“Like what?”
“Like how beautiful you are.” He paled after saying it. “That’s really why those girls are jealous of you.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling guilty that I had done anything to annoy him.
After dinner, we started for home. He mentioned that his parents were out with friends. He made it sound like a simple fact, but I suspected he was suggesting something.
“I’ve never seen your house, you know,” I said. “I’d like to see your room.”
“Oh. Well, it’s not much. I mean, I have bookshelves and stuff, but . . .”
“We’re passing your house. It’s early. Do you want to invite me?”
“Sure,” he said, though he did sound very nervous about it.
“I mean, you don’t have to. We can just walk or something.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got that novel, too. I’ll give it to you.”
His house was a two-story light pink stucco, Spanish-style, similar to most in the neighborhood, with a cocoa-tiled entryway. There was a short, straight stairway with carpeted steps up to the bedrooms. His was the first on the left. Like everything else about him, it was all perfectly put together, the bed made, nothing out of place, and his books and magazines were organized. He had no posters on his dark-wood-paneled walls.
“When was the last time you used this room?” I asked.
“What?”
“It’s very neat, Jackson. Very, very neat. I’d be afraid to show you mine.”
“Oh.” He smiled and shrugged. “Maybe I have OCD.”
I looked into his closet and saw how well organized that was as well.
“Maybe.” I sat on his bed. “Comfortable.”
“It’s a new mattress . . .”
I kicked off my shoes and lay back against the pillow. Closing my eyes, I said, “You left some dreams in your pillow.”
“What?”
I smiled. “Didn’t you ever wonder where dreams go? They pop like bubbles, but sometimes a part of one lingers. At least for me.”
He stood there, looking down at me.
“Did you dream of me last night?” I asked.
His cheeks turned a shade of rose.
“Yes.”
“Did you dream of me being here in your bed?”
He started to shake his head but stopped and smiled. “Yes,” he confessed.
“Well, I’m here.”
I reached up for him. He took my hand slowly, his face full of disbelief and surprise. I held his palm tightly. Then I shifted over, and he lay beside me. When I brought my face closer to his, he kissed me.
Feelings that had been twisted and knotted inside me began to unravel. When I moaned softly, keeping my eyes closed and my hand on his shoulder, he kissed me again, then on the neck and the chin, before pressing his lips to mine. I moved my hips and brought my body close enough to press against his growing excitement. Then I pushed myself up and began to unbutton my top.