“So,” she says softly, “are you going to hand me a towel or what?”
“I don’t really want to,” I manage.
There’s a moment, an acknowledgment of the tension in the air, and then we’re done. Splash, splash, she’s out of the tub and grabbing a towel. She turns away from me, and for a second I stare at the curves of her body from the back before everything between her mid-thighs and armpits is wrapped in fluffy white cotton. I cough as I wipe off my glasses.
She gives me an over-the shoulder glance and says, “Man, let’s hope the teacher doesn’t call you up to the board.”
I look down at my pants and swiftly get the point. She struts back into her room, a David Bowie song on her lips. And I’m about to follow her like a slave when, out of the corner of my eye, I catch something that stops me dead in my tracks.
The sink is lined with containers of pills, orange with the chunky white childproof tops. Prozac, Lexapro, Ritalin, Dexedrine, and a myriad of others. Study aids. Antidepressants. Antipsychotics. A laundry list of dosages, intended effects, alcohol warnings.
“Locke? You coming?”
I shove it to the back of my mind, getting it out of my thoughts for now. This girl is hurt, but she’s wonderful, she’s your girlfriend. Be careful, man, for your own sake.
I’m lying on the bed as instructed when she comes back into the room, wearing a H.I.M. T-shirt and her underwear. She bounds onto the bed and snuggles up against me, all warmth and curves. I’ve never snuggled with a girl before, and so far it’s proving pretty great.
“Hey, you,” she says, putting a hand over my heart.
“Hey.”
“You’re my boyfriend.” A shot of energy goes through both of us. Our grips on each other tighten.
“So. About Andrew.”
“Do we really need to keep talking about Andrew? I, for one, am interested in the boyfriend aspect of this conversation. Here: Andrew is my brother. He is also a bully at your school who regularly torments you and wants you to keep your grubby hands off me.” To emphasize the rule I’m breaking, Renée grabs one of my hands and slaps it, firmly, on her ass. My mouth goes dry, and I focus on breathing steadily. “Since this is not going to be the case, he will have to learn to deal with it. You will treat each other with the restrained dislike of in-laws, and all will turn out happily.” She looks up into my eyes and smiles. “Though if you cheat on me, he’ll break your kneecaps.”
“If Randall and Casey don’t do that first.”
“I’ll let them know your kneecaps are on reserve. Just the knees, though.”
And with that, the issue is closed. We stay still, listening to each other breathing until our chests rise and fall together, synchronized.
“What’s the deal with Casey? Is there some sort of epic heartbreak in his past?”
Renée chuckles. “You could call it that. More love-in-vain than anything else.”
“Anyone I know?” Renée doesn’t say anything, just laughs, louder and louder. I’m baffled until the answer hits me smack-dab in the face. “Oh my God. Not Randall.”
“Shhh,” she says, “it’s the big secret. Don’t even say it out loud.”
“Randall, though? The straightest dude in the world? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“He’s clueless about it. Honestly, Casey’s kept it hidden for so long at this point, it’s almost a joke. He’s terrified that it would ruin their friendship, that Randall would just start treating him like a queen.”
“I can sort of see that, honestly. Randall’s very much a guy.”
She pecks me on the temple. “Mmm-hmm. It’s why I’m glad to have you. You’re just enough of a woman for me.”
“Oh, thanks.”
She giggles and burrows deeper into me.
Wonder what cocktail of meds makes her treat you like this.
I focus on her breathing, her warmth. The weight of her in the bed. Anything else.
No, really, you should get that recipe down, it chuckles. She gets in a bad mood, you’ll know what to give her to make her love you again. Maybe even buy some of those tiny plastic cups.
A twitch of anger jolts my body. Her hand slides across my chest. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” I mumble, “little venom moment. No worries.”
“Hey now,” she whispers, snuggling even closer to me. Her kisses move from temple to ear. “None of that today. Let’s keep this venomless for now.”
“It’s not that simple, Renée.”
“Sure it is. Just forget about it. Stay here with me instead of inside your mind.”
This from Miss Psychopharmacology! From what I saw, your whole personality is a series of chemicals swimming inside your head.
I pull her tighter to me, trying to drown it out. “I know, I know, it’s just…Sometimes it’s out of my hands, you know? I don’t get to choose.”
“The Hierophant disagrees. The choice is always yours at all times. Be who you want to be.”
Oh, yeah, is that how it is? Were you dressing like Morticia before your dad went slasher movie on your mom?
“Look, in this situation, there’s no puzzle or game to be played, okay? You really don’t know what you’re fucking talking about, so just…leave it alone.”
The words leave my mouth too harsh, too riled up by the venom. There’s a pause, and then she sighs and gets up. Shit. My hand is desperately aware that it’s no longer resting on ass cheek. I can almost hear the venom laughing; its work is done. GodDAMMIT, Locke.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. “That came out totally wrong.”
“I’ll say.” She folds her arms across her delicious breasts, standing at the side of the bed with a Rosie-the-Riveter jaw. “No one talks to me like that. No one orders me to do anything.”
“It wasn’t an order-”
“Bullshit, you just told me to do something, Locke. Incredibly uncool.”
“It’s…” My mouth goes dry, slack, but I force it into movement. “It’s hard to talk about. Even Randall only knows so much about it. Casey’s the only person who has any sort of idea what I’m talking about, so…I’m sorry. This is new, and I’m doing my best not to fuck it up.”
She stares at me for a second, and finally lowers her arms. “Here’s the thing,” she says. “I won’t pry too hard. Sorry if I did. I like you a ton, even though I’ve only met you, what, twice, so I want to get to know you, understand what I’m dealing with. But from what I’ve heard, the venom’s not my type, so he can go fuck himself. From now on, I will not let some destructive force play a walk-on part in a relationship that I think has a metric buttload of potential.”
This piques my interest. News to me. “What kind of potential?”
She shrugs, and that sexy half smile creeps onto her face. “Well, I’m not sure. I guess we’ll have to find out, huh?”
I think about every word before I say it. “I’ll try to keep the venom out of this relationship entirely. At the same time, I just need you to know that I’m not totally put-together, and you’re the first girl to want to know why. It’ll take some time to get used to.”
“Time, I can do,” she says warmly. “Time is manageable. But I am serious about this.”
“Likewise.”
A pause. Neither of us know how to respond; there’s no answer that either of us can give the other, and it feels too deep too quickly. I open my mouth again, to try and explain what I meant by the whole thing, and finally choose to go with what I feel right then and there rather than fucking myself over with any more venom talk. It’s a big risk-might make me sound really creepy-but right now it’s all I’ve got.
“I want you to meet my mom,” I say. “She’s a total character, and I think she’ll really like you.”
“That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s said to me in ages. Kiss me.”
I do. For a long time. We run our hands up and down each other’s bodies, savoring every touch. She pulls up my new shirt and lets her hand sneak across my stomach, her nails scratching me lightly around my belly button. It’s never been like this with a girl. I’m used to light pecking or sloppy, overzealous kissing, but this-it’s soft yet slightly aggressive. Subtle yet undeniably explicit. I can’t believe I’m allowed this. If there’s another shoe around, it better drop soon, ’cause I’m getting real comfortable here.