“You should kiss me,” he whispered in her ear.
Sasha flinched, and Vinny slid his hands to her back, holding firm.
“Don’t pull away. It’ll look shady.”
Every party for the last six years, Vinny tried this shit. It was her fault for making out with him that one time when they were thirteen. The standard procedure of elbowing him in the gut and strutting away wouldn’t work this time. This time, the sergeant at arms position was open, and the president was watching. Plus, Vinny had that goofy smirk, the one that lit his eyes in blue flames.
A peck from her best friend was a small price to pay to get her ass in that seat beside her mother. Sasha glided her hands up Vinny’s chest, skating her lips atop his. He kissed her like they were the only two people in the room. Her instincts screamed to pull away, but she didn’t. She couldn’t part from the only lips that spoke kindly to her, couldn’t push away the one set of hands that never hurt her. When his tongue slipped into her mouth, she grinded into him. For being so free with his hands, she bit his bottom lip as she drew back.
“You’re an asshole,” she said before strolling outside.
***
Sasha sat on the wooden rail of the porch, leaning against a splintered post. Her stare drifted beyond the raging bonfire, ears tuning out laughter. It was that kiss. Her lips still tingled, body still hummed. Vinny did not kiss like that when they were thirteen.
“So, Vinny?” Ellen asked from behind Sasha.
Sasha turned to face her mother, getting a lit joint waved in her face instead of the usual wagging finger.
“It’s not…” Her words bunched up when she caught the look in her mother’s eyes. It had been a long time since anybody looked at her that way, with pride. “We’re just messing around. It’s not serious.”
“That’s cool.” Ellen leaned against the railing and pointed to the window. “Looks like Otis is taking a shine to Candy.”
“Really?” Sasha passed the joint back to her mother and jumped off the rail. She peeked inside, zeroing in on bright red hair. Her stomach twisted as Candy nuzzled under Otis’s arm, giggling.
“Guess the girl found her cock,” Ellen said on her way back into the clubhouse.
Candy twirled her fingers into Otis’s hair, and Sasha turned away. It should be her in there, inching between that girl’s thighs. Floorboards thumped as she rushed off the porch. She hurried beyond a couple going at it against the side of a truck, lifting her hand to block the view of the dude’s hairy ass. The club should respect her, no matter who she fucked. Her steps grew to stomps. She stormed past a bloody fistfight and toward the garage.
***
The rage of the party streamed through the window, disrupting the air with its buzz. Sasha got up from her bed and crashed the windowsill down, barely muffling the clamor. She dropped back onto her mattress, falling against the pillows, and a knock shook her door. Without parting her gaze from the ceiling or bothering to move, she yelled, “Fuck off.”
The door scraped open, and heavy boots creaked the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Vinny said, clinging to the doorframe. “That was a dickhead move.”
Sasha sat up and peeled off her leather jacket. “Shut the door.”
Vinny hesitated in the doorway, and Sasha kicked off her boots. Like Vinny, her stoned mind hadn’t caught on to her body’s intentions, even after she striped off her top. “Come here,” she said, throwing her shirt across the room.
Vinny slammed the door closed, dashing forward. His strong arms wrapped around her, and their lips connected. A tremble hid beneath his kiss, his touch, but that didn’t prevent his hands from wandering. It was too late to stop now. Both their shirts were off, hearts racing. They surpassed the point of no return when Vinny’s hand slid between her legs.
He guided her back to the mattress, and she tugged at his belt.
“I’ve been dreaming about this for years,” Vinny said, kissing Sasha’s cheek.
“Don’t.” The belt unlatched with a clink, and Sasha rolled on top of him. “Words just fuck shit up.”
He drew her to his chest, course palms ravaging every inch of her bare flesh. She almost forgot the feel of a man. Large hands, rippling muscles, their bodies so hard yet soft at the same time, a false security.
Before Sasha could crawl from a lusty haze, Vinny had her pants off and glided inside her. She wanted it to feel right. Her life would be so easy if she could just like fucking him as much as she liked hanging with him, but each thrust brought a new wave of guilt. His gentle touch radiated affection, and she was using him.
Sasha pulled back, wrapping her fingers around Vinny’s neck. “Harder,” she said, squeezing.
***
Sasha walked out the door. The belt of her leather jacket clinked, and her boxer shorts rustled as she sat on the top step. A cool breeze gusted from high up the mountain, bringing shivers that ran along her spine. After lighting a cigarette, she pulled her bare legs inside the coat’s flaps.
The emblem sown onto the back of her father’s club jacket rubbed her skin. She couldn’t see the crest that soothed her mind, but she knew it well. Her childhood was spent staring at the backs of club members who wore the same skins, each with the emblem of a Mack truck bursting through cherry-red flames. It was the symbol of Ashby Trucking, and it was ingrained in Sasha’s mind.
Smoke rolled up in puffs as she watched people stumble to their cars. She tapped her cigarette, ashes sprinkling her toes, when Candy walked from the clubhouse under Otis’s arm. Her door squeaked open behind her, and Vinny crouched down.
“What ya’ doing?” he asked, following her stare to Otis’s truck. Candy slid across the bench seat, her head dropping below the steering wheel and into Otis’s lap. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Sasha.”
She flicked her cigarette down the stairs and rose to her feet. Vinny stood up, reaching for her waist, and she slinked past him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sasha said, walking inside her room.
Vinny’s voice flowed until Sasha shut her door on his babble. Her insides twisted, the ache a well-deserved punishment. Vinny got too close and Candy too far, all because of her need to please the club. She flung off her jacket and walked into the bathroom, turning on the shower. The rush of water silenced her jagged thoughts. She climbed inside, catching her reflection in the mirror. A dash of sorrow, a hint of regret, and a pinch of shame, the recipe of her glare. The shower curtain crimpled under her grip, and she yanked it closed.
Once the water ran down her face, tears felt free to flow. There was something about the warmth, the way the droplets pelted her skin, that brought her pain to the surface. She stood there, under the downpour, hiding her tears under the water’s gentle stream.
***
Vinny
Vinny strolled across the lot, twirling his keys on his finger. A zippo’s click pulled his stare to the clubhouse. When spotting Ellen on the porch, he veered in her direction.
“Did you tell her?” Ellen asked, puffing on a hand-rolled cigarette.
“I tried to, but she shut the door in my face.”
“You were up there for over two hours.”