“You taste like sugar,” Abel whispers against my lips, making me blush.
“You taste like apples,” I whisper back.
“Yeah?” He nuzzles his nose below my ear, tickling me.
“Abel, stop,” I say, giggling. “We can’t be loud.”
“In a second.”
He’s placing feather-soft kisses all over the column of my throat and I’m too weak to resist him. I let my head fall back and look to the dark ceiling of the church closet.
The service is about to start and I told Sky that I needed to go to the bathroom. We only have about five or at the max, ten minutes, if I’m willing to lie about my digestive system.
I don’t want to think about it when Abel is making me feel so good, both light and heavy. It’s like my feet don’t touch the ground when he’s this close and kissing me. All I can do is clutch his soft t-shirt between my fingers and lean against him.
His kisses are not always this feathery light, though. Nope. They can be sharp and wet with his teeth biting me. I once told him that kisses aren’t supposed to hurt. He smirked and bit into my bottom lip gently, saying aren’t they? Remember I told you I bite. Maybe you should’ve listened to me.
Besides, if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way. There was a time when I was obsessed with his lips. Like, really obsessed. I still am but I’ve added a few more things on my list of obsessions: his teeth and his tongue.
I can’t stop thinking about them. For reals. I can’t stop thinking how his teeth take my fleshy lower lip and pinch just enough to make me want more, and how his tongue leaves wet trails along the seam of my mouth. Sometimes our teeth clack against each other because we’re so desperate. But he’s always mindful of my bruises.
Abel hates my mom even more now. He glares at her, deliberately gets in her way at church. My mom and Mrs. Weatherby are not happy. They bristle at the sight of him. I keep telling him to cool it, but of course he doesn’t listen.
“She fucking hurts you, Pixie. I’m not gonna back off. In fact, I should call her out on it.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
A few weeks ago, my mom ran out of cheese for lasagna and we made the trip to Mr. B’s store. He’d hired Abel a couple of months ago to work for him. As soon as my mom saw Abel stocking the cereal aisle, she wanted to get out of there. But Mr. B kept chatting her up at the cash register. I had a feeling he knew about Abel and me, and I’ve never loved Mr. B more. I knew our secret was safe with him.
Even though I had an unobstructed view of Abel, I was only throwing him side-glances, because Mom was right there. But Abel didn’t care. At first, he openly glared at my mom, and then, he moved on to watching me. I was blushing, even though I knew it would make him smile, which would make me blush even harder. I was so nervous, sweaty and red. I kept ducking my head and hiding my face with my hair. But darn it, my hair was braided because Mom wouldn’t let me out of the house with loose, savage hair so it was no use. I bet he was getting a real kick out of it.
When we left, Mom literally dragged me by my arm. Swallowing, I threw a last glance at him over my shoulder and he winked at me. Jerk.
That night when I went to bed, I typed in a text with shaking fingers.
E: Why were you staring at me like that at the store?
A: Because I can’t not stare at you when you’re around.
E: What if we’d gotten caught? My mom would’ve killed you.
A: Not afraid of your mom. But it would’ve been worth it.
E: You’re crazy.
A: Only for you.
And I’m crazy for him.
But our time in the closet is up and I need to get back to the sermon. I reluctantly push him and his inquisitive lips away and tell him that I need to go. He isn’t happy about it. He frowns and plants a hard kiss on my mouth, mashing our flesh together.
It hurts every time I have to leave him but it needs to be done. Sometimes I think, what if I didn’t have to leave him? What if I got to stay with him all the time?
***
We’re at the treehouse, as usual.
I’m writing in my journal, which I haven’t shown my boyfriend yet. Though he’s nosy. I keep telling him it’s private and he keeps telling me there’s nothing private between two people in love. Well, I don’t think that’s true. So, I’m keeping it away from him.
But now, I’m not interested in writing.
I look at Abel. He’s sort of sprawled with one leg stretched straight, and sort of crouched, too, with his other leg folded at the knee, and his drawing pad on his thigh. His yellow shirt makes me smile.
He bought it for me. I told him that he needs more color in his life; he’s always wearing black, and he asked about my favorites.
“Yellow,” I said, grinning evilly.
“Cool.”
“You’re going to get a yellow shirt? Because it’s my favorite color.”
“Sure. Why not?”
I didn’t believe him until he actually wore it one day, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I still can’t.
“Stop staring at me, Pixie.” He smirks and I want to kiss him so bad.
So. Bad.
I know if I start then I won’t be able to stop and we’d spend our entire time making out. Not that it’s bad; we’ve done that. But I’m in the mood for something else.
I shove aside my journal and crawl over to him, fitting myself against his body. Like a perv, I smell the hollow of his throat. I’ve been working up the courage to touch the bare skin of his torso with my fingers. So far, I’ve been really chicken. Someday soon though.
“Tell me a story.”
He smiles and kisses my forehead, fishing out his phone from the pocket.
Abel tells me stories about his mom and dad. David and Delilah. He tells me how his dad used to make his mom laugh. His dad would do something goofy and she would pretend to be mad at him, but then she always ended up laughing.
Thumbing the screen of his phone, Abel throws out a nostalgic laugh. “So, this one time he was late. He was supposed to be home by five but he got held up. And Mom got really mad because they were going on their date night. Dad brought her flowers and he wouldn’t get inside the house until Mom forgave him. He was literally on his knees, singing stupid songs.” He chuckles. “It was so embarrassing. I told him, Dad, get the fuck up. And he was like, no. Not until your mom loves me back again. He used to say, don’t ever take no for an answer from the woman you love, Abel. Keep at it. She’s gonna give in eventually. She’s gonna see how much you love her.”
On the phone, I can see two people, a golden-haired man and a dark-haired woman with a huge smile. They look young and so happy against the entire backdrop of New York City and the setting sun. Abel tells me that they are on top of the Empire State Building. They look so in love.
I already knew that I could never hate them. I never did. But now I think I’m falling a little in love with their love story.
Does that make me gross or weird?
Maybe.
I hug him. My Abel.
If it makes me weird, then so be it.
Beside me there’s a boy who came from them and who misses them, and I love him. There’s no choice but to love his parents and their love.
His body’s tight and feels so fragile, like he’ll break any second. In the setting sun, his hair looks exactly like his dad’s.
“What do you think happens to people when they die?” he asks, with an aching, lonely voice. Somehow it still manages to echo inside the treehouse.
I get even closer to him, plastering the side of my body to his. “Maybe they become stars.”
We both look up and see the tiny strip of orange sky through the gap in the roof.
“Yeah? You don’t think they just… vanish? Become worm food?”
“No.” I move my eyes away from the sky and look up at him. “I know you don’t believe in God or anything like that, but what if there is one? What if the way we met, the way we fell in love… It was all because of Him and your parents. Maybe they are watching us right now, waiting for us to figure everything out. They could be rooting for us, you know.”
“Or maybe stars are just stars and God’s dead. And I have to figure it out on my own how to keep my goddess forever.”
“You’re an idiot.” I roll my eyes, even as I kiss his chest. God, that’s really firm and hard and warm. When will I grow the courage to kiss it without his shirt?
Well, now is not the time. I continue, “If I’m your goddess, then I grant you your wish. You can have me forever.”
“Yeah? You’re not kidding?”
“Nope.” I wave my hand over his head and jiggle my fingers. “Wish granted.”
“Good. Now I just need to find a ring.”
“What?”
“Well, you’ll need a ring now that we’re engaged.”
It takes me a couple of seconds to really get what he means. And then, I’m jumping out of his hold and looking at him with popped-out eyes. “Engaged?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that what forever means? Engaged to be married.”
“What?” I screech. “We’re not engaged!”
“Well, what do you think forever means then?”
“I-I meant…” I’m sputtering, glancing around the space. This is the case of hyperventilation all over again. How can he say that? He never even asked me to marry him. Also, um… aren’t we a little too young to think about this? I mean, I’m freaking fourteen and he’s no better off either at sixteen.
Like always, he uses his size to intimidate me. He sits up straight, towering over me, and tangles his fingers in my hair. He has a weird fascination with it. He’s always playing with the strands, messing them up, even though I tell him no every time. Well, I secretly want him to so I don’t mind it that much.
“What did you mean, Pixie?”
I crane my neck to meet his eyes. “I meant… You never asked me. You’re supposed to ask. It’s the girlfriend thing again.”
He rubs his parted lips over mine. “I keep fucking it up, don’t I?”
“Yes,” I gasp at the slickness of our mouths. Our lips are practically slipping over each other.
I whimper. It’s a foreign sound. Have I ever whimpered before? I can’t recall right now. But all I want to do is whimper and moan and make sounds I don’t remember making.
Abel’s eyes are all liquid again; his breaths are warmer than usual. “So then, will you marry me, Pixie?”
Ugh. No.
Right? Right?
Why is this so exciting?
Moving my lips away, I poke my finger in his chest. “No, and this time, I mean it. We’re not talking about this right now. We shouldn’t even be thinking about this.” He opens his mouth to say something but I stop him. “And none of that weird logic you gave me last time. No. My answer is no.”
He brings my poking finger to his lips and sucks it in his warm mouth. It’s gross, only it’s not. It quickens my breaths and makes me feel dizzy, especially when he hums deep in his chest, making sounds of his own.
They do something to me. Something… intense and tingling and I snatch my hand back. Because of how much I want it in his mouth. It’s dirtier than biting and all that.
He smiles. “Well, then I’m gonna keep at it until you give in.”
Those are his dad’s words.
I don’t think he’s playing fair. I don’t think Abel even knows how to play fair. He’s crazy.
Crazy.
At dinner, my mom asks me what I do at the treehouse. “Maybe you should stop going there now. You’re not a kid anymore.”
With a pounding heart, I keep my eyes on the food. God, please no. That’s the only place I can see him without the fear of discovery.
But then, my dad comes to my rescue. “Leave her alone, Beth. It’s fine. It’s not hurting anyone.”
I don’t know what I’d do without my dad. He’s my life saver.
Really? Is he, though?
Why doesn’t he do anything about Mom’s pinching, then? Why is Abel the only one who’s bothered? Why is peace more important to my dad than I am?
They begin their daily argument, where Mom talks and talks and Dad simply lets her. I tune them out and think of David and Delilah. How happy they were. I think of their son, the boy I’m in love with, whose kisses get me through the day.
Then, I pray to God to give me strength because no matter how crazy it is, I wanted to say yes when he asked me.