Dual Aftermaths
No sign of anyone inside, so I go down to my room. Maxie is following me. I pet him as I eye the treadmill, trying my ass off to resist hopping on for the next hour. My soft maroon pj’s are still on the floor. I slip into them and reach for the doorknob, intending to exercise in pajamas, until I get a text.
It’s from Brian.
Brian: In bed yet?
Allandra: Hey, aren’t you driving? No texting and driving.
Brian: I’m not. I pulled over. I couldn’t wait another second to tell you how much fun I had with you tonight.
Allandra: Me too. It was so wonderful.
Brian: Don’t go far from your phone. Might be texting again soon.
Allandra: OK. Now stop texting me and drive careful.
Brian: I will. If I can concentrate that is. All I’m thinking about is your lips.
Allandra: LOL.
I turn to my bed, knowing I can resist the treadmill right now if I try hard enough. Tomorrow it’s mine, though. And hard. Fake Mom would be proud of me for not jumping on it now. I eye the candy bag on my dresser and then run it up to the kitchen so Jackson will find it and eat it—so I don’t have to. I let Maxie out to potty, and then he and I trot back down to my room. In bed, I curl myself around my soft, lumpy pillow and watch my phone for Brian’s texts. I fantasize about his body against mine and our lips together, and the memory of it is almost as hot as the real thing. Wow, kissing him was hot—gets my heart racing just to think about it.
After a few minutes, I get a text from him.
Brian: In bed yet? Fantasizing about me?
Allandra: Yes. And Yes actually.
Brian: Oh, U rock. U R my hero.
I text him a smiley face.
Brian: What are u wearing?
Allandra: Nothing.
Brian: U trying to kill me or something? After tonight, my heart can’t take this! How will I sleep?
Allandra: Guess you will just have to be a horny insomniac all night.
Brian: That’s so NOT funny, Landra! Cruel & unusual punishment.
Allandra: Ha! Ha! Kidding. I have my soft maroon pj’s on. What are you wearing?
Brian: Boxers.
That text hits me like a rock as I imagine his long, lean body lying in bed with only boxers on. The thought overwhelms me with a super strong wallop of yearning that, even after all that happened tonight, shocks the shazam outta me. My breathing is quickening. Boxers … the firm stomach muscles I can tell reside under his T-shirts when he wears tighter ones … the narrow of his waist … his torso near the waistband, that spot where his skin meets the elastic that I’m just dying to see. It sends hot zingers through me like wildfire. I can’t help wishing I knew the boxers’ color.
Brian: Landra? u there?
Allandra: Yes. My brain is stuck back at boxers. What color are they?
Brian: What??? My boxers? Ha! Blue. I’m smiling pretty damn big in case u were wondering.
Allandra: nice color on you with your eyes.
That’s killer. I sigh.
Brian: Ah! U gift me so much with this.
Then another text from him.
Brian: Never thought I’d be lucky enough to have U actually go out with me, kiss me the way U did tonight, then text me this. Thank you, U R amazing my Queen. Geez. Who needs Christmas?
I giggle that foreign giggle again, the one that doesn’t seem like me.
Allandra: No thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long to see you.
Brian: No matter. Just so thrilled U R looking now. AND imagining …
Allandra: Oh, I’m looking alright. And I’m hooked.
Brian: Ahhhh …
We text for another hour before we decide to go to bed. If I can even fall asleep, that is. Holy freaking wow.
A text sound wakes me up. I look at my clock. It’s three o’clock in the morning, so I grab for my phone, thinking it’s Brian again because he can’t sleep. Ya know, the horn dog he is and all. I smile until I see it’s not from him.
It’s from Hunter. Fuck no. I shake my head.
Hunter: Landra … can I come over? I’m so sorry. I screwed up. Don’t want to lose u. I need u.
I stare at my phone. Sigh. Tap it with my finger.
Allandra: Hunter, we are over. I’m sorry. It won’t work between us.
He texts back.
Hunter: Please forgive me. Please give me another chance.
Allandra: Hunter, I am seeing someone now.
That ends it, and I don’t get another text from him. I snuggle back into my fluffy blankets with a smile, thinking about Brian in his bed.
But what feels like ten minutes later, I hear a knock on my window and a voice yelling my name. I had fallen asleep again, so my limbs are cement as I drag myself toward my window. Could it be Brian? I open my blinds, and there is Hunter.
He looks shit-faced, wearing his football sweatshirt—winter hat slightly sideways like he slapped it on in a rush—swaying, almost falling down, looking around from window to window, obviously searching for me. “Landra!” He almost falls for real, but catches himself on the tree trunk and stays upright. “Landra, come out!” He is so loud he has woken someone up in the house, because I hear them walking upstairs. He yells again. “Landra! I know you are here. Come out!” He pauses. “Puh-leez!”
I run toward the front door. Maybe I can get him to shut up and leave before Dad and Jackson go out there. Too late. Both Dad and Jackson are already at the door. They go out with untied robes and slippers on, and Christine is standing at the top of the stairs blinking. Her presence hits me like a brick. I didn’t even see her car in our driveway. I follow both Dad and Jackson out into the cold. With Dad here, I know Jackson won’t lose it on Hunter this time. And there will be no f-bombs coming out of Jackson’s mouth.
Hunter stumbles toward us.
“Son, you need to go home,” Dad says, his hand raised.
Hunter sees me behind Dad. “Landra, please!” He’s pleading, crying, completely drunk and blubbering. “Please, give me another chance. I know I’m a fucker and I don’t deserve it, but please!”
I wince at the f-bomb, glancing at Dad.
“Looks like you’ve had some trouble lately. You been in a fight, son?” Dad points to Hunter’s eye, which is still blatantly purple, mottled, though less swollen now.
“Yeah,” Hunter says, and spits gunk out of his mouth, most likely chew. “With your son’s fucking fist!”
“What?” Dad takes a step back and looks from him to Jackson and back. “Jackson, you did this?”
Jackson’s hands go up. His eyes are wide, his face getting madder by the second. “Now, Dad, you don’t know—”
“There is no reason for doing this, Jackson. None.” Dad puts his hands on his head and shakes it. “I … I just don’t know what to say. You can’t hit a boy younger than you, and Jackson, you are stronger than most men, with all your football training, your weightlifting. … You could have done this poor boy major damage.”
“Yeah,” Hunter says, nodding as he sways, trying hard not to fall down. “That’s fucking right. Fucker kicked me in the gut too.”
Jackson sighs. “I know. I lost my temper, Dad. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. But what he did to Landra … ”
Both of Dad’s hands go up, his whole body stiff. “Wait, he did something to Landra? And I’m just hearing about this all now?”
I look back at Christine, who is now in the doorway with both her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. Gingerly, I take a step toward Dad, because he’s getting that same mad look Jackson is sporting.
I say, “He didn’t, Dad. He didn’t. But he ruined my reputation. Jackson thought he did more than that when he hit him.”
“This is a mess,” Dad says, shaking his head, rubbing his forehead. “We need to get you home.” Dad looks at Hunter. “I’m going to get my keys and drive you home.” Dad starts to walk toward the house.
“No,” Hunter says. “I came here to talk with Landra. And I’m not leaving till I do.”
“Oh, son, look, you’re done talking to my daughter. And you will listen to me and let me drive you home, or I’m calling the police.”
Hunter turns away from us and starts walking. “No police.”
“Dad, hurry, get your keys—he’s going to leave,” I say. I run after Hunter as he’s stumble-running, and Jackson is right by my side. “Please, Hunter. Let my Dad drive you. I don’t want you walking around like this. You could get hit by a car.” I’m starting to cry.
“Maybe I deserve that, Landra. Afterall, I’m a fuckup.” He sways and almost topples.
“No, Hunter, you don’t deserve that,” I say. “Please, Hunter, go with my dad.”
He tries to run but falls. Gets back up, and Jackson grabs his arm to keep him from falling again.
“Get your fucking hands off me, you fucker!” Hunter yells at Jackson.
His head lolls like his neck is broken as Jackson literally picks him up like a doll and throws him over his shoulder with a giant moan. Jackson carries him over to Dad’s car, where Dad already has the back door wide open. Jackson plops Hunter in and gets into the passenger seat as Dad gets in the driver’s seat.
Christine and I watch as the three of them go off into the dark night. Christine says nothing but pulls me into a hug as tears fall down my already-wet cheeks. She ushers me inside and drags me to the kitchen by my hand.
“You need a cup of tea,” she says. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way that I’m here tonight. It’s literally the first night I’ve slept here.”
I nod. “It’s OK, Christine.”
She sits next to me and puts her hands on mine. We listen as the microwave heats the mug of water.
She asks with kind eyes, “Are you sure you are OK?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding.
“Did this boy hurt you in any physical way?”
I shake my head. “Nope. It was all internal.”
Christine’s face is full of bewildered concern. The microwave beeps, and she hurries to pull out the steaming mug, plops a tea bag into it, and starts heating another mug for herself. She places the first mug in front of me and sits beside me.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you.” She rubs my hand and gives me an encouraging smile. “I’ll be here for you if you want to talk about it.” She hands me a napkin. “No judgments.”
I shake the napkin, then place it on the table. “It was awful. There’s this horrible one-night-stand contest some high school boys made up years ago called ‘F and F.’ Hunter and his friends were resurrecting it. I heard them talking, and he said I was … ” I pause. I really don’t want to tell her all this, but I’m stuck doing it now. I grab for the napkin, twist it and watch it unfurl. “I guess I was going to be his conquest, just a tally mark.” I sniff and wipe my nose with the napkin. “Then he said he wasn’t really going to do it to me, he only told his friends he was. He did apologize. But it was too late because someone posted a vote on what number I was for Hunter on social media and everyone was voting on me. Calling me names, bad names.” I am sobbing harder now. Through my crying, I say, “I’d had a crush on him for months. He turned me into the sophomore slut. And I didn’t even do a thing but kiss him. I swear.” I’m gasping between sobs. They begin to slow, now that it’s all out.
“Oh my gosh. This social media business is just a haven for bullies.” She lets out a big sigh, pulls me into a hug. “These kids don’t know that all this is going to follow them forever.”
I pull out of her hug. “But it won’t though—it’s posted from a fake account.”
She sighs. “That is awful. Horrible. So wrong.” She is wringing her hands but stops when I notice. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
“I ended things with him, but he keeps coming back to me, apologizing. But I thought we were friends now, and then he goes and does this. He says he didn’t really mean it all, but I knew I could never trust him again, so I told him we were over. But I guess he’s not accepting it.”
“You did the right thing, Landra.” She rubs my back on her way to the microwave to get her tea, which has been ready for a few minutes while I’ve rattled on. She sits next to me with her steaming mug.
“You won’t tell Dad this, will you?” Guess I should have asked that first. “I really don’t want him to know people are voting on what number one-night stand I was for Hunter. That’s not something a daughter wants a dad to know about.”
“No, I won’t tell him any of it, I promise. Thank you for sharing it with me.” She smiles and reaches out for another hug.
I let her hug me. My tears have subsided, so at least I’m not gasping anymore.
She leans back in her chair as she asks, “How did your date with Brian go tonight? Was it good?”
I smile. “Oh, it was so amazing. So good. He’s wonderful.”
She smiles this smile that makes me think she really does care about me. “That’s so wonderful. I’m so happy for you.” She jumps up. “I made these shortbread cookies that would go amazing with this tea. Want one?”
I nod even though, no, I don’t. “Brian fed me so much food tonight, I think I might burst, but I could try one with the tea.” I’m trying. I am.
She grabs the container from the counter and sets it on the table. Dad and Jackson walk in the door and into the kitchen, where they each grab a cookie, and we all sit at the table staring at each other, eating Christine’s shortbread. In the middle of the freaking night. She makes them both a cup of tea.
“Again, Landra, I’m so sorry I hit Hunter that day. I made a mistake.” Jackson does actually look sorry. “I really shouldn’t have done it.”
I dab the corners of my puffy eyes with my index finger. “It’s OK. I know.” I have this intense urge to hide under the table or run away to my room. But I stay.
“I apologized to Hunter too, though drunk as he is, he may not remember it in the morning,” he says, then takes a sip of tea and makes a face. “Not my cup of tea.”
Christine laughs, then I do, and even Dad does.
“How about some hot chocolate then?” Christine asks.
“Yes, please,” Jackson says.
“Jackson filled me in on Hunter,” Dad says.
I shoot Jackson an alarmed look. I didn’t want Dad to know all that!
“I dad-ified it, don’t worry,” Jackson says.
Dad looks at Jackson and says, “I’ve been alive a lot longer than you. Not much will surprise me. Hope you didn’t leave out anything I really need to know about.”
Jackson and I look at each other with tight lips.
Dad turns to me, sighs a huge sigh. “I just want to know if you’re OK,” he says, his eyes just oozing with worry.
“I’m good, Dad. I’m good.” I nod for emphasis. “Christine helped me feel better too.”
This makes Dad smile. “Good, I’m so happy to hear that.”
We all head to bed after our cookies and beverages. I trudge down to my room, wondering if I will be able to sleep. I’m really dreading telling Brian all this in the morning.
I call Brian in the morning. It’s just too much and the wrong topic to text.
I tell him the whole story.
“I can’t believe this! What a jerk! Who does that ass think he is?”
With how angry he sounds, I imagine his eyes seething, his tall frame pacing back and forth, his eyes flaring into a fury, free fist probably clenched.
“I know. But I think he’ll get it now. My dad told him to leave me alone.” I flick a strand of hair back and forth, roll it around my finger, and let it unfurl over and over again.
“He better,” Brian says. “Man, I’m just so glad you weren’t home alone. Call me if this ever happens again. Call me right away, and I’m coming over. With police.”
“It won’t happen again. I don’t think Hunter is that dumb. My dad knows about it all now. Well, not all of it.”
Brian makes a monster sound full of disgust. “That jackass. Wish I could knock him out like Jackson did.”
“No more knocking out,” I say. “Besides, I like your hands on me and making me food rather than punching someone out for my honor.”
“He wrecked you, Landra. Guy deserves it.”
“I know. But we need to move on. I’m moving on. Besides, we have a date tonight. I’d much rather focus on you.” I rub my arm as I imagine how his hand will feel there later today. I smile. “I’m bringing my lips, by the way.”
“You better.” He snorts. “You are very good at changing the subject. You’ve got me thinking about your lips now.”
“I know I’m good.”
We hang up, and I head off to the treadmill, my date for the daytime.
After the movie, Brian drives us to the restaurant.
“You like Italian, right?”
“Yep. This place looks like they will have a good salad.”
“Yes, the best salad around, actually.” He opens the restaurant door for me, and I slip in. As we stand waiting for a table, he loops his arm around my waist, giving me a jolt.
“Better salad than yours?” I ask as I rub his hand resting on my stomach.
“Never.” He smiles. “But it’s a good try.”
My mind is still on the kiss we shared before the movie started, while the commercials filled the screen. It was wildly sexy with the music blaring, lights flashing as we cuddled under a blanket, squished together in one recliner seat in the theater. We only snuck in one kiss though, because even though we were in the back of the theater, by the time the movie started, we had people in the seats on either side of us, making kissing seem way too awkward.
“Hello, Landra?” Brian asks.
“Sorry, thinking about that kiss we had earlier … ”
“Yeah, that was good, huh?” He gets a dreamy look on his face—probably matches my goofy one.
Our table buzzer buzzes and flashes. We walk over to the hostess, and she seats us in a booth. That was quick.
I did the treadmill for three hours today while no one was home. I’m ready to eat, and my stomach is growling.
Brian notices. “Guess we should have gotten more than licorice at the theater. I knew we should have gotten popcorn too.”
“No, I would have gotten too full if I had eaten popcorn. This is perfect.”
He hands me a garlic breadstick, and I set it on my plate. I point at the salad, and he hands it to me.
“Of course.” He smiles, pulls it back. “Wait, allow me. I love to serve you.” He plops a generous helping into my bowl.
“Thank you.” I smile at him.
“My pleasure.” He fills his own bowl.
“You won’t stop bringing food to school, will you?” I ask. “Now that we’re dating, I mean. Becca may never forgive me if our being together makes that stop.”
“Oh, I am not stopping that. I have big plans for this week. I never get tired of seeing your face when you’re enjoying something.”
I smile. “Oh, really?”
He gives me a warning look topped with a sly smile. “Don’t you dare go overboard, or I might lose it right here in front of all these people.”
I make faces at him, and he hides his face, but he is grinning ear to ear, looking, then not looking, between his alternating opening and closing hands.
The waitress comes up, and I stop as I realize others may be looking at me and my ever-changing enjoyment faces too. Yikes! My face goes red as Brian busts a gut across the table at my being caught.
The waitress smiles. She clearly gets it—just pretends all is normal as she takes our order, smirking the whole time. “Be right back with your drinks.” She taps the table. “Right back,” she says with a grin, as if we plan to start making out right on the table. Which sounds great, if I could block out all the people around us.
“Ya think she will care if we just fling all this off the table and start making out right here?” Brian asks.
I scoot toward him and smack him on the arm. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Oh, I’m tempted alright.” He smiles. “In fact, it’s happening inside my head right now.”
“No fair. I want in on it.” I pout.
“Oh, if we were alone, that lip would be all mine.”
I can’t not smile so big that I squint. “Later,” I say as the waitress appears with our drinks. Geez, talk about timing. Her smile clearly shows she heard us. Again, I feel my face flush. Brian is loving it, again cracking up.
“This is fun,” he says, after his laughing has slowed down.
I roll my eyes at him, shake my head, smiling the whole time.
After dinner, Brian drives me home. We sit on the back patio and turn on the outdoor heater, and snuggle under a blanket on the lounge chair I dug out from under the deck. I’ve seen Dad peek out of the sliding glass door twice now.
I snuggle into Brian’s chest for a minute before he scooches down so our faces meet, and our lips are on each other’s in a second, lost and found, loving and crushing, tender and hungry. And all so damn good.