It was the store brand, but I wasn’t brand picky when it came to soda. It all tasted like sweet bubbles to me. He led me to his bedroom.
There was a twin bed with a dark blue cover. There was a scratched desk with a lamp and a plain chair. A dresser in the corner supported a fairly old TV with an Xbox and a banged up PS3. A few motocross posters were tacked neatly on the wall, and Jake had printed the picture of me at the movie theater and taped it neatly right next to his bed.
“I know.” He smiled apologetically. “It’s pretty boring.”
“It is,” I agreed. “We could redo it sometime, if you wanted. If your dad was cool with it.”
He shrugged. “I mostly just sleep in here. My father never ever comes in here, so it wouldn’t matter to him either way.” I sat on his bed and he sat next to me. Then he pulled me back and we bounced against the mattress and laughed. He started to kiss me, but I, for once, held back. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m sorry. You’re getting dirt all over me.” The dirt on his gear was drying and crumbling.
“I’ll fix that.” He jumped off the bed and stripped off his clothes, right down to his boxers.
“You’re pretty comfortable getting undressed in front of me.” I had a hard time taking my eyes off of him.
“You’re always figuring out some way to get me out of my clothes,” he accused. He put his stuff neatly in the hamper and smelled his own armpit.
“Jake!” I yelled. “That’s gross.”
“What?” he balked. “I stink. I was doing it out of consideration for you.” He pounced on me and pinned me to the bed. “I was just going to tell you I need to get in the shower before I overpower you with my pit stink. I’m a pretty nice boyfriend, aren’t I?”
I pretended to gag. “I can’t think. You smell too disgusting.”
He kissed me all over my face, and I giggled because his good mood was contagious. He jumped up and headed out of the room. “Five minutes. Try not to get in any trouble.”
The minute I heard the shower come on, I started to conduct a thorough search of his room, and I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. It was my right as Jake’s girlfriend to spy.
It was fairly disappointing.
His closet was disgustingly neat and tidy. He had barely any clothes, and they were all clean, hung up, and neat. The drawers of his desk held fairly normal things; a Swiss army knife, thumbtacks, scissors, a razor knife, a ruler, some glue and rubber cement. Next to his bed was a small nightstand. I was not surprised to find a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues. There was one little box under his bed. That was the only thing that made me feel at all guilty, but I looked in it anyway.
It had some Boy Scout patches, an old Spiderman action figure, a little first place MiniMotocross ribbon, and some pictures. They were mostly Polaroids, and mostly blurry. One was a woman with long brown hair wearing a tube top and big sunglasses. She was smiling and there was a baby on her lap. He looked like he could be Jake, but I couldn’t be sure. Babies mostly looked the same to me. There were a few more pictures of little Jake, some really cute school pictures and a Halloween picture where he was dressed as Dracula. There was one where Jake was probably six or seven. A dark eyed boy with spiky black hair had his arm around Jake. Saxon?
In the bottom of the box there was a little folded note. When I opened it up, I felt a warm, sweet heat flow through me. It was the note I’d written him in class, the one where he invited me to the race. He had kept it tucked in the box where he kept all his most valuable possessions. I ran my fingers over the creased edges.
I heard Jake come out of the bathroom and shoved the box back under the bed, then sat very still on his mattress, wearing my best innocent face.
“Were you snooping?” Jake asked, a good-natured smile on his face.
I opened my mouth to deny it, then shut my mouth. No more lying.
“Just a little. I was curious.”
“That’s okay.” He waved his hand at the little bland room. “Sorry I don’t have much to snoop through.”
“It was fun, anyway.” I sat on his bed and leaned back on my elbows.
He had his towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else on. His eyes looked me over hungrily. “I saw you in the stands the whole time.” He came to sit next to me on the bed.
His skin was still warm and damp, and it smelled so good, with that soapy-shower scent clinging to it. The gel had been washed out of his hair, so it fell messily, almost in his gray eyes. I caught a whiff of mint from his toothpaste, and when he smiled, that twisted eyetooth made my heart thud.
“I watched you the whole time. And I was brave. There were many scantily clad girls who were not happy to know you were taken.”
He pulled me over and kissed me. “Definitely taken,” he said, his voice deep. He kissed me until I was lying back, my hands on his nearly naked body, running over the relaxed muscles. He was already hard.
“I know where your lotion is,” I whispered.
He laughed. “Shameless hussy,” he said and kissed me again.
I took over then, and when I had satisfied him, he returned the favor, and then we lay in each other’s arms, staring at his too white ceiling.
“It’s kind of weird that I’m still completely dressed and you’re completely naked,” I said in the comfortable silence.
“That’s the kind of manipulative girl you are. Somehow you always convince me to get naked, whether I want to or not.” He kissed my nose. “But, speaking of my nudity, I need to get dressed if we’re going to get to the show on time.”
I sat up to watch him. His body was so muscled and lean he could have been a Greek statue. I had never watched a guy get dressed before. He didn’t even have to look at his clothes. Everything he owned was bland, and it all matched everything else. He could pull the first shirt off of the first hanger and it matched every pair of pants he owned. He had two pairs of work boots. One pair was dirty with a frayed pair of laces. The other pair was dirtier with masking tape on the toe. He chose the dirty pair.
His socks had holes in them and his boxers were threadbare.
“Jake,” I suggested. “Maybe you should use your prize money to buy some socks without holes.”
Jake shook his head. “Can’t. If I buy my own socks, my dad has nothing to get me for Christmas.”
“Like in your stocking?” I felt a little babyish, but I wanted to know. I was spoiled, being an only child, and my stocking was always stuffed full of magazines, makeup, candy, and funny gag gifts. I also got a ton of stuff under the tree, all thoughtful, wonderful gifts Mom and Thorsten picked up and stored away all year long.
“No, like under the tree. I always get two bags of socks, a flashlight and fifty dollars.” Jake said it matter-of-factly.