“That’s fine,” I smiled and waited for him to suggest that we leave. But once again, he stared off in the direction of the staircase and then back at me. His expression turned to desire as he gave me another once-over and in a fast moment, too quick to prepare for, he stepped over the threshold and tucked his hand behind my neck.
“I need to do this before we leave,” he mumbled, not giving me a lot of time to be confused before his mouth was moving against mine. I melted into his embrace, wrapping my hands around his back and reveling in the sheer perfection that came with his touch.
His breath was minty fresh and the scent of cologne invaded the last sense I was aware of. All else had fallen victim to his presence, to his kiss, to his hold. He was gentle, but from the light tug that he gave my hair, it was obvious that he was in charge and I was more than willing to allow it. Just as I had been the first time.
His tongue slid against my own, and although I had done this before, I still worried that I wasn’t good at it. But when a low groan of approval sounded at the back of Leroy’s throat, I felt a little more confident. His hands slid down my back, his warm fingertips brushing the exposed skin before they settled on my butt.
When we parted—reluctantly—he stared at me with a longing and desire that I had never experienced with a boy before. He had assured me on more than one occasion that this wasn’t something brief or non-committal. He’d unequivocally assured me that what he felt for me was pure and true. And I believed him without a doubt. I know because I felt it too.
A voice startled us from the bottom of the staircase, and I jumped with the unwanted interruption. “Hurry up! I wanna bounce!”
“Fine, asshole!” Leroy shouted over his shoulder; his hands still rested on my lower back. “We’re coming!”
“So is fucking Christmas!”
He turned back to me, rolling his eyes with a frustrated sigh. But the moment that our gazes met, his entire expression and demeanor softened. “Ready then?”
I took his hand, our fingers lacing together. “Let’s go.”
Ellie
We arrived at the house that was located at the end of a cul-de-sac full of other beautiful, large homes. I wasn’t expecting anything less, though—the rich mingle with the rich. A wave of unease rolled over me as we parked a few houses down and walked toward the rave. I didn’t belong around such high-society teenagers. I worried they’d be able to smell my barely-there bank balance. The people hanging out on the front lawn and large wind-around patio were all wearing expensive dresses, leather platform shoes and boots, bomber jackets, and brand jeans.
My outfit wasn’t poorly put together; I knew how to dress. But it was purchased from the thrift store and I was sure that it was obvious. Especially from the judgmental once-overs that I received as I walked hand in hand with Leroy. Of course, there could have been another reason for the subtle scowls: to these girls, some outsider was on the arm of the school’s quarterback.
We walked through the home and into the large backyard where people were spread out, talking, drinking, doing keg stands, and dancing. A few people were in the large pool—which wasn’t surprising considering the heat. Leroy was greeted continuously. He was brief with his exchanges—he spoke few words and moved on as fast as he could after introducing me. I reminded him that I didn’t need to be introduced to every person that we passed, but he insisted that he wanted everyone to know that he was dating the most beautiful girl there.
We stopped beside a group of people who sat in a circle on outdoor garden sofas, passing a few joints between each other. A familiar lean boy with golden-brown skin and black, curly hair stood from the couch with an inviting and kind smile. “You made it,” he exhaled a cloud of smoke and offered the joint to Leroy, who declined.
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Leroy said. “Ellie, you remember Eric from our weekend in Waco.”
“Nice to see you again, gorgeous,” he winked and I noticed that, even though his jaw was a bit uneven, he had the most charming and charismatic smile. He waved off someone’s offer for another drag on the joint. “Where’s Noah?”
“Probably balls-deep in his own ego,” a girl with light-brown ringlets said from the sofa below us. She glanced up and flashed an innocent grin. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, Lee. Your brother is an absolute self-obsessed knob jockey dickhead.”
“Ellie, this is Cass,” Leroy explained. “Cass, this is Ellie.”
“Ahh, the famous Ellie,” she stood up with an energetic spring, causing the ringlets on her head to bounce. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Leroy here won’t shut up about his girl, which is a miracle—he’s a man of few words.”
Leroy was watching me with that same soft gaze, and I wondered how it was possible that he was the same man with whom I had spent hours every single day on the phone. Paranoia set in, wondering if I’d been the one doing all the talking during our phone calls. That seemed impossible, though—I wouldn’t feel like I knew Leroy as well as I did if that had been the case.
“I love that dress,” Cass reclaimed the conversation. “Where’s it from?”
Now-familiar anxiety flared up. I didn’t want to lie about who I was, but I was already feeling out of place and it felt like this would cement that I didn’t belong. She raised her brows. “It’s from a thrift store back in Waco.”
“Score!” She clapped her hands together. “I love thrift shopping. That’s an amazing find.”
Relief flooded through me. Her outfit didn’t look like it was from the thrift store. She was dressed in a sheer blouse, tucked into the waist of a black leather skirt. But even if she was exaggerating to make me feel better, it worked, and I appreciated it.
“Do you two want a drink?” Eric asked.
Leroy looked to me for an answer and I gave a quick nod, not wanting to seem reserved and quiet all night when it was apparent that he knew most of these people and we’d be faced with ongoing conversation all night. At least liquid courage would assist in bringing me out of my shell and I could seem more confident.
Cass and I were out of breath, dancing around the small fire pit on the concrete patio, screaming our lungs out to Nirvana’s “Heart-Shaped Box” while we refueled on the unidentifiable liquid in our cups. We’d been at the party for about three hours, and three drinks in, I had found the courage I’d been looking for. The umpteen amount of drinks after that were just for thirst.
Leroy and Eric sat on the couches, each with a beverage in hand while they chatted with other friends around them. Occasionally I’d catch Leroy watching me, one side of his mouth turned up in amusement. I was sure that I looked ridiculous, but I was having fun, so I didn’t care.