his hair. When he pushed at me to stand I did so and he unhurriedly took my panties down my legs. Then he rolled back on his elbows and gazed at me with lustful eyes. I inhaled deeply.

“Take off your clothes,” I ordered.

We made love with the passion of old, one that never seemed to die. He took me on a roller coaster ride, sending me off the track with a small vulnerable whimper.

As I curled into him I reminded him of the summer he’d told me to lose Ben. It by far had been the best summer. We talked, and laughed, catching up. We touched briefly on his behavior last summer.

“Do you ever get hurt, or are you always the hurter? All the girls you’ve dated?” I asked as I played with the hair on his stomach, the happy trail.

“I don’t know if I hurt them. It doesn’t work out for one reason or another.”

“Maybe because there’s another girl right behind them, or right beside them, depending on your mood. We’re kind of funny that way, girls, I mean; we’re not big fans of cheating,” I said digging my chin into his chest.

He went on, ignoring me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever given my whole heart.”

“Your whole heart? What does that mean?” I asked, the wine making me bold.

“Promise you won’t get crazy?”

I lifted my head and looked into his eyes.

“No,” I said, “it’s a chance you'll have to take.”

He smiled and pushed my head back onto his chest.

“I think a chick’s hot, and that I want to be with her. Then I am for a while, and I realize no,” he said.

“Hmm. Not-so-hot or not-so feelings?”

“Not-so feelings.”

I couldn’t help but wonder what was not-so about us, and if it was why had he missed me.

“Damaged goods,” I said.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Nothing.”

I nuzzled into him. It felt natural and right. All the anxiety he’d caused by showing up at the airport had faded away. Oh, Gayle, you’re going to hate me.

“You ever felt like he was it about a guy?”

“No,” I lied.

“You seeing anyone at home?”

He was curling a strand of my curls around his finger, around and around, and then let it go. It made me think about another time in Tahoe.

“No,” I answered.

“Would you tell me if you were?” he asked.

“No,” I replied.

“That hurts.”

He squeezed me to him.

“I’m not,” I chuckled. “I swear. The bigger question: are you, or maybe how many?”

“Nope, zero. I’m all yours if you want me,” he teased.

Moonlight was streaming though his window. I could see his face in the dark. I thought about last summer as I lay my head on his shoulder. He’d hurt me, he knew he’d hurt me, and yet here I was in his arms. I hoped his promise of there being no one else would last past the night.

“Look at the moon,” I said.

He pushed my hair back as I wrestled with what I wanted to say, how it should sound. I didn’t want to come off as whinny or demanding, and least of all hurt.

“I’m here for ten days. I hadn’t planned on seeing you,” I said.

I was trying to choose my words carefully, not to relay too much of my true feelings. Not to let him know he’d already sucked me back.

“I figured you wouldn’t even know I was in town. I planned to avoid you at all costs. Now you and Gayle have blown that all to hell on day one.”

He sighed. I reached up and put my hand around his chin.

“I will only put up with one Mathew. The one that is here right now. Don’t expect me to put up with the other one. I won’t, not for a minute,” I said.

He pulled me tight to him, wrapping his arms around me.

Chapter 38

I called Gayle the next morning as he showered. I figured she would be over-the-top-anxious to hear from me, wondering, and worrying, about what had gone down. I realized she expected me to run; she had bet on it and lost. Jane answered the phone.

“Hey, Jane, it's Morgan.”

“Hi there, Gayle’s been waiting for your call. Gayle,” she called out into the house.

“I’m surprised she didn’t answer it, she’s been sitting on it like a hen. Here she comes, Morgan.”

I could hear the phone being shuffled, and Gayle came on. I could hear her breathing; she had probably run down the hall when her mom called.

“Well?” she asked, a hint of anger lacing her question.

“Well? Nice secret the two of you cooked up. Since when did you, of all people, become a Mathew ally?”

“I haven’t become a Mathew ally. He can be very persistent when he wants something.”

“Really?” I said sarcastically. “Explain.”

I pulled the phone cord and sat down at Emily’s kitchen table.

“He wanted to know if you were coming: when, where, all the details. I resisted at first, knowing how last summer ended. In fact I was rude to him. I told him what an asshole he was. He asked if you were seeing anyone. I told him I thought you definitely were.”

“Gayle,” I scolded.

She’d given him exactly what I’d hoped for.

“Couldn’t help myself, I wanted to hurt him, if that’s even possible. He said he really wanted to see you. He felt bad about last summer. I told him I didn’t think that would be happening.”

I laughed.

“You’re so funny. I can just hear you,” I said.

“I was serious. I saw what he did to you last summer. Miss ‘I can’t get hurt by Mathew’, got her heart ripped out of her chest more than once. I thought with the first phone call, the discussion was over, but he wouldn’t let up. He kept calling, asking the same fucking questions. He finally convinced me to let him at least pick you up. The deal was, if it didn’t go well, he would leave you alone. No asking, no harassing, done.”

I could picture her sitting on the wooden built in desk in the kitchen. She always sat on top of it, never in the chair.

“I wanted to run initially. Get far, far away. I was pissed you let him come,” I said.

She sighed.

“I expected a call from the airport.” she paused. “Why didn’t you run, Morgan, why?”

I’d thought about this, over and over, knowing she would ask and I just didn’t have a very good reason, except maybe she’d been right, I’d loved him forever. Maybe I didn’t know how to stop.

“He wouldn’t let me,” I said quietly. “He pushed softly as only Mathew can do. He took me to Jack’s. We had drinks in the yard. It was hot outside. I kept thinking I needed to go, but I didn’t. I even picked up the phone to call you and then hung it back up. I drank wine instead, and then he played his guitar for me, like he used to.”

“Morgan, that’s like foreplay to you,” Gayle said.

“It is not.” I protested. “You think?”

“He has your number, girl. I was so sure, so sure.” she said emphasizing sure. “He proved me wrong again.”

“Oh, Gayle, the crazy thing is, and we’ve talked about it. It really is me. I wean myself off him, and then he pulls me back in. It was so nice last night. I was in shock when I heard his voice at the airport. I kept saying ‘I can’t believe Gayle agreed to this’, while at the same time I was excited to see him. I was super confused on what to do. He asked me where, and I said ‘Gayle’s’. And he drove me to Jack’s. He told me that he told you not to wait up.”

“He did tell me that,” she said. “I figured if you would go with him at all, it wouldn’t matter after that. I was waiting for a perturbed phone call from you. Hoping really.”

I could hear Mathew downstairs in his bedroom humming and I knew he was out of the shower.

“We spent a really calm afternoon with Jack and Emily in the backyard talking, none of the craziness that can surround him. Then we went to his room. He played most of my favorite songs. We talked about things we usually don’t. It was really nice. Playing nice.”

“And the sex?”

“Do you even have to ask, Gayle?”

She groaned.

“Holy shit, what have I done? Here we go again,” she said.

Where I deemed our previous summer, the one of wars; I deemed this one, the one of peace. I spent more time with Mathew than Gayle. Something had changed with Gayle since we’d talked about me visiting. Where I tried to make plans with her, she was happy to let Mathew take me. I knew she was seeing someone, so I let it go. I hadn’t met the guy yet, but she talked about how well it was going.

“Come get me. Let’s go to lunch,” I suggested over the phone.

“What’s Mathew doing?” she asked.

“He’s busy today, Gayle, and I haven’t seen but minutes of you. Remember… Mathew was not supposed to be a part of this equation.”

“I know, but he is.”

She took me to Los Gatos to a quaint Mexican place where we sat in a courtyard with a fountain that splashed while Mexican music played softly in the background. The tables were cement with colorful tiles embedded in them, the walls painted to look like old adobe, and decorative wrought iron over the windows. When the waiter came, we both ordered a margarita. He asked for our IDs, which we both had. Gayle and I’d gotten fake IDs when we were sixteen. Keri had a friend that put them together for a small fee. We thought it was worth it. They had come in handy in getting us into clubs and bars. Gayle seemed a bit fidgety or nervous. I thought maybe it was anger seething beneath the surface at me.

“How’s Mathew?” she asked. “No fighting or biting?”

The waiter came back with our drinks.

“No fighting or biting. A lot of the other stuff, though,” I smiled. “All good. You know if I’m stupid enough to keep coming back to him, us, then it’s my own fault if he hurts me.”

“Ha, famous last words,” she said cynically.

“Enough about Mathew. I want to know what is going on with this new guy you are being so secretive about?”

Gayle took a sip of her drink.

“It’s almost like you're pushing me on Mathew, so I won’t meet him,” I said.

She fiddled with the salt on the rim of her glass and I thought about the salty sweet I’d tasted on Mathew.

“Gayle. Spill it. You have never been afraid to tell me anything. What is the deal?” I asked, getting worried.

The waiter came back to take our order, and I asked for another round of drinks. I took the last few sips of my margarita as I waited for her answer.

“What is it, Gayle? Is he married? Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

“I’m not sure you can,” she said, looking down at the napkin she was twisting in her hands.

“That makes no sense,” I said, confused. “You can put up with my Mathew bullshit and I’m going to judge you?”

She hesitated. The second round of margaritas arrived with lunch. I sensed a fear that I couldn’t grasp. I stared at her, encouraging with my eyes for her to talk to me.

“What? Tell me, it will be okay,” I coaxed.

She dropped her head.

“It’s a married woman,” she finally said very softly.

It took me a minute to realize what she had said.

“A married woman? You mean the guy is a girl? That’s who you're dating?” I asked, astounded.

She confirmed with a nod and looked up for my reaction. I sank back in my chair.

“Morgan, you don’t know how hard it is for me to tell you. I’ve thought about it for months and didn’t know how you would react. I have been so afraid that I would lose you as a friend,” she said as tears welled in her eyes.

“Gayle, we have been friends so long… Do you think something like this would change that?”

I got out of my chair and hugged her; happy to know this was all that it was. Then her tears did come, fast and furious.

“It’s okay,” I said patting her back. “Now you have to tell me all about it.”

Gayle had met Bridgett at the gym, just prior to the school year ending. She’d been her instructor in Jazzercise. They'd had coffee and discussed fitness and healthy eating. Coffee-morning meetings developed into lunches and dinners. A relationship she hadn’t expected started to develop. Gayle felt Bridgett understood her, and she enjoyed being with her. Gayle had repressed her feelings, thinking them odd, seeing that Bridgett was female and married. Bridgett wanted to spend time with her though, even had Gayle to her house for dinner with her husband.

When Bridgett had first taken Gayle’s hand, she hadn’t thought anything about it, but she’d held it like one would a date. When Bridgett had looked in her eyes and then kissed her Gayle knew she had the same feelings. Bridgett had since left her husband for Gayle, and they had been together for months.

“Quite the story, Gayle,” I laughed. “It sounds like something that could be written into a soap opera.”

“Will you meet her?” she asked.

“Of course,” I answered, feeling overwhelmed.

Gayle being gay had never entered my mind. She’d been with Mathew the one time and claimed she’d had a good time. There had been other dates and boys that she had slept with that I knew of.

“She’s house sitting here in Los Gatos. She said if you didn’t run screaming from the room, we could come hang out by the pool with her tomorrow.”

I could tell by her expression that she wanted me to be okay with it, accepting of her relationship with Bridgett.

“Was this planned to be the shock-the-shit-out-of-Morgan week?” I asked, throwing my hands up. “Between Mathew picking me up and now Bridgett, just wondering.”

“I didn’t necessarily plan it that way,” she smiled.

We spent the remainder of the day and early evening in Gayle’s backyard talking. Her relief at my not running screaming from the room was evident. Mathew was due to pick me up at any moment. We were going to his parents for dinner. I was excited to see the O’Conner’s; it had been too long. I didn't know what Ann and Brad knew or didn’t know about us. When Ann had asked Mathew to come, he’d told her I was in town, and she asked him to bring me. I wasn’t sure how he was going to treat me around them. I resolved to be perfectly fine with whatever he decided.

“Hey, girls,” Mathew said, coming out the slider.

He looked good in his white OP shorts and a purple button down shirt. He strolled out onto the patio and gave me his lazy sexy grin.

“Hi,” I said, as my heart did a little flip flop.

I looked nervously over at Gayle, not sure of what she would say or do.

“Mathew,” she said, standing to hug him, her arms out. “The man who can always prove me wrong.”

Mathew smiled at her and stepped forward to embrace her. Gayle gave him a quick hug, and when she stepped back, she looked at him and chuckled.

“You continue to defy the odds.”

“Okay, you two. No sparring at my expense,” I said lightly.

“I won,” he teased Gayle.

“Only because I let you,” she retorted. “Against my better judgment. I just bet on Morgan being a little smarter than she is, and then you do play a mean guitar.”

“Stop, you two,” I said laughing.

I was glad the mood was more bantering than finger pointing. Gayle’s comment took me back to the day she’d met him when I lived across the street. The day I’d convinced her he wasn’t just in my imagination.”

“Fun day?” he asked when we got in the car.

“Different,” I said.

He glanced at me sideways and smiled.

“I brought a swim suit for you in case we decide to get in. The bright blue one, I like.”

“Thanks, I didn’t even think about that.”

It felt strange pulling into the O’Conner’s driveway. So many times I had been here, so many Mathew moments. I felt nervous. I could feel it in my nose as my eyes filled with tears.

“What, Morgan?” he asked as he went to kiss me and noticed the brightness in my eyes.

Concerned, he cupped the side of my face with his hand, his thumb brushing my cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, memories, a lot of memories,” I said, shaking my head and pulling myself together.

Ann had a spread of appetizers out by the pool. In the early evening the view over the Alamaden Valley was breathtaking. The sun was low in the sky hitting the big gnarled oak trees on the golden hills below.

“Morgan, how have you been?” Ann asked as she came forward to hug me. “My gosh, you have grown into such a lovely young woman.”

“Thank you,” I said, embarrassed, as I hugged her timidly.

When she let me go, she hugged Mathew. I gave Brad an embrace, kissing him on the cheek. We sat out back and chatted while Ann flitted back and forth in preparation for dinner. The sun felt warm on my skin. I glanced at Mathew several times as we talked. He seemed comfortable and relaxed. She served a lovely pork chop dish, a caesar salad, and scalloped potatoes. Ann had served this same meal, on a ski trip to Mammoth, one night I recalled. I could see the condo so clearly in my mind and remembered my unreturned feelings for him.

Chapter 39

“Are you seeing anyone?” Ann asked in general conversation.

My stomach cinched and I was afraid to look at Mathew.

“Not really,” I answered.

“You’ve got time, don’t rush it,” she said, waving her hand at me. “Have fun while you can.”

“You sound like my mom,” I chuckled nervously.

Mathew shifted sideways and a little forward in his chair.

“She’s seeing me,” he said, putting his arm around me.

Brad and Ann looked at us surprised. Ann’s mouth fell open and Brad grinned. I was as shocked as them; I thought I might faint. My throat constricted and felt dry.

“Oh,” Ann sighed.

“While I’m here anyway,” I said, trying to downplay it.

Mathew and I had always been friends; very few knew us as anything else. I’m sure his disclosure was not something they had expected.

“Well that’s nice,” Brad said smiling, his lips twitching slightly.

After dinner, Mathew suggested we take a swim and hot tub and excused us to go change. I walked with him down the hallway towards his old room. The carpet felt the same, smelled the same, so much had happened here. He’d thrown our suits on his old bed. Even his room still smelled like him. He had taken most of his things, although his sports trophies and some other memorabilia remained on the shelves. The guitars and amps had all gone over to Jack’s. He handed me my suit.

“Brings back a flood of memories, doesn’t it?” he asked.

I looked around slowly, my head feeling like it was jerking. The drywall dent was still in the wall, from the weight I’d thrown at him so long ago.

“Tons,” I murmured.

He threw his arm casually across my shoulders.

“Oh my god, Mathew, I didn’t think you would say something to your parents. Between you and Gayle, I feel like I’m living in the Twilight Zone.” I laughed. “Remember that old crazy TV show?”

“It was a good one, especially stoned. Put your suit on,” he said.

“Here?” I asked, pulling away from him.

“You think, after what I said, they would think of checking on us?”

“No, but I’m still using the bathroom,” I said frowning. “I wouldn’t want your mom to feel awkward.”

As I changed in his bathroom, it came flooding back. It was like the dam broke: the first time he kissed me, him asking to see my tits, him playing his guitar, Kim, Thanksgiving with Gayle, the first summer, when he told me to lose Ben. I wrapped the towel around me. Overwhelmed, I followed him through the house. Ann was cleaning up, and Brad and Sara were watching TV in the family room. Sam had left with some friends shortly before dinner. When we walked out back it was almost dark, the sun sinking just below the horizon, reds and browns radiated into the sky.

“It’s warm,” he said, stepping down gingerly from the patio into the hot tub.

I followed him, bending my knees, lowering one leg and then the other, down to the bench and then sinking into the water up to my neck. He moved closer and put his arms around me.

“Lovely young woman,” he said pulling me to him, mimicking his mother.

“Shut up,” I laughed.

“I’m in agreement is all I’m saying,” he reassured.

He kissed me. With the pool being dark, I was confident the O’Conner’s couldn’t see us. It was a little nerve-wracking, them knowing he was seeing me. It didn’t seem to faze Mathew, but I felt a bit timid knowing they were home. He ran his hands down my back under my suit, feeling my ass.

“That’s not very nice,” I said.

“Why’s that?” he teased, leaning into kiss me.

“Because. Because you know what you do to me, and I can’t do anything about it here.”

He smiled and then kissed me passionately and I could feel the warmth spread between my legs. I pulled away and inhaled deeply.

“Um,” I sighed.

“I wish you were here longer,” he said.

I put my hand on his leg and squeezed. I could feel the muscles and ran my hand down to his knee.

“I know. This living so far away sucks. I might as well be living there,” I said, pointing up at the moon, which was not full, only about half, but still beautiful and romantic.

“Remember that time you asked me if there was other life out there?” I asked.

“That was in the old house, right? You remember that?” he asked.

I could see Sam and Pat and the tetherball going round and round, smack, smack.

“Why did you ask it?”

“I don’t know, I guess I wanted to know if you ever thought about things like that. I didn’t think many people did.”

“I thought you were being stupid, and then I realized you really cared about my answer. It’s about the last time I thought you did.”

He leaned forward and splashed me. The water hit me in the face and went over my head.

“Hey,” I protested, as he broke the moment.

The water dripped from my hair, and down my face. I leaned back and pulled my hair back.

“I care about what you say.”

“Really?” I asked sarcastically.

I stood up and learned over the edge and pulled a towel to me to dry my face.

“Okay, now seriously, I want to talk to you about Gayle, and it’s very private, so it can’t go any further,” I said, settling back in beside him.

“Okay,” he said, “talk.”

I tried to get my thoughts together, tried to think what would be the best way to approach this with him.

“She told me today at lunch that she’s seeing a woman,” I said slowly. “She hadn’t told me before because she’s been so worried about my reaction.”

Mathew threw back his head and let out a huge laugh.

“I said seriously,” as I splashed him again and again.

He kept laughing as he reached to grab my arms. When he had his hands tightly around my wrists he shook his wet hair and small water droplets flew from it hitting me in the face.

“Okay, seriously,” he laughed again.

I pulled my hands from him and wiped my face.

“I haven’t stopped wondering since you picked me up at the airport, why? I couldn’t figure out why she was so willing to let me be with you, why she wasn’t protesting. You get it in your head life is working one way and then, it's not.”

I shook my head.

“Do you think I was so bad that one time, I drove her to the other side?” he asked, at an attempt to be serious. “Like I made her want the other side immediately.”

I cocked my head and frowned at him.

“Hardly. For one, you weren’t that bad.”

“Oh, but you two were wanting me so bad,” he teased.

I ignored him. I didn’t have the energy to argue about a night that was long past. A night I’d never imagined, ever.

“Gayle’s taking me tomorrow to meet her girlfriend. We’re going to hang out poolside for a few hours. Drink margaritas,” I said.

He leaned back and gave me a sly grin.

“Just don’t let them convince you to switch sides,” he said.

He pulled me towards him, then off the bench around in front of him, in-between his legs where he applied pressure to hold me as he lifted my face to his. I stared into his eyes; his hair was wet and pushed back. I lifted one hand and traced his hairline with my fingers.

“Hmm,” he groaned cupping my chin.

My lips hungered to touch his. He let his knees relax and I pushed into him and could feel his erect cock, which made me tremble.

“With you around, I don’t think that would be possible, might be easier, though,” I said licking my lips playfully.

“You’re coming back tonight with me, right?”

I put my hand on his heart and could feel it beating inside his chest.

“My suitcase is at Jack’s, so I was figuring so,” I teased, ducking in for a quick kiss.

He tugged me into him, but I pulled away. We were already excited and we had no place to go here at his parent’s house.

“I about passed out you know when you told your parents you were seeing me.”

“Why?” he asked.

I stared at him, his face part in shadow from the moonlight.

“'Cause you’ve never said anything like that. Not even to me,” I said, my breath catching in my throat.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight.

“Let’s get showered and head back, night's young,” he said.

We used separate bathrooms to shower. Ann had set out bath towels for us, and pointed out where shampoo and things were for me. Mathew met me in the hall.

“Let’s go say goodbye,” he said smiling.

“It was so good to see you,” Ann said.

Brad gave me a hug. I almost thought after the initial shock of it he might be actually pleased Mathew was seeing me.

“Morgan, you’re welcome anytime.”

“Thanks,” I said.

As we rode back to Mathew’s place, I wished it could be different. I wished, as I hadn’t in a long time, that we could be together for more than moments. I watched the lights coming at us, cars coming, coming, brighter, brighter and then gone; moments. I reached across the car for Mathew’s hand. He took mine and gave it a squeeze. For only being eighteen I sure felt like I had dealt with a lot of grown-up feelings.

There was no one home at Jack’s.

“Sit,” Mathew said. “Beer or wine, if we have any.”

“Beer is fine.”

I sat down on the worn white leather couch. Leaning back I rubbed my hands over the cushions and could feel the cracks.

“Here you go,” Mathew said sitting down next to me and handing me an open beer.

I took a big sip; it was very cold and tasted refreshing. It made my mind jump back to beach when we’d gone to get his guitar.

“I was nervous at your folks. Guess I hadn’t expected you to tell them you were seeing me. You always surprise me, Mathew.”

He moved closer and put his arm around me, and I curled up against him. I nestled my face close to his, breathing him in. I slid my hand under his shirt and ran my hand from his stomach up his chest. I felt so relaxed, and my body melted into his. We sat that way in the quiet living room while we drank our beer. For some reason it made me happy we didn’t have to fill the space with words.

“Let’s go to bed,” he whispered.

“Okay,” I said, letting him take my hand.

He was off early the next day for a meeting and practice with the band. He left me in bed, reminding me Gayle was to pick me up about ten thirty. I tried to go back to sleep after he left, but couldn’t. I lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking about all the pieces, which made up my relationship with Mathew. This summer I had gotten the good Mathew, the playful, sensitive, fun one. I had to remind myself there was another Mathew, the bad one, the one who could crush me with his words “we’re not a couple”. We had been alone most of the time, away from outside influences, away from the band.

I had three days left with him. My feelings for Mathew were back with a vengeance, but as always, we were headed in different directions. The band was getting ready to go tour in Australia and I was headed home to Escondido. Mathew was pumped about touring another country and there was no talk of us. His emotional hold on me was evident. My best attempts to erase him had failed. Gayle felt guilty she had reopened the door.

“Gayle, like you said, he’s persistent when he wants something. You couldn’t have stopped him,” I reassured her. “Even if you hadn’t bet and lost, he would have found me.”

I thought about the other girls who must exist in his life. In three days, they would all be back. When he toured Australia there would be a whole new pool of screaming groupies, girls that would throw themselves at him. Gladly climb into his bed. It made me sad, for both of us.

Chapter 40

Gayle showed up right on time.

“You look marvelous. It makes me happy to see you happy,” she said.

“Happy for me with Mathew, that’s a stretch.”

I left the door open as I gathered my things from the couch then walked out closing it softly behind me. It was a bright sunny day, not a cloud in the sky, and already hot. I knew it was going to be a scorcher, perfect day for being poolside.

“Nothing wrong with Mathew.”

“What?” I said, my voice rising as I got in her car.

“There’s nothing wrong with him, Morgan. It’s you and him together, the games or whatever it is.”

Hadn’t I just thought about all those things in bed, staring at a white ceiling, having my heart roller coaster. Feeling the love and desire, right along with the hurt and disappointments.

“Gayle, let’s not dissect our weird ass relationship. You know I can’t explain it to you any more than you could to me.”

She glanced at me with a small smile then backed out of the driveway.

“I’m getting freaked about leaving, Gayle. We don’t talk about it, like if we don’t, it won’t happen. I know, once he goes on tour, it’s over. He’s back to the band; the groupies will follow, and it will be a matter of time before another bimbet enters the picture. I try not to think about it, but it’s not working. It’s like we’re frozen in time for now; not letting the rest of the world in.”

“Enjoy it while you can, Morgan. If you won’t stay out of his bed, that’s all there is to do.”

“I love you. You’re so damn honest, it hurts,” I laughed feeling a twinge in my heart.

She told me more about Bridgett as we drove to Los Gatos. I was nervous about meeting her; I didn’t know what to expect. How would they act around me?

Gayle went straight through the house and out to the backyard where Bridgett was out by the swimming pool, lying on a lounge chair on her stomach, reading. When we walked out, she got up hurriedly and left her top on the lounge. She stood topless staring at the two of us, her small breasts perky.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, reaching for it.

As she tied her top in place, Gayle introduced us. Bridgett was tall and slender with dark hair that hung to her shoulders, brown eyes. Her body was more athletic than skinny. I could see her muscles and the firmness to her skin. Jazzercise had been good to her.

“I made up a pitcher of margaritas,” she said and disappeared into the house.

“She’s been nervous about meeting you,” Gayle said.               “Why?” I asked, surprised.

Gayle walked over and put her things on a lounge and adjusted three of them to align with the direction of the sun. I slipped one foot out of my sandal and dipped it into the water of the kidney shaped pool. The bright blue water was a perfect temperature.

“She wants you to like her,” Gayle said, spreading her towel on a lounge. “She knows how close we are. Do you feel uncomfortable?”

“A little,” I said. “Don’t start making out in front of me, and I think I’ll do fine.”

She shook her head and smiled at me just as Bridgett came back with the pitcher and glasses and poured us a drink. I could see that her hand was shaking as she filled the three glasses. I too felt nervous, about how they would act around me. I was almost afraid they might kiss in front of me and I wasn’t sure how I would feel about that. Gayle stripped off her shorts and T-shirt and went to the table. She put her hand on the small of Bridgett’s back and leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. Okay, I can deal with that I thought. Bridgett looked at me and smiled uncertainly.

“What a gorgeous day. I’m lucky the weather’s been good since I arrived,” I said, like Gayle’s greeting hadn’t bothered me in the least.

“So has Mathew I understand,” Bridgett said. “Been good.”

Gayle laughed heartedly, and I understood Bridgett knew my whole story. Not a bad way to break the ice I thought. I smiled at her wit.

“Okay, you two, catch me up on you since I have been the one obviously misled. Gayle’s been keeping me in the dark when she knows all my secrets,” I said feigning hurt.

I got to hear the story from the beginning as we lounged poolside with cocktails. Bridgett retold the story that Gayle told me at lunch. Explaining that she never intended for what happened to happen. It started innocently, with her wanting to help Gayle with her questions on health and nutrition. How to get in a healthy routine of eating and working out. She said that as time went on, she felt a closeness to Gayle she had never felt, a true emotional connection, something she’d never had with her husband. Bridgett explained how she couldn’t really understand her feelings at first, but that as their friendship developed, it became clear.

They had sparred and playfully touched each other over lunches, dinners, and at the gym. Bridgett had worried about her growing feelings and figured Gayle to be too young.

“Shit, I started having sex at fifteen with Morgan and Mathew. Eighteen’s an adult, I wasn’t too young.”

I swallowed hard, and stared at Bridgett, who didn’t seem fazed.

“Yeah, she knows more about Mathew than she probably would like to,” Gayle chuckled.

Bridgett got up and refilled our glasses.

“Telling my husband I was leaving him for a woman was the worst part. He was sort of a man’s man, so it was a huge blow to his ego. He wasn’t shy about letting me know,” Bridgett said.

I could tell by the way she shyly angled her head that she still felt guilty.

“I can imagine,” I said.

It wasn’t hard for me to conjure up his reaction, like an unexpected gut punch. A little like when Gayle had told me, but far worse.

The day did turn into a scorcher and I was happy to be close to water, constantly getting in and out as I tanned in the sun. Bridgett got more relaxed as did I; the margaritas didn’t hurt. We talked and laughed and by the time Gayle and I left for Jack’s I felt very comfortable. They never made me feel awkward.

“Well?” Gayle asked as we drove.

“Well, it’s all new territory for me and a lot to take in. I mean, for hell’s sake, we double-dated more than a few times, so how was I to even think anything but men? You slept with Mathew and me, which I see you promptly disclosed to Bridgett. You said you liked it. Didn’t you?”

“I like men. Don’t get me wrong. Right now, I just like a woman better,” she teased. “I let you believe it was a man because it was easier, although, I knew I had to tell you sooner or later. It’s part of the reason I wanted you to come for a visit, so I could tell you face to face.”

She glanced over at me.

“I’m surprised you would think you would lose my friendship, but I can’t imagine it was easy. Your family knows?”

“Yeah, they all know.”

“How did they take it?”

“Pretty well actually,” she said.

“I like her, Gayle. She seems mature and level-headed, unlike you I might add.”

Gayle laughed.

“She is.”

She pulled up to Jack’s and shut off the car. She sat back with a sigh, putting her hands in her lap.

“What?” I asked. “Is there more?”

“Could the four of us go out?” she asked, without looking at me.

“Gayle, I did tell Mathew. I told him to keep it to himself. I’m not sure how he would feel about us going out like couples. Let’s just see. I’m in unchartered water as it is.”

She looked at me searching my eyes and I smiled.

“I know. For your sake, I hope it continues,” she said.               “Thanks.”

The TV was on when I went into Jack’s; no one watching it. I could hear voices out back, so I went through the kitchen towards the back door. There was a mirror on the table with smudge marks on it and a rolled up bill. I stepped out onto the porch. Jack was there with a group of friends, having beers. A joint was being passed around.

“Hi,” I said when Jack saw me.

“You can join us, sweetie, or I think Mathew’s in his room.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll go see him,” I said.

“You have a good day?” Emily asked.

“Yes, surprisingly.”

She knew about Gayle because I’d talked about it with her. I stopped in the kitchen and poured myself a glass of wine. I walked through the house and down the stairs, hoping I wouldn’t find something I didn’t want to. I knocked, opening the door immediately. Mathew looked up from his desk.

“Hey, kid”.

“What are you doing? Not like you not to be part of the party.”

“I’ve had enough of those guys today. I’ve been working on a song I wanted to get down,” he said.

“Yeah, what’s it about?”

“A beautiful girl, with blue eyes, who’s sleeping in my bed,” he said.

I stepped into the room and gave him a whatever glare.

“You’re so full of it.”

“No, it’s true. She keeps leaving me, though.”

He swung his body to the side of the chair and motioned for me to come to him. He put his hands on my shoulders, pulling me down to bring my face level with his, and he kissed me.

“Are you writing something about me?” I asked hesitantly.

“I am. Want to hear what I have?”

I set my bag on the floor beside his chair and moved to his bed and sat down. His window was open, but the curtain stood still, the room was warm

“No. You’ll make me sad.”

“Can you hear the music, no words?” he asked.

He wanted me to hear it, wanted my approval.

“Go for it.”

He played for me. No words. I liked the melody, how the chords blended.

“You taught me to hear it, you know. Not just to hear the song, but hear the music. Then hear the words, the story.”

“That’s good,” he said with a grin. “A lot of people don’t ever hear the story, just the song. Feelings are how songs get written.”

He strummed the guitar. I watched his face and his expressions. I was curious.

“Can I stand the story?”

“Try,” he said.

I sat listening to the words: they dug deep. He sang a couple of verses and went back to the chorus and stopped.

“That’s all I have so far. I need to keep working on it.”

I leaned back on my elbows.

“It's so cool you can do that. I think it would be so hard to put the two together and make it work,” I said.

“It’s not that hard,” he said looking at my legs stretched out in front of me. “You have a good day with Gayle and her girlfriend?”

“It was a new experience, I’ll tell you. She wants us all to go out before I leave.”

He cocked his head to the side and smiled his mischievous grin.

“So she wants to take it from a threesome to a foursome?” he teased.

“You wish. I don’t think that’s her intent. Besides you have all you can handle right here,” I said moving my hands down over my body.

He put the guitar down and stood up stripping off his shirt. He had red short shorts on and seeing him half naked made my heart race. He held my gaze as he came to me. He ran his hands up my legs and climbed on top of me pushing me back into the bed.

“I do, don’t I,” he whispered in a raspy tone.

I stared into his eyes as he lowered his face and put his lips to mine. I pulled at my clothes, but he held back, making out with me, fueling my desire. I could feel his hard cock through his shorts, but each time I reached he pulled my hand away.

“You’re torturing me,” I whimpered.

He ground his pelvis into me dry humping, making me wet.

“I want to hear it,” he murmured, as he kissed my face, lips, and then down my neck.

He rolled my T-shirt up over my head and un-tied my bathing suit top from around my neck, pulling it lower exposing my breasts. He moved leisurely down my body and spread my legs to sit back on his feet between them. He cocked his head and grinned sexily at me as he again ran his hands up my legs, but this time he ran them to my crotch and pressed firmly through my shorts. I moved my pelvis against him. He slipped two fingers under my shorts and beneath my bathing suit. Mathew smiled when he felt the wetness, then he sat back.

“Don’t stop,” I moaned.

I moved to undo my shorts and he put his hand over mine, stopping me.

“I want to hear it,” he said again.

I felt like I might orgasm right then, and my nipples got hard. I stared into his blue eyes.

“Fuck me, Mathew.”

He removed my hand and undid my shorts and then yanked my shorts and bathing suit down together taking them down my legs and off as he stood. I watched as he stripped out of his shorts, my breath catching at seeing him. He admired my naked body with his eyes and then cocked his head.

“Please fuck me,” I begged.

His eyes burned with passion as he climbed on top of me and thrust his hardness into me. We made love frantically, seeking, needing, our bodies responding to each other knowingly, exploding at the same time with deep panting rasps.

“Do you want to go out and get something to eat?” he asked, as I lay curled into his side.

“Not really. I like it here in bed with you,” I answered.

We were alone, the world shut out.

“Is Gayle taking you to the airport Sunday night or am I?”

“Do you want to?” I asked mildly surprised.

I traced my fingers down his chest wishing our lives were different, wishing we could be together.

“I do.”

“Anxious to get rid of me?” I asked and smiled.

“Not at all,” he said, running his hand down my hair and giving it a tug.

I pressed my fingers into my forehead. I was fighting with my emotions, feeling like I should say something about leaving, about our wonderful time together, something. What did I want to say? I swallowed hard. I don’t want to go. I want us. I need us. As the various thoughts raced around in my head, not forming words, he squeezed me to him. Almost as if he knew.

“It’s all been good, kid,” he said.

“Yeah, it has,” I said, fighting the tears.

I pointed to his guitar.

“Something slow?”

He threw his shorts on and grabbed his guitar. He sat at the bottom of the bed. He played, no words. It took me a minute to recognize the Eagles' “Best of my Love”. I heard the words in my head, even without him singing them. Every night I’m lyin’ in bed, holdin’ you close in my dreams, thinkin’ about all the things that we said, and comin’ apart at the seams, we try to talk it over, but the words come out too rough, I know you were tryin’, to give me the best of your love.

Later when we made love, he took his time, slowly and lovingly, he sent us floating together over a warm, calm, ocean.

We did end up meeting Bridgett and Gayle at a club for drinks. Mathew, despite his teasing and threats of bad behavior, behaved. It was a nice evening.

“Let me get that,” Mathew said as I zipped my suitcase shut.

I had said goodbye to Jack and the rest of the band last night. Mathew was actually going to be late to a practice they had scheduled, but he insisted on taking me to the airport. We checked my bag, and he walked me to the gate. The heaviness in my heart was overpowering, like a ripple when you throw a rock into still water, starting in the middle and radiating out to the furthest point. We sat down in the grey leather chairs.

“Why do they make airports so drab?” I asked.

“Never thought about it really,” he said, looking around, probably noticing for the first time.

“The colors they choose make it seem dull, almost sad.”

“Is it making you sad?” he asked.

“Yeah, it is.”

He searched my eyes. I could tell he knew I wasn’t talking about just the airport.

“You need to go. The guys will be waiting on you. I still have twenty minutes.”

“It’s okay.”

He took my hand in his warm hand.

“I’ll miss you in my bed.”

“That’s nice,” I said with a snap. “Is that all it was for you?”

“No, Morgan, it wasn’t, and you know it,” he said seriously. “Bad choice of words.”

“Promise me—”

He put his finger to my lips.

“I can’t make promises and neither can you,” he said.

I pulled his finger away.

“I wasn’t going to ask you to promise anything except to keep in touch.”

I sighed as I fidgeted in the stiff uncomfortable chair.

“You know I’m not good at that, but I promise to try.”

“Fair enough, now get going,” I said, pushing on his back, trying to hold back my tears.

He stood and pulled me up wrapping his arms tightly around me, holding me for a long time.

“Go,” I whispered.

He reached up, framing my face with his hands.

“Morgan…”

His lips were tight, like they were sometimes when he was playing or thinking hard. His eyes stared into mine, his breathing shallow. I could tell he was struggling to keep his emotions in check as well.

“Unless you plan on watching me cry, you better go,” I said softly.

He kissed me one last time.

Chapter 41

I went home with my heart shattered and raw. Logically, knowing it couldn’t work between us didn’t help ease the pain. I spent my summer trying to detach myself from him emotionally, again. Kingdom Come did tour Australia that summer. He sent postcards, telling me what they were doing. The notes were brief with no reference to us. He seemed to be simply fulfilling his promise to try and keep in touch. The tour, of course, was to promote Kingdom Come, and their original songs and I think Mathew had high hopes it would catapult them to another level.

When they got home to San Jose and went back to playing the same gigs, I could tell he was disappointed. The postcards stopped. It was the first summer since I’d moved that I didn’t go back. Mathew was gone most of it, and Gayle was busy with her own life with Bridgett. I’d made new friends in Escondido, so the summer was easier.

I started college in the fall. I met Max at a girlfriend’s Christmas party that winter. He was five years older than me. He was attentive and assertive in the beginning, and all the things I thought a boyfriend should be. We'd been dating now for three years. Kingdom Come would stay popular in the Bay Area. Gayle and other friends would run into Mathew, see him play at a club, and report to me. Many times it was at an after-party. I knew what those looked like, so even when they left details out, I could imagine what was going on. It was clear he was living hard and fast, like a rock star.

Our phone calls grew further and further apart. When we did talk, I would ask him about the partying. “The usual” he would say. I never asked about the girls, and he didn’t volunteer; I knew they were there. He never inquired about Max, although he knew about him. I still lived at home, but I spent most of my time at Max’s. I went to school and worked part-time while Max worked all the time it seemed. My San Jose days, and Mathew, seemed to be behind me now.

“Morgan, nice to see you,” my mom teased as I came through the back door with a bag of laundry.

“I know you think I only come home when I have laundry.”

I dumped the clothes on the yellow tiled kitchen floor and started sorting it into loads. The washer and dryer were in the garage, just outside the back door.

“That’s about right. How’s Max?” she asked.

She was dressed in jeans and a button down flowered shirt washing vegetables in the kitchen sink.

“Good, working a lot.”

“How’s school?”

“Hard,” I answered. “The math classes are kicking my ass.”

“Why you chose finance as your major, I’ll never understand. I hated math.”

I stood up from finishing my sorting and looked at her.

“Oh, Mom, you went to college to major in marriage,” I said. “It’s different now.”

She raised her eyebrows at me.

“Obviously,” she said.

We’d had the why buy the cow when you get the milk for free conversation more than once.

“Melanie’s getting married,” she said.

She dried her hands on a towel and walked around the counter to her desk. I waited as she shuffled through papers, found the invitation and walked back handing it to me. I read through it.

“She’s too young,” I said as a jab.

Since I had been dating Max for three years, she thought there should be firmer plans. I, on the other hand, thought twenty-two was young. “Max is twenty-seven, remember” was always her response. She’d married my dad at twenty-two and thought it was a good age; thought twenty-seven was too close to thirty and not committing, ever.

“You plan on going?”

Her head jerked back.

“Of course. We have to go. Don’t you want to go?”

“You paying?” I asked, not expecting they would.

“We planned on all of us going.”

“Then definitely.”

She laughed. I picked up a load from the floor.

“Will Max come with you?”

She came and held the door as I stepped into the garage.

“No, you kidding me? I wouldn’t even ask him,” I said.

Max didn’t like doing much, except what was on his agenda. It was hard to even get him to come to my parents for dinner or holidays.

“Will most of the old group be there?” I asked as I put clothes into the washer.

“I would think,” she said.

“It should be a kick, seeing everyone again,” I said.

Mathew flashed into my head; I could see his smile, his mischievous blue eyes, and his hair. I had not seen him since that summer. I smiled at our time together then. I saw his lustful eyes and unexpected feelings washed over me, making me shiver. I wondered if he would be there.

“Mathew should be there,” she said.

I stopped loading the washer. Had she read my mind? She was standing in the doorway, watching me. Had she seen me shiver?

“How do you know that?” I asked, getting back to loading.

“I talked to Ann the other day; the whole family's coming.”

I pictured us out by the O’Conner’s pool. “She’s seeing me,” he’d said, shocking the three of us.

“He’ll have a blonde on his arm is my guess.”

I scooped in detergent and closed the lid and turned on the washer.

“Ann didn’t mention that he was seeing anyone.”

“That means nothing, Mom. He always has a girl close by; he doesn’t like being alone.”

“Will it bother you, I mean, if he has a girl?” she asked.

“I expect he’ll have a girl, and no. We’ve both moved on.”

She had pried on my summer returns, and she knew we had spent time together. She’d labeled it dating; I hadn’t. I knew she and Ann had talked about the night the two of us went to dinner there. We disagreed about the difference between seeing and dating.

“When’s the wedding again?” I asked.

“Next month, end of May, I think,” she said, picking up the invitation. “You really won’t even ask Max?”

“No, I really won’t. It’s a family trip,” I answered firmly. “That alone would send him running. I’ll have way more fun without him.”

I stared at her as I went past her back into the house. She let the door go.

“Okay, I’ll make the reservations then. I’m planning to leave Friday, coming back Monday afternoon. Does that work?”

“Yep. I’ll make sure to schedule those days off with work.”

We sat at the kitchen table and talked while I did laundry. We reminisced about times spent with the group and laughed. My dad got home from work, and they talked me into staying for dinner. It really wasn’t so hard because my mom was such a good cook.

“Glass of wine?” my dad offered, opening a bottle of chardonnay.

“I’m easy.”

After several glasses, I called Max to tell him I was staying home for the night. When I climbed into bed, I lay awake. I looked forward to seeing everyone. I looked forward to catching up with Mathew, assuming the girl would let him. I reflected back on the summer and my earlier feelings. Really, had we only been eighteen? I wondered about the band and the partying, and if any of that had changed. I thought about how much my heart had ached; how Max coming into my life had changed that.

When I fell asleep, I dreamed of Mathew. It was dark at the beach, and he played his guitar by the firelight. Even though I was far away from him, I could still hear the music, but the words faded in and out. I walked across the sand toward him, but my legs were too heavy, I didn’t seem to be making progress. I turned toward the ocean and saw Max surfing, riding a wave into the beach. Surfing in the dark? He grabbed his board, the leash still on his ankle, and walked out of the ocean. All of a sudden, I could hear Mathew playing clearly. I could hear the words—“Wild Horses”.

Before I knew it, we were on our way to Melanie’s wedding. The wedding was on a Saturday and the O'Conner’s had offered to put my parents and Pat up for the weekend. I was welcome there too, but I chose to stay with Gayle and Bridgett. It was a quick trip, and I wanted to be with them.

“Let’s see,” Gayle demanded.

I turned toward her.

“Very nice, smokin' hot.”

“Thanks,” I said smiling.

I was wearing a sheer silk teal dress with varying layers that flowed around me when I moved. I had chosen it because I thought it would look sexy when I danced. It was so sheer that you could see the bra or panty lines, so I wore nothing underneath.

“Mathew’s going to be there, I would guess,” Gayle speculated.

“Gayle, Mathew and I are long gone. Shit, it’s been, what, almost four years since I’ve seen him. You know he hasn’t kept in touch.”

She smiled and brushed my hair back from my face.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, with a grin.

My parents picked me up, and we drove to the Almaden Country Club. When “Here Comes the Bride” started, we all stood and turned to watch Melanie walk down the aisle. Of course she looked beautiful. Dressed in a sleeveless white gown with beading down the front, the veil covering her face could not hide her smile. Her father, his arm hooked through hers, appeared happy, but nervous. She was halfway down the aisle when I saw him. Our eyes met for an instant, locked and then broke as I continued to follow the bride. I sat down and watched the ceremony. As I was going through the reception line, I ran into Bobby.

“Morgan,” he said and hugged me.

“Wow, look at you all dressed up and adult looking. Oh, it’s been too long,” I said.

The weathered beach house filled my head, the smells, the sounds, the time he’d driven me over the hill.

“I know. The last time I saw you was…” he thought about it for a minute.

“Capitola,” I said.

“Oh,” he said, pained. “That wasn’t the best day, was it?”

“No, not exactly. How’s your family?” I asked.

Now there’s a safer subject. Bobby gave me a quick run down on his family.

“You still have that Stanford T-shirt?”

“God, Morgan, I can’t believe you remember what I was wearing,” he chuckled. “And yes I do.”

Mathew caught my eye from across the room. He was talking and didn’t miss a beat. Butterflies filled my stomach. I looked back at Bobby, and he searched my eyes before he turned to look.

“Have you talked to him?” he asked, turning back to me, his back to Mathew.

“Today? No.”

“Recently?” he asked.

I shifted uneasily under his stare.

“No, it’s been a couple years actually. We haven’t been very good about keeping in touch.”

Bobby and I filled each other in with the details of our lives as I watched Mathew work his way slowly to us. He kept getting distracted by people. Anytime I looked in his direction, he caught my eye, his blue eyes locking with mine. There didn’t seem to be a girl attached to him at the hip. When he finally approached us, I could feel my heart beat faster. How ridiculous I thought.

“Bobby,” he said, slapping him on the back.

“Hey, man. How are you?”

They hugged each other.

“Good, good,” Mathew said.

He looked at me.

“Morgan,” he said, cocking his head, taking me in.

He reached out his hand for a handshake. I looked down at his hand. Stunned, I put my hand out. When I did, he took my hand and pulled me to him, bear hugging me. He swung me around, my feet leaving the floor. When he set me down, I could feel the color rise in my face. Giving me no time to recover, he moved in and kissed me on the lips.

“You look great,” he said excitedly.

“Not shabby yourself,” I said.

“Let’s get a table,” Bobby suggested, breaking the awkward moment.

We found one with open seats toward the back of the room. Mathew sat down next to me and pulled my chair closer to his, resting his arm across the back of it. He’d cut his hair. Gone was the rock-and-roll-star look replaced by a cleaner cut, more grown-up Mathew. I couldn’t stop looking at him. He still belonged on a damn magazine cover.

“So tell me what’s been going on?” he asked, leaning toward me.

Wine was poured, and I was relieved to have a distraction. I took a sip. We talked all through the toast and through dinner. People came and went, saying hello, catching up, and when they moved on, we would resume our conversation. I felt like I had stepped back in time, like these past few years hadn’t happened. Then after the bride and groom's first dance, the band invited everyone to the dance floor.

“Let’s dance,” he said, taking my hand.

With all the music we had been around together, we had never danced; now we danced song after song. I watched him watch me, smiling. When he touched my bare skin it almost felt like a burn. The music slowed and nervously I started to go back to the table. I didn’t know if I could stand his arms around me, feel him that close.

“Not so fast, kid,” he said.

My heart pounded. Kid? Who was that anymore? Not the same girl he had known. When he put his arms around me, I forced myself to think about Max and wondered what he was doing back home. As I slid my arms around his neck I closed my eyes breathing him in. An old-fashioned picture show played it my head of us, a slow steady stream of silent pictures. When I opened my eyes he stared into them, like he could see into my soul. Mathew held me, running his hand slowly down my back.

“I like your dress,” he said.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit before, handsome for sure.”

I had to break his gaze and put my chin on his shoulder.

“When did you cut your hair?”

“When I needed to get a real job. Although I push it now and then.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said, smiling.

The dance floor was full. The band played another set of fast songs and then another slow one. When he took me in his arms this time, he pulled me closer to him. We were face-to-face, chest-to-chest, and I could feel my breasts pressing into him. I couldn’t help but remember. My heart was hammering and I was afraid he could probably feel it, know that he could still affect me. I tried to pull away a bit and in doing so air floated up my dress and made my nipples hard. Good, god. As he led me around the floor, his hand once again explored my back, this time running down over my hip and cupping my ass. I looked into his eyes. He grinned his lazy, sexy grin and I felt the tingling between my legs.

“Mathew, I have a boyfriend.”

Chapter 42

I think I was really trying to remind myself more than Mathew.

“I know,” he said, not moving his hand.

I danced with Bobby. I danced with my dad, but I would always end up back with Mathew. He made sure of it. Especially the slow dances, where he could touch me, send me; turn me into a wet noodle.

“Come with me?” he asked when the band took another break.

The wedding was slowing down. People had started to leave.

“Where?” I asked, thinking he meant here, in this room.

“I don’t know. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Leave the wedding?”

“No one will miss us,” he encouraged.

I looked into his eyes. They told me nothing, and Max popped into my head. Why had Max’s eyes never made me feel like this?

“I guess it’s okay. I need to let my folks know, though. They're expecting to take me back to Gayle’s.”

We made our way towards the table where my parents were sitting. All the couples were talking and laughing the floral arrangement had been pushed in front of an empty chair, and wine glasses dotted the tablecloth. Mathew split off towards the exit as we got close, and I went to tell my mom. I put my hand on her shoulder and squatted down. She stopped talking and looked at me.

“Mom, I’m leaving with Mathew. He’ll drop me back at Gayle’s,” I said.

She looked toward the door where Mathew stood waiting. Her forehead wrinkled when she glanced back at me.

“Are you sure you want to leave already?”

“Yeah. It’s almost over anyway. We’re going to get a drink or something someplace else, where it’s easier to talk.”

Her eyes searched mine.

“Be careful,” she said as I stood and then bent to kiss her cheek. “Morgan, remember who you are.”

She whispered the last part. Her comment was meant to remind me not to be foolish, not to rush in, not to forget what I had become, not to be sorry. As Mathew and I walked to the parking lot, he reached for my hand. It felt warm and familiar and my heart skipped a beat.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, swinging our hands back and forth.

I smiled. This was the playful childlike side of him. I shivered as the air again came up my dress.

“You nervous?” he asked, opening the car door for me.

“I am,” I answered, getting in.

Who was this girl? I suddenly wasn’t sure why I'd said yes. Remember who you are mom said. Yes, remember.

“New car,” I stated.

“Not new, but new to me. Look—cassette deck, no eight-track.”

“Coming up in the world,” I joked.

“What do you want to hear?” he asked, leaning across me to the glove box. “I’ve got some John Denver, Barry Manilow.”

He continued to rummage through the tapes as he partially lay across my lap.

“You do not, you liar,” I teased back.

“Look here, Journey. They all right?”

“Yes,” I said, smiling.

He started the car and pushed in the cassette. Journey played as we drove. When he parked the car, I laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know. It’s like familiar is safe. Don’t take me to a bar. Take me to the park. It just seems funny.”

We were at the park by my old elementary school. I took off my heels and stepped out of the car, feeling the slightly damp grass on my bare feet. When I stepped in the sand, it stuck to my feet, bringing back memories of the beach. I ran to the swings like a kid trying to get the last one. He followed me, his hands in his pockets, and then he stopped at the edge of the grass, watching me. I pumped my bare legs back and forth and started to swing.

“Take off your shoes and join me.”

He crossed the sand and leaned against the metal post to take his shoes and socks off. He bent down to roll up his suit pants, and I watched his hands as I had so many times. I had a flashback to his room, not the one at Jack’s, not the house on the hill, but the first house, that first night in the rain. When I met him, the first time I’d watched him play. He came over, sitting in the swing next to mine.

“Mathew, it seems like yesterday that we were here. Just like this.”

He kicked at the sand with his toes.

“Does, doesn’t it? We’ve now graduated to formal wear,” he joked.

I laughed when he started to swing with me. The swings were so low, we both had to kick our legs to the sides in order to not hit the sand. After a few minutes, I let my swing slow down and so did he. When we were almost stopped, he grabbed both chains of my swing and pulled me to face him, like he did the last time we were here. The summer he was shitty, the summer I’d gotten the bad Mathew. His knees pushed my dress up. He leaned toward me. I sucked in my breath.

“I can’t, Mathew.”

“I know,” he said as he covered my lips with his.

I leaned away throwing my head back, looking up at the stars. He reached over with one hand gently gripping my neck, pulling me towards him. I didn’t pull away, I didn’t resist. He kissed me tenderly, working his tongue into my mouth. I melted, feeling my tongue seeking his. Making out with him like a teenager. Who are you, Morgan? raced through my head again. I didn’t want him to stop. When we did, he smiled at me, waiting.

“Shit, Mathew. What am I doing?”

I searched for an answer in his face, in his eyes. He wanted me to answer the question myself. I stood up, smoothing down my dress, feeling the sheer material, knowing my body was on fire underneath it.

“Shit,” I shouted into the dark.

“Let’s go,” he said, standing.

He grabbed his shoes. I pressed my thighs together and then followed him to the car.

“I really need a drink,” I said.

“Good idea.”

My sandy feet hit the moist grass and I shuffled them to get it off.

“Where we going?” I asked.

“The Hyatt.”

“The Hyatt downtown? No, we’re not,” I said stunned.

“Yes, we are.”

“Mathew—” I started.

I hurried to catch up with him and hooked my arm in his.

“I know. You can’t, and that’s okay with me. I want to go someplace nice to talk. Swinging in the dark with you yelling shit isn’t doing it for me.”

I had to laugh. When we got in the car, Mathew dug through the tapes again, pulling out a new one—Bad Company. I listened to the music, the words: “Bad company I can’t deny, bad company, till the day I die”. I shouldn’t be here. It was like I was watching an accident and couldn’t look away. I thought about his kiss on the swing. I had envisioned going to the bar, and instead he went to the front desk. While I stood in the lobby not knowing what to do with my hands, I had the familiar urge to run.

“Don’t look so guilty. You haven’t done anything,” he said, taking my arm, holding up the key.

“Mathew, this is wrong,” I said as we walked.

“Doesn’t feel wrong,” he said as he smiled at me and pushed the elevator button.

“Of course it doesn’t,” I said softly.

I stared at the elevator lights as we went up and then stopped at eight. Exiting he took my hand. The room was large and had a small sitting area, which made me happy. I walked over and settled myself in a chair. Mathew loosened his tie and took it off.

“Now about that drink, champagne okay? I think this is sort of a celebration,” he said.

“That’s fine.”

He picked up the phone and ordered a bottle from room service while he unbuttoned his shirt halfway down. I smiled so Mathew. He hung up, walked over, and sat down in the other chair. He kicked his shoes off. He hadn’t bothered to put the socks back on. His feet still had sand on them. His belt came off next.

“That’s better,” he said, sitting back. “Is there anything you want to take off?”

I smiled; he was teasing me. I had already removed my shoes while he was on the phone. The only thing left was my dress.

“Room service,” a deep male voice came with a sharp knock on the door.

Mathew went to the door and collected the champagne and glasses and signed the check. I watched him move and I felt myself shake almost like I was cold.

“Thanks. Keep another one on ice, would you? We’ll probably need it,” he said to the bellman.

He set the glasses down on the table between us and popped the cork, then filled the glasses, running the liquid down the side, and set the bottle down. He handed me a glass.

“Here’s to you. It’s been awhile,” he touched my glass and we both took a sip. “Can you forget about Tom or Harry or whoever tonight for me?”

I looked at him and frowned.

“You know it’s Max.”

“Max,” he repeated. “What’s Max like? I’m curious. What kind of guy finally got your heart?”

He settled back in his chair, looking casual and comfortable. “Finally got my heart” shot around in my head like a pinball. Did he not know he’d had my heart? Forever, Gayle’s words rushed at me.

“I don’t want to talk about Max. And yes, I’ll try to forget about him,” I said as I took another sip of champagne.

I looked over my glass at him.

“Try hard,” he said.

I felt a tinge of jealousy from him. I’d only felt that one other time, when he’d come to my bed at the O’Conner’s, about Ben.

“Mathew, I haven’t ever cheated on Max,” I blurted out. “We’re coming up on almost four years.”

I was blabbing on trying to explain myself. He got a look of amusement on his face. I could feel myself blush.

“You still haven’t. I’m not going to force you. Anything or nothing that happens is entirely up to you.”

He leaned forward and set his glass on the table. He reached over, taking my glass out of my hand, setting it next to his. The butterflies swarmed and filled my throat.

“You’ve already kissed me once tonight, so a second time is not going to make it any worse,” he said, pulling me slowly to a standing position, taking me gingerly in his arms, kissing me softly.

My mouth went dry and I found it hard to breath. I was shocked by how fast it came flooding back. The emotions overwhelmed me—I wasn’t supposed to feel this. I could feel his heart beating against my chest and I blinked hard. I wrapped my arms around him as I gazed into his eyes.

“You planned this, didn’t you?” I asked.

“No, I didn’t.”

His eyes were so intense I had to look away.

“Mathew, you know—” I said, pushing back from him abruptly.

He grabbed me, pulling me tight to him, interrupting me.

“Listen, Morgan, I don’t want the regrets. I don’t want the guilt. You’re here for a reason, and I hope it’s me. Whatever happens stays here.”

I sighed. I was fighting within myself, a struggle I was not winning. I wanted to run but I wanted to stay. My body went limp and he let me go. I hung my head and my hair fell in front of me. I took a deep breath and pushed it back, looking at him.

“You don’t know me anymore, Mathew. I’m not that over-infatuated girl anymore,” I said, moving back to my chair and the champagne.

“I know you better than you think,” he said, returning to the other chair.

“How so?”

He grinned at me and I felt naked, like he had already undressed me.

“First, I know you have absolutely nothing on under that dress, and it’s making me crazy. Second, you knew it would. Probably why you bought it. If you tell me differently, I’ll call bullshit. You knew exactly what you could do to me.”

I thought about what he said for a minute. The slow dancing, he knew, I knew he could feel it, my breasts firmly pushing against his chest, his hand cupping my ass finding no underwear lines.

“Okay, fair enough. I wanted you to notice. I thought there would be some blonde on your arm. I wanted you to at least be sorry you brought her,” I said.

He smiled, and I leaned over and rubbed his leg, could feel the muscle through his suit.

“You’re complex, Morgan, always have been. I’ve been around you too long, though. Some things you do, I get, others throw me. Me, I’m simple. I’m just a boy in a band. Give me the basics of life and my music, I’m good,” he said.

I was surprised at what he was saying. He got me, I threw him? He’d always thrown me. I waited for him to continue because I knew he was serious.

“You moving away took away any possibilities for us. Would it have happened if you hadn’t? I don’t think either of us can say, I think we were on the path for a while.”

He leaned forward, wrapping his hands around mine. I felt the electricity tear through me.

“What I’m sure of is, if I had ever given in back then and said let’s be a couple, let’s date, be my girlfriend, you wouldn’t be here right now. You would have dated me for a while and been on to other things. I’ve managed to keep you in my life for the last ten years because I didn’t give you what you thought you wanted. I don’t think the thought was totally conscious, but I think it’s the truth.”

I stared at him dumbfounded. I let what he said sink in. Was it the truth? This was deeper than he’d ever talked about us. I didn’t know the answer, as it had never happened. There had never been an us. I finished my champagne and held my glass out to him.

“I think you better order the second bottle,” I said.

He called room service. While he was on the phone, I walked up behind him and put my arms around him. When he hung up, he turned around and kissed me, tenderly, lovingly.

“I need to call Gayle, so she doesn’t worry.”

He smiled and moved away.

“Okay,” he said, heading to the bathroom.

I watched him knowing I would be putty in his hands. Knowing what he’d just said was probably true. Knowing that I wanted to be here, now, with him. That I’d be staying the night.

“Gayle, it’s me.”

“Hey, how was the wedding?” she asked.

“Fun. Melanie was beautiful.”

I paused and looked around the well-appointed room, golds and reds in the satin type fabrics. I stared at our glasses on the small table.

“Where are you?”

“I’m with Mathew, at the Hyatt,” I said.

She was silent for a minute.

“Where, at the bar?” she asked, hopeful.

I cringed inside.

“No, in a room. We’re having champagne.”

She chuckled. I could see her shaking her head.

“Don’t make me feel bad; I’ll do that to myself later. It’s really good. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“You’re staying the night?” she asked panicked. “What if Max calls?”

“He won’t, but if he does, lie for me,” I said.

I hung up, feeling guilty. Mathew came out of the bathroom with his shirt off and I instantly forgot about it. I looked at his body, his slacks were slung low, I knew what was under them. My chest tightened.

“Gayle okay with it?”

“So-so. We quit shocking her a long time ago,” I chuckled.

The other bottle arrived. When Mathew closed the door and turned around, I burst out laughing, giggling, sort of uncontrollably.

“What?” he asked, flexing his arms forward like a body builder.

“Stop it,” I snorted.

He gave me a confused look as he opened the bottle.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, pouring us more champagne.

“Us,” I said. “You and me.”

Between the wine at the wedding and the champagne, I was feeling very relaxed and giddy. Mathew certainly was not forcing me. I wondered if maybe he was honoring my earlier protests. We talked and laughed through the second bottle. He watched me as I stood up.

“So,” I said, setting down my glass, “you were right on your first point.”

I lifted my dress up and over my head and let in fall from my hand. His eyes widened and he let me stand there naked a minute while he looked at me. What I saw in his eyes made me shiver. He grinned, seeing it, knowing what he could do to me with his eyes, with his mouth, with his body.

“I want to hear you say it,” I whispered.

I could feel the longing between my legs and I spread them slightly. His grin faded and his eyes became blurred by passion. He moved to the edge of his chair and stood up. He came to me and ran his fingers down the side of my face, my neck, between my breasts. Then leaned into kiss me.

“No regrets,” he said, pulling me into his arms.

“No regrets.”

Chapter 43

I woke up with my head throbbing. I remembered watching his hands while he opened the second bottle of champagne, my body on fire already. I smiled. Mathew was spooned around my back, his arm over me, his hand cupping one of my breasts. As strong and levelheaded as I thought I was, I’d come to understand Mathew could turn that upside down and backwards. I took his hand and kissed it. He rolled over, and I got out of bed. I took my dress from the floor and went to the bathroom, brushed my hair, and wiped off the mascara from underneath my eyes before I put the wrinkled dress back on. What a sight. I wanted to pull my hair back in a ponytail. I went back into the room and found my purse. Mathew hadn’t moved. I got a hair tie and grabbed my wallet. I took the key and quietly slipped out of the room. I found a pay phone in a hall off the lobby and called Gayle.

“Good morning,” I said when she answered. “Max call?”

“Nope,” she said.

“Good. I’ll call later.”

“Wait—”

I hung up, pulled out more change and dialed Max’s number, checking my watch. Just before nine, Sunday, he should be home.

“Hello,” he answered.

“It’s me.”

“Hey, me,” he said happily. “How was the wedding?”

His tone caused a brief moment of guilt.

“Fun. I got to see a lot of old friends. You would have hated it.”

I realized if he had come, last night wouldn’t have happened, and the thought of that was worse than the guilt.

“I’m sure I would have.”

“I wanted to check in. I’m off to breakfast with Gayle and Bridgett. They’re keeping me busy. I’ll see you when I get home Monday,” I said.

“Sounds like a plan, love you,” he said.

I hung up the phone without a reply. The lie about who I was with came entirely too easy. “Love you”, did I love him? Could I be with Mathew if I totally loved Max? I went to the restaurant and got two cups of coffee to go. If my wrinkled formal attire was unusual at this time of day, she didn’t seem to notice. I unlocked the door to the room to find Mathew propped up on the pillows.

“Glad to see that Cinderella didn’t vanish. I looked to see if there was a glass slipper, but could only find a purse. I figured if you ran off, leaving me money, you were desperate,” he teased.

“Shut up, and just so you know, there is no Cinderella, no glass slipper, no white horse, nothing; it’s all made up. I went to get us coffee. My head hurts,” I said, handing him a cup.

I set my coffee on the nightstand, took the dress off, and jumped back in bed. He set his coffee down.

“I know the perfect cure for a headache,” he said, pulling me to him.

Walking out into the sunshine I laughed at our attire. We’d showered, but having no other clothes we’d had to put back on our wrinkled wedding clothes.

“Your pumpkin awaits,” Mathew teased.

“No prince either,” I said. “Life just isn’t a fairy tale, it’s messy. You’re messy.”

He smiled at me and took my hand. When we left the hotel, he drove me to Gayle’s where we found Gayle and Bridgett sitting in the kitchen. They were dressed in Dolphin shorts and T-shirts, looking like they were just back from a run.

“Long night?” Gayle asked, her forehead wrinkling.

“The clothes give it away?” I teased.

Bridgett laughed.

“Morning girls,” Mathew said with a grin.

“I’ll just be a minute,” I said squeezing his arm.

Mathew glanced at me and then sat down at the table with Bridgett as Gayle stood up and followed me into their spare bedroom.

“Do tell?”

Her tone was part scolding, part amusement.

“I spent the night with him,” I answered.

“I know that part. Talking, I presume?” she said sarcastically as she sat down on the bed.

The room was bright, painted white, with blue and white printed side panels on the window and a checkered patterned blue and white bedspread. The sunlight through the window spilled across her legs.

“It’s Mathew, Gayle.”

“I thought, maybe,” she emphasized maybe, “with you having a boyfriend and all, he wouldn’t be able to work his magic power.”

I was feeling deliriously happy and I didn’t need a lecture, not from her.

“I thought so too,” I said somewhat annoyed.

I dug through my suitcase and pulled out a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

“Morgan…”

“I know Gayle,” I said pulling my dress off and changing.

I stuffed my dress in the suitcase and closed it up. Gayle frowned at me and I gave her a cheesy smile.

“Leaving already? Lengthy stay. I assume you’ll be finishing your visit at Mathew’s,” she said.

“It doesn’t make sense. I’m cheating okay. I know. I want to be with him, wrong or right.”

“What about Max?”

“I’ve been told to try really hard not to think about that,” I said.

“I’m sure you have,” she said.

Mathew had asked me not to think of Max. Being with him it was entirely too easy, and again I questioned my feelings for Max. I pushed the thought quickly away.

“I’ll deal with that later.”

Gayle pulled at my T-shirt.

“Sit for a minute,” she said. “I need to understand what it is about him that makes you act crazy.”

“Me, act crazy?” I smiled at her.

“I’m serious. What does he have that can pull you back so easily? What is it about him, Morgan, besides the obvious?”

I sat down next to her on the bed. I thought about it before I spoke.

“Gayle, over the years I have asked myself that so many times, you can’t even imagine. Besides the obvious? I assume his looks are the obvious, his body obvious, our chemistry totally obvious. So besides the obvious, he makes me laugh, Gayle. Even when I am determined to be pissed off at him, he can make me laugh. He makes me laugh at myself, at him, at us. He has a way of taking life in stride that doesn’t make sense, so somehow it makes sense, like last night.”

“The wedding probably made you feel all romantic and shit,” she said. “Add booze, oh, I’m sure he plied you with that, drugs too maybe.”

I sighed. How could I make her understand? When I didn’t understand it? I adjusted myself and turned towards her.

“There’s a history Gayle…”

“Really? A fucking long history of stupidity,” she snapped.

“When you first had feelings for Bridgett, did you think they were stupid, wrong?” I asked defensively. “When the butterflies filled your stomach, or your heart, or whatever feeling it was, did it feel stupid?”

“We aren’t talking apples and oranges,” she protested.

I inhaled deeply. She was wringing her hands in a way she did sometimes when she was frustrated. I was frustrated.

“Just listen to me, no snide comments. Since the time we were kids I’ve loved him and hated him.”

She started to say something and I put my hand up.

“He’s not perfect, terribly flawed in fact, but there is something that draws me to him, and him to me. I see through the rock star part, he knows I can see through it, in fact I’m not even interested in that side of him. I’m not some groupie he can have meaningless sex with and toss aside.”

She rolled her head in irritation. I knew she thought that’s exactly what he did.

“I can see the little boy, see us jumping rocks in a creek, see us under the stars in a hot tub in Tahoe, remember the time he took my hand in his at the beach, the time he asked me to ride the merry-go-round on the Boardwalk, remember the first time he kissed me. And,” I said drawing it out, “yes, I also remember my anger at him, the times he hurt me.”

I stared into her eyes. Eyes that had witnessed the majority of it and still couldn’t comprehend it. I smiled and tears filled my eyes.

“He can be so tender and kind that it rips at my heart. Yes, there is that part you don’t see. We can talk, and I guess, love and fight, and then in the end, we still care deeply about each other. He said something last night the blew me away and yet made perfect sense.”

I remembered his tender words from last night about us.

“Growing up together, we learned so many things about each other. Things sometimes I don’t even think we grasped at the time. Our time together has always been in small increments unfortunately, so we had to learn to not have expectations, unrealistic expectations.”

I looked over at her. She stared at me, saying nothing.

“You know I’ve always been obsessed with him. You were the one who told me I’ve loved him forever.”

I was just getting the look.

“Oh yeah, and he’s a leader in a rock band, so he plays a mean guitar,” I teased.

She finally laughed.

“There have been so many times I thought you would get over him, but you don’t, it just worries me,” she said.

“Don’t worry, I still get on a plane at the end of the day and fly home. He can be very good in small increments,” I said smiling. “And the sex is awesome. I’d forgotten how hot it can be.”

I pictured Max’s face.

“You’re screwed up, Morgan.”

I picked up my suitcase and walked back to the kitchen with her following me.

“Ready,” I said, feeling excited.

Mathew gave me a look like where have you been and took my suitcase.

“Nice seeing you, girls,” he said, headed out the door toward the car.

“Thanks for the wonderful time we did spend together,” I said, hugging Gayle.

I turned from her and hugged Bridgett.

“Don’t let her spend too much time trying to figure it out,” I whispered loud enough for Gayle to hear. “There’s no real answer.”

“Deep down she knows that,” Bridgett said smiling. “Love has no rhyme or reason.”

She put her arm around Gayle and squeezed her.

“Love you both,” I said and was out the door.

“Okay, I’m all yours,” I said, getting in the car, leaning over to kiss him.

“She still hates me,” he said.

“She’s never hated you. There’s a lot of history between us, she knows about. Not all good. She sees me doing something I shouldn’t be. She thought Max would stop me this time. She’s worried about her crazy friend.”

“Is that what took you so damn long?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “I had to try and explain myself.”

“Not so easy, I’m guessing,” he said.

“Ya, think?”

We drove a ways in silence with the radio playing. I felt content and happy.

“She knows what my feelings are where you’re concerned; she just can’t understand them. She thinks you have some kind of magical power over me. That probably worries her the most,” I said.

He shot me a long glance like I was out of my mind.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” I scolded.

“So she believes I’m magic?” he teased.

“Only when it comes to me.”

He’d rolled the sleeves up on his white dress shirt, and it was unbuttoned and open at the neck. I could see a little bit on his chest, his tanned arms, and his hands on the wheel. Hands that could make me melt. He looked incredibly sexy and I couldn’t wait to be with him again, and again, and again.

“What feelings are those?” he asked.

“The complex messy ones, the ones we never talk about.”

He laughed and it was like music to my ears.

Mathew and I spent the next day and night together.

“Once again she’s leaving my bed,” he mused. “I never did finish that song. Maybe it’s time.”

We were lying in his bed, my head resting on his chest.

“Don’t go beating yourself up over this, Morgan. And don’t get the guilt’s and tell Max. It would finish you two.”

Maybe be the best thing. He ran his fingers through my hair, from my scalp to the end and back again. I closed my eyes, feeling the tug, hugging up against him.

“Don’t talk. Right now, what I want is right here. I can’t think about getting home, can’t think about my feelings for Max.” I said, swallowing hard. “About my feelings for you.”

I kissed his chest.

“I wish things weren’t always so convoluted when it comes to you,” I said.

He squeezed me.

“Simple, remember? Just a boy in a band,” he said, rolling on top of me.

“That boy has never been simple,” I said as I ran my hands down his back.

Mathew dropped me at the airport. Once again I was getting on a plane with my heart aching. I called Max’s house when I got home. He didn’t answer, and I left a message on his machine. He called back about six.

“Long day?” he asked.

“Long day,” I answered feeling exhausted emotionally and physically.

“How was the rest of the trip?”

“Good.”

“Gayle?" Max asked.

“She’s good. I had a nice time with Bridgett and her.”

“Was Mathew at the wedding?”

He knew we had been long-time friends. He also didn’t hide it very well that it bothered him that I had a male friend. He thought it was weird.

“Yeah, he was there,” I said.

I pictured him when our eyes first locked at the wedding, and saw him walk out of the bathroom at the hotel without his shirt on. I closed my eyes, pictured him driving, his white dress shirt rolled up. Oh, Mathew.

“You two spend all night talking and ignoring everyone else?” he asked, digging.

My eyes flew open.

“We didn’t get much time to talk. He had a date,” I lied, wanting to divert any more specific questions.

“You sound tired.”

“I am. I think I’ll stay home tonight and see you tomorrow after work.”

“I’m pretty tired myself,” he said displeased.

I could tell he was miffed at me. He wanted me to come to him, but wasn’t offering to come to me. I wondered what I possessed that I seemed to attract the selfish men. I went to bed early and dreamed that I was sitting next to Mathew in a church. It was someone’s wedding. I kept trying to remember whose wedding it was. The groom was waiting with the minister at the front of the church, his face not clear to me. We kept looking up the aisle, but there was no bride. “Here Comes the Bride” started playing again, and I looked at Mathew.

“Something‘s wrong,” I said.

I looked back at the groom. He was looking directly at me, his face suddenly clear. I woke late and lay there thinking about the dream. The wedding part I could understand as I had just been to Melanie’s, but the groom confused me. Why had he been looking at me, or was he looking at me with Mathew? I closed my eyes and thought about us in bed together yesterday. I could see his face smiling at me. I thought I’d worked Mathew out of my heart. It had taken one night for him to get back in, to totally confuse my feelings about love.

I reflected back over the years. I could hear him play. “Play for me” I would say. Kim jumped into my head. I could see him sitting at the end of the pool, Kim reclined against him, the afternoon he kissed me hard in the bathroom, the night I gave my virginity to Kevin. I tried to remember all the times we had been together since then. Was it possible he still had such a hold on my heart, or was it just the memories that came flooding back when I saw him?

What I felt for Mathew was different from what I felt for Max. What did I feel for Max? Did I truly love him? If I did, why would Mathew be able to reel me in like he did? How was I going to feel tonight when I saw Max? I wanted to run back to Mathew. For the first time, I wanted to run to him, instead of away. I’d always sort of run away. If not physically, when he was an asshole, emotionally, tried to stuff it down; afraid of my feelings, afraid of what he made me feel for him, afraid of what I assumed he didn’t feel. I called Gayle.

“Are you surprised?” she asked when I told her how I felt.

“I didn’t think I would be so confused.”

“Confused about Mathew or Max?”

She was being a friend, listening not scolding.

“About my feelings for Max. Mathew told me not to beat myself up about it, but I am. Don’t get me wrong, not about being with Mathew. I’m beating myself up on what I don’t feel. I should feel guilty as hell, but I don’t,” I said.

“Go see Max tonight. Put Mathew out of your head. He’s not an option, Morgan. Mathew is like a drug to you. Knowing full well it’s not the best thing for you, you keep going back. I’m not judging, just been observing for years,” she said as she drew out the word years.

Chapter 44

I didn’t hear from Mathew for days. I took Gayle’s advice for once and went back to Max. She was right; Mathew was not an option. He was not so easy to remove from my heart, however. He finally called a few weeks after the wedding, and we’d talked several times since then. We talked about the nights we had spent together recently and our past. We reminisced fondly; I could hear the miss in his voice. Anything else we kept light, simple. Living so far apart, and our lives wrapped up in where we lived, it was better for both of us that way.

When fall came, both Mathew and I started back to school, and he started part-time as a paralegal. Kingdom Come was still playing gigs, but I think he had come to realize they might never make it big. His frustration was evident, and the partying seemed to be spinning out of control. He always played it down with me, but I could imagine. Having been in the back room of the Apollo only once, I knew that scene happened every time they played.

Over the next year-and-a-half, I would be with Mathew two more times: once in Los Angeles when Kingdom Come played there, the other in San Jose when I went to visit Gayle. Both times he would recapture my heart. “Like a drug” Gayle said. She was right. I had picked my drug of choice long ago. I’d been unfaithful to Max three times, all with the same person. It made me have doubts about my ability to love or be committed to anyone, even Mathew. When we were together, it was intense. When we were apart, we went back to being best friends.

Max and I had been growing apart slowly. I was focused on school and work; Max focused on work. Our relationship was going nowhere. My trysts with Mathew screamed at me that something was missing, otherwise how could I do it. I realized that I didn’t want to analyze it, so I kept pushing my feelings down. I remembered the summer Mathew told me to lose Ben; he had made me look hard at my feelings. Mathew had made me realize, all those years ago, that I didn’t love Ben; I’d loved the thought of being in love.

Ironically, Max and I finally broke up over his indiscretion with another girl. He never did know about my rendezvous with Mathew. I thought about throwing it in his face when I caught him, but I didn’t. It wouldn’t have changed anything. The reality of my twisted thinking was that I with Mathew first, so I really hadn’t done anything wrong. I’d spent five years trying to make Max and me work. Like Ben, I realized that what we’d had wasn’t love, at least not love like I thought it should be. I was single for the first time, and it felt odd.

I was living at home again, full-time. I started San Diego State that fall after taking several years off school. I’d worked, and then moved to Park City, Utah with Pat to ski and work for a winter. The University was so much bigger than the junior college I attended out of high school. It was hard to get classes. Harder it seemed in every aspect. I thought I’d been grown-up at thirteen; now at twenty-four, I felt as if I knew nothing. It seemed I’d spent a lot of years going in the wrong directions. Now I was going through the motions of what I thought I should do, and I’d hit another roadblock. And emotionally, regarding men, I felt dead inside.

“Morgan, it's Sara,” my mom called out to me.

Sara, Sara who? I was thinking school, not San Jose.

“Hello,” I said, taking the phone from my mom.

“Morgan, it's Sara.”

I instantly recognized her voice. My mind raced back in time, and I pictured her smiling at me, the time I’d stood alone in the middle of his room.

“How are you?” I asked, surprised.

“I’m okay. And you?”

I hadn’t seen or spoken to Sara in years and suddenly the hairs went up on my arm.

“Good, busy,” I answered. “I started back to school. Trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. My last relationship blew up, and I figured I needed a new direction. What’s going on?”

There was a pause and all I could think was please let him be okay.

“It’s Mathew. He needs you, Morgan,” Sara said softly.

I listened as she told me the story. He’d been in a car accident, hitting a woman head-on and injuring her very badly. High on alcohol and cocaine, he’d entered the freeway on an off-ramp. He had pulled into traffic in the wrong direction. He was okay minus some cuts and bruises. The woman he hit was rushed to the hospital and treated for numerous broken bones and lacerations. He was sent to jail.

The judge had since ordered him to a halfway house rehab facility for six months and to pay restitution to the woman he hit. He had already been there three months. He was allowed to go to his classes and his job via the bus. Other than that, he was to be at the facility. I sighed with relief. It was bad, but could have been worse.

“I’m so sorry, Sara. It’s been a long time since Mathew and I have talked. Melanie’s wedding was the last time we spent a lot of time together.”

There was no need to mention the two times after that, she hadn’t been around.

“He called a couple times after that, but he’s not real good about keeping in touch,” I said.

I closed my eyes and pictured him propped up against the pillows at the Hyatt. The sheet rumpled just below his waist, his hair untidy from sleep. We’d talked of Cinderella, and the glass slipper. No there were no fairy tails, just life.

“He feels so bad about hurting someone. He can be very sensitive, as you know. She almost died.”

“Good, god. What can I do to help?” I asked, feeling helpless.

I thought about his sensitive side, the one rarely revealed. The side of him that could find me a frog in the pond in Santa Cruz, the one who could say he’d missed me, when all I wanted was to smell the jasmine, the Mathew who played his guitar for a single audience, the one who’d confessed that he was glad I was still in his life after Melanie’s wedding.

“Come see him,” she pleaded. “He won’t call you because he’s ashamed, that’s why I’m calling. He’s talked about you and could use some support. I know you two have been close over the years. He considers you one of his best friends.”

“He said that to you?”

I wondered what else he’d told Sara about me.

“Yes. I know he values your friendship, more than values his past relationship with you,” she said, her words alluding to the fact she knew more.

“Morgan, can you come for a visit?”

I was silent a minute, thinking, wondering if I dared open that door again. Knowing that if I opened it, I’d be exposing myself to his fragile state, exposing myself to what I might still feel.

“It would be so good for him emotionally,” Sara said.

I didn’t think of Mathew as being very emotional, although I’d seen rare glimpses. I flashed back to the wedding, him so handsome in his suit. “Come with me” he had asked. Sara waited.

“I’m sure I can work something out.”

“That would be so great,” she said.

“I’ll look into it and get back to you tomorrow,” I said.

After we hung up, I reflected back on our last few times together, the weekend of Melanie’s wedding, the hotel in L.A., Jack’s in San Jose. He knew when he asked me that I would come, that I was weak when it came to him. He knew if he was patient, he could pull me back. It had appeared to me those times that he had cleaned up, but I was with him so briefly, and all three times alone with him. No outside world. He could live hard and hide it well when he wanted to. The rock-and-roll, drug-and-alcohol thing sort of went hand-in-hand, and Mathew liked it all. I’d experienced the partying he could do. I booked a flight and called Gayle.

“I can pick you up,” she offered.

“No, I rented a car. I want to be able to get back and forth easily. I have no idea what this is going to be like. How long I can see him and stuff. I hope he’s okay about me coming.”

“You nervous?” she asked.

“I am, Gayle. We’ve drifted apart. We haven’t talked in a long time. He doesn’t know about me spending a winter in Park City, that I’m back in school; that Max and I broke up, nothing. I’ve been out-of-sight, out-of-mind.”

I tried to envision what he would do when he saw me and couldn’t.

“It will be fine, I’m sure. You two always seem to be able to pick it up, or get it on,” she teased.

Maybe Sara had overstepped her boundaries. She had asked me to come, not him. Maybe she had been the one to suggest to him that I visit, not the other way around. Sara had put my name on a list of approved visitors. She said she had told him I was coming. Sara didn’t mention how he felt about it, which made me edgy. I was going to see him, assuming he would be happy about it. I went to the Hertz desk in San Jose to pick up the car.

“Need directions?” the gal asked.

“Yes, to here,” I said, showing her the address.

As I drove, I realized I was looking forward to seeing him, despite the circumstances. I was anxious about his reaction to me. I parked the car and checked my face in the rear view mirror. Flying always made me feel grimy. I took a deep breath, trying to settle the butterflies in my stomach as I walked through the front door.

“I’m here to visit Mathew O’Conner,” I stated to the woman at the front desk.

She peered over her reading glasses at me. She was older, maybe fifty, her blonde graying hair shoulder length. Laugh lines etched out at the corners of her green eyes.

“Your name?”

“Morgan, Morgan Mallory,” I answered.

“A good Irish girl, eh?” she smiled while she checked her list.

“You could say that,” I answered, looking around.

The lobby was drab, metal chairs with plastic seats lined one wall. The carpet industrial and grey, reminding me of Mathew and me at the airport gate that one time.

“I’ll call him to the cafeteria. That’s where visits take place,” she added as she picked up the phone.

“Can you please send Mathew O’Conner? He has a visitor.”

She hung up the phone and removed her reading glasses. Her smile was kind. She must laugh at home I figured because there wasn’t much to laugh about here.

“Follow me,” she said as she started down a hall.

The walls were stark white with worn linoleum floors.

“Here we are,” she said, pushing on the swinging door.

It smelled like a school cafeteria. The room was filled with Formica-topped tables with drop-down bench seats. I noticed a couple sitting at one of the tables, talking quietly, holding hands. Mathew came through double doors from the other side. His hair was short. He had on jeans and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He smiled as he came towards me.

“Have a nice visit,” the lady said as she turned to leave.

“Thanks,” I said, not able to take my eyes off him.

“Hey, kid,” he said as he reached me.

He hugged me tightly to him and some of my nervousness disappeared.

“Come on, come on,” he said, taking my hand, leading me to a table.

“Sit down,” he said excitedly, straddling the bench.

He sat on the same side of the table so he could be close, so he could continue to hold my hand. I looked into his blue eyes and could see some of the despair Sara had alluded to and yet they were sparkling at me too.

“Tell me what happened,” I said.

He started from the beginning and told me everything he knew. He didn’t remember getting on the freeway at all. He said he hardly remembered leaving the party. It wasn’t until he hit the other car that he came out of his blackout. Things got chaotic and confusing. He remembered going to jail. The police basically told him about the accident. His eyes welled up with tears when he talked about the woman he hit. I had never seen Mathew cry, and my heart broke for him.

“I fucked up big time,” he said softly, squeezing my hand. “Now tell me about you, from when I last saw you.”

He listened as I brought him current on what had gone on in my life. He continued to hold my hand and tenderly traced his fingers with his other hand down my arm. He didn’t look away from my eyes, even when other visitors came in the room. It was as if I might disappear if he did. This Mathew was foreign to me, a side I hadn’t ever seen, he’d never seemed to need me and yet right here, I could tell he did.

“What are the rules? Do we only have so long to visit?” I asked.

“No, there isn’t really a time limit. I can have visitors up to five thirty p.m. They can be here all day if they want. Most only stay an hour or two. I still have work and school during the week, so I do get to see people.”

I looked at my watch: it was four ten. We had a little over an hour.

“What?” I asked as he gave me a questioning look.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked almost shyly.

“Can you do that here?”

I glanced around the almost too quiet room. There were only two other groups in the room, and they were absorbed in their own conversations. No one was paying attention to us.

“Yes, couples do it all the time. Would it be okay with you?”

I chuckled slightly as his expression was so serious.

“Well, Mathew, it’s not like you to ask,” I said. “I’m used to you just taking it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry I’m an asshole. I wasn’t very nice sometimes, was I?”

“No you weren’t; other times, you were very nice.”

I gave him a smile recalling how we could be together, the tender times, the passionate ones. He smiled, knowing what I meant. He leaned in and kissed me softly.

“I’ve missed you, more than once,” he said.

He kissed me again. I felt uncomfortable in such a public place, but he kissed me again and again. His kisses became more and more passionate. My tongue sought his and as our make out session continued I forgot about there being anyone else in the room. I could sense Mathew’s need for me, as if he were drowning and I had come to save him. He ran his hands down the top of my thighs. I could feel the strength in his hands.

I stayed with him making out and talking until five thirty. I could tell he was fighting to contain his emotions whenever he looked at me, his eyes almost pleading.

“I’ll come back tomorrow after lunch and then again on Monday before you go to work. I fly home Monday night,” I explained.

“How was he?” Gayle asked when I walked in her door.

She was alone in her kitchen reading the newspaper in blue sweatpants and a white T-shirt. After two years together, she and Bridgett had split up. There had been a number of other girlfriends since then, but nobody currently.

“Gayle, he looks good, but I can tell he’s struggling.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me get a glass of wine first. It’s been an emotional day,” I said, opening her refrigerator.

I pulled out the bottle of chardonnay I’d asked her to pick up for me and set it on her green tile counter.

“Wine glass?” I asked, looking at her white cabinets.

“That one,” she said, pointing.

I reached for the cabinet to the right of the sink that she’d pointed to. There were numerous glasses inside, only two wine glasses though, on the top shelf. I stood on my tiptoes to reach one.

“Opener?”

“There,” she pointed to a drawer.

I opened the wine and poured a glass.

“Can I interest you?” I asked.

“No thanks,” she said.

Gayle hadn’t ever been a big drinker. Even less now. She didn’t like the taste. I took the bottle and my glass back to the living room and sat down on her dark gold couch. I placed the bottle on her glass coffee table.

“What a day,” I sighed, taking off my shoes.

I curled my feet up underneath me settling in with my glass of wine. She walked over and turned the lamp on which sat on a side table. It was still light out, but it was fading.

“So tell me,” she said, sitting down beside me.

I told her his side of the story, and how badly he felt about the woman. How badly he had disappointed his parents. How humiliating it was to have his co-workers know everything. His being locked up. He admitted the partying had gotten out of control.

“Did he ask about you?”

“What do you think, Gayle?”

“Okay, just checking,” she said. “He can be very self-centered.”

“I got there around two fifteen, and we talked a long time. He held my hand as if I would vanish if he let go. I could tell he was happy to have me there.”

I took a sip of wine. The Kendall Jackson Chardonnay tasted smooth and buttery on my tongue; just oaky enough though. I usually didn’t buy it unless I was splurging a little.

“You’re a great friend to him, you know? It amazes me that, with all you two have been through, you still are his friend at all.”

I thought about her warnings over the years, all her frustration with my actions. That desperate young girl seemed a distant memory. If I tried really hard I could still recall some of those tortured emotions for Mathew.

“Gayle, you’ve never understood it. You never wanted to,” I said.

“Like you did,” she laughed. “Clear as mud you guys are.”

I leaned forward and picked up the bottle and refilled my glass. Will she go ballistic if I tell her?

“He kissed me.” I said shyly.

“He kissed you?”

I nodded my head yes, smiling.

“Like a hello kiss?”

I could still feel the ache he had caused between my legs.

“No, like a making-out kiss, for almost-an-hour type of kiss.”

Her eyes got large and she stared at me.

“What?” she asked, her voice rising in an attempt at disgust. “Tongue? Whole deal?”

I couldn’t help my smile and knew that I was beaming.

“Whole deal, so nice,” I said.

Gayle slapped her hands on her thighs.

“Oh, my god, Morgan, the power that guy has over you is like nothing I’ve ever seen,” she said, half serious, half joking.

She got up and went to the kitchen and came back with the other wine glass and poured herself a glass. I laughed.

“The minute he kissed me, it erased our time apart. I wanted it as much as he did,” I said more seriously.

“You would think you would have outgrown him by now. Frickin' twelve years of crazy behavior,” she ribbed, shaking her head.

We had dinner, Gayle finished her glass of wine and I finished the rest of the bottle.

“I’m really tired,” I said. “I hope I’m not being rude if I hit the hay early.”

I felt wrecked. The emotional exchange had drained me. Alone in her guest room I stared at the shadows on the ceiling from the street light outside and retraced in my mind much of our past. When I finally did fall asleep it was deep and I slept till nine the next morning.

Chapter 45

“Morning,” I said walking into the kitchen; surprised I hadn’t heard her up.

Gayle was sitting at the small kitchen table wearing running shorts and a T-shirt, with coffee and a magazine in front of her. I pictured the day Mathew had sat down there with Bridgett, while I’d gone to get my suitcase. I remembered trying to explain to Gayle my feelings for Mathew.

“Can I get some of that?” I asked pointing at her cup.

“Let me make a new pot. This has been cooking since seven.”

She got up and went about making a new pot of coffee.

“Why so early on a Sunday?”

“Can’t help it I just wake up,” she said. “I’ve already got a run in too.”

“Nice, I should have gone with you for that.”

She turned the coffee maker on and came back to the table.

“What time you off to see Mathew?”

“I told him noonish. I have some time.”

“Morgan, I thought about you after you went to bed. I couldn’t stop thinking about you and Mathew, all the years, all the shit. Do you think you still love him?” she asked seriously.

“Hit me between the eyes with hard questions before I even have coffee,” I crabbed, getting up to grab a cup mid-brew.

“Cream or sugar?” she asked.

“Black is good after a bottle of wine last night,” I said.

I watched the coffee stream into my cup from the maker and then sat back down.

“You know, Gayle, Mathew and I have never talked about love, even the word love. I can’t define it. Not love where he’s concerned. I was obsessed with him. I’ve loved him. I’ve hated him, and then there have been a million levels in between those. There is a long history. So it’s hard to answer black or white.”

I drank some coffee and thought about Mathew. I’d had a lot of feelings yesterday; some of those feelings I thought should have been gone after this much time.

“I guess I still love him, and even as I say that I’m not sure what it means. Whatever love we have is mixed-up and messy,” I said.

“The not-making-sense part, so it does make sense,” she chuckled.

The pot had stopped dripping and I went for another cup of coffee. I held up the pot to Gayle who shook her head.

“I have to go with the moment. He’s always been unpredictable and I let him be, maybe it was selfish on his part, maybe I was weak, but its what it was. He told me after Melanie’s wedding that night that if he’d ever said let’s be a couple I wouldn’t still be around. In a way I think it’s dead-on. If I had stayed in San Jose and we’d been together I would have gotten sick of his shit,” I said.

“Not sure I buy that one,” she said sarcastically.

“I don’t know, the distance did funny things, but mostly it made me forget the bad parts, maybe made him more in my head than he ever was. I truly care about him, and, yes, he pulls at my heart,” I said.

She gave me the Mathew look, like whatever I said regarding him had a hint of crazy to it.

“Don’t get wrapped up in sorting out his mess. And watch your heart, don’t let him break it,” she cautioned.

“I’m not sure that’s possible. It’s like he’s broken it so many times and put it back together, it’s immune. In his defense, as much as he has toyed with my emotions over the years, he never promised a thing. I kept coming back because I wanted to.”

“Go shower,” she said rolling her eyes. “Get pretty for him. I’m sure under the circumstances he’ll appreciate it.”

The hot water felt good on my skin, Gayle’s soap smelled of lavender. I washed my hair and then blew it dry, straighter. I put on my makeup, all the while thinking of him. I put on a tight pair of jeans and a light blue button down blouse, one that accented my eyes. After I dressed, I went to find Gayle.

“You look nice,” she said.

“Oh my god, Gayle, I realized in the shower that I’m on the other side this time. This time I’m supporting the hurter; I’m supporting the drunk driver. The one I wanted to kill when it was you.”

She stared at me her eyes reassuring.

“I know. The irony of life. I wondered if you would catch it.”

“Do you hate him?”

“No, girl, I don’t. It has made me realize there are always two sides. In the end, everyone is hurt,” she said sadly.

I left Gayle’s apartment with more than enough time to get downtown. I listened to the radio, listened to the music, the words, the stories. The song’s ability to transport me back was amazing. Making me remember events, smells, and sounds. I parked the rental car under the shade of a tree, checked my makeup quickly and then walked into the facility. The same woman was at the desk.

“The good Irish girl here to see who again?” she asked smiling.

I gave her Mathew's and my name again.

“Go ahead. You know how to get there,” she said, peering over her glasses.

“Thanks.”

I followed the hall to the cafeteria. Mathew was already at the table. He was slouched leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He looked up anxiously when I entered, smiling when he saw it was me. This time there were several couples and families, making the room a little louder.

“How are you?” I asked, moving towards him.

He stood up with his arms open.

“Better now,” he said before he kissed me.

It was the kiss, not a make out session, but the kiss that made my knees weak and my heart race. When he pulled away and looked into my eyes, I felt like I could liquefy into a pool like butter, right there on the floor. I moved to the tables bench seat and sat down. He sat down next to me and put his hand on my leg.

“How is Gayle?” he asked.

I wondered if he too had thought about the shoe being on the other foot.

“She’s fine. She fixed me dinner, I fixed me wine, we talked, or really I talked, she listened. Yesterday made me tired. Then this morning when I showered, I thought about her accident. Mathew, I felt so guilty. She was the victim all those years ago. She was exactly like the lady you hit,” I said.

“I wondered if that would bother you, wondered if it would make you feel differently towards me.”

He waited for my response, searching my eyes. His hand moved down my leg towards my knee slowly.

“Gayle, amazingly, pointed something out to me. She said there are two sides to every story. It doesn’t make it right, what happened, but there are still two people trying to make sense of it in this world.”

He looked me over, drinking me in, my eyes, my face, my hair, my outfit. He reached down to touch my foot, which was buckled into a thin leather sandal, as he leaned over to my neck and breathed me in.

“I’m not sure if I’ve been here too long, or if you get better looking every time I see you,” he said straightening up and taking my hands.

“Either way, I’ll take it as a compliment,” I said smiling.

“So you and Gayle have the ability to forgive bad judgment?” he asked.

I was surprised his look, and the nearness of him could still cause the butterflies to swarm.

“I can’t speak for Gayle, but as far as I’m concerned, I have no room to judge. Bad shit happens unfortunately, it’s where it takes you after that matters.”

I stayed until five. We talked about family and what everyone was doing. He brought me current on the old group, the band. He told me what Bobby had been up to; he’d come to visit a couple of times. Bobby had gone into counseling feeling the need to help people. I remembered the time we sat on the beach watching the waves; he’d been a good listener then. Mathew never was not touching or kissing me; again I found it strangely easy to focus on it only being the two of us, even as people moved around us.

“Plans have changed for tomorrow. I want you to meet me around the corner from the bus stop, down the street,” he said quietly.

I looked at him like he was high.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s a place we can go on the way to my office where we can spend an hour alone. I have a guy at work that will cover for me. No one will know I didn’t get there on time.”

I pulled my hand from his and leaned towards him.

“Mathew, you’re already in enough trouble. It’s not worth it,” I said, worried.

His eyes pleaded with me.

“It is to me. We won’t get caught. I’ve worked it out. Now, shhh, please do what I say. Meet me, tomorrow at the bus stop at nine thirty,” he said.

“You scare me.”

He gave me his lazy sexy grin.

“Just wait.”

The way he said, “just wait”, made me press my legs together tightly. I could feel the wetness in my panties.

Gayle and I met Sara at the Chart House in Los Gatos that night for dinner. It was a charming old Victorian house that had been converted into a restaurant. We sat at a table close to the front window where we could look out the lacy curtains onto the street.

“Morgan thanks for coming. I talked to him last night,” Sara said excitedly. “He sounded up and hopeful. I have been so worried about him.”

“He definitely needed a lift, I’m glad you called, Sara. I couldn’t not come, especially when you said he needed me. I didn’t know what to expect, but it’s gone well I think,” I said.

Gayle shot me a look. She’d listened to me babble about Mathew and how much I was enjoying be back in his company. I was a little too enthusiastic for her.

I found the bus stop the next day and waited around the corner as he had instructed. I saw the bus come and go. He opened the car door and got in. He was dressed up, lawyer like, a white shirt and tie, pinstriped pants and black dress shoes.

“See, easy,” he said and slouched down in the seat. “Straight down this street on the left.”

He explained that it was a place that rented private rooms with hot tubs.

“You’re taking me to a place that rents a room with a hot tub?” I asked.

“It’s the best I could come up with,” Mathew grinned.

“Is there a bed?” I asked.

“Not really, more like a padded bench,” he said.

I laughed. He obviously had been there before, if not just to scout it out. I’d never heard of such a place and was quite anxious about what it would be like, I imagined seedy.

“A bench? Sounds romantic. Never a dull moment with you.”

There was a small front desk, really like a table, with a hall that ran long ways to the left of it. A thin man with glasses and very thin hair sat on a high stool, reading a book. He looked up at us, disinterested.

“We need a hot tub,” Mathew said.

The man set down his book and opened a black box that contained keys. I had to work to suppress my laughter. I wondered what he thought about the good-looking guy in business attire with the girl dressed in casual summer fare. Maybe it was a common site in these parts; a quick affair, in the afternoon.

“How long you want it?” the clerk asked.

“An hour?” Mathew answered.

“Two-hour minimum,” he said, flopping two towels and a key on the counter.

“That’s fine.”

Mathew glanced at me and smiled then pulled out his wallet and paid.

“Down the hall on the left,” the clerk said, going back to his book.

When we got to door number seven, Mathew used the key to open it. The lights inside were dim. The room consisted of an open shower, a round wooden hot tub, and a vinyl-covered bench slightly wider than a twin bed. It was sparse and a bit clinical.

“Who comes here?” I asked.

“I think it’s mostly gay men.”

“How do you know about a place like this?”

“Well certainly not because I’m gay,” he said, taking me in his arms. “I pass it daily on the bus. I asked.”

“Sure, it’s probably a local hang-out for you,” I teased.

He leaned in and kissed me.

“Nope, never been here before. Just saw the signs, hot tub rental by the hour. As much as I’d love to take you to dinner and maybe the Hyatt, under the circumstances I figured this might just do.”

He slipped of his shoes and socks, and started taking off his tie, then his dress shirt and pants, hanging them carefully on the hooks on the wall. I sat down on the bench and watched. It all seemed very humorous to me, and when he stood naked, I started to laugh.

“Morgan, stop finding this so damn funny. We don’t have a lot of time.”

He climbed into the hot tub as I stood up.

“I know. I can’t help it,” I said, taking off my clothes. “I feel like we’re on some stake out rather than some romantic, sexy adventure. Oh, I must have forgotten who I’m with.”

He gave me a cheesy grin as I took off my clothes. The more I thought about who came to these types of places, the less I wanted to get in the hot tub, even if he was in it. I shivered.

“I don’t want to get in there; the ick factor is too high for me. Come over here,” I said, covering the bench with our towels. “Sure hope the towels are clean.”

“Not a particularly good time for you to get squeamish,” he said, getting back out of the tub.

He was being patiently frustrated with me. I lay down on the bench on my side as he climbed out.

“Rinse off in the shower real quick,” I ordered. “I’m afraid of what’s in that water.”

“For fuck sake,” he said.

“Something like that, do it,” I laughed.

He came to me, wet from the shower and lay down next to me on the towels.

“Does this work for you, princess?” he teased.

“Yeah,” I said, pulling him to me.

When skin touched skin, the years melted away. I was stunned at how we went right back to us. How he could take me to places no one had. How he could take me back, make me completely lose myself to him. I thought about something he said so long ago. I thought about Gayle’s question of love.

“Love me,” I said simply.

He made love to me like a man possessed, not fast and rough, but lustful and passionate. Taking my body soaring, making my skin tingle with desire. I figured he had gone without for a long time. It was easy for me to go with him, fit right with his rhythm. I was as hungry for him as he was for me. Just as the gasp escaped from his chest that I’d taken him over the edge, my body arched into his exploding in orgasm.

He rolled to the side and held me to him our chest rising and falling. He tenderly kissed my forehead, and eyelids, and nose and when our breathing returned to normal he led me to the shower.

“My god, I’ve missed you. I miss you right now, because I know you’re going home,” he said, the hunger still evident in his voice.

He rubbed my body with the soap, slowly, very slowly, feeling my breasts, my back, my ass. His hands stroking my skin. Up my thighs just close enough to make me suck in my breath, but not touching. It was like a dance expertly performed. I could feel the longing pool in my stomach and race down between my legs. The warm water ran down between the two of us.

“Mathew,” I whispered, taking his cock in my hand.

I was pleasantly surprised to find he was already so hard again and I pressed my body into his and kissed him fervently. He took my tongue in his mouth and caressed it with his. I ran my hands around his shoulders, his neck, down his back, over his ass, feeling his skin and the muscles beneath it. When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I pulled him back towards the bench.

“I wish we had more time,” I whined as we dressed.

“We will,” he said, as he tied his tie.

My hair was partially wet as was his from rinsing off again in the shower. I looked in the small mirror on the wall, my neck and cheeks were pink and I felt warm.

“Do I have that well-laid look?” I teased turning to him.

He glanced at me and grinned and then looked in the mirror and adjusted his tie.

“I bet they're used to that look around here,” he said.

Apparently happy with his tie he took me in his arms kissing me, his hunger still not appeased.

I dropped him off behind his office. It had to be quick, in hopes no one saw us. I went to the farthest part of his parking lot. He looked into my eyes and took my hand.

“Morgan, thanks,” he said. “Thanks for coming. Thanks for saying yes. Thanks for everything.”

“You should thank Sara. She’s the one who called,” I said, pushing on his chest. “Get, you need to go.”

“I’ll call you next week, I promise,” he said hastily getting out of the car.

I believed him. I watched him walk through the parking lot and through the back door of the building. I leaned my head back on the headrest and closed my eyes. The smell of him still lingered in the car, the lemon, vanilla, combined with the soap from the shower. I pictured him playing his guitar on the beach, the firelight dancing off his face. I wanted to see that again.

Chapter 46

He called Wednesday, and I missed his call. He told my mom he would call Thursday at six. He had a limited time span to make calls out, and I couldn’t call in. We laughed about our escapade, but he was serious about how much it meant to him. No one had discovered that he was missing, and his outlook had improved. We kept in close contact over the next three months.

I was so busy with school and work; the time went really fast. Not so much for him. It was spring when he was released, and he was determined to get his life on track. He started law school and was working full-time. He went to meet and apologize to the woman he hit and was still paying off his restitution.

“Come for a weekend. I’ll send you a ticket,” he said.

I flew in on a Friday after school, and Mathew was waiting at the gate. He was wearing jeans and a turquoise shirt with white buttons, which set off his eyes and blonde hair. He smiled when he spotted me and I felt my heart flutter.

“You look fantastic,” I said as I reached him, giving him the once-over.

“Thanks. Wasn’t much to do in there but use the gym or watch TV.”

“Gym I take it. It shows.”

He was pleased that I noticed. He gave me a quick kiss and took my hand as we headed in the direction of baggage. When we got in his car, he leaned over and kissed me more completely. By the time we were through my heart was racing. I reached up and cupped the side of his face.

“You’re the best kisser,” I said.

He gave me his lazy sexy grin.

“I got us a room at the Hyatt for the weekend.”

“You did?” I asked surprised. “No Jack’s?”

“I wanted nicer. I wanted to have you all to myself,” he said.

His words charmed me and I envisioned the last time we’d stayed at the Hyatt. Could picture the room with its reds and golds, the comfortable bed, with the cottony linens.

“All righty then, the Hyatt. Remember after Melanie’s wedding?”

He’d started the car and was backing out of the parking space, but stopped and glanced at me quickly.

“I remember,” he said, smiling. “Every bit of it, especially knowing from the minute I held you in my arms on the dance floor, that you had nothing on under your pretty dress. That kid, I could not get off my mind.”

He reached out and pinched my chin affectionately.

“I convinced myself that nothing would happen between us. Over and over I told myself, no way. I thought Max being in my life, my feelings for you would be gone. When you asked me to come with you, I knew I shouldn’t. I knew if I did, I would cross the line. I’ve never been able to trust myself around you.”

“What changed your mind?” he asked, resuming backing out.

“The minute I saw you,” I said. “When you looked at me from across the room, I was like holy shit. Every time you caught my eye I had to remember to breathe.”

He chuckled. It was a beautiful sunny day, although the air was a little crisp. I knew by nightfall it would be really cool and I imagined us wrapped up around each other keeping warm.

“I didn’t think you would leave with me, but I was willing to risk asking. Then when you said yes, I wasn’t sure where to go that I wouldn’t blow my chance,” he said.

“Your chance?” I asked, adjusting myself sideways in my seat, so I could look at him. “You did plan on getting me into bed.”

“I told you that night I didn’t plan it. I hadn’t seen you in years. I knew about Max. How could I have possibly planned?”

“Okay, fair enough,” I chuckled.

“Didn’t mean I wasn’t hoping,” he teased. “I got the same room.”

“Mathew.”

“You complaining already?” he teased.

“Not complaining,” I said, thinking it was thoughtful.

Flowers and a bottle of chardonnay sat on the table. This was a new Mathew, one that wanted to make things nice, wanted to please me. One I’d just had a rare glimpse of in this same room years ago. It made my heart sing.

“Wanting to get lucky tonight, are you?” I asked.

“Tonight, kid, I’m planning on it.”

I moved to him and put my arms around his neck.

“Kiss me like you used to, take me down that road of rocking my world,” I begged.

He obliged, making my knees weak. I unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, down his arms to the floor. I kissed his neck and shoulders, licking, tasting his skin. He buried his fingers in my hair, as I continued down his chest. My body was screaming for me to tear his clothes off, take him, but my mind wanted it slow. I wanted him to beg. When I got to the top of his jeans, I knelt on the floor and unbuttoned them. I could hear him suck in his breath as I pulled the stiff fabric down. I smiled when he was commando, remembering my dress. His hands fell as I put his hard cock in my mouth. I ran my tongue around it slowly, sucking lightly at the same time.

“Oh, Morgan,” he moaned.

Before I could finish, he reached for me, pulling me up, kissing me again, that kiss. My heart was racing, my body on fire with desire as I watched him step out of his jeans and walk to the bed. He tore back the bedspread and lay down on his side looking at me, his eyes undressing me where I stood. He beckoned me with his finger and when I reached the bed he tried to pull me to him, but I turned and pushed him away. He looked surprised.

“Watch,” I demanded.

He grinned and his pupil’s got large. He moved up the bed leaning back into the pillows, and I slowly unbuttoned my blouse, revealing a sexy black-and-red bra of satin and lace. I held his gaze as I unhurriedly took the blouse off, opening it, pushing it off my shoulders, letting it fall down my arms. He blinked slowly as I stood in my bra and tight jeans. I ran my hands down my thighs and then bent forward slightly to unbuttoned my jeans, peeling them down to reveal a pair of matching panties. He started to say something, and I put my finger to my lips. He watched as I took the jeans off. I stood in my bra and panties and turned around, letting him admire.

“I like it,” he said huskily, moving toward me.

“You, stay right there,” I commanded.

He looked at me in intense concentration. I climbed on the bed and starting at his feet, I ran my bra covered breasts over them, up his legs, then let his cock feel the softness of the satin and the coarseness of the lace.

“Um,” he uttered.

I touched and slinked my way further up his body. I pulled his arms above his head and pinned them there. His eyes were wild with desire and it made me shudder. I ran my tongue around his lips as I straddled his body, not allowing him to kiss me. He moaned slightly. He tried to move his arms, and I applied pressure.

“No, Mathew,” I whispered. “No touching until I say so.”

I rocked back settling more on his stomach than his crotch, but I could still feel part of his hard cock through my panties. From my position on top of him, I stared into his eyes; I could feel his need, the small tremors racking his body.

“Watch.”

Starting at the base of my neck, I ran my hands down my body, slowly, teasingly over my bra, and down my sides, over my stomach to my crotch. I paused, slipping a finger briefly under the panties. I ran my hands down my thighs ultimately shifting my hands from me to him. I felt up his chest, taking his arms, pulling them toward me. I took his hands in mine and made him follow the same path I’d showed him on my body, although I didn't allow him to linger. I rose up on my knees moving back so that I sat directly on his hard cock. The crotch of my panties was wet and I couldn’t help but press into him. I unclasped my bra and took it off, taking his hands, cupping them over my bare breasts. He pinched my nipples between his fingers and rolled them. I stared into his eyes, as my nipples got hard from his touch.

“Mathew,” I breathed out.

My body ached with desire. I rocked on him slightly and then leaned forward, pressing my lips into his. He pushed his tongue deep in my mouth as he slipped his fingers under my panties and then into me. I moaned, feeling his fingers inside me moving side to side. I was beyond excited, I needed him inside me. I drew his hand up and pulled the panties to one side of my leg. Not bothering to take them off I guided his hardness into me. He bucked up, thrusting into me. Then again and again. I rode him with an urgency I hadn’t felt in a long time. Faster and harder. He let me take us right to the edge before he grabbed my hips firmly, grinding me onto him.

“Ahhh,” I groaned, arching my back.

I collapsed on top of him, feeling weak, both of us breathing hard. He wrapped his arms around me and held me tight to him. I stayed there, my face buried against his neck.

“Don’t ever fuck me like one of your groupies again,” he said.

I raised my face to look at him, and we both laughed out loud.

“Remember that?” I asked.

“Oh, it was quite the comment after hot passionate sex.”

“Is that what it was? Up against the door and rough,” I teased.

He slapped my ass.

“Ouch.”

I rolled off him, took the panties off, and nestled into the crook of his arm.

“Cute little get-up,” he said.

I looked up at him and smiled.

“You like?”

“Yeah, I like.”

“I thought you might. I bought it special,” I said.

“You have more?” he asked.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

He moved from me and got up from the bed walking to the table. He opened the wine, and poured one glass.

“None for you?”

“I’m trying not to for a while,” he said, bringing the wine glass to me.

“I understand.”

“Let’s shower and do dinner downstairs in the dining room,” he said.

We spent the weekend as a couple, and it was weird for me, but in a good way. We went to the park. We shopped. We went out to eat. And Sunday arrived too soon; a weekend just didn’t seem long enough. Again we were sharing moments. We lounged in bed and he ordered room service for breakfast.

“You’ve spoiled me. I love it,” I said.

He looked seriously at me across the small table.

“Morgan, what would you think about moving back to San Jose?” he asked.

It was so out of the blue.

“Why would I do that? I just started State this year.”

“You could transfer to San Jose State, and we could get a place together. I can support you while you finish school,” he said.

I was shocked. I stared at him. No words were coming, and the seconds passed. I could tell he wasn’t getting the immediate response he wanted. Move back to San Jose? Our worlds had been separate for so long. My winter in Park City had forced me to grow up a bit and I’d made what I thought were adult decisions. To go back to school and get my finance degree; I’d laid out a plan for me, and now he wanted me to change it.

“Think about it, okay?” he asked, his expression one of uncertainty.

“Okay,” I managed to say.

My head was spinning. Where had this come from? Me come live with him? I climbed back into the bed, pulling the covers around me, a place of comfort.

“I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said, climbing in next to me.

“I wasn’t expecting it is all.”

“We’ve been doing this dance a long time, and maybe it’s time to see if it can work,” he said.

I looked into his eyes and knew what he was saying was coming from his heart. He pulled me to him holding me, caressing me, and I let my body mold into his. I wanted him near me and yet my head was filled with disjointed thoughts. We talked, and held one another, and made love slowly. We stayed in bed until the last minute before we needed to shower and check out. Like our very first time together I felt like the bed was our private island.

“We still have some time,” he said as we drove out of the hotel parking lot.

“Can you take me to Vasona Park?” I asked, thinking of all the good memories and the many birthdays I'd spent there as a child.

“You got it,” he said smiling, turning up the music.

It was the Stones. I knew which song was coming. “Childhood living is easy to do, the things you wanted I bought them for you, graceless lady you know who I am, you know I can’t let you slide through my hands, wild horses couldn’t drag me away” played from the speakers. The flood of memories was crushing as the song played out.

We walked to a grassy knoll and hung out, watching the kids play in the playground. I lay between his legs, my back against him. Another good memory.

“You want kids?” he asked pensively.

“Someday, yeah.”

We’d never talked like this. Not about any real possibility of a future together. I wondered how long he had been thinking about it. He didn’t bring up his question from earlier, and I was relieved. He asked if I could come back in two weeks; he would buy my ticket. I said I would.

“Think about it,” he said when he kissed me goodbye at the airport.

His blue eyes twinkled when he smiled.

Chapter 47

He was all I thought about on the plane ride home. I was still stunned. Could it work? Could we? Here was what I had always wanted, us. Instead of shouting yes at the top of my lungs, I needed time to think about it. Morgan, what is wrong with you? I kept asking myself. Over the next two weeks, I went through the motions at school. I was half focused, missing him, wanting to get back. We talked on the phone several times.

“I did a little shopping today,” I said.

“What kind of shopping?”

“Victoria's Secret shopping.”

“Lucky me, I can’t wait to see you, Morgan,” he said, with a sexy edge in his voice.

He took me back to the Hyatt.

“Mathew, Jack’s is fine. The Hyatt’s got to be expensive,” I said, feeling guilty he was paying.

“I’m making good money, kid. It’s okay. I want to spend it on you,” he said, taking the luggage from the trunk.

While he checked in, standing in the lobby, I pictured myself in the teal dress, waiting, not know what to do my hands. Would that girl have moved back to San Jose? When Mathew motioned his head toward the elevators I followed. He kissed me as we rode up. The elevator stopped and he pulled away, different floor I noticed.

“Oh, my god,” I said when he opened the door to the room—it was a suite.

“Not a word,” he said.

He set the suitcases down and flopped down on the couch. He grinned at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Take off your clothes, I want to see,” he said.

“Not so fast, Mathew,” I laughed.

He slid his arm out along the back on the couch getting comfortable.

“Morgan, take off your clothes, now.”

“You’re like a little kid,” I said, feeling the butterflies rise up.

He smiled. I pulled my shirt off and wiggled out of my jeans. I did a slow turnaround and faced him in my lacy pink-and-blue bra-and-panty set.

“Very nice,” he said.

He pushed himself from the couch coming to me. His expression one of want. This time I let him lead the way. The lingerie didn’t stay on long.

“Hungry?” he asked, running his fingers through my hair.

“Um, how could I be hungry after that,” I asked, snuggled against him in bed.

“For food, silly.”

“Yeah, food, we need that, don’t we,” I murmured, not wanting to move away from him.

We walked to a quaint Italian restaurant for dinner. It had green and white awnings over the front windows and plush red velvet booths inside with dark wooden tables. The walls were painted green and had numerous photos of beautiful landscape, I presumed to be Italy. It smelled delicious, of red sauce and bread, and I realized I was hungry.  He ordered a bottle of red wine, and the waiter poured two glasses.

“Drinking again?”

“Now and then,” he answered.

“Walking, no driving,” I said, scolding.

We got more sociable that weekend: clubbing and hooking up with friends, and the band.

“Hit?” he asked as we sat in the parking lot, ready to go into a club.

He had a vial of cocaine in his hand. I liked cocaine, but I never bought it. When it was offered I usually was game. It was everywhere in the clubbing scene, in Park City it had been blatant. There were those, like me, that could do it socially and then those that became fanatical about it. I assumed Mathew had just gotten this because I was in town.

“Sure. You’re not doing this much, are you?” I asked.

I had grown out of the heavy partying scene, and I assumed he had too, especially after his accident, but now I wondered. I thought back to my times with the band, and worried that they still might be going full throttle.

“Only special occasions,” he said, handing it to me.

His words only reassured me a little. I took the small spoon and hit both nostrils. He did the same and put the vial in his pocket.

“Ready to do some dancing,” he asked, kissing me.

“Oh, yeah.”

The place was packed. People jammed so tight you could hardly move around, and loud; the talking, the laughter, the music. I drank too much wine; he didn’t drink at all. We snuck off to the bathroom several times to do more blow. We got sweaty on the dance floor. Mathew knew several people and he talk, shouted, with them. We left before the band quit, but it was still pretty late.

“That was so much fun,” I said, stumbling and laughing as he helped me into the elevator at the Hyatt.

“I’m glad,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

When we got to the room, he made himself a Jack-and-Coke from the mini bar.

“Anything?” he asked.

“Any more coke?” I asked, knowing I didn’t need anything more to drink.

He handed me the vial. I tapped out lines onto a mirror he’d pulled from his suitcase and snorted two lines. When I stood up he looked at me and took a sip of his drink.

“Strip off your clothes,” he said.

“You strip off your clothes,” I giggled.

He grinned at me. I stared at him challenging him with my eyes.

“Are you going to take off your clothes?” he asked.

“No. I want you to take them off.”

I could feel that I swaying just a bit, my head light from the wine and coke. I watched as he set his drink down on the table and then lurched across the room at me, tackling me onto the bed. I let out a laughing scream as he rolled on top of me. We had wild sex late into the night, on the bed, over the chair, on the floor. Mathew was amazing; he could do it over and over. I figured the cocaine had a little something to do with it. We got in the bathtub at one point to relax and made love again. I was sore and a lot more sober when we finally lay in each other’s arms under the covers.

“Yes, I’ve thought about it,” I answered when he asked.

“Well?”

“Mathew, you need to give me time. I’m thinking yes, but it scares the shit out of me. I don’t know this Mathew.”

“Yes, you do,” he said.

“I don’t,” I protested. “The boy in the band that I knew was self-centered, especially when it came to me.”

He looked into my eyes.

“This boy,” I stroked his face “is new to me.”

“Let’s try to get some sleep,” he said annoyed.

Me hesitation confused me, but didn’t. I wasn’t sure I believed him, in him.

“I don’t know how you can support the two of us… There are so many things,” I went on. “When I am with you, I want it more than you know, but I have doubts.”

“Don’t,” he said.

“I’m trying.”

For the remainder of the school year, I went to see Mathew every other weekend. My lingerie collection was getting expensive, and Mathew was growing increasingly frustrated with me not giving him an answer. We were spending more weekends at Jack’s, and the more we were around other people, the more my doubts would resurface. Cocaine was usually around, and he was “social drinking”. We planned for me to come back for a week right after school ended, and I knew I had to make a decision. He told me he expected it.

Mathew arranged to use Bobby’s grandparents' place at the beach for five nights, the Hyatt the last two. The first two days we were alone at the beach house were fabulous. We cooked together, took walks on the beach, romped in the sun, rode beach cruisers around town, and spent a lot of time in bed. We built fires on the beach, and he played his guitar for me. When I watched him, I imagined it always like this. I tried to imagine us apartment hunting.

“I invited a few friends to stop by tonight,” he said while we showered.

We’d spent the day at the beach. It had been hot and we were clammy and sticky. It felt good to get the sand and the sunscreen off.

“That okay?”

“Sure,” I answered, rinsing my hair.

I was disappointed. I liked having him to myself. I remembered when we were kids I had felt that way too. A few friends turned into a party, and Mathew flirted openly with several of the girls that night. I watched him work the scene. It took me back in time to other parties we had been to, parties that hadn’t turned out so well. It was different though now, now we were a couple. I’d never had the right before to feel jealous, so I’d gotten mad or even. It surprised me to feel it now.

“I was talking to them, Morgan,” he defended.

“More like flirting,” I said, pouring us coffee the next morning. “Mathew, for god’s sake, you’re a chick magnet and you know it. That’s okay with me, but it’s not when you work it. If we can ever make it, you have to be committed.”

“Committed? Look who’s talking, who’s the one not committing here?” he asked angrily, which ended the conversation.

I had no comeback for him. The last night at the beach, we took a long walk. The sun was low in the sky, the light reflecting off the water in beautiful shades of red and orange. We walked in silence, listening to the ocean, me bending down to pick up rocks and sea glass as I spotted them. He got ahead of me several times as I dallied, and I would hurry to catch up to him. I could see his blond hair blowing in the breeze; he had grown it back out. Not like the band-long, just to his shoulders. I liked it. He reached his hand out for me as I approached, and he laced his fingers in mine.

“Let’s head back,” he said.

We walked with the water lapping at our feet, waves coming in and then retreating. I tried to dissect my indecision to be with him. At that moment, I couldn’t find any. I wanted to make the right decision because it was a major decision, a life altering, adult decision, whether we worked out or not. We left the next day for the Hyatt.

“I need to make a stop on the way,” Mathew said.

“What for?” I asked.

“I need to pick up a package from this guy,” he said.

Once we were back in San Jose, he drove to an apartment complex and he parked in front. The buildings were a tan stucco color with carports that ran down the sides in the parking lot. The landscaping looked like it needed a good trimming and the building themselves were a bit tired looking.

“Wait here. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Okay, leave the radio on,” I said.

He turned the key part way and the radio came back on. I watched him walk to the back of the complex and then go right until I couldn’t see him anymore. I hummed with the radio, looking forward to the room at the Hyatt and suddenly not happy about having to go home. He was back pretty quickly with what looked like a small box. He put it in the trunk.

“Next stop, the Hyatt,” he said.

That night we stayed in the room and watched movies, old movies. We’d picked up some wine and each had a glass as we snuggled on the couch. It seemed so couplish, another thing that was still foreign to me. He checked the clock a couple of times and at eight he made a phone call. His conversation was low and the TV didn’t allow me to hear any of it. He said that Bob was coming by real quick.

“Not a party?” I asked disappointed.

“No. He’s picking up some coke.”

When Bob stopped by, Mathew cut us some lines on a mirror, and rolled a bill, which we all passed around to snort. Bob didn’t hang, which I was happy about.

“You two have a good night,” Bob said standing.

Mathew walked with him to the door, handing him a packet. I thought about the box Mathew had picked up and then about the cocaine. I felt a sense of fear tear through me. When he turned from the door he grinned at me.

“Mathew, are you dealing?” I asked, afraid to know.

“No,” he answered, looking me in the eye.

I stared at him.

“I’m not,” he repeated.

It seemed strange to me that Bob would come get some of Mathew’s own stash. How much could he have? I thought about the Park City days, the dealers I knew in town, how coke was pretty much available with a phone call. Why would he call Bob unless it was to tell him he had picked up coke? Let it go, Morgan, trust him.

“Come here, you,” he said, pulling me from the couch towards the bed.

He made love to me slowly, lovingly, making me forget my fear. I curled around his side afterwards, wanting to stay close to him. He mindlessly wrapped one of my curls around his finger, let it go, and did it again.

“Morgan, why did you go with Kevin that day?” he asked.

We both knew what day he was asking about. I pictured the day, out by the O’Conner’s pool; he’d been seeing Kim. I remembered walking in the dark to Kevin’s house, and the drive home. Remembered finding blood in my underwear when I undressed for bed.

“You mean, why did I give it up to Kevin that day?”

“I guess that’s what I mean,” he said.

“You know the answer.”

“I do?”

“Oh, come on,” I said sarcastically.

“I can guess. I originally thought you did it because you really liked him. But when Kevin asked me why you wouldn’t see him again, I couldn’t answer. I was surprised you wouldn’t see him,” Mathew said.

I recalled the kiss in the bathroom, and my anger.

“Why did you follow me to the bathroom and kiss me like you did?”

“Because I wanted you bad that day, I didn’t want Kevin to be having a good time with you,” he said.

“As I recall, there was an obstacle named Kim. And back then, when did you ever want me bad?” I asked.

“Probably more times than you knew.”

“What?” I asked, lifting my head to look at him. “You are so full of shit. You know why I ‘gave it up' to Kevin? Because you wouldn’t take it. I wanted you to be the one. I thought I was pretty clear. Did you not ever get that?”

I was a bit miffed, now that he’d brought it up, recalling my hurt feelings. Recalling the desperation I could feel, almost to the extreme of panic.

“I got it, but I felt like I would be taking advantage,” he defended.

“Advantage? Taking advantage?” I laughed. “You’re hysterical. You sexually teased me for years and actually doing it would have been taking advantage?”

He looked at me and gently rubbed my back.

“I didn’t want to lead you on. I didn’t want to feel responsible to you.”

“Lead me on? Responsible? What the hell does that mean?” I asked, baffled.

“I thought if I took your virginity you would expect me to be your boyfriend. I didn’t think I was capable of that.”

Gayle’s words resounded in my head, the ones I had spoken, the not making sense part, so it made sense.

“Mathew, so much of what happened confused me. You still confuse me,” I said.

“It’s history,” he said, kissing me.

I decided, despite my fears, I would tell him that I would move.

Chapter 48

My last night in town, we were getting ready to go meet the band at a club close by.

“Which one,” I asked, holding up two different panties.

“I like the pink-and-blue,” he said.

I slipped them on along with the matching bra.

“I’m ready,” I said.

Mathew laughed.

“It’s a little too skimpy, kid.”

I laughed pulling jeans and a low cut blouse from my suitcase, he watched intently as I put my clothes on.

“I like you naked best,” he said.

“Well I like the shirt,” I said, moving to him, feeling his chest, admiring the jeans and the blue-on-blue paisley shirt he had on. “You always find the wildest clothes.”

It was actually subtle for him, but I loved how it set off his blue eyes, tan face, and blond hair.

"I may just have to keep you here," I said, running my hands down his sides feeling horny.

“I told them we would come,” he said.

I’d heard him talk to Jack on the phone. He’d been a little more eager than I’d hoped, about going out to party.

“I know. I’m kidding.”

“Little pick-me-up before we go?” he asked.

“Bring it on,” I answered.

He handed me the coke vial. I wondered if the special occasion deal was getting to be an every occasion deal.

The club was full when we got there, a fairly long line outside. People our age and younger dressed to the nines, ready to party.

“Busy place,” I said.

Mathew took my hand and walked to the front of the line, straight up to the bouncer.

“Hey, Matt,” he said, pulling the rope aside and letting us in.

“That’s fucked up,” someone yelled from the front of the line.

Mathew wound his way through the crowd and found the boys in the back of the club.

“Glad you made it,” Jack said.

“Told you I would. If Morgan had her way, I’d be tied to the bedpost right now.”

My chest got hot and I could feel my cheeks burn in embarrassment.

“Shut up,” I said, slapping his arm.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Jack said.

“Sit down,” Emily patted the chair next to her.

“Hey, guys,” Mathew, shouted over the music to everyone else at the table.

I noticed Sean was back on with his girlfriend. His eyes sultry and sexy, his arm wrapped around her. Oh, and that day, I chuckled inside.

“I’ll get us a drink. Chardonnay?” he asked.

“Please.”

I watched him make his way towards the bar. Mathew stopped along the way, greeting people he knew. Many of them girls being overly friendly, pressing into him, touching, one even kissing him. I chatted with Emily.

“Have you two been having a good time?” she asked.

“So good,” I said loudly.

I was thinking about our time together, how intense, loving, and hot it could be, and yet when we got in a crowd the dynamics seemed to shift. A shift I didn’t exactly like. Mathew returned with drinks.

“Here, kid,” he said as he handed me my wine.

Mathew spoke to the guys a few minutes and then excused himself to go to the restroom. When he reappeared, he was again delayed by people along the way; many of them girls. Emily saw I was watching.

“Mathew, he always likes a crowd,” she said with a smirk.

“You mean the girls,” I called.

Yes he did, I thought, the crowd and the girls, the center of attention, the leader of the band. Emily had been around the band for years and knew more than I cared to know I was sure. When he came back, he brought another glass of wine with him. We all sort of shout-talked, and then he was off again, working the crowd.

“Where is the restroom?” I asked, leaning over to Emily.

She pointed across the room.

“The hall just below that neon sign.”

I wound my way through the crowd to the hall she’d pointed to. I walked down it, people passing me the other direction as I made my way. His back was to me, and I could see the blonde's face that he was talking to. He had his hand on the wall, facing her, almost blocking her path. I walked by and turned around, he had the lazy sexy grin on face. My heart froze as I stared at him. He dropped his arm slowly and his grin faded. I shoved through the door into the bathroom and could feel the blood drain from my face. When I came out, she was gone and Mathew was waiting.

“Having a good time?” he asked, putting his arm around me, like nothing had happened.

I looked at his beautiful face, and it hit me like a freight train. I finally recognized what had been holding me back. The little piece I hadn’t been able to put my finger on. I could deal with his insecurities. I was pretty confident I could handle the alcohol and drug issues. What I couldn’t handle was the girl thing. I realized in that instant that it would never change. It would never be him and me alone.

I couldn’t shut us off from the world forever, and in the world there would always be girls coming onto him. He liked it. We might work for a while, maybe even a long while, but at some point he would stray. I’d watched it over the years with his other girlfriends. He had even cheated on several of those girlfriends with me. I saw in that one exchange it was a matter of time for me. If I gave my whole heart, I knew I couldn’t bear it. It would tear me apart, tear us apart. I leaned in and kissed him.

“I love you,” I said.

We stayed for a few more drinks and then went back to the hotel. When we got in the room, he took me in his arms and I let him. We made love, even as my heart was breaking on the inside, shattering into little pieces.

“Morgan, what’s wrong?”

I tried to hold them in, but couldn’t. The tears came.

“I can’t move here, Mathew. I just can’t,” I said, almost in a whisper. “As much as I want to love you and see if it would work, I can’t.”

He pushed back from me and stared into my eyes, confusion written all over his face.

“You told me you loved me tonight,” he said.

“I do love you, but I don’t think it’s mutual. I’m safe for you, Mathew. When things go wrong or you want ‘comfortable’, you come to me. You have for years. Things have gone incredibly wrong lately, and safe feels good for you right now.”

“That’s not true, Morgan. I want you. Us,” he said.

He didn’t think any of my reasons were valid. I didn’t mention the girl issue; he would deny it. I wanted to hear I love you too, but it never came. If it had, he might have been able to change my mind. He needed me, he wanted me, he never said anything about loving me. He wanted to “try and make it work”. At this stage, I needed more than that. In the end, I felt it was too big a leap of faith to give up everything for him, to only try. Tears leaked from my eyes as I fell asleep in his arms. When I woke the next morning, he wasn’t in the bed. I sat up abruptly. He was lying on the sofa in his jeans, no shirt, his hair untidy, looking as sexy as ever.

“What are you doing?” I asked confused.

“Watching you sleep,” he answered.

I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it back.

“I must look like hell,” I said, remembering the tears.

“You look beautiful,” he said, coming to me.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and cupped my face with his hand. It was warm and I wanted to drown in it, wished I could, wished for all it was worth I hadn’t seen him look at the blonde with that grin.

“Stay one more night with me. Please?” he begged.

I pulled the cottony sheets tight around my neck.

“Fuck, Mathew,” I said, the tears starting again.

He bent down and hugged me to him hard. He let me cry for a long time, and then he called the front desk. I changed my flight to Monday afternoon. We stayed in bed all day, he ordered room service, but I couldn’t eat. When we made love, I fought the tears.

“You’re the only person who knows who I am, and who I’m not. You accept me that way,” he said.

“I know I have,” I said reticently.

He was looking for a change of heart. The guilt flooded through me, and I questioned my decision yet again. I did accept him for what he was, and that was part of the problem. He would assume I would get over it, whatever it might be, and would always take him back. My thoughts and heart were at odds: my thoughts logical, my heart wanting him to convince me otherwise.

“What about love, Mathew? There’s nothing about love.”

He kissed me instead of answering me. I waited.

“That comes with time,” he finally said.

It wasn’t the answer I needed. Apparently he didn’t think twelve years was enough time. I had to stick to my decision. I figured he wouldn’t keep in touch. He’d always been terrible at it, and it tore at my heart. For the first time, he had not gotten what he wanted from me. He wasn’t happy about it. When he dropped me at the airport it was stiff and awkward.

He shut me out quickly, which hurt me badly. I was surprised he didn’t at least try and convince me. I had loved him. Did love him, but I felt it wasn’t enough. My love alone couldn’t save us. “You’re complex” I could hear him say. Maybe I was. Maybe I over-thought things, worried too much about making the right choice, but I couldn’t help it. The last part of the summer, friends of mine were taking a road trip to San Francisco and asked me to come. I felt like I should leave Mathew alone, but when they decided to stay in San Jose for a night, I broke down. I called him from a pay phone in Bakersfield and told him I would be in town for the night.

“We're staying at the Motel 6 close to downtown,” I said.

“You have your own room?”

I could see his face, his lips, his eyes, his grin. The way he could look at me that made me crazy.

“Yes,” I said hoarsely, feeling the butterflies in my stomach.

“I’ll change my plans. Call me when you get in.”

“I will,” I said.

“You’ve certainly moved up in your choice of hotels,” he teased.

I couldn’t wait to see him. Here I had been the one to say no, and yet I longed for him, still. I called him the minute I walked into my room.

“I’ll see you in about twenty minutes,” he said.

The four of us went to dinner at a Chinese restaurant. We drank beer and ate too much food. We got back to the motel early, and my friends excused themselves to their room. I felt awkward when the two of us were alone, almost shy, like I didn’t know what to say or how to start. He looked the same, beautiful.

“Come here, kid,” he said, as he sat down on the bed. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too,” I said, moving to stand in front of him.

He put his hands on my hips and lifted his face towards mine. I bent down and kissed him. He pulled me onto the bed and wrapped his arms around me. I lay on my side with my head on his arm. I wanted to cry, and laugh, and change my mind all at the same time. He tenderly stroked my arm as I listened to his heartbeat.

“How’s life treating you?” he asked.

“It’s been okay, working a lot. I’m happy to have school starting again soon.”

We were trying to act like us, but it was forced. I wished we could go back, back to when I thought my feelings for him were perfectly rational.

“You?”

He talked about the band and the parties, and I wondered if he had slipped back into his old behaviors already. He paused. I sat up and took my shirt and bra off. I took one of his hands and put it on my breast. I wanted to rewind and have it be the same, even when I knew that wasn’t possible.

“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked.

“No,” I answered honestly.

It had been too much of an emotional journey with him, and I wasn’t ready for anyone new. My feelings were still raw, and jagged, and broken.

“You?” I asked, not really wanting to know.

“A few girls here and there, nothing serious. I’m glad you’re here,” he said, leaning in to kiss me.

My heart ached for us or the loss of us. I pushed in closer to him, and he took that as a sign of wanting and in many ways it was. We helped each other get the rest of our clothes off.

“Morgan, you still have it for me bad,” he teased.

I sucked air in my lungs the urge to cry overwhelming me. I blinked back the tears and chose my words carefully.

“Mathew, sex has never been the issue. That part we had figured out,” I said.

I blocked out the world and all the mixed up feelings and let him take me on an intense roller coaster ride. When he sent me off the edge, I pictured the Big Dipper at the Boardwalk. I smelled the cotton candy, and pictured the seagulls, and I wondered where that girl had gone. Somewhere between then and now she had grown up. Afterwards we lay in bed, reliving some of our funnier moments.

“Remember when I caught you and Sean?” he asked.

“I’ve never seen you so pissed,” I said.

He chuckled.

“I thought I might hit you both. It took me till the next day that I remembered kissing Anna. What a dick. Did you hate me?”

“Yeah,” I laughed.

It felt good to be light with him. When we got ready to go the next morning, he held my face in both hands. He looked into my eyes and held my gaze.

“If you change your mind, call me,” he said and kissed me, that kiss.

He could still make my knees weak. I watched as he walked to his car, my heart hammering in my chest. He opened his door, turned quickly and smiled, and got inside.

“I wish you could give me a reason to,” I said to no one, as I watched him drive away.

Chapter 49

My staying away from Mathew was not easy. I spent the first two years fighting with myself. As much as I wanted to go see him, be with him, I knew it would be selfish. He wanted me to try. I needed more than that. I couldn’t accept a halfhearted attempt from him; I couldn’t wait for him to decide if he loved me. I couldn’t wonder about who would be around the corner, that might catch his eye. After everything, if he didn’t know, he never would. I’d had to come to grips with that.

It had been five years since he drove away from me at the Motel 6. I tried calling a couple of times to try and maintain the friendship, but our conversations were brief and stiff. I stopped trying, and he didn’t at all.

During my Park City stint, I’d met Ryan Walker in a bar, a place my mother told me I would never meet anyone I should marry. I had been visiting Pat actually, prior to my move there, and Ryan was a bartender Pat knew. During my winter in Park City, I was still dating Max long distance, so Ryan and I became friends. He worked construction in the day and bartended at night. He was easy to talk to, and seemed genuinely interested. He thought I was a little wild and it amused him. We shared our past dating disasters and trying love stories. He had a Mathew in a sense, but her name was Carrie, a first love that hadn’t worked out. A girl that still tugged at his heart.

When I moved back home to Escondido Ryan visited; in fact it was he who was on that trip to San Francisco, the last time I’d seen Mathew. It was he who’d had to put up with my melancholy attitude after we left San Jose that day. But at that time he was dating my best friend Karen, who I’d introduced him to. Ryan moved to Escondido within that year, the economy in Park City wasn’t so hot and in California construction was booming. He’d come the summer I was flying back and forth to see Mathew, the summer I’d finally said no.

Like Mathew, Ryan and I started as friends, but unlike Mathew I hadn’t fallen in love with him at first sight. In fact it took six years of knowing each other before we came to a point where we were both single at the same time, and we started dating. Like Mathew it wasn’t an easy, smooth, journey, but that’s another story. Ryan was just a bit taller than me with curly blond hair and bluer than blue eyes; eyes that sparkled. I always thought he was cute, but we were just not on the same track originally. When I lived in Park City I still had a boyfriend and then my heart was messed up with Mathew, all of which Ryan got to hear about.

Although my relationship with Ryan was also unconventional and messy we had built a foundation as friends, and we trusted one another. When we finally got on the same page, sparks flew. We dated for a year and then moved in together. We were living together when he finally asked me to marry him. There was no question, I knew he was the one: I said yes. My love for Ryan was different than Mathew. Mathew was a young love and Ryan was a more grown up love. He understood Mathew and I had left it as friends. He knew we had been lovers. We both understood there had been past relationships, and we weren’t jealous of the past.

We selected the end of April to get married and invitations had gone out a few weeks ago. My mom and I were busy with preparations: securing a location, flowers, cake, a DJ, and on and on. It was an exciting time. I got home from work early and was opening the mail when our phone rang.

“Hello,” I said, picking up the receiver.

“Morgan, it’s Mathew,” he said.

He didn’t have to tell me. I knew his voice.

“How are you?” I said, happy to hear him.

“I’m okay. I just got your invitation.”

We hadn’t talked in so long that I was sure he was just calling to congratulate me or personally let me know he wouldn’t be able to make it.

“I hope you will come,” I said.

There was silence, and then I heard him sigh.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked seriously.

I could feel the wrinkle form between my eyes in confusion.

“I’m not sure what you mean?”

“I mean, are you sure about getting married?” he asked.

“Are you teasing me?” I asked with a laugh. “Of course I’m sure, you have an invitation, don’t you?”

“I have an invitation, but it doesn’t mean you have to go through with it,” he said.

I figured he would start laughing any moment, that he was being playful and fooling with me. We hadn’t spoken in years. He didn’t have a clue to what had been going on in my life, because he’d failed to keep in touch, so I’d stopped trying. That while our worlds had gone separate ways I’d fallen head over heels in love.

“Mathew, are you high?” I asked cautiously.

“No, I’m not high,” he answered, sounding annoyed.

“You aren’t making any sense, so I thought, you know, maybe. I didn’t send out invitations because I’m not getting married. Be happy for me, would you?”

There was another long pause.

“You don’t have to do this, Morgan, there are options.”

I pictured his face, his blue eyes, his tanned skin, the small freckles, hardly visible, but up close, on his nose, his blonde hair. My thoughts raced back through time, seeing so many moments I had buried. Up to the last time I’d seen him at the Motel 6 in San Jose, when I was with Ryan and Karen. Oh, yes, he had met Ryan I remembered.

“Options? What options? Mathew, what are you talking about?”

At this point I was playing along, waiting for whatever silliness he was brewing up.

“There’s me?” he suggested.

My mouth fell open and I stretched the telephone cord from the kitchen wall to the kitchen table, so I could sit down. I could feel my pulse in my neck. There’s me? I thought. There’s me.

“Are you saying there’s me like there's you to marry?”

“That’s what I think I’m saying,” he said.

I rubbed my forehead with my fingers, hoping some kind of rational response would come to me. He has to be joking, pulling my strings all the way to the end. I kept waiting for his laughter, the minute he would tell me he was kidding and we could just have a friendly casual catch up. It didn’t come.

“Mathew, I don’t know why you’re saying this. There’s me?” I repeated. “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m not joking, Morgan.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. After all this time, after all these years he was choosing now to decide. It’s too late, Mathew screamed in my head.

“I don’t understand where this is coming from,” I said irritated. “What I do know is I’m in love with Ryan, and I want to marry him.”

I paused. There was silence at the other end.

“I love him, Mathew. He loves me. For the first time since you, I’ve found love. Real love this time. No glass slipper, no fairy tale, just two people that get it. It’s that simple, nothing complex about it,” I explained.

In a way my words were mean, directed at him. Who was he to question my decision? To throw this out, and expect what from me? That I should understand it? “There’s me.” That I should give up what I had and run to him. That his hold on me was still that strong. I calculated the years in my head; it had been five years since I’d seen him. He was silent for so long, I thought maybe he hung up.

“Mathew?”

“I’m here,” he said. “You gave him your whole heart, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I’ve given him my whole heart.”

Mathew’s crazy half and whole idea. Thinking if you only gave half your heart, you couldn’t get hurt. I wondered if I could have ever had his whole heart, if I had given it a try.

“I was never very good at giving half. I’ve been more of an all-or-nothing girl. You should know by now I didn’t do well at holding back. Ryan and I fell in love…together.”

I could hear his breathing in my head; times I’d laid so close to him. Times when I was never sure of where we stood.

“I should have tried harder in San Jose that summer. I should have tried harder to make you move, to come be with me,” he lamented.

I could feel my throat constrict and my eyes flash hot. I closed them tightly. I pictured us at the Hyatt, the night I told him I couldn’t come, and the next day when he’d asked me to stay one more day. I could feel the feelings, me wanting it to turn out differently, wanting him to make me believe.

“Mathew, our relationship was so convoluted. Maybe too much had happened between us, for too long. I don’t know. There’s not a good answer.”

I sighed. This felt like a dream, like I couldn’t be here now having this conversation.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.

The tears came silently and ran down my cheeks. I made sure he couldn’t tell.

“Mathew, I need to go. I hope you will come.”

I didn’t know what there was left to say. I’d heard the hurt in his voice.

“I wouldn’t miss it, kid,” he said. “And remember, there is no sorry.”

When we hung up, the tears flowed. I cried for reasons that blurred together. For the us that was, but never was, that never would be. I cried in joy for the love he had driven me to, the love that filled my life now, a love I would have never found if I’d tried with Mathew. I cried because there was a part of me that he’d taken, an innocence, that no one else would ever have, not even Ryan.

I was sure Mathew wouldn’t come. With his feelings the way they were, and the distance he’d put between us in the past, it didn’t seem like something he would consider. He didn’t call me again, nor did he return his RSVP. I was at the Rancho Bernardo Inn getting ready with my bridesmaids, in the hotel room. Makeup and hair was done. I was so excited for my wedding day that I was trembling. Gayle had brought a bottle of champagne and we were all having a glass.

“We’ll get the dress on you right before,” Gayle said.

My beautiful white dress hung from the top of the armoire. I looked at it again, admiring the satin, the iridescent beading, and the headpiece. I had chosen not to go with a traditional veil over my face. I wanted Ryan to see every expression on my face all the way down the aisle to him. I knew his eyes would sparkle when he saw me in it. Knew he would think I was the most beautiful girl in the world.

“No, how 'bout I walk down the aisle like this?” I teased.

I had on my white stockings and Dolphin shorts with a sleeveless orange button down shirt. I was staying comfortable and wearing clothes I could easily remove when the time came.

“Ryan would take you like that.”

I knew he would too. Ryan knew me, the good along with the bad, and loved me regardless. He loved me for everything I was.

“I’m glad you brought the champagne; it’s taking the edge off.”

“You’re not nervous? Not you?” Gayle teased.

“I am. I don’t want anything to go wrong.”

“It will be fine,” she comforted.

People were coming and going in and out of the room for various things. Lots of girlfriends dropping in to wish me luck and see the goings-on. It was high energy with lots of chatter going on. There was another knock on the door, and one of the girls got up to open it. I was sitting on the bed sipping a second glass of champagne.

“Is Morgan here?”

I heard Mathew’s voice. I felt my heart race. Mathew. I looked at Gayle and could tell she was as shocked as I was. How had he found my room? Why had he? He was here, here at my wedding. I stood up as he walked into the room.

“Hey,” he said.

The room went silent and all the girls stared at him. He looked stunning. His hair was short again, but still thick and blond and his skin glowed bronze. He wore a light grey pinstriped suit that made his eyes stand out. I had a brief flash of seeing him across the room at Melanie’s wedding. His eyes were locked with mine, like that now. He was taking care of himself, his body buff. In the uncomfortable silence I glanced away and looked at my bridesmaids; only Gayle had ever met him. I wanted to laugh out loud. He could have his choice. I smiled.

“Hey,” I said.

He came to me and gave me a hug, wrapping his arms gently around me like I was a fragile object. It felt odd, him here, now.

“Can I talk to you?” he whispered, as he released me.

My heart flinched as everyone looked at each other, and then at me. Gayle shot me a look filled with daggers.

“Sure,” I said casually.

I looked at him, waiting, and then I realized he meant privately. I set my glass down on the table and took his hand, leading him into the bathroom. I shut the door softly. It was the only place I could take him that was away from everyone. He leaned against the counter and gave me his grin.

“God, you look beautiful.”

I could see my reflection in the mirror behind him, and even in my funky get up I did look beautiful, I was radiant.

“Thanks, so do you,” I said.

My heart was pounding in my chest. He came towards me and took my hands and held them. Seeing my engagement ring he twisted it on my finger.

“Morgan, are you sure?”

His question ripped at my heart. We had come so far. How had it come to this? My wedding day? To someone else? I wished for an instant I could make him happy and say no, that I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t.

“Mathew, don’t make me cry on my wedding day,” I said, smiling and hurting at the same time.

He scanned my face in search of any doubt. Hoping, by being there, he could put a chink in my resolve. I stared into his eyes. Memories flooded into my brain and again I wondered who that girl had been.

“I loved you since I can remember,” I started. “There were times I denied it in the name of self-preservation. I struggled with that love alone. There are a lot of words you used with me, but love was never one of them.”

I searched his eyes, and his beautiful face, at the same time seeing my blurred reflection behind him.

“We can’t change what didn’t happen,” I said softly.

He dropped my hands and leaned back against the sink counter.

“You’re wrong, Morgan, and you still haven’t answered my question.”

I had to think for a minute about what his question was. My head was filled with too many things.

“Am I sure?” I asked.

He waited, staring into my eyes; his so intense it shocked me. No matter how I said it, it wouldn’t be what he wanted to hear and would hurt him. It made my heart ache.

“Mathew,” I said firmly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

He dropped his head and looked down at the floor.

“You asked me once if my heart ever hurt, and I told you no because I only gave half of it. That wasn’t totally true. It hurt sometimes, but I plowed past it. Thought I was tougher than hurt. Today my heart hurts,” he said.

He lifted his head and looked at me, his eyes sad.

I opened my arms to him. He came to me and gave me a hug. He held me tightly this time, as if maybe this wouldn’t happen. I tried to understand his urgent change of heart. It had been years since we had been together. The only thing I could come up with was he was alone again, and he was about to forever lose the option of comfortable me. When he released me, he leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

“Good luck, kid. You deserve it,” he said as he turned and opened the door.

I heard him say something to the girls in the room, and I heard Gayle’s voice and then the hotel room door shut. I stared at myself in the mirror and waited for the tears, but they didn’t come. Instead I pictured Ryan’s smiling face, the twinkle in his eye, and all I wanted was to run to him.

“Who was that?” the girls asked when I came back into the room.

It was a hard question; he’d been so many things to me.

“One of my best friends,” I said finally.

Gayle didn’t look at me. I looked at the clock, it was close enough.

“Gayle, help me get my dress on,” I said.

She pulled my wedding dress from the armoire and followed me into the small dressing area next to the bathroom. I smiled as she struggled with the dress.

“What the hell was that?” she whispered.

“A last minute quickie,” I whispered back. “I’m not married yet.”

She looked at me, horrified.

“I’m kidding,” I chuckled, looking her in the eyes. “He wanted to know if I was sure about marrying Ryan.”

“Are you?” she said, opening my dress for me to step into it.

She was looking at the dress opening, not at me. I held her shoulder as I stepped into my wedding gown then put my arms into the sleeves, pulling it up. I adjusted the bodice.

“I’m not putting this on for a practice run,” I teased.

Her face softened and she smiled at me.

“I found myself holding my breath. The longer you two were in there, the more I saw myself walking down the aisle to tell Ryan you had run off with another man.”

“Gayle!” I said sharply.

“Gayle what? I’ve seen you do things, when it comes to Mathew, that I never thought you would do,” she said, adjusting the dress on my shoulders.

I wanted to laugh. Yes, there had been many things she’d witnessed over the years. I pictured the two of us in the tree house smoking, when she’d asked me if I wanted to kiss Mathew.

“Quit talking and get me zipped up,” I said.

Gayle finally put on my headpiece. When she finished, she backed away, and we both looked at each other in the mirror.

“I’m getting married today,” I said proudly, running my hands down my sides and smoothing down the dress. “To Ryan, the man I love.”

“Damn good thing,” she said smiling at me.

My mom and dad and Pat came to take pictures in the room once I was dressed. I was getting anxious. I wanted to see Ryan. Mathew had brought a lot of old memories flooding back, and it tore me up that his heart was hurting. I needed Ryan to chase those memories away.

“It’s time. You girls head down with Morgan’s dad,” Gayle instructed as she picked up my train, shooing my other bridesmaids out the door. “Ready?”

She looked funny with my dress all bunched up in her arms.

“I am so ready,” I said excitedly, slipping on my shoes.

Gayle smiled at me as we headed out the door.

“You got it?” I asked as she struggled down the hall behind me with my train.

“Got your back, girl.”

“You’ve always had my back. And about what I said regarding Mathew being my best friend, you’re still number one in that category.

“I was worried,” she teased.

The ceremony was being held outside, and when we got to the tunnel that led us out to the aisle, Gayle put my train down, spreading it out perfectly. She gave me a quick hug and then went to the front of the bridesmaid line. I smiled because she was so not a dress girl, and I had made her wear a dress and heels—red no less.

The music started and, as planned, my bridesmaids walked down the aisle. I watched as I stood in the entrance alone with my dad, and then I scanned the guests. Our eyes met, he took me in, and I knew by his look what he thought. Mathew, oh, Mathew. I could feel the tear run down my face. I wiped it away quickly. It’s over. I am over you at last. He smiled and I smiled back. Breathe, girl, breathe I said to myself trying to calm my excitement in getting to Ryan. “Someone Like You” by Van Morrison started which was my cue. I hesitated. My dad could sense my nervousness. He squeezed my hand.

“Let’s go, pretty girl,” he said.

I kissed his cheek. From the time I was little he’d said that, and I didn’t always believe him, but I did today. I firmly took his arm.

“Take me to Ryan,” I said, looking down the aisle to where Ryan stood waiting by the fountain.

As my dad walked me down the aisle, I couldn’t see anyone but Ryan. When I stopped and took his arm he smiled and I saw the sparkle in his eyes. I could feel my love for him well up inside me, higher and higher, and then bubble over like the fountain, spilling down around us. When the minister asked if anyone objected to this marriage, I felt a tug at my heart. Mathew, please don’t I thought. It never came. From the I do’s to the reception was a blur, and I didn’t remember seeing Mathew again until we were dancing.

“You’re a beautiful bride,” he said.

“What bride isn’t, Mathew?”

He held me tight, held me like he had at Melanie’s wedding. Who was that girl who had forever been in love with you? He smelled like Mathew, and yet I wasn’t even tempted. Ryan had in fact taken my whole heart. I didn’t regret a moment, the bumpy path had taken me to Ryan and that’s all the mattered.

“I never thought I would lose you forever,” he said.

I didn’t answer him. My head rested on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around me.

“I never thought this far,” he continued.

I kissed his neck.

“Mathew, there is so much that happened, so much history, good and bad. Let’s just cherish that.”

He guided me around the dance floor. I saw Ryan talking and smiling with some of our guests, on the edge of the dance floor, and then Mathew turned us.

“Maybe if it happened differently between us, I don’t know. We couldn’t have guessed the outcome. The questions are endless as to why,” I said.

“Stop talking,” he said softly. "I understand."

“There are lots of girls, Mathew,” I said reassuring. “You’re still a chick magnet. Pick a single girl in this room; you can have her. I’m sure you still know how to work it.”

The song ended.

“There’s only one girl I would want tonight, and she just got married,” he said, holding me tight to him.

Chapter 50

It took me months to stop thinking about our exchange and to stop feeling hurt for Mathew. I’d seen the loss in his eyes. I couldn’t blame that on what we can’t have we want reasoning. It didn’t fit. I wished the best for him. Gayle and I’d talked about Mathew’s arrival at the wedding. She’d been truly fearful that I would leave Ryan at the altar. Reflecting back over the years, I could understand why.

“Did it enter your mind at all?” she asked me over the phone, not long after the wedding.

“No, Ryan cured me.”

“How?” she asked.

“Gayle, you said something to me a long time ago that finally made sense to me. You told me Mathew was like a drug to me. He was. That last summer we spent time together, I opened my eyes to potential problems with us. He was coming off vulnerable after the accident and jail and he needed me, but I could see where his old ways could return. I was shocked when he asked to try, but at that stage of our relationship, I didn’t want to try anymore. I needed more.”

“I had a little dance around my kitchen when you told me you weren’t moving back,” she chuckled.

“I’m sure you did. And you know when Mathew let it die so fast, I was sure I had made the right choice. I guess I wanted the Cinderella story, even though I hate it; I wanted love, real love. Ryan came into my life on even ground. I was in a better place: more sure of who I was, not young and impressionable. It started as a good friendship and developed into a great love.”

“Ryan compliments you, it’s not two crazies together it’s just one and him.”

“Yes,” I laughed. “I never thought Ryan and I would date, let alone end up married. It was slow and progressive and developed naturally, equally. We fell in love together.”

“You got yourself a great guy,” she said.

She’d been around Ryan several times, had actually joined us in San Francisco that day way back when.

“Ryan is even-tempered, and he keeps me grounded, brings out the good Morgan. I don’t ever feel frantic for him like I did for Mathew. I know he will always be there.”

It had been almost five years since Gayle and I’d had that conversation.

“Ryan,” I called happily. “Mathew’s getting married.”

I was standing at our kitchen counter opening the mail and there was his wedding invitation. It was Sunday morning, and Tommy and Sam (short for Samantha) were playing around the corner with Ryan on the living room carpet. I could hear their little giggles and squeals. I pictured Mathew the day of our wedding, the sadness in his eyes. I was thrilled he’d found someone he felt strong enough to marry; thrilled he had it in him to fall in love.

Ryan and I’d had three delightful years before we had our first baby, Tommy. We’d traveled and romanced and just plain enjoyed each other. I’d never felt happier and more satisfied with any man, not even Mathew. There was a lot to be said for two people who loved each other and were each other’s best friend. We planned Tommy and got pregnant the first month we tried, much to my amazement. Samantha followed thirteen months later, which wasn’t exactly planned, but welcomed.

“It’s about time,” Ryan said, laughing at something the kids were doing.

I walked to the doorway that went into the dining room and peeked at the three of them on the floor. Ryan was lying on his back pushing Sam, who was just a baby, into the air as Tommy ran around him giggling. He was such a good dad, and had been so thoughtful with me through both pregnancies. The love welled up and pooled in my stomach watching them.

“Really? You were the same age when you married me, thirty-four. Maybe it takes you guys that long to figure out what it is you really want.”

Hearing my voice closer he rolled his head to look at me. His eyes twinkled.

“Maybe we finally get worn down and give in,” he teased.

Tommy ran to me and wrapped himself around my legs in a hug. I reached down and rumpled his hair as I looked back at the invitation: Roxanne Strong. What was she like? Mathew and I had spoken, but not seen each other since my wedding. Any conversation we’d had was very friendly and basic. No discussion of the past or of feelings. I understood that for him it was necessary. I hadn’t even known he was seriously dating a Roxanne Strong.

“I assume we will be going to this wedding?” Ryan asked.

“Yes, this one is important.”

There had been many in San Jose to whom I had sent a gift with our regrets, either with travel too expensive or timing not working. I remembered his phone call the day he’d got my invitation. In a way I wanted to call him and do the same thing, but mine would be a joke. I saw him in my mind, so handsome it had made my eyes water, in the bathroom holding my hands, twisting my engagement ring. I wondered if he looked the same. I wondered if he took Roxanne Strong’s breath away like he had mine.

The wedding was in Carmel, and we took the opportunity for our own mini-vacation with a room at the Marriott in Monterey. Gayle willingly came with us to take care of the babies, staying with them in an adjoining room. I’d put on a simple black dress that had a soft plunge in the front and a deeper plunge in the back. She was sitting on the toilet as a chair in the bathroom feeding Sam a bottle, and watching me put on makeup.

“Think he’ll notice?” Gayle asked.

I was applying mascara, my mouth open, concentrating. I glanced at her in the mirror.

“Ryan, yeah, he’ll like it,” I answered.

“No, Mathew.”

I stopped and turned, looking at her.

“Why would you ask that, Gayle? Wanting to stir up a little trouble?”

“No, just remembering the chemistry between you two. Will it be awkward?”

Sam pulled away from the bottle and fussed.

“Burp her.”

Gayle put Sam over her shoulder and patted her back. Sam let out a huge burp, which was typical of her, and we both chuckled.

“I don’t think so. I’m glad he’s finally found someone. We have an interesting past is all, but then Ryan and I have an interesting past too. It’s been over for a long time,” I said.

Sam had laid her head down on Gayle’s shoulder and was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. The TV was going in our room, with some cartoon Tommy and Ryan were watching. I went back to my makeup.

“I worry about liking her. It sounds silly I know, but I really want to like her, to think they are a good fit.”

“Morgan, do you ever regret the decision you made in San Jose?” she asked. “Not moving, not trying with him. I mean you told me no years ago, but now it’s real life: two babies, laundry, you know.”

I looked at her in the mirror and could see Sam was asleep.

“She’s asleep, you can put her in the crib.”

Gayle got up and went through the door to her room and then came back and resumed her seat.

“She’s such an easy baby, both yours are. So answer my question.”

“There were times I did regret the no, before Ryan. In the years before I met Ryan, there were numerous times I almost called Mathew and said yeah let’s give it a shot. But I didn’t know where he was in his life; I also wasn’t sure I wanted to open my heart to him again.”

I finished my makeup and turned around to face her as I put my earrings in.

“I’d made a decision, and my reasons were valid, even if my heart said otherwise. When I fell in love with Ryan, I understood love could be so much bigger, mutual, and respectful. There is a trust that is so important, that I never had with Mathew.”

She searched my eyes.

“If Mathew did love me, Gayle, he never said it. He was ‘comfortable’ with me; he even said so, or he wanted to try. Whatever that looked like, trying me on for size, like a shoe. I was like the niffy horse at the races; when he got scared or was alone, I could calm him down, make him feel ‘comfortable’. I didn’t want to be just comfortable, to anyone.”

“That’s a weird analogy,” she said. “A niffy horse.”

I could see her processing it, trying to envision horses going to the gate at a race.

“He told me on my wedding day that I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what? The horse thing?”

She got a confused look on her face and I laughed.

“No, wrong that he didn’t love me. He did, I’m sure in his Mathewish way. I still wonder sometimes what those feelings really felt like to him. Through all the on/off I went through with him, Morgan grew up. Shocking to you as it was. I realized we weren’t meant to be, there wasn’t enough for me,” I answered.

“Morgan,” Ryan called. “We best get going.”

“And, yeah, he’ll notice,” I said, smiling at her.

The church was starting to fill up when we got there.

“Groom, I suspect?” It was Bobby.

“Best man, I suspect.”

I threw my arms around his neck, giving him a hug before I introduced Ryan to him.

“Nice to finally meet you, Ryan,” Bobby said. “And I’m so glad you guys could make it.”

The day was stellar, bright sun, no clouds, no wind, but since we were on the coast not to hot either. I took Ryan’s hand in mine.

“Are you kidding me? Couldn’t miss it.”

Bobby glanced from me to Ryan and back again. I’m sure he was curious as to what Ryan knew.

“We’ll talk later, now get us a seat,” I said.

Bobby took my arm and led us down the aisle, seating us behind the family. Ann turned around and smiled. When Mathew stepped into view, it overwhelmed me. He looked so handsome in his tux, so grown-up, a man not a boy. I thought about how many times I had looked into that face. I thought about how he used to kiss me and then pushed it down. I glanced at Ryan and he smiled at me.

When we stood to “Here Comes the Bride”, I watched as a beautiful blonde came down the aisle: Roxanne. I glanced briefly at Mathew, who was focused on her, smiling from ear to ear. A veil covered her face, but I could tell she was petite with blonde wavy hair that fell below her shoulders. Yeah, I could see Mathew with her. The ceremony was short, and we were off to the reception at Carmel Highlands, while they stayed for pictures. I was thinking about Mathew, picturing the days at Rio del Mar when we were kids, as we drove.

“Did it make you sad?” Ryan asked startling me.

“No, why would it make me sad?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “You haven’t said a word since we left the church.”

I reached over and patted his leg.

“Just thinking,” I said carelessly. “I gave up on sad with Mathew the day I married you.”

“Glad to hear that,” he said. “You look marvelous by the way.”

“Well thank you Ryan Walker, so do you. Right about the you’re-in-trouble-later mark,” I said giving him a sexy smile.

Ryan laughed. I was pleased Gayle had the babies in her room tonight.

“Madam,” the valet said opening my door.

I took his hand and exited, walking up to the bottom of the stone stairs. I waited for Ryan to get the valet ticket. We admired the country club as we worked our way down to the banquet room, which opened to a beautiful outdoor area with multi-level decks that looked into the forest. The trees were lush and green and dense, the sun barely filtering through in places.

“Beautiful,” Ryan said, draping his arm around my shoulders.

We got ourselves a drink at the outdoor bar and admired the view as we mingled with many of the old group. A lot of them had been to our wedding so they had met Ryan. The sun was warm and I suddenly got a whiff of jasmine, which sent me careening back in time. I pictured Mathew watching me in Jack’s backyard, the sprinkler going in the background. I glanced at Ryan and he bent to kiss me.

“Worried about the babies?” he asked.

“No, not really. I know Gayle is totally capable.”

When I heard Mathew and Roxanne had arrived, I took Ryan’s hand.

“Come on,” I said, excited to see them and to meet Roxanne.

Walking towards them, Mathew caught sight of me. He smiled, holding my gaze. I was surprised, and then not so, when he gave me the head-to-toe checkout. I laughed really hard inside, to myself. Good god, Mathew, some things would never change. When we reached them, Mathew put out his hand to Ryan shaking his hand and then gave me a hug.

“Morgan,” he said and held me longer than normal.

He rocked me slightly as Roxanne waited. I looked into her face; she was beautiful, with a very warm smile. I could feel the sting in my nose. Mathew pulled away and yet held my hand.

“Roxanne, this is Morgan,” he introduced us smiling.

“Nice to meet you,” she said with a bit of a southern drawl. “Mathew has talked about you so much.”

“And Ryan, her husband,” Mathew said dropping my hand and patting Ryan on the back.

“Congratulations,” Ryan said leaning in to give Roxanne a quick hug.

Well, that went well I thought. I looked at Mathew. Knowing him, he wouldn’t tell her too much. I knew he wanted her to be okay with me. We talked a few more minutes before they were pulled away by someone else for congratulations. I watched as he greeted the next guests, working the crowd, something he always was able to do well.

Chapter 51

“Let’s get a table,” Ryan suggested pulling me to him. “I thought he might not let you go.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” I said slapping him good-humoredly.

“It’s always nice to see men admire you, when I know you’re mine.”

“Damn right,” I said.

It was a sit-down dinner, and Ryan and I socialized with the people at our table while it was served. Ryan pulled out pictures of the kids. He was so obviously proud and the butterflies took flight inside me, swooping and swerving. The first dance came, and after that, Mathew sang a song to Roxanne. I flashed back to his playing for me over the years. We’re just two lost souls, swimming in a fishbowl year after year. And then I could hear “Best of my Love”.

“Let’s dance,” Ryan suggested.

We made our way to the dance floor and danced several songs, most of them fast, one slow. I wondered if Mathew had ever finished the song he started about me. I would catch glimpses of Mathew and then Mathew and Roxanne. I was happy for them, but my mind couldn’t help jumping back in time. Ryan seemed content to let me dance with other friends; he even got some of the older ladies out whose husbands refused to dance. I was enjoying myself. Leaving the dance floor after a dance with Bobby, someone grasped my hand. I turned around smiling, thinking it was Ryan.

“My turn,” Mathew said, pulling me to him.

It was a slow dance, and he led me around the dance floor.

“I’m happy for you. She seems like a wonderful girl,” I said.

“She is, you’ll like her,” he grinned. “Ryan working out okay?”

I stared into his blue eyes.

“He’s great. I can’t believe it’s been five years already and two babies.”

“I wish I could see them, I love babies,” he said. “You like being a mom?”

I saw him sitting on the grass at Vasona Park, the day he asked me if I wanted kids. I didn’t know he loved babies; we’d only touched on it that one time.

“I do. It’s hard work, but it’s all good. Ryan’s a great dad and lots of help.”

He looked into my eyes searching and what I saw sent a tingle down my spine. Just a hint of the old Mathew, the one who could send me. I glanced quickly at his lips, then back to his eyes, and realized I’d maybe had too much wine. He grinned.

“You look great, Morgan. If I wasn’t married—” he stopped and we both laughed.

When the song stopped the band went right into a fast song. Mathew took my hand, walking us out onto the deck as the sun was starting to set. Bobby followed, joining us. The three of us caught up and laughed about old times. I envisioned us by the bonfire on the beach, “come” he’d yelled. As much as I loved Ryan I was still feeling the memories, Mathew had been such a big part of my life.

“Can I get anyone another,” Bobby asked, holding up his empty glass.

“Sure. Chardonnay,” I answered. “I’ll finish this by the time you get back.”

“I’m okay,” Mathew said.

Bobby left, headed for the bar. We stood alone, suddenly seemingly out of words. I glanced over at him, searching for something to break the silence when he spoke. He was looking out towards the view taking in the beauty of the sunset. I felt like he wanted to say something.

“Morgan, you told me the day you got married that I never loved you. I said you were wrong, but I didn’t say how wrong.”

I watched his jaw tighten slightly as I waited for him to finish. He put his hands on the railing and leaned forward and then stood up again.

“I think I always loved you,” he said, turning toward me, staring into my eyes. “I just thought there was more.”

I blinked hard and looked away from him, staring out at the sun sinking in the sky. I felt my heart rise up into my throat. I took a sip of my wine, hoping it would push it back down. I thought carefully about his words.

“Why?” I asked softly.

“Because I thought you should know.”

He understood my question. Why now? Why tell me now? I pictured him on the beach, us on the beach. I saw him leaning against the wall in the airport, smiling. I pictured us at the park by the elementary school. I could see us at Jack’s, saw us at the Hyatt. It was like a fast rewind in my head. Love had never been mentioned. Why had he never said it? “Did it make you sad?” Ryan had asked. This made me sad. I swallowed hard again and hoped my voice wouldn’t give away my emotion.

“Mathew, I hope you found it,” I said, motioning with my head toward Roxanne.

She was getting her picture taken on a lower deck, looking beautiful in her white dress, her blonde hair falling about her shoulders. The light was behind her, creating a halo around her. The beading on her dress caught the light from the setting sun and reflected a rainbow of pinks.

“I truly mean it,” I said, putting my arm around his waist and giving him a hug. “I hope you’re finished with searching for more.”

I looked back into his eyes. He smiled a little sadly.

“It’s why I didn’t come to San Jose when you wanted to try; why I couldn’t come. I love too hard. Someone giving me their whole heart was a requirement,” I said.

Ryan walked up and looked out at the sunset.

“Am I interrupting anything?” he asked, noting we were talking very quietly.

I had to smile. There was not a jealous bone in his body until it came to Mathew. It was my same feelings about his first love.

“Not at all,” Mathew said.

Ryan watched as Mathew put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to him for a hug.

“Morgan and I were admiring the sunset and my new bride.”

Ryan glanced down at Roxanne on the lower deck.

“Both are beautiful,” Ryan said.

“I appreciate you guys coming. How are the kids?” Mathew switched gears and dropped his arm.

“Good. They’re with Gayle at the hotel,” I answered.

Ryan was leaning on the railing looking at the commotion below.

“How is Gayle?” Mathew asked winking at me, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“She’s doing really well.”

“Still angry at men?” he teased.

“Stop,” I laughed.

Ryan turned back to look at Mathew.

“You know she’s gay, right?” Ryan asked.

“Exactly what I mean,” Mathew said, joking.

Ryan and he laughed.

“Matt,” Roxanne called from below.

I looked down, and she was motioning for him to come.

“Be right there,” he said and headed for the stairs.

We watched him walk down to Roxanne. He took her in his arms and kissed her passionately. The photographer started placing them for more photos.

“She’s pretty, but not as pretty as you,” Ryan said, leaning into me, wrapping his arm around me.

“You’re biased,” I teased. “Good response however.”

Mathew’s words ran around inside my head: “I think I always loved you. I just thought there was more.” More. More girls is what he’d meant; the part that scared me. He did understand me better than I thought. He was admitting to something that I had known.

When we said goodbye to Mathew and Roxanne, we promised to stay in touch. Later at the hotel, I slipped into the room Gayle was sharing with the kids to kiss them.

“How was it?” she asked sleepily.

“The wedding was beautiful. They were beautiful, very classy,” I whispered.

“And Mathew?”

I sat down on the edge of her bed.

“It was great to see him. He still looks good enough to eat, in a tux no less, wow,” I said.

She yawned.

“He asked if you were still angry with men.”

“Did you tell him, just him,” she said calmly.

“Ryan reminded him that you prefer women.”

“You know I’m not mad at him. I hope he knows that,” she said quietly.

“You just called him on his shit, unlike me.”

I paused. Tommy made a little whimper in his sleep and we both look at the bed where he slept. He was still, his sweet face raised up on the pillow, his lips moving just slightly.

“So cute,” Gayle whispered.

I was dying to tell her. I couldn’t tell Ryan, at least not tonight.

“Mathew told me he did love me.”

“Loved you?” Gayle asked sitting upright in the bed, glaring at me in the dark.

I could hear the disbelief in her voice. Similar to my own reaction.

“He did not?” she whispered, leaning toward me.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “He did.”

I could see his eyes, saw his seriousness, felt his touch.

“What’s the point of that?” she asked.

“He said he wanted me to know. I suppose he was trying to be kind. I never thought he did; maybe he wanted to clear that doubt for me once and for all.”

“How did it make you feel?” she asked as she lay back down in the bed.

“Ah,” I said, rubbing the corner of my eyes. “Sad.”

I couldn’t back down my feelings as tears welled in my eyes. I was glad it was dark, but when I spoke again, my voice cracked. Gayle sat up again and looked closely into my face.

“Then I have to remind myself that if things had gone differently, I wouldn’t have this,” I said, sweeping my arm across the room. “I wouldn’t have Ryan and the kids.”

Ryan came into the room and I took a deep breath. He sat on the bed next to me and rubbed my back. Gayle reached for me hugging me to her, drying my eyes with her shoulder. It was dark, and he couldn’t see the hint of tears.

“You girls are going to wake the kids,” he whispered.

“We’re whispering,” I said.

“Come on, Morgan, you two can chat more in the light of day,” he said as he took my hand, pulling me up.

I smiled at her weakly from the doorway.

“Night, Gayle,” I said as he led me into our room.

When I curled into Ryan after we’d made love I felt at peace with the world, Mathew and I had ended up exactly where we were supposed to be.

Chapter 52

Ryan and I stayed in San Diego until Tommy was getting close to starting school. We were busy with our lives, so we didn’t get back to San Jose. Ryan wanted to raise our kids some place smaller that had seasons, so shortly after Mathew and Roxanne’s wedding, we moved back to Park City, Utah.

Roxanne O’Conner and I grew to be friends over the phone. In trying to keep in touch with Mathew, she and I would talk. I usually initiated the call. I was pretty sure she didn’t know about Mathew's and my prior relationship, and that was good. Mathew was protecting us both. They tried to have children and couldn’t, and it was hard on both of them. At his wedding he’d told me that he loved babies.

About eight years into it, I could tell some of his old behavior had surfaced. He was out late with the boys a lot. The band was playing together again. She was concerned about his drinking. She suspected the drugs were back. I think Roxanne felt safe with me because she knew how long Mathew and I had been friends. She knew I understood his history. She still picked her words carefully, though; she didn’t want to betray her husband. I could read between the lines, however. The more was no doubt back too; it all seemed to go hand-in-hand. They separated and then reconciled, then separated again. It was close to their ten-year anniversary when Mathew called me. I hadn’t talked to him or Roxanne in quite awhile.

“We’re getting divorced,” Mathew said.

“No, I thought you guys had worked it out,” I said, distressed.

“We tried,” he said sadly.

I could tell he’d been drinking. I was sitting in our home office at the computer alone; I’d been doing paperwork.

“I’m sorry, Mathew.”

“Me too,” he said. “Come visit me, Morgan.”

“You know I can’t.”

“I could get us a room at the Hyatt,” he continued.

“Mathew, I can’t. Really, I won’t.”

“You still love him, don’t you?” he asked.

“I do Mathew, Ryan means everything to me. In fact I probably love him more now than on our wedding day, he’s a great husband and father,” I said.

When we hung up, I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes. I hadn’t seen him since his wedding, yet I could still picture him that day: how handsome and happy he was. It shocked me to realize that if I were single or unhappy in my marriage, I would have been on the first flight to San Jose.

“Who was that?” Ryan asked, walking into the room.

“It was Mathew,” I said, looking up. “He’s getting divorced.”

Ryan walked over and bent down to kiss me. His eyes still had the sparkle. He wore his curly blonde hair short now and he’d taken to wearing a cowboy hat. I thought he was sexy as hell.

“That’s too bad. How long were they married?”

“Almost ten years,” I answered.

“Seems like, after that long, they would make it,” he said. “I think he kept your heart longer than that.”

He sat down at his desk, which was a mess, piles of paper everywhere.

“Would that be jealousy, or just stupidity?” I asked.

“A little of both. Did he tell you why?” Ryan asked.

“He didn’t specifically. He said there were a number of things, many of which. I didn’t dig. I could tell he didn’t want me to. Maybe it would be too hard to explain. Mathew keeps things to himself.”

I thought about Roxanne and wondered what happened, how she felt. I had no doubt she loved him. I wondered if it was drugs, alcohol, girls, or a combination of all of the above. Did she walk down my same road of discovery, finally coming to the same conclusion? That loving him came at too high a cost. It hurt my heart to think he was alone again.

Mathew didn’t reach out to me after that phone call. He didn’t return my calls when I left messages on his home machine. After a while there wasn’t even a machine that answered. We emailed now and then, very sporadically, and he would tell me everything was fine. Any communication was brief, very brief. His lack of interaction made me question how well things really were. It had been three years since his divorce. It was a Friday, and I was sitting at my desk at my office. I answered my direct phone line when it rang. My calls usually went through my receptionist, only a few people had my direct line.

“Morgan, it's Gayle.”

“Hey, what are you doing, calling me at work?” I asked, excited to hear her voice.

Gayle hardly called at all anymore, so calling me at work was very unusual.

“Are you sitting down?” she asked.

I laughed rocking back in my leather chair.

“Yeah, I’m sitting down with a desk piled high with files that all have problems.”

I stared at the three stacks of legal manila file folders lining my desk. I needed to get through them all today.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I, unfortunately,” I joked.

She was silent a minute.

“Sorry, okay, serious. What is it?” I asked, sensing it was not good news, thinking it was her grandmother.

Her Nana hadn’t been in good health, and I thought maybe it was about her. I leaned forward resting my elbow on my desk.

“I heard that Mathew O’Conner died.”

Mathew? Mathew died? Died? How? I felt like I was treading through syrup in my head. He was my age; he was too young to die.

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

“I heard you, Gayle. Died how?”

“I don’t know the details, but apparently he walked into a hospital on Monday and was dead by Wednesday,” she said.

I pictured him walking towards me smiling, his handsome face tan. I imagined him walking through glass sliding doors into the hospital like that.

“People don’t usually walk into a hospital fine one day and die a few days later,” I said, baffled.

I felt like I might be sick. I wondered why I hadn’t heard from anyone: Sara, Bobby, Ann. No one had contacted me, it had to be a mistake.

“This has to be wrong,” I said.

“I heard it from a pretty reliable source, I don’t think it is. I’m sorry, Morgan, I know what he meant to you.”

My chest tightened as I looked around my office. The window was the same, same blind, the tan walls, and same green patterned carpet, but it looked different to me. Like I was seeing it from a different viewpoint.

“I have to go,” I said, feeling dazed, frantic. “I need to make some calls. I have to confirm this.”

“Call me later,” she said.

When I hung up, I was surprised at how numb I felt. I tried to remember when I last heard his voice. “We’re getting divorced. Come visit me, Morgan” he’d said. That was the last time. Why hadn’t I talked to him in so long? It took some digging to get Bobby’s cell phone number. We hadn’t talked since Mathew’s wedding. I pushed the numbers on the phone slowly, hesitantly, and listened to the phone ring.

“Hello.”

“Bobby, it's Morgan.”

There was a pause.

“You heard?”

I could feel the dread spread through me.

“Please tell me it’s not true,” I begged, hoping against hope.

“It’s true,” he said sadly. “I saw him the day before he died. He wasn’t awake, hadn’t been for a while. All I could think about is how young he looked. Not old enough to be dying.”

We talked for two hours. Bobby had seen him over the last few years, but always on Mathew’s terms. A quick lunch out or a quick stop at Bobby’s house, he said Mathew never stayed long. Bobby was never invited to his place, not like when he and Roxanne were together. Bobby felt that he left a lot out when they did see each other. He figured that the partying had never stopped; that he’d hidden it well. Any new girl in his life never stayed around very long he said.

“What did he die of?” I asked.

“They’re not sure, maybe an accidental overdose or some sort of organ failure,” he answered.

Images were filling my head, him laughing on the merry-go-round, him playing his guitar in his room, the beach, skiing, out by the O’Conner’s pool.

“He would have turned forty-seven May tenth,” I said absently, remembering his birthday. “Bobby, why hasn’t anyone called me?”

“Morgan, everyone’s in shock. I think the O’Conner’s are trying to get to people the best they can.”

Sara emailed me shortly after Bobby and I hung up to tell me she was sorry she hadn’t gotten to me first. She’d obviously spoken to Bobby. I could sense her devastation in her email. It sounded like she was the one taking charge. She told me there would be a celebration of his life at the Apollo the following Saturday and hoped I could make it. The Apollo; I saw him sitting lazily in the back room, me on his lap. Remembered getting so mad that same night and leaving.

My heart was beating in my throat. I called Ryan.

“Hey,” he said answering his cell phone right away.

“Gayle called me. Mathew O’Conner died.”

“No way?” Ryan said, shocked. “He certainly wasn’t very old. That’s too bad.”

“I know,” I said, my head starting to throb.

“What happened?”

“I’m not real clear on that yet.”

“Finish up at work and go home,” he suggested.

I kept waiting to feel something more. I thought the tears would come, but nothing. I tried to focus on some of my files and, after an hour, I gave up and went home. Over the next two days, Mathew ran like a movie in my head. It didn’t stop day or night. I remembered things I hadn’t thought about in years. I heard his voice. I heard him playing his guitar, singing “Wild Horses”. I dreamed about us. I felt guilty that it wouldn’t stop.

I called Bobby several more times, and we reminisced over the phone. I told him and Sara I wasn’t going to come. I felt like an outsider. The love that was, but really wasn’t. The one-sided love few knew about. The friendship that had faded long ago. The movie kept playing in my head, flash after flash of him through the years. I was having trouble sleeping and eating.

“Morgan, you should come,” Bobby encouraged again.

He was working at wearing me down. He and Sara both had pressed me to come.

“Bobby, you know bits and pieces about us; we had a complicated relationship. Mathew is playing in my head like a movie, and I can’t get it to stop. I’ve remembered things that have been buried for years. I’ve come to realize he kept me at a distance from the rest of his life. Maybe to protect me, maybe to hide me, I don’t know. I liked the distance. I liked him best when we were alone. When other people were around, he was different towards me.”

“I remember that day in Capitola,” he chuckled. “You were on fire mad at him. You tried to pretend to me that you weren’t, but I knew. I felt bad for you, him acting the way he did.”

“I went home that summer without seeing him again.”

“I know, I asked him what had happened,” Bobby said.

I pictured Bobby and I sitting on the sand, the emotions swirling in me like the waves.

“You know I met Mathew just a few weeks prior to meeting you at the ranch that day in Almaden when we were twelve. Our relationship spanned thirty-four years in varying degrees,” I laughed. “Some pretty crazy degrees.”

“He talked about you. He wasn’t trying to hide you,” Bobby said.

“What did he say?”

“Early on he hinted at the fact that you two had slept together; you confirmed it that day in Capitola. When you stayed at the beach house those few days, he told me you were lovers, had been over the years.”

“He came out and said that?”

I was a bit surprised because Mathew kept things close to his chest.

“Yes, maybe not exactly like that, but he admitted you were together.”

We talked about what he knew and what had really transpired over the years. He knew Mathew asked me to move, and that it hadn’t worked out. Mathew never told him why. He didn’t know he had asked me not to get married.

“I can’t help but wonder if I decided differently, if it would have changed things. I really fought with myself about moving in with him. Gayle told me once he was like a drug to me. I wasn’t willing to give him up, but I finally did because I was afraid. Afraid he couldn’t stop all the things he was doing, especially the girls. Afraid if I tried that it wouldn’t last. I wonder if he had told me he loved me, if it would have made a difference.”

He listened and let me ramble on. I finally stopped, realizing what I was doing.

“I’m sorry, Bobby. I loved him,” I whispered.

“We all loved him. Don’t do it, Morgan. The what ifs; you can’t go there. I think if you’re honest with yourself,” he paused, “you know you would have been another casualty. As much as I hate to say that, I know it’s true.”

I felt a stab in my heart, realizing he was right.

“Morgan, does Ryan know all this, about you and Mathew?” he asked.

“He knows some, not everything,” I answered.

“Maybe you need to tell him. Ryan loves you, and maybe he feels helpless in how to assist with what you’re feeling. It sounds silly, but maybe it would help,” he said.

“Are you playing counselor? I mean you’ve been listening to me ramble without getting paid,” I teased. “It is what you do after all.”

“I am a little. You should be able to share your deep sadness with your husband. Ryan doesn’t automatically know how you feel or how to comfort you.”

“I haven’t cried, Bobby. It’s as if… as if I can’t grasp it, then maybe it’s not real.”

“It’s why you need to come to the Apollo, because it is real,” he said. “Talk to Ryan about that too, promise me.”

“I promise.”

That night Ryan and I sat by a fire. He opened a bottle of wine. It was April and snow was still on the ground. The fire blazed in the fireplace, popping occasionally. I’d called him after I hung up with Bobby and told him we needed to talk. I curled up my feet onto the couch and snuggled next to him.

“I need to talk about Mathew,” I started.

I looked into Ryan’s blue eyes.

“Morgan, tell me,” he said, kissing me. “I love you, you’re my best friend. Let me be yours. Don’t shut me out.”

I started at the beginning and, in the end, Ryan knew everything about Mathew and me. He listened patiently as I recounted events he was unaware of. Things I was sure were somewhat painful for him to hear. I knew I still felt a little jealous of his first love.

"He asked you not to marry me? Bastard,” he joked. “I’m sure glad you didn’t listen.”

He smiled and squeezed me tighter to him.

“I think it was about the only time I didn’t,” I laughed. “In looking back he had an unbelievable hold on me. Something to this day I don’t completely understand.”

“First love, you were innocent and vulnerable, although I have to say he played you well,” Ryan said.

“Well then I’d have to say that about you too, Ryan Walker. Getting you to love me was no walk in the park.”

“I just thought you were out of my league.”

“Yeah, right.”

I thought for a minute about our journey to the alter. How I was such a different girl with Ryan.

“In so many ways, he unknowingly shaped who I am as a woman. He influenced how I came to look at relationships between men and women. How I finally came to understand what was right for me.”

“Did you love him?” he asked.

I wrinkled between my eyes and looked up at him.

“You sure you want me to answer that?”

“Yes,” he said, getting up to stir the fire.

I watched as he picked up the poker and stabbed at the fire, his hands, the muscles in his arms, the way his leg was angled onto the hearth. Ryan, the man that I’d loved for seventeen years, had babies with, and still adored.

“Yes, I loved him, but in a different way than I love you. I was young and stupid. In his own way, he loved me too. For so long, we couldn’t get it on the same level, at the same time. When finally we could, I guess it was too late for me. I knew too much. I knew there would be another one of me around the corner one day. He never told me he loved me until his wedding," I started to cry.

I could see the two of us standing on the deck overlooking the forest. “I think I always loved you” Mathew had said.

"I know this can’t be easy to listen to…”

Ryan threw another log on the fire and came back to the couch and put his arm around me. He cupped my chin and tilted my head up.

“It’s okay,” he whispered trying to wipe the tears away.

I stared into his eyes.

“Like he said to me once,” I chocked. “‘I never thought about losing you forever. I never thought that far’. Neither did I.”

Finally the feelings came flooding, like a dam breaking. The sense of loss was inconsolable. I cried until no more tears would come. My heart felt like it was shattering with sadness. Ryan held me and I felt embarrassed to be so distraught over another man. Later when I slept, I dreamt of Mathew. My images were of him from his wedding and then back through time. I woke up sobbing.

“Shhh,” Ryan held me, “shhh.”

Somehow, beyond my control, this happened two more nights. My subconscious was taking over the grieving process. While I was awake, I wanted to be in denial, but I couldn’t control my mind when I slept.

Chapter 53

“Morgan, it will be all right.”

I heard Ryan’s words through a fog. I came out of the dream of Mathew and me at the beach: the towels spinning, the colors blending, my confusion at this, not feeling Mathew’s hand anymore. The feelings that were so slow in coming now seemed to be overwhelming me. I could see the pain in Ryan’s eyes. I could tell my anguish was getting to him.

“Morgan, this sounds stupid, but I’m feeling jealous about a dead guy. I have never seen you so broken up about anything.”

I felt the tears pressing forward. I didn’t want to make Ryan feel bad, or doubt my love for him, and yet the feelings I was having, the utter sadness, wasn’t stopping

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be upset and upset you,” I said.

"I’ve never had a relationship like you had with Mathew. The time it spanned. At times, it’s hard for me to even grasp," Ryan said sympathetically.

“I know. I’m sad about Mathew, and I’m sad about a part of my life that died with him. It was a big chunk of years. The moments keep coming back to me so randomly. Times I loved him so I ached, and times I hated him. Times we laughed and shared silly things. I’m sorry. Ryan, I love you. It never reached what you and I have, but it was an important relationship. I’ve had two great loves in my life.”

Tears filled my eyes and I wiped them away. Ryan pulled me to him and I laid my face on his chest. I breathed him in as he gently rubbed my back.

“You need to go to San Jose. You need to go, so you can face it and feel whole again, Bobby’s right. You need to say goodbye. I will go if you want me to, but I think it would be better if you went alone. Visit Gayle, talk about old times. Talk freely about Mathew. If I were there, you would worry about what you said. It will be good for you.”

“And you?” I questioned.

“Yeah, me too.”

I knew what he meant; he wanted his wife back. I made my reservation that morning. I called Sara to tell her I changed my mind.

“We had an odd relationship over the years,” I said to her.

“He talked to me about things between you and him.”

“Really?”

Again I was taken aback he had talked about me to anyone. Most of our times together were just not very visible to the world, either because he didn’t want them to be or we were alone.

“Really, I figured a lot out being around the two of you. I wasn’t blind to how you interacted with him. I thought it was stupid when we were young, so I ignored it. When I asked you to come see him that summer he was in such trouble, I knew you could comfort him. I was afraid for him. He seemed so low and lost. I knew you loved him,” Sara said.

I listened. How did she know? Had it been so apparent?

“I know the two of you were together for a time. Even if he didn’t show it, he loved you, Morgan,” she said.

I didn’t pry for more information. In a strange way, I didn’t want all the details of what he said about me to her or to anyone for that matter. I wanted to remember what we’d had in my own way.

Gayle agreed to pick me up; I would stay with her. I flew into San Jose Saturday morning. I could envision Mathew in the airport: picking me up, grabbing me for a kiss, picking up my luggage, saying good-bye. I could feel how I felt the time he shocked me when Gayle let him pick me up. How confused I was about my feelings, but still going with him. I remembered the smell of the jasmine in Jack’s backyard, the look on Mathew’s face, wanting everything between us to be okay.

Gayle was waiting curbside when I stepped out into the sunshine, outside my memories.

“How are you?” she asked, grabbing my suitcase and throwing it in her trunk.

“I’m okay. It’s been a rough week, though.”

“I’m sure. You want to go grab a bite to eat?”

“And a drink,” I said.

“That too.”

Gayle took me to a restaurant in Los Gatos. I’d been there several times with Mathew. It was a small café, always busy, booths lined the walls and tables sat in the middle. It had brick floors and funky signs on the walls. Plants filled the front windows. I could picture us.

“Being back in San Jose reminds me of him, of so many things we did. Places we went. Here,” I said sadly.

“Sorry, do you want to go somewhere else?” Gayle asked.

“No.”

The waitress seated us and we ordered lunch and I ordered a beer to go with mine.

“How’s Ryan been with this?”

“He’s been a saint while I’ve been falling apart about another man, an old lover to boot. I feel so ashamed that I’ve been such a basket case.”

Gayle took her napkin and put it in her lap, then smiled at me.

“Ryan loves you. I’m sure he understands. You and Mathew were good friends, and on top of that, it was a long-term love affair, Morgan. Your first love. It’s got to hurt,” she said.

A love affair. I had never thought of our relationship in those terms. Mathew at the beach, laughing, flashed into my mind, from the times he took me to his spot with cold beer and Togo sandwiches.

“Tell me about Ryan and the kids,” she said.

Gayle was good about refocusing my energy on the living. She only let me talk about Mathew for so long before she would casually change the subject. We drank a bottle of wine on her deck as the sun set that night, or rather I did. She ordered a pizza delivered. Gayle had switched gears years ago when the tech bubble burst, and she was laid off from her job. She’d become an artist and a very well known one. Her house was her studio, and she had sculptures in progress everywhere.

“The sculpting going well?” I asked.

“Really well. I get to be in touch with my creative side.”

“Do you want to go with me, Gayle, to the Apollo?”

It hadn’t entered my mind until just then that she might want to go.

“No, I really only knew him through you,” she said. “He was in my life because he was in yours was all.”

Then she laughed. I knew what she was thinking about. That girl, from way back then, my other self, my Mathew self.

“I already arranged a ride to the Apollo, but not really knowing how this will go I don’t have a ride home. Would you mind picking me up after the service?” I asked.

“No problem, you can call me when you’re ready.”

“I feel bad that this has hurt Ryan. I know I would be hurt if it was the other way around. When he said he was jealous, it didn’t make sense to me at first. Jealous of what? Then when I thought it through, I saw what I missed. Mathew captured a piece of my heart that was young and innocent, a part that Ryan could never know. Ryan’s a calmer, more mature love, not so hot and cold. He’s come to realize how deep my love was for Mathew; I think he wonders if I love him like that.”

“Do you?” Gayle asked.

I pictured Ryan and my heart leapt. I felt so lucky to have found him, so lucky to have found my soul mate.

“It’s a different love. For sure it’s more understandable and real. Will I ever feel crazy in love like I did with Mathew? No. We grow up and we learn.”

“Crazy, is right,” Gayle chuckled.

“Oh, come on you got some entertainment out of it.”

I pulled out my clothes for the next morning. I’d gone shopping to find something that Mathew would have liked. I wanted to find a loud paisley shirt, but wasn’t able to, so I settled on a tight, knit, cotton T-shirt with splashy colors in blues and pinks and black with a swirl of sequins on it. I found a cropped pair of black shorts to go with it and black sandals with cork platforms. The outfit reminded me of the seventies; clothing always came full circle.

In a moment of silly remembrance, I hit Victoria's Secret and got a cute panty-and-bra set in blue and pink. If he were alive, my thought would have made him laugh.

The Apollo was packed, and Sara had done a phenomenal job of putting collages of photos on the walls. Mathew was everywhere in varying stages of life and events. I was there in more than a few: at the ranch that day in the Jeep, at the beach, sitting around a bonfire watching him play guitar, poolside at the O’Conner’s, graduation day from Bret Harte.

I moved down the wall slowly looking at the pictures. There were weddings we attended together. One of the two of us at Melanie’s wedding. Our young smiling faces stared back at me. “For one, I know you’re not wearing anything under that dress” he’d said when I’d challenged that he didn’t know me anymore. I envisioned that night. He was right; he knew me better than I thought. There were several photos of his wedding day. One was of the two of us standing together, looking off the deck. It was the moment I’d reached around his waist and hugged him to me. “I think I always loved you.” It was a beautiful photo. He had shocked me that day with his words; they had made me sad.

In many of the pictures, we looked too young to have been doing what we were doing. I looked so childlike to be having such big feelings for him. What wasn’t there, and would never be, was the two of us as a couple. Not many had ever seen that part… Yes, I had loved him.

“I’m glad you decided to come,” Bobby said behind me.

I turned, hugging him to me. I could feel the tears spring into my eyes. Sara gave a moving and sometimes humorous speech about his life. She captured the real Mathew, no sugar coating, it seemed from her words many people could love him and hate him all at one time, even her. Whatever that part was though, that we could hate, it wasn’t enough to deter any of us. We all loved him.

“A group of us put together a CD of Mathew’s life that I would like to play,” Sara announced.

The CD started, and Mathew came onto the large screen. It showed him from a baby all the way up. The pictures changed as music he loved played. I saw so much of his life that I had and also hadn’t experienced. There were video clips of the band, him sitting, playing his guitar solo, and him talking. His voice, so familiar when I heard it, was the closest I came to breaking down. I think I’d cried most of my tears out. Bobby spoke and what was left of Kingdom Come played a trio of songs. Jack stepped up to the microphone.

“This was a song Mathew wrote. It meant a lot to him, although I’m not sure who it’s about. He called it ‘Too Little, Too Late, Kid’.”

Jack took Mathew’s place and led the band into the song. I listened to the words, the story. He’d finished the song after all. He wrote about young unreturned love, the friendship, the girl he called kid always leaving his bed, the distance, how he realized he loved her. I glanced around the table, feeling everyone must know it was me, but no one seemed to notice. The tears silently ran down my face. He had loved me after all, loved me with what he was capable of.

The last song they played was "The Leader of the Band" by Dan Fogelberg. “The leader of the band is tired, and his eyes are growing old, but his blood runs through my instrument, and his song is in my soul.”

The boy in the band was gone, leaving those who loved him, grappling with how they could have changed it. I drifted amongst his friends and family talking, remembering, even laughing about some of his antics.

“How’ve you been?” Jack asked when I came upon him.

“Pretty good, Jack, considering,” I said, hugging him.

“I always thought the two of you would end up together,” he said, referring to Mathew. “You kept coming back.”

“I know I did,” I said. “He had a crazy hold on me.”

“He ever call you kid?” he asked.

I stared at him.

“I asked him about the song, but he would never confirm anything. You know always had his secrets. Said it was about a girl who meant a lot to him. I always thought it had to be you,” Jack said.

I smiled as the tears started again.

“You kid?”

I nodded.

“We’ll all miss him. He was a character,” he said smiling.

“I know, that I know,” I choked out.

Sean joined us.

“Good to see you, Morgan,” Sean said and gave me a squeeze.

“You too, I wish it was under different circumstances.”

“You got that one,” he said.

“Hey, Roxanne,” Sean said.

I turned around to see Roxanne O’Conner. She was still beautiful, her blue eyes and blonde hair exactly as I remembered.

“I was hoping you would be here,” she said, taking my hands.

We talked for several minutes. She was getting married again in a few months; I was happy for her. Mathew hadn’t kept in touch with her either, even though the divorce had been civil. His family stayed in touch with her, and that was how she’d kept up.

“He loved you,” she said, shocking me.

When I looked into her eyes, I knew she knew. He wouldn’t have told her. How did she know?

“It took me awhile, but I figured it out. You knew him too well. You helped me understand him more than once,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

She stepped forward to hug me and held me tight while we both cried.

“He loved you too,” I said.

“We both are better people for having loved him back,” she said.

She was right. He’d had a big impact on my life, on who I had become. He had held my whole heart for a long time.

I called Gayle to come get me. People were slowly filtering out, saying goodbye. I saw Sara standing close to the stage and went to her.

“He would have loved it, Sara. You did a great job,” I said.

She hugged me, and I could feel her body shaking with the tears.

“I didn’t know,” she said.

“Didn’t know what?” I asked.

“That he called you kid. Jack told me.”

“Sara, I don’t know for sure, the song I mean. He did call me kid. He started one about me once he said. It sounds like us, but with Mathew, who knows.”

I could feel the lump in my throat again, and I struggled, trying to hold back the tears.

“I only heard the beginning years ago; he said he would finish it someday,” I said.

I saw him sitting with his guitar, me waiting to listen. Wild, wild horses, I’m gonna ride them someday I heard him sing in my head.

“It could be a combination of a lot of people. It’s about his feelings of longing and loving,” I pondered.

In my heart, I was sure it was our story.

“Mathew taught me to listen to the music, listen to the words, the story. I was part of the story that’s all, just like everyone here.”

She started to cry again, her face red from all the tears.

“Please keep in touch,” she asked. “He would want that, I know.”

“I will, I promise.”

I went back to the pictures on the wall. As I stood viewing so many frozen moments of his life, I realized I’d never stopped loving him. I’d just come to the conclusion that love was not always enough. I’d thought our love to be one-sided, apparently wrongly. I would never understand why he hadn’t pushed harder. He’d said that himself when I got married “I should have tried harder that summer in San Jose.” I suddenly felt guilty we hadn’t kept in touch.

Gayle wouldn’t be here yet, but I had the urge to be outside in the sunlight. The Apollo was dark inside, and today it was filled with too many memories. As I walked down the entrance hallway out into the sunshine, I put on my sunglasses. I could feel the tears roll down my checks. “I hate it when girls cry” I heard him say clearly.

“Too damn bad,” I said aloud.

I knew he would understand. Yes, Mathew, it was a love affair. Not the traditional kind, but real all the same.

The End

The Morgan Mallory story continues to unfold in the sequel to Boy in a Band by Lisa Loomis, Casanova Cowboy.

Available at Amazon.com in Kindle.

Preview a portion of the first chapter of Casanova Cowboy by Lisa Loomis.

Chapter 1

I met Max when I was eighteen, and we had been dating for almost three years. It was the blond surfer look that attracted me; just my type, and the blue eyes cinched it. He was a his-way-or-no-way type of guy. Our first date was a baseball game with his guy friends. I hate baseball, but I didn’t tell him that. Our second date was a Sunday at his house watching football—seven hours of it. Why I didn’t move on then, I will never understand. The only thing I can think of was he was the first boy who actually pursued me, and pretty hard. He quickly claimed me as his girlfriend and introduced himself as my boyfriend. I was convinced this was what love looked like.

I think it was the concussion that finally knocked some sense into me as my whole life started changing after the accident. That morning I had caught Max in another lie about where he was and who he was with. So I took his Chevy Blazer to go to a wedding reception with two other male friends—after he specifically told me not to drive it. Randy liked me and I knew it. Max knew it too, so I told Randy I could give him a ride. Tom, on the other hand, just needed a way to get there. I tried to talk Liz, one of my best girlfriends, into rebelling with me, but she already had plans, although she found it quite funny that I would defy Max, as I rarely did. Unfortunately, it would take more than the accident for me to make the final break.

The wedding reception was in Valley Center up the hill from Escondido and took me back to that fateful year when my father moved us when I was a teenager to Escondido, just north of San Diego. I had been horrified. Escondido had reminded me of one of those towns you fly by on a freeway going somewhere else while wondering who in the hell would live there. It had seemed so slow and backwards compared to San Jose. Even the kids my age were more conservative, which in hindsight was probably a good thing. It took me a long time to warm up to it, but I finally did. What choice did I have really?

Valley Center, sort of a charming Hicksville with some funky restaurants and bars, had helped bring me to terms with the move. There was this place called Fat Ivor’s with ribs to die for, and Dad and I would drive there in his sports car and have lunch—one of the rare times my dad and I were alone together because he traveled so much. As I drove, I smiled to myself, remembering that Dad liked the top down, and he liked to go fast. The wind would pull at my long, curly hair and wrap it around my eyelashes. I would have to fight to keep it out of my face.

The boys and I finally got to the reception which was being held in one of those boring halls with no personality, although it had been decorated inside with ribbons and bows in an attempt to make it look festive. But who ever noticed a building once a party got going?

“Sort of festive I guess,” I’d said to Randy as we’d entered.

“Add booze and music,” he said. “Makes any room look good.”

A band played in one of the corners; Randy told me he knew the drummer. Freely flowing alcohol, people dancing and partying made for a great time, and Randy and I sure were having a good time dancing together. Unlike Max, he liked to dance, even slow dances, and the way he held me made me feel sexy; how he was holding me now. I was nervous this would get back to Max, but as the evening progressed I no longer cared, and I stayed longer than I had planned.

“You don’t have to hurry home, Morgan. You know Max will be pissed off no matter how late you are. Does he know you were giving me a ride?” Randy asked.

“Hell no, he doesn’t even know about the reception,” I answered. “I didn’t tell him anything about what I was doing.”

I didn’t want to mention to Randy that I took the car without permission.

“We both have other circles of friends. You know, the ones before Morgan and Max, before the two of us were considered a couple,” I reasoned.

He dipped me and pulled me up. I could tell he thought my comment was odd.

“What’s going on with you two?” he asked as he drew me closer to him.

Randy had his arms draped around my shoulders, his fingers lightly caressing my neck. I was attracted to him all right. It wasn’t his looks that kept me away from him at all. Tall and blond with sexy eyes, he had been a basketball player in school and had a body to match his good looks. When he pulled me closer to him, I could feel my body tingle, a sensation that frightened and excited me. He didn’t like Max much; I knew that. I was pretty certain he wouldn’t have any problem stealing me away if I was game. In my mind, I had a boyfriend, and until that was different, I didn’t think I should open any doors. I’d done that in the past with not pretty results.

“Who knows?” I answered. “He says he still wants to be together, but his actions don’t always say that. He told me the other night he was going out with the boys, and I find out through a friend of a friend that most of the guys brought their girlfriends. That there were a bunch of single girls there; several who I’m sure were hitting on him. Must be what he was looking for because he didn’t invite his girlfriend.”

I could feel the jealous feelings I’d felt rise up in me from that day. Made me mad all over again.

“He’s an ass. If you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t treat you that way,” Randy said suggestively.

I’d heard that line before from guys: “I would treat you better”. Sure you would, for a while. I let the conversation drop and followed Randy’s lead around the dance floor. We finally took a break and got another beer, and I thought again about heading home, but I didn’t want to go. And the recollection of Max leaving me out was still in my thoughts. I envisioned Max getting to his house and finding my car there and the Blazer missing. Back at you. He was going to be mad, and I planned not to go inside when I got back. I would swap cars and head home to my parents. Most of the time, when we weren’t fighting, I stayed at his place.

I was definitely enjoying the attention from Randy. He would touch me now and then just slightly, brush up against me, or pull me close, body-to-body, for a dance. He wasn’t telling me, he was showing me he was interested; he was giving me room to take it or not. He didn’t rush off alone and mingle, as Max would have. Instead, he stayed by my side and mingled. He made me feel pretty and wanted, made me question again my current relationship.

“You look really nice tonight,” he said.

I looked into his green eyes and my breath caught in my throat as we sat down in the chairs lining the wall. He ran his hand down my bare thigh. I didn’t answer. My attraction to him was getting into my head, and I didn’t want to encourage what was happening. I could feel the excitement inside me, like little butterflies flittering, that there could be a tipping point.

“That dress makes your eyes look really blue,” he said, moving in closer.

I could smell him, the manliness, and the smell of soap or cologne. I looked at his lips and then quickly looked away.

“Thanks,” I answered, blushing slightly.

I kept staring out at the party versus looking at him. I was afraid if I looked at him he might see it in my eyes. See that I really wanted to kiss him; I could almost feel my lips on his. My thoughts jumped back to Max, back to the beginning when he said things like that. Things like how sexy he thought I was. How he’d fondly nicknamed me the long, lean, fucking machine, out of desire. Lately he seemed distracted, like he was half interested, and the things he said were more hurtful than kind.

“Somehow I picture your reception being in a more upscale place,” Randy said.

“My reception,” I chuckled. “That ain’t happening any time soon.”

I wondered if Randy thought that’s where Max and I were headed. Or was he testing me? Wanting me to give him an opening. I glanced at him quickly again. My heart pulsed in my throat and I forced my thoughts back down. More upscale, I knew why he said that. Max came from a wealthy family. Growing up, he had gotten most of what he wanted, would get what he wanted, upscale. Randy and I, on the other hand, were more middle class. Our parents had to scrape to give us a good life, and we understood we couldn’t have everything we wanted. That was it I realized. Max was acting like a spoiled child. Maybe I no longer gave him everything he wanted.

My thoughts were straying into an area I didn’t want to examine. Not now, not yet. I grabbed Randy’s hand instead when the band started playing “Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones.

“Let’s dance,” I said smiling. “Give me some satisfaction.”

The band was prompting everyone to clap their hands together above their heads, by doing it themselves. In response there was a wave of arms reaching for the ceiling. A big group on the dance floor was shouting out “can’t get no, satisfaction” when the verse came up. There was energy in the room. My body responded to the music and the excitement, gyrating to the beat, and Randy gave me a sexy smile.

When the reception ended, the three of us jumped in Max’s Blazer and headed down the hill. I was buzzed, but I knew I could drive; I’d driven before when I’d felt this way. We had the radio up loud and all the windows down. My elevated mood was making me overly confident, and I took one of the curves too fast. I knew it when the Blazer fishtailed. I tried to correct it without over correcting, but I was fighting to get the car under control, focusing on the wheel, and slowing down.

I could feel the adrenaline racing through my body, my hands sweaty from tightly gripping the wheel. I was so absorbed in the immediate need to get the Blazer stable, that my vision was limited. The wheel, the road, stop fishtailing. I was concentrating so hard. The picture suddenly opened up just as I felt I was getting the Blazer under control, and everything went into slow motion when I saw the telephone pole looming large in the windshield.

In my struggle to regain control I never saw the telephone pole we were heading for until it was too late. The blood was racing through my veins, pounding in my head. I thought I had slowed the Blazer down enough, but the pole was coming, coming. I tried to turn the wheel just as we hit it head on. I remembered in my elated mood I hadn’t put on my seat belt. The crunch of metal and the breaking of glass filled my ears. I held on to the steering wheel, locking my arms, bracing myself, but I still was thrust forward violently, and then it was over. I didn’t move and suddenly couldn’t remember what had happened start to finish. I tried to put the first fishtail together with all the other details. The car was quiet and still.

“I need to get out of the car and see how bad it is,” I said softly to Randy.

I felt eerily calm.

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You stay right here.”

I slowly came to understand that my head was in his lap, and that I was lying almost parallel from the driver’s seat across the console into his seat. How had I gotten here? Why is he pushing at my head with his hands? I remembered going forward and now I was lying in his lap. I again tried to think through it and couldn’t.

“Are you okay?” I asked, attempting to twist and turn toward him.

“Morgan, stay still,” he said, adjusting his hands on my head.

I didn’t want to stay still; I needed to fix this. Why was Randy being so composed?

“You’re bleeding. Your eye, it’s bleeding,” I said.

It felt like the words were coming out in slow motion, as if I were in a dream. My head felt thick, my thoughts confused. I watched the blood ooze out of the cut above his eye, run down the side of his cheek, then drop from his chin onto my dress. I reached up slowly and tried to wipe it away, but he pulled his head back.

“It will be fine, just stay still,” he demanded. “I need you to quit moving.”

I didn’t understand his command.

“I want to get out and see the damage,” I repeated.

Even though I wanted to move, I didn’t try, and I wondered why. Then I heard the sirens. I lay still as Randy and I listened. As the sirens continued, I could tell they were getting closer and closer. I knew they must be coming for us. I closed my eyes. I wanted this not to be real. Take back time.

“Randy, we need to get out of here. The cops are coming,” I said softly.

I felt tired, and disoriented. I wanted to be back dancing, him holding me in his strong arms. “Can’t get no satisfaction,” echoed in my head.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Randy said adamantly.

Randy was a bit of a rebel, so I couldn’t figure out why he didn’t want to get out of here before they came.

“Is Tom okay?’ I asked.

“Tom’s gone. He booked it the minute we stopped,” Randy said.

I quit protesting and let my head rest in his lap. I opened and shut my eyes several times; it seemed like a long time that we sat like that. I heard vehicles stop, car doors open and shut, voices giving orders, and finally the sirens shut down. The flashing lights kept going though, and when they opened my door, they filled the car. I watched the red and white light dance off the dashboard; it was pretty in an odd way. I realized from the way the lights danced off the tiny pieces of glass that the windshield was shattered, but most of it was still in place. With the light I could now see two holes in the windshield where some pieces had broken away and fallen into the car.

“Get her first, her head is split open,” Randy said.

I tried to reach my hand back and feel my head, but he wouldn’t let me. I knew then why he was holding my head, wanted me still. Is that why my thoughts are so slow?

“Is her neck or back hurt?” the EMT asked as he leaned into the Blazer.

“I don’t know,” Randy said.

“Is Tom hurt too?” I asked, confused.

“Quit talking. Tom’s not with us. He’s okay,” Randy said.

The way he said it, I knew he didn’t want the cops to know Tom had been with us. My mind was foggy and floating, I recalled Tom’s face in the rearview mirror, panic in his eyes as we swerved. The EMT secured a neck brace around my neck with Velcro, and Randy helped them carefully slide me out of the car onto a board. Once I was outside, I had to squint my eyes. Those lights are so fucking bright. I tried to turn my head, but couldn’t. The brace, it must be the brace so I shut my eyes. I could feel the EMTs jostle the stretcher around slightly as they loaded me into the ambulance.

“Don’t let her go to sleep,” I heard one of the EMTs say.

“Sweetie, open your eyes,” another instructed.

I opened my eyes and saw the ceiling of the ambulance. A young man’s face came into view, and he undid the neck brace and started examining my neck. His eyes were narrowed in concern, his lips tense. His complexion was smooth and he was sort of cute. They gave me repeated instructions on things to move: my feet, my legs, my arms. All I wanted to do was go to sleep now, I felt so tired.

“Where’s Randy?” I asked. “He’s bleeding.”

“He’s coming too,” replied the female EMT.

She smelled like fresh soap, not like antiseptic, and I found that comforting, like a mom rather than an EMT. The ambulance dipped as Randy climbed in and sat down on the bench across from me. The lower half of his shirt and the crotch of his jeans were dark and wet. He was covered in blood. How had he gotten so much blood on him? I could feel the fear now, slowly rising. His eye hadn’t bled that much? Wasn’t his blood on my dress?

“Randy, you’re really hurt,” I said worried, my voice sounding to me as if I were underwater, garbled.

“No, you’re the one who’s hurt,” he said.

I looked into his eyes and could see the concern.

“Sir, you need to lay down,” the other EMT said to him.

He lay down as instructed never breaking his gaze. He looked so handsome in the partial light. His blond wavy hair spread out on the bench. I wondered why I was afraid to explore him as an option other than Max. Why I kept my current relationship going. The EMT dabbed at the cut above his eye, cleaning off the blood, and still he looked at me. They rolled me onto my side, facing him and it felt like they were poking inside the back of my head. Big jolts of pain shot through it over and over.

“We’re going to have to cut off your pants,” the male attendant said to Randy.

The sirens started back up as the ambulance pulled away from the scene. I watched as the EMT took a pair of scissors out. I wondered what Randy looked like with no pants on. The EMT lifted his right leg by his pants.

“I’m telling you it’s her blood, not mine,” Randy said, annoyed. “Just fix the cut above my eye, that’s the only thing wrong with me.”

“Can’t take that chance, you have a lot of blood in this region,” he said, his hand circling Randy’s crotch. “We have to be sure you don’t have another injury.”

“I can tell you I don’t, but go for it,” Randy said frustrated.

Only then did he look away. I shut my eyes again. I heard the sound of them cutting his jeans, the tear of the scissors going through the tough fabric. I remembered Mom telling me once to always wear clean underwear because you never knew when you might be in an accident. “That dress makes your eyes look really blue” I heard Randy say. I hoped my dress was pulled down, covering me, even if I did have on clean underwear. The siren went on and on as I was jostled around on the ambulance bed; it was making my head hurt even more. The shooting pains were now joined, by a pounding, a terrible throbbing.

“Morgan? Morgan, wake up,” said a strange voice that resonated in my head.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me gently. It was hard to open my eyes, like my eyelids were glued shut, and my head felt thick. The bright lights told me I wasn’t in the ambulance anymore. I stared at the ceiling and the white pressboard tiles, afraid to move my head. A doctor in a white coat sat down on the edge of my bed and looked into my face.

“I’m Doctor McMahan. Can you tell me how many fingers I have up?” he asked as he held his hand in front of my face.

I wondered where Randy was in the hospital, or if he was even still here. I hadn’t heard whether the blood on his pants was all mine. I hoped he was all right, that the cut above his eye wasn’t too bad.

“Two.”

“Now,” he said, holding up four fingers.

“Four,” I answered.

Other books by Lisa Loomis available now at Amazon:

Gem Rats (Chick lit)

Casanova Cowboy (New Adult romance novel)

A Horse Named Joe (Chick Lit)

Finn & Geo’s Winter Adventure (Children’s picture book)

Coming this fall:

Racing through Cornfields (New Adult novel—prequel to Casanova Cowboy—Ryan Walker’s story)