Bittersweet Chocolate (16 page)

After spending an hour showering and primping, she emerged from the bathroom, wearing her new dress and matching sandals. She thought she was good to go, until Brittany rained on her parade.

“Well, Brie?”

Brittany turned and stared. “You look nice, but
...
” Marissa arched an eyebrow. “Hey, you know Mom is not going to let you go out in that.”

The new dress, hot pink seersucker, had a halter top, fitted bodice, and was full from the waist down where it stopped at her knees. Perfect for the hot, sticky weather, it was the latest thing, and most girls her age were wearing the style, but Brittany had it right. By her mom’s standards, the dress was rather risqué.

“Geez, Brie,” she grumbled. “I spent all my allowance. It’s perfect.”

“Rissa, pul-lease. You better hope Dad is home when you’re ready to leave.”

Her father arrived in the middle of her heated confrontation with her mother. Right on cue, he came to her rescue, but her ego took a beating.

“Elise, I think she looks cute,” Stephen stated.

Imagine
...
cute. Going for an adult, sophisticated look,
and
relegated to cute.

Okay, she’d take what she could get and hurried from the house before Mom swayed Dad to her way of thinking.

On the sidewalk in front of her home, she met up with several neighborhood kids on their way to Jennie’s party. It surprised her to see Tommy Logan among the group. She really didn’t know him, but he was a cutie. A familiar figure around the neighborhood, but one of the few guys who didn’t belong to the gang. She’d heard his parents were strict, and he never seemed to have time to socialize.

Two years older than her, according to rumor control Tommy had sexual experience, which added to the age difference and made him seem off limits. Too old, too experienced, it was safer to stick with the guys her age. The fourteen-year-old boys were fun, sometimes good for teasing experimentation, and they were controllable.

Besides, Tommy had acted as though he didn’t know she existed, ever since that incident when him and his friends had hassled her baby sister April. She snorted. Heck, as cute as he was that wouldn’t have stopped her from throwing down with him for messing with April. And wouldn’t that have been a sure turnoff for any male. Tommy had been surprised to learn April was her sister, but he knew of Marissa’s connection to the gang. They hadn’t spoken since.

Hmm, why did he seem interested that night? The way his gaze ranged up and down her body made her heart flip-flop. Was it the dress? Life was becoming too complex.

Bringing her attention back to her immediate surroundings, she realized she’d been staring at Tommy, and he was watching her. How embarrassing. She looked away and realized they were outside Jennie’s house. Hurrying up the steps, she ducked inside. Poised on the threshold of the living room, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim glow of red, green, and blue lights.

She jumped when someone touched her elbow. Turning aggressively―oh, Tommy, and he must have noticed her reaction, because he grinned.

“Want to dance?”

“Sure.” Oh no, slow dance―sweaty palms, sweaty face, yuck. Heck, she’d committed to it, and she did like to dance. The song, “You’ve Really Got a Hold on Me” by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, was one of her favorites.

Up close and personal, she experienced her first real sense of Tommy as a male. Her heart tripped when he placed his hand on the exposed skin of her back and pulled her close. His body brushed intimately against hers, and excited would be too mild a word to describe her feelings.

They were moving to the music when Tommy lowered his head and tentatively pressed his lips to hers. She flinched but didn’t try to pull away, intrigued by the combination of his touch, hot but gentle, his lips, cool and smooth, brushing over hers. The feelings were nice, if daunting.

Running her hand over the soft material of his knit shirt, she could feel the corded muscles of his back and an intense heat emanating from his body.

Uh-oh, Catholic morality alert
.

Where was she going with this? Mind and body were drifting too close to the edge of, at least, venial sin. She tried to pull back, but Tommy resisted. Rather than force a struggle, and he had piqued her curiosity, she relaxed in his embrace, enjoying the contact.

Tommy whispered against her mouth, “Open for me, Marissa.”

She closed her eyes and parted her lips just enough to allow the tip of his tongue entry. Their tongues touched and she shivered. Excited by indescribable sensations, when his tongue began a slow withdrawal, her tongue timidly pursued, slipping easily into his mouth.

Ooo, first kiss, this could become addictive
.

The joy of her new experience hadn’t made her lost to all reality. The song wasn’t that long. Easing her mouth away from his, she tilted her head and looked at him, taking the opportunity for some detailed scrutiny.

Handsome in a rugged kind of way, Tommy was a few inches taller than her five-foot-eight-inch frame. In the dim lighting, his eyes seemed hazel or amber like hers, intriguing. Why had she never notice before?

“Tommy, why the kiss?”

He snorted. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I saw you.”

“I meant, why now. We both grew up around here. You’ve never shown any interest in me.”

“Girl, if you only knew. Getting by your guardians, they wouldn’t let me get this close to you in any other circumstances.”

“Hey, don’t consider yourself the lone stranger. Frank is like that with everybody who shows too much interest in me.”

“Marissa
...
” his voice trailed off.

Puzzled, she looked up. The silence penetrated. The music had stopped. She and Tommy were the only ones standing in the middle of the floor, holding onto each other, moving rhythmically. All eyes were on them. Tommy grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the front door, shooting nervous glances at her friends.

“Let’s go outside,” he muttered.

Holding hands, they strolled along the pavement, headed for the end of the block. Her neighborhood consisted of attached homes, row houses with basements. Every two houses had adjoining steps and a bay window over a street-level basement window, which created alcoves between the homes. That configuration provided a degree of privacy frequently used for teenage lovers’ trysts. On a night when someone had a party, it was like walking down lover’s lane, most alcoves occupied.

At the first empty niche, Tommy stopped and pulled her into the shadowed recess. “About that kiss.”

Heart pounding, with her usual arrogance she took control, pressing her mouth to his, tongue prodding until he opened his mouth. Her tongue slipped inside.

Whoa, girl out of control here
.

His kiss, the touching excited her, and she wanted it to continue. She wanted the knowledge, but unsure of herself, she didn’t know how to proceed. Conscience beset by niggling doubts, she pulled away. “Umm, Tommy, I don’t think... You’re the first guy I’ve ever kissed.” Keeping her hands on his chest, she held him away.

“Trust me,” he coaxed. She remained doubtful and he tried a different tactic. “Are you afraid of me?”

With a challenge thrown down, she defiantly stared into his eyes. “No, I’m not afraid of you, which I’m sure you know.” She started to turn away. “But I’ve set boundaries for myself, and I’ll defend them, if I have to, against anybody.”

“Hey, wait, I’m sorry,” he hastily added, pulling her back into his arms.

“Okay, but kissing is one thing, and I might sound naïve, but I’m not ready for more,” she stated. “I didn’t understand and wanted an explanation, not a demonstration.”

“You’re right. I apologize. Let me explain,” he said. “What’s happening to me is the result of kissing, touching your body
...
”

While listening to his explanation, it became clear her cousin had been holding out on her when she had questioned him about sex. She and Frank needed to talk.

Leaning forward, she kissed Tommy’s mouth, and his eyes lit up as if he thought he was about to score. If he’d known her better, he would have known her naiveté was by choice. Unschooled virgin or not, she’d never become so caught up in her feelings that she’d forget herself. It was all about self-esteem and control. She had an abundance of both.

He pulled her closer and placed his hands on her butt―uh-uh. She eased her mouth away from his and put some distance between them. The kissing did need more investigation, and she did like the taste of him, but she refused to go further.

“Marissa?”

She pressed a light kiss on his lips and backed away. “Let’s call this a beginning.” Walking out of the alcove, she headed toward Jennie’s house.

Six months of dating had become tedious, time to put Tommy out of his misery. She’d learned everything she could from him without stepping up to the next level of sex education. There were limits to kissing and necking.

Mentally cringing at the tone of her thoughts, she marveled at the hard edge to her demeanor. Was that thinking the influence of the gang? Had she adopted the doggish persona of her male counterparts? When had she become so cold-blooded?

She didn’t want to be cruel, but hey, Frank and his posse didn’t think there was any harm in the way she behaved toward males. Actually, Frank encouraged it, saying, “They’re big boys. If they don’t know the rules, can’t play the game, they need to step off the playing field.”

Although a school night, she and Tommy had gone to the movies to see
The Thrill of it All
with James Garner and Doris Day. She’d been distracted throughout the film, in a hurry to get home to finish her English Lit assignment. She had a book report due, and as much as she liked to read,
The Return of the Native
by Thomas Hardy hadn’t been to her tastes, and she’d struggled to plod through it.

Leave it to the nuns to pick the dullest reads for class assignment. She preferred mysteries, detective stories, and her thuggish ass even read romances. But the nuns and eggheads preferred the Thomas Hardy type of reading.

Book preferences aside, Tommy had been irritable all night, yet he insisted on walking her to her door. She knew what his intentions were, didn’t have time for the crap, and she had the resolve to do whatever the circumstances dictated.

“Marissa, be honest,” he said. “We’re never going to have sex, are we?”

“Tommy, give it a rest. You know my plans are to graduate. Afterward, I’ll be old enough to make a decision about—”

“Damn it, why have you been stringing me along?”

“Uh-uh, my feelings on the subject have been blatantly clear from the get-go. As for stringing you along,
y
ou could have walked at any time.”

“So that’s the way you want to play it.”

“Tommy.”

“No! You have to make a decision, now, tonight.”

“Okay. It’s a done deal,” she stated.

“Bitch.”

“I know. But let’s face it―”

“Forget it.” Eyes narrowed, he stared. “Done deal, huh? Someday you’re going to pull this shit on the wrong man.”

Her lethargic demeanor vanished and her stance became rigid, defensive. “Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?”

“Take it anyway you want,” he sneered. Turning, he ran down the front steps, stopped, and looked back at her. “For future reference, watch your back.” He strode away.

Marissa sat up, disoriented, apprehensive, and posture defensive.

Darkness shrouded the room and she remained motionless, trying to calm her racing pulse as she peered into the shadows, analyzing her disquieting thoughts.

Okay, she must have fallen asleep. Now she was awake, right? She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and clamped down, reassured by the discomfort. What had jarred her awake?

She’d had the dreams before, and she’d wake up angry and disillusioned, or pathetic and crying. But this time, she woke panicky, had a feeling of a threat hovering over her. Hell, why feel threatened? The dreams were about her past, a done deal, unless, were her dreams becoming omens. She snorted. If so, for what purpose...uh, perhaps she shouldn’t be so fast to dismiss the idea of forewarning. She’d been there, done that.

Back in the day, she’d had feelings of foreboding about Joel, failed to heed the warnings, and look how that worked out for her. Their unadulterated hatred for each other remained steadfast, and he did promise to get even. But since he didn’t know where she lived, why―wait a minute. The dream hadn’t been about Joel, but Tommy, and if it was a warning indicating Tommy was a threat, hell, he had to get in line.

She jumped to her feet.

In an attempt to shake off the edginess, she walked around the living room, turned on a light, and turned off the stereo. Picking up the remnants of her meal, she took everything into the kitchen and set them aside, then started gathering the items she’d need to prepare her lunch for the next day.

Glad to see the end of the meatloaf, she whipped up a tuna salad, spooned some onto slices of wheat bread, and added a slice of tomato. She made a diagonal slice across the sandwich and wrapped it in waxed paper. After enclosing a handful of chips in tinfoil, she grabbed an orange from a bowl on the counter and slipped the lot into a brown paper bag. She really needed to get with the times and invest in Saran Wrap and sandwich bags, as soon as she used up the outmoded stuff she’d brought with her.

About to put the sack away, she remembered cookies. Lunch wouldn’t be complete without her Fig Newtons. She took six cookies from the canister, twisted a section of foil around them, dropped them in the paper bag, and placed it in the refrigerator. That completed, she washed and dried the dishes, put them away, cleaned the counters, and swept the floor. With everything neat and tidy, before leaving the room, she paused in the doorway and looked around. A sense of satisfaction washed over her as she turned out the light.

Making her way through the house, she turned off lights and checked doors as she headed to her bedroom. By the time she reached the bedroom door, thanks to her flurry of activity, the dream was a vague memory. She stripped out of her clothes, went into the bathroom, and stepped into the shower, the hot water a welcome relief.