"CHUG, CHUG, CHUG, CHUG, CHUG, CH— YEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
I fly up in my bed, hitting my head along the headboard as the textbooks on my stomach fall down, cluttering to the floor with my pens and journal.
"Fuck…" I mutter, rubbing my eyes before I squint them, trying to find my phone. When my eyes land on it, I snatch it and press the screen to figure out what time it was.
1:26 AM.
The anger inside of my body rises when I hear the same chant that woke me up going off again downstairs. I get off from my bed, marching over to the door, unlocking it, and then marching out of the room and down the stairs.
"…we like to party,
Dancing with Molly,
Doin' whatever we want,
This is our house,
This is our rules…"
There are costumed bodies all along the foot of them and then even more in the hallways, the living room, and from what I can see, covering nearly every inch of the backyard and pool. The scowl doesn't leave my face while I walk past my brother who's conversing with some guy dressed as VMA's Miley Cyrus at the entrance of the living room.
I wanted to appreciate the irony of it, but I can't. I was frothing at the mouth.
"…see it's we who own the night?
Can't you see it we who 'bout that life?
And we can't stop,
And we won't stop,
We run things, things don't run we,
Don't take nothing from nobody…"
"Hey, shouldn't you be asleep?" Mike yells out over the music.
I don't answer him. Instead, I make my way over to the speakers and yank out the power, glowering at everyone as they stared back at me in a drunken stupor.
"Get the fuck out of my house, party's over! HIT THE ROOOOAD!" I gesture out towards the front door and a couple of them laugh, but no one moves. "Seriously, get the fuck out—!"
"Damn, who invited the fun police?"
I turn towards the person on the couch, ready to ream them out, but when my eyes land into their blue ones, my heart stops, my mouth goes dry, and it's as though him and I were the only 2 people in the room. I felt like my heart was caught in my throat. He smirks at me, grinning as Mike rushes over, plugging the speakers back in. Everyone simply goes back to what they're doing. Except him.
"Ali, what the fuck?" Mike shoots me a glare.
I break my gaze away from the boy in the police get-up sitting on the couch, who's still got his eyes fixed on me despite the fact that the 3 women surrounding him are vying for his attention. Mike expectantly looks at me and all I can do is shrug.
"I get that it's Halloween," I begin, "but it's one in the morning and I have finals tomorrow. I could barely study as it was before I ended up napping. The noise woke me up, soooo…" I shrug again. "Can't you tell everyone to go home?"
"Some of 'em look like they already are," he grumbles, eyeing the few people who are treading over to the front door and exiting the house. "Thanks for that by the way," Mike hisses, his eyes back on me. "Y'know, you could've slept in the basement. Or studied. It's soundproof, I don't know why you didn't do that in the first place."
"I shouldn't have to accommodate strangers in my own house. And you don't even live here anymore so stop acting like you can boss me around just because mom and dad asked you to babysit. By the looks of it, I should be babysitting you," I smirk, rolling my eyes at his costume. He looked less Dr. Evil, and more giant baby than anything. "Just get these people out of here, okay? Also, mom and dad agreed to thirty people— Not the whole neighborhood." I inch back and away from my brother, avoiding the eyes still watching me from the sofa along with the person they belonged to.
I again make my way through bodies of people before reaching the basement. I key in the code, pressing 'Unlock'. The click sound goes off and I twist the doorknob, only slightly opening the door and sliding through the partition before shutting it after me. I tread down the staircase and over to the sectional, crashing down on it as I grab the remote and hit the 'Netflix' button. When I'm in, I immediately press the first film under the 'Continue watching…' The screen loads for a second before I'm greeted with Macaulay Culkin's face.
"Would you think of me?" He asks as the screen turns to Anna Chlumsky.
"For what?" She questions.
I quote the line along with Macaulay's character, Thomas J.: "Well, if you don't get to marry Mr. Bixler?"
I do the same when Anna recites her character, Vada's line, smiling as she does so: "I guess."
I end up beaming and slightly squealing watching Thomas J. grin after Vada, who bicycles off. My heart squeezes itself as the scene then switches to Thomas J. walking in the forest. I knew what was coming, I'd seen this movie only a hundred thousand times already. It was my absolute favorite comfort film, minus the ending that I typically avoided depending on the day. Tonight, I power through it, ending up crying along with Vada.
As the scene with Vada and Judy riding their bikes down the sidewalk and busy street commences, I croon along with the song, getting louder and more passionate with every line.
"Iiiii gueeeeess yoooou'd say what can make me feel this way! My girrrrrl, my girrrrrl," I sing, beginning to dance in my seat. "Talkin' 'bout myyy girrrrrrl. My girl! I've got sooooo much honey, the bees envy me. I've got a sweeter sooong than the birds in the trees. Weee-ell, Iiii'd gueeeess yooooou'd s—!"
I flinch forwards when I hear the sound of laughter behind me to the right. My head snaps so fast in that direction, I almost break my neck.
The boy from the couch upstairs is standing there next to the open fridge, holding beer bottles in his arms, laughing as he waves his hands at me, the glass clinking in the process.
"Something funny?" I ask, glaring at him.
"Sorry, sorry, I wasn't trying to be rude," he grins as he attempts at maintaining his laughter. "You've got a great voice, it's just that— It was cute watching you when you didn't know I was there but then I couldn't help it when you started belting out the words and dancing, too."
"Still rude." I cross my arms, huffing, "What are you doing down here?"
He smirks, holding up the beer, "We ran out upstairs."
"Oh, is that right?" I quirk up a brow, trying to calm myself from turning red due to the sheer embarrassment of it all. "And how long have you been standing there?"
"Right when you started singing," he grins again.
"So…what are you supposed to be, some kind of mall cop?" I question, attempting to stray the conversation away from myself.
"Ouch!" He laughs again as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard; I assume he's simply trying to humor me. He shakes his head, pointing at the patch on his uniform, "I'm actually a real officer."
"Yeah, right," I snort.
"No, really," he insists, shuffling the drinks to one arm as he fishes something out of his pockets. It flashes under the bright lights as he holds it towards me to see. "It's my badge. I'm still in training."
"That's a weird choice on Halloween…" I remark.
"Or conveniently lazy," he offers, shrugging as he shoves the badge back into his pocket. "Apparently your brother thinks it's funny demanding cover charges as a penalty for those who show up costume-less."
"So, then you're cheating."
"Not really. Like I said, it's more lazy than anything," he responds, walking over and around the sofa. He seats himself down next to me and I inch back on the couch as he sets the drinks on the coffee table. He gestures at the TV, "Not much of a scary-movie-marathon-on-Halloween type of person? What sorta sappy shit were you watching anyway?"
"My Girl," I respond. "And please refrain from calling it sappy shit, thank you very much. It's only the greatest movie ever made."
"Oh, is that right?" One of his brows shoot up. He's likely mocking me, but I don't care.
I nod, "The absolute best! It's my favorite movie. I've rewatched it maybe a few hundred times."
"Yeah?"
"Mhmm," I nod again as I exit the film and then restart it, "I'm about to rewatch it again now if you don't mind…"
"Nah, not at all," he replies, making himself comfortable on the couch. I hit the 'Pause' button and watch as he moves the throw pillows around and then stretches his legs out on the chaise. "Let's have a look at the greatest movie ever made." He flashes me another grin and my heart throbs inside of my ribcage again.
His eyes lured me in, but his smile gave the final kick. His immaculate bone structure made it all the worse, and I found myself in a slight trance watching as he licked his lips and blinked, shooting me that same half grin from before. I mean…who looks like that?!
I suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious of myself. When he nudges my shoulder, I nearly flinch again.
"You gonna play it, or what?"
"You're—" I swallow hard, trying to get rid of the dry mouth I was experiencing. I reattempt speaking, "You're gonna watch?"
"Yeah, if you don't mind," he shrugs.
"I don't even know your name." I then smile as I inform him, "I don't watch my favorite movie ever with total strangers unless it's in a movie theatre and this does not look like one." I glance around the basement before my eyes meet his again.
He shakes his head, smirking as he gestures at himself, "I'm Josh, you can call me JC. Mike's a very close friend of mine. You're his sister, Alisha. The nerd." He laughs again.
"Does he talk about me that much?" I scrunch my face, wondering what else my brother had told him.
Then he shakes his head once more, "No, I just figured since one, he called you Ali when you attempted to squander his party, and two, your parents have quite a collection of trophies, certificates, and awards with your name on them. Mathletes, Academic Decathlons, Spelling Bees, etcetera, etcetera." He then flashes me another grin as he adds, "Not to mention, all the participation trophies in athletics. Put two and two together: nerd."
I scoff, "That's kinda presumptuous, isn't it?"
He shrugs, "Not really. Kinda trope-y though, y'know?" He grins again and my heart loudly thuds in my chest as he teases, "Good at math? Bad at sports? Very cliché if you ask me."
"I didn't," I retort, rolling my eyes. "So why JC?"
"Why what?" He furrows his brows.
"Why call you JC?"
"Oh," he states, relaxing his features as he answers, "everyone does. C is for Clarke. My last name."
"Wait, are you related to—?"
He interrupts me, "No one you know." He shakes his head, smirking as he says, "I don't have any family outside of my aunt and her kids, and they sort of live on the outskirts of the city. Even then, different last names."
"Ah," I reply, nodding.
"So, you gonna play the movie or continue to twenty question me?" He grins, raising a brow.
"Was just trying to be polite," I find myself saying as I turn my gaze back to the TV.
I press 'Play' as we watch Vada's face fill the screen, beginning her short spiel: "I was born jaundiced. Once I sat on a toilet seat and caught hemorrhoids. And I've learned to live with this chicken bone that's been lodged in my throat for the past three years. So, I knew Dad would be devastated when he learned of my latest affliction."
Josh laughs as he looks from the screen over to me, "So the little girl's crazy, right?"
"Nooooooo," I drawl, "just watch. It'll make sense."
He nods, amused, but goes back to the screen. We watch the movie, and he jokes about certain things here and there, and I have to stop myself from slapping his arm or telling him to be quiet, but I realize that I'm a lot less nervous now and actually enjoying seeing it with him.
"Shit," he grins, pointing at Dan Aykroyd's character, Harry, playing the tuba. "That's the hardest instrument to learn."
"Oh yeah?" I look over at him as he nods.
"Yeah, my uncle played it. He tried to teach me before he passed, but I couldn't pick it up. The guitar was easier."
"So, you play the guitar?" I ask, smiling as he turns away from the screen nodding again.
"I wanted to play something, my aunt's whole family plays all kinds of instruments and I wanted to as well." He was beaming as he spoke, "I got this really sick Fender for my birthday a few years ago. It's a Stratocaster. It plays like an absolute dream." He turns his attention back to the TV as he adds, "But I'm sure you knew that already. I saw those photos in your guys' living room."
I shake my head, my eyes still on him as I say, "No uhm, I tried the guitar, and it wasn't a good fit for me. My parents wanted me to have at least one other thing that would look good on my college application, so I went with piano."
"Wicked," he remarks, looking back over at me. "Could never get the piano myself either. You must be good."
"And why would you say that?"
"C'mon, you clearly excel at everything else," he jokes. "I'm sure there are a few piano-related trophies or badges or something in this house I haven't seen."
I could feel my face warming up, likely turning red because he was right. They were just up in my room though. Still blushing, I look away from him and to the TV, hoping he would do the same. He does. We continue watching in silence after that. But then he starts laughing when Vada and Thomas J. kiss.
I pause the movie as he shakes his head, saying, "C'mon! That's so cliché!"
"Noooo," I protest, "it's cute! This is the cutest thing ever— Why are you still laughing?!"
"Because they're just so awkward, and again, it's cliché as hell!"
"No, it's not," I argue. "You're just jealous you don't have that. You've probably only ever been kissed by your mother or sister."
He waves a hand at me, not laughing anymore as he boasts, "I could have that in a second if I wanted."
"With who, the three drunk disgusto barfos on the couch drooling into your lap?" I couldn't believe what was coming out of my mouth. Those girls were definitely drunk, but definitely not "disgusto barfos".
He runs his tongue along the bottom of his upper teeth, inching closer, "Maybe."
I swallow hard, finding it even harder to look away from his lips, his clear blue eyes, the chiseled jawline, the high points of his face, and then back to his lips. I hold my breath before snapping out of it and licking my suddenly dry lips again as I say, "It doesn't matter. Vada and Thomas J. are the absolute cutest thing ever."
"Yeah?" He's still leaned in. His eyes dart to my lips and then back into mine. "How so?"
"Because it's cute. Their love is just sweet. Innocent. Wholesome. The whole scene is wholesome." And then before I could even stop myself, I blurt out, "I want that some day."
As if he's waking from a trance of his own, his brows furrow as he leans back the slightest. He then asks, "Well, are you seeing anyone?"
"Why?"
"If you want that, shouldn't you be dating someone to at least get there?"
"Uhm…" I struggle on what to say before sighing, "No. I'm not seeing anyone. The boys in my grade are too immature to even look at, leave alone kiss or be expected to understand the concept of such a sweet, innocent, wholesome relationship."
He snorts, "Yeah, well, you women are worse!"
"No, we're not!"
"Yeah, ya are," he nods. "Y'all are too much trouble, expect too much, want too much, and don't even get me started on the overanalyzing. I mean, you're the perfect example of this. You want a movie cliché type of relationship. That's unattainable and quite frankly very unhealthy."
"No, I—!"
"You said that, didn't you?" His brow flies up as a smile plays along those lips.
"Okay, yes, but—!"
"See?" He points out, grinning. "It's unattainable. It's not so easy to always be so innocent, or wholesome, or sweet."
"It can be," I protest. "Your gender just doesn't get it because you're all too preoccupied with stupid things like gaming or holding fart contests."
He laughs hard at the last comment, shaking his head, "Life can't always be so serious."
"I never said it has to be super serious. Wholesome, sweet, and innocent include fun too, but appropriate fun."
"You wouldn't know fun if it slapped you across the face and screamed at you to have it, female-Sheldon," he laughs again, even harder this time.
"So uncalled for!" I shake my head. "I can too have fun," I argue. Without thinking about it, I lean closer to him until we're essentially breathing the same air. "Spontaneous fun."
At that remark, I fuse my lips to his and he's taken by surprise, pulling away from me, confused as I lick my lips. I run the back of my finger along the corner of my mouth, smirking as I say, "Was that spontaneously fun enough for you?"
"Might need another demonstration," he breathes, coming back to me and pressing his lips against mine.
I grin into the kiss, my fingers delving into his hair, pulling him closer as he pushes me back until I'm pressed against the cushions of the sofa. He's climbing on top, his tongue running along the seam of my lips and when I relent, massaging his tongue with mine, he moans into my mouth. I can feel his fingers digging into my hips. When I grind them into his lower half he moans again, beginning to pull away.
I shake my head, gripping the front of his shirt to keep him on top of me. I could see the gears shifting in his mind as he hesitantly comes closer. I lick his bottom lip, grinning before fusing our mouths together once more. I let one of my hands travel down his chest, resting there for a second as he entwines our tongues together, pushing, pulling, massaging the flesh. My fingers creep lower to his belt, and then—
"No," he yells, instantly yanking away from me again the second he felt my hand moving over the bulge. He shakes his head as he gets on his knees on the sofa before sitting properly and then getting back up. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, fuck!"
"You didn't," I smirk, feeling the potency of the kiss fill my body with a surge of unexpected confidence. "I did."
"Either way, I'm the adult."
"By what, a year?"
"I'm twenty-one," he grits through his teeth, running his fingers through his hair. "Fuck! I shouldn't have done that, you're what? Twelve? Fuuuck!"
"Fifteen," I correct him. "Almost sixteen."
"When, tomorrow?" He rolls his eyes.
"Two months," I answer.
"Jesusfuck, I wasn't serious, it doesn't matter when." He throws his hands up before clutching the sides of his head as he clenches his jaw, "This was so fucked up, we shouldn't have done that. Fuck! You're Mike's little sister; he's too good of a friend of mine to fuck it all up with."
He was so angry, frustrated, and yet…it was turning me on.
I crawl over the sofa, closer to him, leering, "But…what if I wanna be a good friend of yours too?" I then smirk, biting my lower lip, "Just…with benefits."
The slightest smile teased on his lips, eyes lighting up as he leans down; he clutches my chin as he sneers, "Baby, you couldn't handle me even if you had twice as many hands. Or were twice the age." He then pulls away, snatching the beers off the table, irritably muttering, "Later, Hannah Montana," before walking toward the staircase and disappearing up them, not once looking back at me.
I sat there for a while, wondering what the fuck just happened. I flop back down on the couch, utterly perplexed by his suddenly cold demeanor at the end. I was so sexually frustrated that I would have let him fuck me right then and there on this sofa. I had never felt this kind of urge, an urge this deep, this consuming. I felt suffocated under the weight of it.
I wonder whether he'd be even more pissed off participating in that kiss if he knew it was your first…
Kissing Josh was like finally understanding what all the racket around it – something that was a mere simple act to me just moments ago – was all about. It's like something clicked inside of me. My stomach goes queasy at the thought of his jaw clenching in both frustration and anger.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" I grab a throw pillow, shoving my face into it as I crash back onto the couch, screaming into the fabric.
I wanted him. I wanted him bad. I wanted him to badly use and abuse my body.
Regardless of whatever happened, I was going to be with him. I'd make it my life's mission if it took that long, I didn't care how or when, but I would do whatever I had to in order to make it happen.
Because that kiss had done more than enough to rile me up inside, it had marked me as his.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
How absolutely imbecilic of me to want that at such a young age? And especially considering the age gap. My stomach churns at the memory. He had definitely used and abused my body over the years in ways I'd wanted but also in ways I'd never imagined.
I look up from the ironing board and the mirror hails me with the image of my face. The imprint of his hand on my cheek was no longer there but the left side of my brow was still very slightly swollen. We hadn't spoken much in the past few days, but that was mostly on account of the fact that he hadn't been around much either.
He hadn't touched me after dinner that night like I'd assumed he would. He had however apologized for the way he'd reacted and then went to bed. Just like that. Leaving me there to ice either side of my face and clean up after dinner.
Whatever. It wasn't as if an apology would have fixed anything.
I shake my head at the memories; what I wouldn't give to reverse time, to talk myself out of my foolishness, out of my "crush" as everyone else around me seemed to put it.
My eyes drift to the navy-blue shirt under the iron, watching as the machine runs over the crinkles and wrinkles, smoothing out the material wherever it glided.
If only it were this easy to smooth out my life…
"Aliiiii," the shouting is followed by the pitter-patter of soft feet running along the hardwood floors. "Ali, Ali, Aliiii!"
"I'm in here, babe," I yell out, leaning towards the open door.
I see her head poke into the room before anything else. Emma grins at me, displaying the gap in her teeth as she holds up her drawing.
"Look what I dreeeew," she cheers.
She may have only been 6, but the kid was a prodigy. Her teachers were astounded that she didn't just draw stick figures, triangular houses, circular suns, or what have you. No. Emma drew from what she saw, or even photos. The symmetry, shadowing, detailing, and use of color was remarkable for a 6-year-old. Perhaps a little typical from someone more than twice her age, but truly remarkable for her.
"Alright, let's see." I place the iron onto its stand and take the piece of paper from her, smiling as my eyes run along the sheet. There was obvious greenery in her portrait detailing the hedges around the property, while the pool was drawn in the midst of it, the patio furniture laid out around it. "I see you drew Lumen; she looks very distinguished," I remark, looking down at Emma and smiling before my brows crinkle at the figure next to the dog.
It was someone dressed in all black, donning a trench coat, hand raised as if waving "Hello". They were stood near the boardwalk that led out towards the ocean, hat on head, dark sunglasses.
My nerves tingle as I swallow hard.
I lick my lips, turning it to her and asking, "Who is that? This person you drew next to Lumen?"
Emma shrugs, smiling back at me, "I don't know. He's outside. He waved at me."
My heartbeat races as I snatch the cord for the iron out of the socket, leading Emma out of the room as I shut the door after us. I open the kids' bedroom door where Max is fast asleep in his crib and Milo is napping near him. The dog looks up at us once we're in. I lean down and do my best to smile at Emma, attempting to remain calm as I say, "Can you please stay in here for a minute? I need you to watch your little brother for me, is that okay? Can you do that?"
Emma nods, whispering with a finger to her lips, "Yes, I can."
"Good girl," I remark, "stay here, and I'll be right back."
I walk out of the room and shut that door behind me as well before running towards my bedroom and snatching my phone off the bed. I make my way back along the wrap-around balcony, treading down the stairs as I turn on the device, going straight to the phone app, while I sprint closer to the back patio doors.
With my thumb hovering over Josh's name, I peek outside, glancing side-to-side, praying that Emma had just made it up. But the nagging thought in my brain asking me why a 6-year-old would draw someone in that get-up at this time of day keeps whirling through my mind.
That's when I notice movement in the hedges.
Shadow barks at whoever was making the leaves rustle and sway. Lumen darts over to where Shadow stood, both barking and baring their teeth.
I instantly press 'Call' on the phone when someone in a trench coat, sunglasses, and a hat reveals themselves, stepping onto the patio, nudging the dogs away with his foot.
"Ali!" I snap out of my trance and look down at the phone, realizing Josh was yelling for me. I put it to my ear as he hisses, "Ali? Ali! What the fuck?! Ali—!"
"Josh?" I breathe, remaining transfixed in my spot in hopes that I'd be overlooked, hoping that the sun's rays were too bright for him to somehow peer into the house but who was I kidding?!
He could likely make me out very well – the house was enclosed in glass.
So I take another step backwards, completely out of the sun's rays. As if it would have done anything. The surrounding walls of the house were essentially 85% glass, making it very easy for anyone to look in. Which is why the area around the house was surrounded by 10 feet high hedges. Hedges that this man was already inside of.
Still, the security system we had was top of the line and worked immaculately. Any movement of the door when it was armed and the system immediately went off, sending the entire house into lockdown mode, which essentially meant alarms blaring, pings on every device, and perhaps the best thing, the thick steel shutters would start to roll down over any door or window that could be opened. Every wall was essentially glass, but Josh had been pretty smug about the fact that it was "durable", bulletproof, shatter-resistance, whatever.
I thought it was strange he'd done that, but the more I learned of his "profession" – the little that I did – the more I was grateful he'd equipped the entire house such a way.
"What do you want?" Josh grits through the phone, snapping me away from my thoughts.
I go to answer, but then gasp upon seeing that I'd been made. We both stood there, staring straight ahead at each other, frozen. I then watch him slowly guide his hand into his pocket, grasping something.
"Ali, what the fuck is going on?!" Josh yells over the phone. "Why are you calling me?"
"Josh, th-there's—" My breath hitches in my throat as the person begins to walk towards me. "He's coming, Josh— He's— There's someone outside."
"Who is it?!" He shouts over the phone.
"I don't know," I cry out, backing away from the glass windows as the person walks closer towards the entrance. Lumen and Shadow continue to bare their teeth at him, snarling as he tries to push them away.
"Well, what do they look like?" He rasps.
I couldn't believe he was angry with me. Wasn't this the very reason he moved us out here in the middle of fucking nowhere? Because we weren't "safe" for whatever fucking reason?!
"I'm sending Jesse," he huffs over the phone when I don't answer. "Stay inside, grab your gun, go upstairs into the kids' room, and stay there!"
The person outside looks in, fastening his fingers around the door handle, attempting to open it as I take another few steps back.
"H-he's trying t-to get in," I choke out into the phone. "He just kick-kicked Shadow!"
"I'm enabling lockdown mode. Get upstairs," Josh orders. "Now!"