“What are you thinkin’?” he asks.
Of all the reasons I should turn around and run home before I miss curfew.
“Clay?”
“Yes, Evvie girl,” he whispers.
“I’m ready.”
Under the cover of trees and night and cricket songs, Clay’s gentle fingers slowly lift the bottom of my dress, as though he’s waitin’ for me to stop him at any second. I don’t stop him. He removes my panties, and I’m glad he can’t see ’em. They’re covered in childish pink flowers. He parts my thighs. I’m a little scared, I admit, but so excited by his touch, by everything about him, I can’t see straight. I can hardly breathe or think. And he’s here and he moves into me and it hurts for a second and then it doesn’t and I don’t know where he ends and I begin and his breathing’s coming hard now and we rock against the tree and he groans into my ear, a low deep sound from the far reaches of his throat and I exhale slowly… and then I see two eyes watching us.
I scream.
“What? What’s wrong?” He can barely get the words out. Though the intense, hot beauty of the moment is now dead and gone for me, somehow it’s not for Clay (bless his heart), and he finishes with a tiny cry.
Then there’s stillness.
I’m frozen still, lookin’ all around us, tryna find those eyes again.
And then I hear a twig break several yards away.
“Come on,” I whisper, urgently. I scramble to fix my clothes, and he does the same.
“What’s happening?” he asks.
“Somebody’s out there,” I say, and I scan the trees for any sign of life. I find none. The twig coulda been a critter, but not the eyes. They were at least five feet off the ground, maybe six, but the strangest thing was I could make out the eyes clear as day, but the rest of the face looked… blank.
“You sure it wasn’t your imagination?”
“No!” I snap. “I know what I saw.”
We leave the woods and walk back toward the park. I start to feel bad for snappin’ at him, so I take hold of his hand, and he squeezes back tight.
“Did you see what they looked like?”
I shake my head. “It was weird lookin’.”
“It?”
“I don’t know if it was a man or a woman or—”
“A bear?”
I swat at him and he laughs, then pulls me close.
“WHATCHU DOIN’?”
I jump a mile high, and Clay clutches me with shaking hands as Marcus and R. J. emerge from the bushes, laughin’ their fool heads off!
“You creeps! What is wrong with you?” I shout as I give R. J. a good, rough shove, but they both just keep on laughin’ at me. I have half a mind to put the hurtin’ on them. They don’t know who they’re messin’ with. They don’t know the talents I got.
“Y’all a couple a jackasses! You scared poor Evvie half to death,” Clay yells, his own voice quivering.
“Ah, can’t you take a li’l, bitty joke every now and again?” R. J. asks, batting his eyelashes at me.
“Not funny at all,” I say, not daring to let any fear tears fall. “I’m finna stick the church ladies on y’all! What kinda perverts watch folks when they alone together like that?”
R. J. and Marcus stop laughing then.
“Watchin’ folks when…? R. J. just saw y’all coming down the path, so we hid and jumped out.” Marcus is puzzled. “I don’t see how that’s perverted at all.”
“No before. Back in the woods! I saw you! We heard you runnin’ off,” I holler. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know what I’m sayin’ makes no sense. There’s no way R. J. or Marcus coulda been that quiet, and the blankness… Still, I’d rather find out it was just them bein’ stupid instead of thinkin’ about the alternatives.
“We weren’t back in the woods,” R. J. says evenly. He’s telling the truth. So that means somebody else was watchin’ us.
“Evalene,” R. J. begins, “what was you two doin’ alone back there?”
I feel my cheeks get hot. Who the hell is he to be asking me that question?
“R. J.?” Clay cocks his head at him and steps forward. “Think you done enough for one night. Why donchu go on home before I get irritated.” Oh shit. I do believe Clay just threatened him. He might be wiry and pretty, but Clay will knock a nigga down if they askin’ for it.
R. J. takes a step back, and I can see that he’s mad, but also a li’l nervous. He’s not a fighter. “I can’t ask a simple question?”
“Night, R. J. Night, Marcus,” Clay says.
“You can’t stop me from talkin’ to her. We known each other since we was kids.” Damn! He just won’t give up.
“R. J.! Go home,” I finally cry. “Stop pesterin’ me and stickin’ your nose where it don’t belong!” I pull Clay away from the pranksters, not caring about anything they might say in response. Why did they have to spoil everything? Course… somebody disrupted our perfect night before they came along.
Once they’re outta earshot, Clay tugs gently at my hand. “He’s obsessed with you.”
“I don’t care if he is. Sick of it.” I keep walking fast, and I don’t know who or what I need to get away from so badly, but I don’t wanna slow down. I don’t even wanna think. I just wanna go.
“Evvie girl.” He plants himself on the sidewalk, and I’m forced to stop. I look up, and my house is in full view, just a couple steps away. We musta been walkin’ a good twenty minutes without sayin’ a word. Felt like two.
“You mad at me?”
I shake my head.
He pulls me into his arms again, and I catch a good whiff of aftershave mixed with just a touch of sweat and fatigue, and I swear to Christ Jesus, if I don’t faint dead away, I might start chewin’ on his face.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asks.
I smile and nod. I gotta be careful with him. Can’t let him know how much power he’s got over me. Guys will walk all over you if they think they can get away with it. I know in my heart Clay’s not like that. Maybe it’s my mother’s voice in my head, urging me to always be cautious.
“Good,” he says, and he kisses me again, firm and sincere, just enough to let me know there’s more to come. He slides his face near my ear. “I know I didn’t do my job tonight. But I will tomorrow.”
He kisses my hand and waits until I’m inside. I stumble up the concrete walkway and repeat his words in my head. I know I didn’t do my job tonight. But I will tomorrow. So mysterious. As I unlock the door and step inside, I look over my shoulder, and he’s still there. Right now, he looks like a painting. Beautiful and strong, with just a touch of silliness. He’s perfection, and he has no idea. I wave and shut the door behind me.
That’s when I get it. His job. Oh. My. Lord.
I collapse against the door and slide down to the floor with this stupid grin on my face. Clayton Alexander Jr. must be from some special sexy planet.
While I’m still in a puddle on the floor, I feel pressure against my back. The door’s trying to come open, and I lean back with some force. Sometimes I don’t shut it hard enough the first time, and it comes loose. Then there’s a knock, and I jump up in case it’s Clay.