The Spring Girls

As I finished my loop around the block and walked past the Laurence house, I couldn’t help but look at its giant illuminated window. I could see so much of the overcrowded living room, all of the furniture so aristocratic and overdone. I was starting to get used to the place, but I still felt a little weird going over there. I wondered if Laurie was around. It was somewhat early; I stopped walking, debating whether to knock on the door. I hadn’t realized that I didn’t have Laurie’s phone number, and it seemed a little weird, but everything with Laurie felt that way. He lived in his own world, one I liked visiting.

The front door of the house opened and a woman walked out.

No, not a woman, I realized. A girl, a teenage girl.

No, not a teenage girl, it was a snake with long blond hair and a prickly voice . . .

I stared like a deer in the middle of the road that didn’t move as a car barreled toward it.

Shelly Hunchberg crossed the lawn and clicked the key fob to her little green Volkswagen. I couldn’t believe I didn’t notice it earlier, that unmistakable little booger of a car.

Why was she at Laurie’s house?

Then the silhouette of Laurie himself filled the doorway, and he stood watching her until she pulled out of the driveway. Gravel crunched under her tires, and I hated the noise.

Shelly Hunchberg, out of everyone? How did she even know Laurie? I knew the town was small, mostly Army families, but Laurie didn’t even go to our school.

“Jo?” Laurie called out suddenly.

I thought about bolting, but that would have been even more awkward than my sort-of spying.

“Jo? Is that you over there?”

“Yep!” I squeaked out. My voice sounded weird.

The light around Laurie disappeared as he closed the door behind him and stepped off the porch. We met in the middle of the road. He was wearing a black long-sleeved T-shirt and dark jeans at least a size too big, and his hair was wet and hung just below his shoulders.

“Hey.” He sounded a little out of breath.

“Hi,” I said, even though what I wanted to say was Why did you have Shelly evil wench Hunchberg in your house? Don’t you know she’s awful and the biggest bitch at my school and she’ll suck your soul . . . and probably other parts of you . . . dry?

“What are you doing out here? Just roaming around?”

I shrugged. Why did everything feel so weird all of the sudden? “Pretty much. Meg is with John Brooke, Amy’s being annoying, and my laptop died while I was editing. So the night air it is.”

Laurie laughed and tucked his hair behind his left ear. “Why do you guys call him John Brooke? Like he’s some superimportant agent or president or something?”

I told him I didn’t know why, exactly, but I thought Meg started the trend.

“What’s he like? Is he as enthralling as your sister thinks he is?”

“Not exactly.” I laughed. “I mean, he’s nice and everything, though.”

“ ‘Nice’?”

I didn’t say anything else because I didn’t want to be an asshole and laugh at John Brooke’s expense. He was upright, maybe uptight, but he wasn’t bad.

To change the subject, I asked Laurie how his day was. He told me that he went on post with his grandpa to get his ID card renewed and then went to dinner at a restaurant that served only crawfish. Crawfish pie, crawfish soup, crawfish everything.

Laurie changed his slight Italian accent to a Southern one. “ ‘Panfried, deep-fried, stir-fried. There’s pineapple shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich . . .’ ”

I was laughing at the end. “Did you seriously memorize Forrest Gump?”

He nodded. “Not the whole movie, but a lot of it. It’s one of the best.”

I agreed with him, though it was a strange talent to be able to recite so much of it.

Laurie glanced back at his house. “Do you want to come inside? Or go for a walk? I’m kinda hungry.”

“Sure,” I said, even though I wanted to say, Didn’t Shelly evil spawn Hunchberg just feed you the fruit of her loom or loins, or whatever the saying is?

Instead, we walked across the street in silence until Laurie threw out another Bubba quote and I laughed despite myself.

23

meg

The food was delicious, particularly a decadent arrangement of strong cheeses that came with something called a Hurricane Po’ Boy, which was topped with barbecue sauce and crispy shrimp. John overordered and we had so much food left, including a completely untouched crème brûlée.

I totally planned to pick at the burnt-sugar topping sometime before bed. Or maybe we could even have some fun with it.

But John looked like he was half-asleep on the chair, and I was so full that I could barely move. Still, being alone with him, at last, I either needed a bath or to run a marathon. Since I didn’t want to hack up my lunch like a model from the nineties, I crawled out of the feather fluff bed and wandered past John and into the suite bathroom.

The bathroom area was largely covered in dark tiles, the sink and a sizable mirror separate from everything else. The shower was huge, as was the Jacuzzi; it was even bigger than it looked in pictures.

I ran the perfect bath, and soon bubbles were piling up a foot or so above the tub’s edge. John undressed while I called my mom and managed to sneak into the water before I could even steal a glance of his body. We hadn’t been together since he had had a two-week break back in October. I was more nervous than I had anticipated, and my bloated cheese-stuffed stomach was no reassurance.

When I got into the bathroom, John was neck deep in bubbles and his eyes both calmed and enticed me.

“Come in, I’m a little lonely in here.” He smiled.

He was a man of few words, but he knew what words to use, and when. I pulled my sweater over my head and let it fall to the floor. His eyes were on me, taking me in, devouring me, which made me excited enough to almost forget about the food baby pushing on my stomach.

I took my pants off, and John’s eyes ate my body up like Sunday brunch at a Southern country club. I pushed my arms against the sides of my chest and got a little wet when water splashed up over the sides as he shifted. I loved what a woman’s body could do to a man. Not what it could do for them, but to them. The boys at my high school always called me a tease, and I was. I loved it. They wanted me—and couldn’t have me—so they pretended they were too good for me and called me names and passed around pictures of my body, which they would never be able to touch themselves.

When my panties slid down my smooth, pampered legs, John’s mouth went slack and his eyes barely blinked. I stood up, adrenaline flowing through me, licking at the tension I felt from him. I stepped out of my panties fully and eased into the tub. The water burned my skin as I submerged myself into the soft bubble bath. I sat opposite John in the big tub, a sea of bubbles floating between us. I felt like I had so much to say to him, but at the same time didn’t know what to talk about.

Then it was quiet, the only noises in the room being the soft sounds of the bubbles popping between us. John’s short hair was still dry on his head, looking lighter than his wet chest hair. I wanted to touch him, so I slid over to his naked body, and he parted his legs, letting me sett

le my back against his chest.

“I missed your body,” he said, his hands exploring my neck, my chest. John Brooke’s hands were never rough; they always carried in them some sort of timidity that made me feel like he was a little bit of a challenge.

I pushed my ass against his front and felt him hard against me. “I missed yours.”

His hands grabbed mine and he turned me around. He moved my hands between his legs, making me take his length. I felt powerful as I manipulated his body with light strokes. I felt like a goddess when his head tipped back, and my hands felt like they were connected to the earth. Meredith always told us that a woman’s body is the most divine, most powerful entity in the universe, that it creates life—and can end it, too. She taught me to never be ashamed of my body or my sexuality.

Though I would guess that she didn’t exactly mean for me to take it as far as I invariably did.

There I was, a sexual predator, practically the graceful version of a porn star, using my hands and body to bring my prey to ecstasy. I watched my man’s eyes and made sure he knew I was thinking dirty, dirty things about him and couldn’t wait for him to be inside me. I even said as much and took pleasure in watching his face change. Blinking eyes, open mouth panting my name, and he was getting closer, so I pumped faster and asked him if he wanted me to fuck him, and he could barely nod because he was so captivated by my body and the way my hips moved as I straddled him and put him inside me. He stuttered a line of words and spilled out my name as he came so quickly. As flattered as I was that I had accomplished what I intended to even faster than I had planned, I knew from our history that once he came, he was down for the count for a while.

He kissed my neck and gently pushed me off him, cradling me at his side. I moved back in front of him and laid my head back on his chest. Then there was more silence.

We sat that way for what felt like hours, and when I heard John’s light snoring behind my ear, I turned to find his eyes closed.

I was exhausted and I knew he had to be, but here I was completely naked in a bathtub with him and we had barely touched before he came. He was asleep. Eyes closed, breathing hard, mouth slack. Sleeping.