Tricks. Part 13

Unless you want it first. ...

Directed at me. "No, no.

Go ahead. I'm not planning on going anywhere special today, just hanging out here."

Mom just shook her head, but Kyra sputtered, You're not coming? But you have to! It will be so much more fun with you.

Like they really wanted me to come. Talk about TTC!

"No, you guys go. I don't feel so great today, anyway."

Kyra might have argued more, but Mom decided, You should stay home then.

Last thing I need is a bug.

Last Thing Any of us needs is Mom with a bug. She's b.i.t.c.hy enough totally healthy.

Weird, but I can't remember the last time she was sick.

Too freaking mean, I guess.

She probably scares the bugs away. Anyway, Kyra and she continued their mutual b.u.t.t-kiss fest all the way out the door. I have to admit I half wanted to change my mind and go with them.

If I believed they really wanted my company, I just might have. Instead, knowing I'll have the place to myself most of the day, I called Lucas as soon as the door slammed behind b.u.t.t Kissers One and Two.

After the Last Fiasco Lucas was just a bit hesitant.

Are you sure? Man, last time was a way close call. I definitely don't need that kind of trouble.

What a wuss! But that's not what I said. What I said was, "They won't be home until three at the absolute earliest.

Come over right now. Please?"

Then I made my voice all breathy, hoping that was s.e.xy.

"I really, really need to see you."

Need to see him, to melt like candle wax against his heat. Need his heat.

Any heat. Need to feel warmed, wanted. For a change.

But I didn't say any of that, either. No use letting him know I'm needy. Anyway, it worked.

He should be here any minute.

I Did Shower Even borrowed some of Kyra's way expensive ginger-scented shampoo and lotion. No wonder she always smells so good!

The last time I went to the mall with Paige, one of the few investments I made was in a sapphire blue satin nights.h.i.+rt with matching bikini panties.

Good thing my cute stalker, Bryn, didn't see me buy this outfit. He would have followed me home for sure.

I still have his card in my purse.

Not sure what for. Anyway, all dressed down in sapphire satin, damp hair, and smooth skin perfumed with ginger, I feel s.e.xier than I ever have before. Could I really be s.e.xy?

Lucas Makes Me Wait Almost two hours. It's closing in on noon by the time he decides to grace me with his presence.

I've chewed three fingernails clear down to the quick, yanked several strands of hair out of my head. Not great ways to deal with nerves, and I know it when I'm doing them, but can't seem to stop myself, especially just sitting in limbo next to the window.

By the time his Eclipse streaks into view, I'm totally in need of fake nails and my scalp pulses pain. And I'm p.i.s.sed.

But when I open the door, see Lucas standing there, in all his tanned hotness, anger morphs back into neediness.

He checks me out, gives a low whistle. You should dress like that more often. Nylons and heels, you'd be just about perfect.

The pout that pops up is not manufactured. "What do you mean, 'just about'? Not the right thing to say to someone you kept waiting for two hours."

I let him in anyway, and he rewards me with one of his luscious kisses. Def perfect.

Too soon, he pulls away.

Sorry I'm late. But I wanted to pick up a little something to make the afternoon interesting.

He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a small metal can. Inside is a miniature baggie, a razor blade, and a short length of drinking straw. All we need is something to chop this up on.

Something gla.s.s, like a mirror or maybe a picture.

I'm not sure what's in the bag, let alone if I want to try it.

So why do I jump to my feet to go find something gla.s.s?

What's in the Baggie Is a half-dollar-sized chunk of something yellowish white.

It sparkles in the sunlight.

Lucas slices off a thin section and tells me, Cocaine, clean as you can find anywhere.

My brother knows the importer.

Wait until you try it.

I don't want to admit the idea scares me. Weed is one thing.

Cocaine is another. I've seen it waste people. Seen it waste entire families, in fact, when one parent or the other (or both) invests everything they have into staying buzzed on c.o.ke.

Lucas keeps chopping, but my silence alerts him. You've done c.o.ke before, right? No? Oh, baby, you're gonna love it.

You're totally gonna fly.

Don't worry. He grins like a leprechaun. You're safe flying with me. Mostly, anyway.

I Watch Lucas Suck two long, thin, sparkly yellowish lines up his nose.

Then he hands the picture to me.

Not too hard or you'll sneeze.

I inhale gently, one line up the right nostril, the other up the left. Immediately, both sides of my nose go cold and numb. Now, just like that, my heart is racing and the hairs on my arms rise, sending little chills throughout my entire body. OMG. No wonder people like this drug.

I look at Lucas, who's watching me carefully. "More, please."

He laughs. Careful now.

A little of this goes a long way. But he indulges me, and himself, with two more.

Every nerve jumps to attention.

I can't feel my mouth or nose, but other parts of my body are begging to be touched.

Lucas indulges them, too, with his hands and his mouth.

I love how he kisses, love how his fingers move over my body.

Everything is hard. Everything is warm. No, cold. No, warm.

I've never felt so alive. Never felt so in love. I glance at the clock.

Not even one. We have plenty of time. But I don't want to do it here on the couch. "Let's go to my bedroom, okay?"

I Don't Have to Ask Twice Lucas scoops me up into his toned arms, carries me down the hall, like a groom clutching his bride. The thought makes me blush, and I have no clue why. I rest my head against his chest for the entire ten-second journey. Then he lays me gently on the bed, unb.u.t.tons my s.h.i.+rt, peels back the blue satin, stares at what he has uncovered.

I am totally exposed, totally flying high, and yet I do, in fact, feel safe with Lucas, even as he lowers himself over me. Every ounce of me wants what he's about to do, and yet for just an instant, regret stings and I say, "Wait."

He pauses. What? You don't want me to stop, do you? Because I don't think I can. I need you. See?

He lowers my hand to feel his need, and my heart screams, "Hurry!" Still, my brain whispers, "You can never take this back."

I look up into Lucas's eyes.

"I don't want you to stop.

But please don't go too fast.

I'm afraid ..." Afraid it will hurt. Afraid it will change me.

Afraid ... afraid ... the word thumps in time with my heartbeat, even as Lucas soothes, I'll go easy.

And he does. And I'm ready.

And it does feel good, despite the pain, because it also hurts.

And then, it's just over.

Still Buzzed And yet also drained, we lie together for a while. I don't know if it was good for Lucas or not. I want to ask, but I don't want to ask because if I do and he says no, it will leave a scar.

I don't even know if it was good for me, because I'm not sure what "good s.e.x" is. Your first time probably isn't so good, right?

Because I didn't exactly feel fireworks. Maybe I was too numb. Doesn't matter. What's done is done, and I love Lucas even more now because he is my first. My ear rests against his chest. I listen to the promise of his heart, and suddenly my mouth is moving and what spills from it is, "I love you."

I Wait for Him To tell me he loves me, too.

After several seconds, I notice I've been holding my breath.

I grab air as he rolls out of bed.

It's getting late. Don't want to get busted. He stands, looks down, at himself and the bed.

But not at me. Why won't he look at me? We'd better clean up. And you might want to wash your sheets. You're not on your period, are you?

"No, not for ..." Now I notice how the front of him is splashed red, and the crimson stain flowering on my bed. My face burns. "It's not my period."

How could he not know that the first time can make a girl bleed?

Or did he maybe not believe ... ?

A Poem by Ginger Cordell Bleed Open a vein, feel the rush, exodus, delicious.

Don't be afraid, there's no pain in the letting, delectable.

Watch the red flow, let it go, drip, make it slow, drip.

If you've done it right, you won't wake from the night's indescribably peaceful dream.

Ginger

You Would Think

The possibility of losing a child would be a wake-up call. Not for Iris. No way.

Sandy is still in a coma, wandering around some- where deep inside his brain.