Stealing Parker

I can’t stop smiling as we sit down to eat. Dad leads us in the Lord’s Prayer, then we put our napkins in our laps and dig in.



“This looks really yummy,” Veena says, forking up some casserole.



“Thanks,” I reply.



“I haven’t had a home-cooked meal since I left New York.”



“Is your family there?” Ryan asks, salting his casserole.



“My parents, my sister and her husband, and my grandmother. And two nieces.”



“You’re a nurse?” Ryan asks her.



“Yep,” she says, chewing.



“Did you always know that’s what you wanted to do?”



She smiles, thinking. “I wanted to be an astronaut more, but I stink at math.”



“It’s my worst subject too,” Ryan replies. “But I still want to go to med school.”



“What programs are you thinking about?”



“Vanderbilt is one of the best, but I’m not enjoying my undergrad classes there.”



She nurses her iced tea. “I didn’t like mine either. I hated taking all those politics and English courses. And don’t even get me started on art. But it’s all a means to an end.”



“Yeah, I get that,” Ryan says. This is the most I’ve heard my brother speak in forever.



“If you want, we can get together for coffee this week sometime and talk more. Or you can come by the hospital and talk to some of the other doctors about what their undergrad experiences were like.”



“That sounds good,” Ryan replies, tapping his fork on his placemat.



Dad beams so hard he seems ten years younger.



It almost feels like a family, but I still wish Mom were here.



It’s getting serious, yet it’s staying the same. Every night this week I’ve made out with Brian. Ryan and Dad notice nothing, obviously, so it’s no problem for me to sneak out of my room and dart across the street to Brian’s parked truck tucked behind the Dumpsters after eleven.



On Monday night, we just kissed.



On Tuesday night, he went up my shirt.



On Wednesday at school, I stopped by Coach Lynn’s office during study hall. Brian’s squatting there until he gets his own office next year.



“What are you doing here?” Brian asked, slipping a pen behind his ear. He leaned back in his seat and wrapped his hands behind his head, smirking at me.



I waved a hall pass. “I nicked this from Mrs. Perkins. I wanted to see what you’re up to.”



He jumped to his feet, closed the door behind me, and locked it. I walked around the office, looking at Coach Lynn’s things: silk roses in a vase, pictures of her family, the cat calendar on the wall.



“Love what you’ve done with the place.”



“Smart ass,” he replied, following me as I weaved around the desk and chairs. I wiped a finger across the desk, pretending to check for dust.



I knew it was wrong. All of it. Kissing him, and wanting to kiss him again. But when his arms are around me, everything feels good. I feel safe and cared for. And the kissing is very, very okay.



“So why did you stop by again?” He scratched the back of his neck and squinted.



I smiled mischievously. “I was in study hall and couldn’t stop thinking about last night.”



He closed the blinds. He breathed heavily. He ran a hand through his hair. He loosened his Best Buy Geek Squad tie. Then his lips were on mine and he lifted me onto the desk. He pulled my hips to his and kissed me until I was so dizzy I could barely breathe. Brian began to grind against me and I was so drunk on him, I couldn’t think at all.



Then someone knocked on the door and Brian rushed to answer it, but stopped for a second to control his breathing. He motioned at me to fix my shirt. I leaped into the chair across from his desk. He opened the door to find Sam, who had dropped by to say he wouldn’t be at practice that day because his mom was sick and his dad was out of town.



As soon as Sam left, Brian exhaled, mussed his black hair, and grinned. He moved toward me. I was shaking like crazy. He swept me up in his arms and gave me a quick kiss.



“That was insanely hot,” he said.



“Yeah,” I said with a tiny voice, trembling. Honestly? It was fun, but it filled me with shame. I hope God was looking the other way.



He went on, “But it can’t happen again at school.”



“I agree.” Goose bumps popped up on my arms. I shuddered.



“We’re okay.” He pressed his forehead to mine and squeezed my hips. “You’d better get back to study hall before I give you detention.”



Brian tried to joke it off, but I had seen the change on his face. What happened freaked him out too.



My face must’ve been blazing red, but Sam didn’t say anything when I saw him later in chemistry.



On Wednesday night, Brian went up my shirt again and unsnapped my bra, and ran his hands over my bare breasts. Him running his calloused fingers over my skin took some getting used to because I couldn’t stop trembling. But when I calmed down, we fell into a rhythm. A rhythm that kept getting faster and faster until our shirts and my bra ended up on the floorboard of the truck. I touched his abs, which I’m fairly certain are made of marble. His teeth sank into my shoulder, making me gasp. I discovered he has a tattoo on his shoulder blade. A symbol, but when I asked what it meant, he refused to tell me, saying it’s private.



“Where’s your tattoo?” he teased, trying to peek under my waistband. I smacked his chest and we laughed. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that tattoo and what it means and why he couldn’t share with me.



On Thursday night, he kissed my breasts and felt me through my jeans. I wasn’t comfortable enough to touch him yet. But he took my fingers and put my hand there anyway.



A cold sweat tore over my body.



Then a cop knocked on the truck window and told us to move it along. I jumped out. Dashed into my house, to my room, panting and freaking out. My bra hung loose around my shoulders, and the top button of my jeans was undone. Brian called me when he got home. The whole thing upset him too.



But when I asked, “Can we go to your place instead of parking? I don’t want to risk getting caught again,” he replied, “We’ll find another place to park.”



“Why can’t we go to your house?”



“Because I live above my parents’ garage. What if they see you?”



“They don’t have to know I’m seventeen. Just tell them I’m older.”



“They might know you from church. I would be embarrassed if they found out about this.”



“You’re embarrassed by me?” I whispered.



“No, no. Just the situation would embarrass me. You’re a student.”



Even with my reputation, Will seemed proud of me at his church last Sunday. When he’s lying on top of me, Brian seems pretty damned pleased with me.



“Sounds like you’re embarrassed by me.”



He sighed exaggeratedly. “Whatever.”



“Could we go someplace else tomorrow night? Like dinner in Nashville?”



“That’s not a good idea. We could get in a shitload of trouble. Who knows who might see us?”



“But making out in the parking lot across the street from my house is a good idea?” I really wanted to do something other than talk on the phone and make out in his truck. That used to be enough for me with other guys. But I’m starting to want the whole shebang, and the whole shebang should include going someplace…even Foothills Diner.



At the same time, my friendship with Will keeps getting better and better. Sometimes we walk together between classes, and two times this week he called me after practice.



Wednesday night, I lay on my bed, listening as he told me a story about how when he was three, he was so smart he figured out how to unlock the gate at his preschool’s playground and he waddled down the street to McDonald’s, where he walked in, clapped his hands and yelled, “Happy Meal!”



“Why don’t you ever date?” I asked him quietly. Thinking of Drew, but also thinking of him. Him, and how my feelings for him were ballooning and floating off without my permission.



“Ehhhh,” he said. “It’s kinda silly, I guess. I never really felt like I knew who I was, and I was so into beating you at valedictorian, I didn’t want that extra burden, especially considering my parents need help with Bo and the farm.”



“I get that.”



“I mean, I see the guys on the football and baseball teams who have girlfriends, and it’s like…it’s like it’s their whole lives. I guess I want to have my own life first and then meet someone who can be a part of it…but not fill it…?”



“Huh,” I replied, wiggling my toes at the ceiling. “Cool.”



“What about you? Why don’t you ever date?”



I’m sorta seeing your baseball coach…“Never wanted to get close to anyone. You know that.”



“But you hook up.”



“Yeah, but so do you,” I replied, baiting him.



“Occasionally. But nothing serious.”



“You mean…?” He hasn’t done it yet?



“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not doing that until I’m in a real relationship.”



“I’m a virgin too,” I said quietly.



He paused for a long moment. “I didn’t know that.”



Then we went back to discussing the Prom Decisional. But it shocked me to know that Will, a hot eighteen-year-old baseball player and genius, was saving himself. It made me proud that I had saved myself too. Proud that I could tell him that.



During gym on Friday morning, Brian wouldn’t even look my way as I ran around the track with Will. Whatever, I thought.



Brian blew his whistle. “I know you can go faster than that, Whitfield.”



“What’s up his ass today?” Will asked, not bothering to speed up.



“No idea,” I replied, even though I knew. Brian doesn’t like seeing me with Will.



“You talk to him a lot, right?”



I nearly stopped running, to freeze right there beside the goal post.



“Yeah, he’s nice to me,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.



“He doesn’t bother you, I hope.”



I waved a hand. “No, no. We talk about stats and the Braves and stuff.”



“Okay.” Will stared over at Brian. Fear rushed through me. Had Sam mentioned finding us in Coach Lynn’s office?



Back in the locker room, I overheard a couple girls saying that all I do in gym class is stare at Coach Hoffman, so I told myself not to look at him anymore.



But here I am on Friday night, making out with him in his truck. Dark and midnight. He touches me through my jeans and kisses me hard. The taste of bubble gum fills my mouth.



“You make me so hot,” he says, pulling my leg to wrap around his waist.



It all feels so weird. I want it, yet I don’t, but I’m not going to stop because it feels too good.



“I want to take this further,” he says, gasping, pressing his hardness against my thigh. “But we need to wait until your birthday. Probably until after you graduate.”