Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last (3 page)

“
Just think of it as
killing two birds with one stone. Sorry, Wilson, that didn’t come
out right. It’s just that the place is vacant and you always told
me how much you liked going back there.”

“
Don’t be sorry,” I
mumbled.

Joanie had a good point. I really
loved being at my grandparents’ house, and I was relieved that Max
had gone with me this last time. It made it easier to be there,
without them. Finally I’d had a chance to say goodbye; but I still
didn’t think I could go up there to lose my virginity.

Just then, Jacky Burlington purposely
cleared her throat in the next aisle over. I noticed her and Cindy
glaring at us. I guess they were really focused on what Max—Mr.
Goldstein—was saying. Jacky motioned her head to the front of the
class; I turned and saw Max staring right at us.

“
Glad you two decided to
join the discussion. Wilson, see me after class,” Max demanded.
Everyone let out the expected
‘oh
,
you’re
so busted’
hum. His eyes burned through
me.
He is so hot
.
I hoped he wasn’t really that mad at me for talking during his
lecture.

“
Sorry, Mr. Goldstein,” I
mumbled.

“
Okay, everyone, let’s get
back to the topic at hand—governmental spending in times of war.”
The room settled down as he walked over to the whiteboard, grabbed
the green dry erase marker and began writing words. I liked when he
wrote his words in green. They looked so sexy, masculine, and
level; I couldn’t wait to erase them today after school.

Max started talking again, and
immediately, I tuned him out. My mind tilted and drifted to
thoughts about what he was going to do with me after class. In my
daydream I imagined him locking the door to his room, his hands
strong against the beige metal. I went to him; he tickled his
fingers across my thigh and up under my skirt before slipping his
fingers behind the front panel of my panties. I widened my stance
and my body began to respond to his delicate caress. I was nervous
someone might see us, but that faded once he kissed me. His tongue
tangled wildly with mine and I tasted his familiar, sweet aroma. I
dragged my hand from around his waist and pressed my fingers
against the swell in his Levi’s. He was so hard and I could feel
the heat exude through his pants. I pulled open the first couple of
buttons and slipped my hand down inside. He was blazing hot and
unyieldingly rigid. I stroked steadily along his silky length; he
growled cavernously as his hips answered, thrusting until he
erupted. His fingers still danced relentlessly between my legs and
his beastly sounds hurled me over the edge as I swayed my hips to
his rhythm; losing my breath I exploded against his fingers. My
body vibrated and went weak. He caught me between his strong hands
as they cradled either side of my neck, below my ears, warming my
cheeks. He kissed me feverishly, as if he couldn’t get enough of
me, before he pulled away, slowly opening his eyes as the bell
rang.

The thwack of books closing and the
shuffle of chairs pulled me out of my fantasy. I took a huge needed
breath as I came back to the room. When I looked up, Joanie was
standing over me.

“
I’ll wait for you
outside.”

“
J, it’s better if you
just get to class. You know Mr. Swanks.”

Mr. Swanks was our trigonometry
teacher, fifth period. He despised people who showed up late to his
class. It was better for Joanie to show up on time than to wait for
me. Max would give me a pass, so Mr. Swanks would only be half as
mad about my tardiness.

Joanie flipped her
backpack over her shoulder and gave me a “thumbs up” as she left
Max’s class. I smiled and waved her on. Pulling my backpack from
the floor, I put it on my chair. I made sure Max looked up from his
paperwork before I walked really slowly over to him, swaying my
hips.
Maybe I should tell him about my
fantasy.
We stood across from each other,
his hands planted strongly into the top of his desk. On the other
side, I mirrored his stance.

His eyes studied mine as he spoke
softly, “I wanted to tell you I won’t be at the dance tonight.
Calvin called me today. He and my dad got into it a huge fight and
so Calvin is flying in at six-thirty. I’m really sorry.” His
midnight black hair curtained his eyes. I craved it—I wanted to
knot my fingers into the stray pieces and drag them back away from
his face, but I didn’t.

“
Oh that’s a bummer. Is he
okay?”

“
Yeah, he’ll be fine. I
guess he bought an open-ended ticket. So who knows how long he’s
going to stay?” Max scowled and cocked his head.

“
It must’ve been a pretty
bad fight,” I told him as the space between us became thin and
nonexistent.

“
I guess so. But listen, I
still want you to go to the dance,” he said.

“
Really?” I
asked.

“
Yeah, and don’t worry,
we’ll have your birthday. I promise,” he added.

Call me crazy, but I didn’t think he
would want me to go to the dance without him; and maybe it’s
selfish, but I was still in the dark about where we were going to
spend my birthday. So like always, and before I could filter the
words that shot from my mouth, I blurted out my undercooked, raw,
thought about spending a couple of days up the coast in my dead
grandparents’ house.

“
My grandparents’ house is
empty. We could go up there for my birthday.” I swallowed; he
noticed.

“
You want to go there
instead of Aspen?” He looked at me, touched with
disappointment.
What am I doing? I don’t
want to go up north for my birthday.

“
No, that’s not what I
meant. I was just thinking—because I haven’t heard you say anything
concrete about going to Colorado,” I backpedaled, trying to keep
him from being hurt by my suggestion.

“
I’m so sorry, Wilson. I
was gonna surprise you that we were flying out on your birthday.”
His hands hid into his pockets, his head tilted to one side,
gesturing to be forgiven. I couldn’t get mad; this was new for both
of us.

“
It’s fine.” I slid my
hands across the desk and leaned in toward him. Our eyes held each
other in a fierce trance. His eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.
I could feel that he wanted to reach over and touch me, but he
didn’t.

“
So you’re still going to
the dance with Brandon, right?” he whispered.

I nodded reluctantly.

The door swung open and voices filled
the room again, mingling with the first warning bell. As we leaned
away from each other, the butterflies dive-bombed into my gut. He
reached into the top drawer of his desk and filled out a hall pass.
I had about two minutes to get across campus to trig.

“
Here—you’d better get to
class, we’ll talk later.” He held out the pass in front of me and I
reached for it, rubbing my fingers across the back side of his
hand. I wanted him to know I understood his frustration. I shoved
the hall pass into my pocket and hustled out the door.

Suddenly my dream morphed and I was
lying on my bed in my dorm room with Joanie. She was twisting and
turning as she checked herself out in the full-length mirror. Her
dress was elegant—a rich red strapless chenille which stopped just
at mid thigh. It molded and accentuated her best parts and made her
skin look like flawless porcelain. She was nothing less than
beautiful.

“
Everything okay?” Joanie
asked.

“
Yeah, I guess; it’s just
that I wish I wasn’t going to the dance with Brandon.” I grabbed
the dress that hung on the closet door and held it in front of me.
“I didn’t even try and coordinate with him. I am so
not
into this.” I fell
back on my bed, taking the emerald green strapless dress down with
me.

“
Oh, come on, just suck it
up and have some fun.” She picked up my dress and unzipped
it.

“
Why? Max won’t be at the
dance. Calvin’s coming into town and he has to pick him up at the
airport.”

“
I know that really blows.
I’m sorry, Wilson.” She shook the dress, waiting for me to put it
on.

“
J, come on. What’s the
point? I can’t sneak off and dance with Max if he isn’t there.
Don’t make me go.” I stood up and gave her my best attempt at a
pathetic look.

“
Wilson, you’ve gotta go.
Besides, I’ve got a great idea.” She tossed me the
dress.

“
What’s that?”

“
I want to send a picture
of you all dressed up—to Max.” She grabbed her phone.

“
I don’t think that’s a
good idea tonight.” I dropped the dress on the bed.

“
It’s a great idea. Don’t
you think he wants to see how beautiful you look? He’d like that.
And what better motivation for Saturday?” she argued.

Joanie always made total sense when
common sense failed me. When I thought about it, why wouldn’t Max
want a picture of me in the sexy dress he would never
see?

“
Okay, but you have to
take it from my waist up. And here, use my phone.” I snatched it
from my pocket and tossed it to her. Stretching my top off over my
head, I slid the dress down my body, leaving my jeans on
underneath. I then magically removed my bra and waited for Joanie
to zip me up.

“
Suck in,” she grunted and
pulled up the zipper. She twirled me around and started knotting my
hair.

“
J, stop. Just take the
picture.” I threw my hands up around my head, trying to protect my
hair from the damage her fingers were itching to
inflict.

“
But wait,
just…right…here—let me get this one strand.”

“
Joanie!”

Okay, okay; ready…set…smile!” She sang
as she held my phone out an arm’s length away from herself. I heard
the recorded sound of a camera click before she pulled it to her
chest to look at the picture. She looked up smiling.

“
Let me see,” I
said.

“
You look so pretty. He
won’t be able to stay home after getting this picture,” Joanie
crooned.

She handed me the phone and of course
I didn’t like what I saw.

“
J—my hair is way too
poufy, my eyes are at half mast and I look so pale. He’ll mistake
me for the ghost of Christmas past; and he’s Jewish! How could you
think that was a good picture? What am I doing?” It made me wonder
if everyone saw me that way.
Am I really
pretty enough for someone like Max?

“
Wilson, just shut up! You
are so beautiful, why
wouldn’t
he be with you? Why can’t you see how amazing you
are? You’re the strongest person I know. You’re funny and so smart.
Come on, Willie, we know you belong with him.” Joanie
shoulder-bumped me, trying to knock me out of my funk.

“
You know I hate it when
you call me that! But thanks for cheering me on.” I looked back at
the picture on my phone. “I could use some color.” I tapped my
hands across my cheeks and looked into the mirror. “Retake the
picture,” I said as I twisted my shoulders sideways, pushed out my
chest, and dropped my chin with my lips plumped.
There, now he’ll see what he’s
missing.

“
Perfect.” Joanie snapped
another picture.

Cindy busted in the door then with
Jacky Burlington in tow. She huffed over to the closet, the same
one that housed all of her clothes, and started to rummage through
the huge collection of dresses she had at her disposal. She
muttered under her breath as she threw dresses out onto the
floor.

“
No, won’t work…can’t
stand that one…why did I even buy that color? …God, what was I
thinking? …Why bother? Okay, here—this is it.” Cindy pulled out a
dress and held it up. Jacky clapped her hands like a baby whose mom
had just found her favorite doll in the bottom of the toy box.
Besides the fact that Cindy used to make fun of Jacky for being
chunky, it had always been a well-known fact that she couldn’t
stand the immaturity Jacky always seemed to embody. It’s funny how
things had changed, especially after I dropped the F-bomb on her. I
mean, come on, I’d already tried several times to apologize for my
sharp tongue and for cursing at her, but she wouldn’t have anything
to do with it. So now, I guess it’s a battle of wills.

“
Oh Cindy, you’re going to
be super-licious in that dress,” Jacky said.

“
Yeah, I know. Let me grab
my makeup and stilettos so we can go somewhere less
crowded
,” Cindy said
glaring at me.

Whatever. First off, what
the hell is super-licious? And secondly, I am totally done trying
to make up with her.
She needed to
compromise and bend a little. Instead, she focused her energy into
being as mean to me as she possibly could. And hanging out with
Jacky—well, that was just weird.

Cindy came out of her
closet with the highest, spikiest, blackest stilettos I’d ever
seen.
Hooker shoes, that’s what they
are.
And her dress—oh…my…God—the
skimpiest, thinnest fabric; it looks like a nightgown. It was a
dark, blood-red, halter-top type thingy. It looked like it wasn’t
long enough to cover her “secret place,” not that it was very
secret. I tell you, if I was in an ornery mood, I would have said
something. But it was best to let that boat set sail. Trust me on
that one.