Page 49 of The Delivery

He shoves me from behind, and it’s not just an encouraging push. It’s a full-fledged surprise dunk, and I swallow a gallon of chlorinated water in surprise. When I surface, he’s laughing, and I grab for his legs. His black jeans are rolled to the knee, and he quickly lifts his legs and scoots back on the tile.

“Arrgg!” I yell in frustration and slam my fists into the water.

“Hold up, I’m coming in,” Mozey says as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. His real-life sculpted chest and fabulous abs outdo any sculpted homoerotic man-statue in Coco’s Paradise garden. He unzips his pants, and my breath catches in my throat. He’s down to his boxers, and my pulse is in overdrive, treading water to stay afloat. He dives over me in a well-formed arc, easily splitting the water and soaring clear to the bottom. Then he rips up as swiftly as he went down, but this time aiming for coming up right smack underneath me. I flail my limbs and try to swim to the edge. He surfaces right beside me, glistening and smiling. In one move, he has me backed up against the pool his arms caging me on either side.

“Lana?” he says, blinking water from his lashes. “Things are different here. The rules don’t apply. No one can see us. The only judge here is you.” He says it sweetly, not in accusation, and he’s just inches from my face. I’m more nervous than I am excited. Maybe I should have used my teenage years to experiment with drugs instead of these last four days.

His slips his body out of the pool, his biceps bulge under his own weight. He sits back where he was and flings water from his hair. He grabs my hand and pulls me so I’m close enough to grab his leg.

“It’s hard for me to tell with you. I never know if you want me and you just don’t want to admit it or if you think it’s a bad idea and you only want to be friends. I feel like you go from hot to cold, and I can’t read your mind.”

I part my lips in surprise. I’m a huge pain in the ass, a closed, unreadable vault. And the thing is—I know it. I know I’m like this. I think I have issues with control.

“I’ll let you drive me to Mexico, Lana if that’s what you want. But I think you should agree to be my girlfriend the whole way there in return.”

“What?”

“No, don’t say anything,” he says, pressing the pads of his fingers over my lips. “You’d have to agree to acting like you really mean it. That would mean kissing and hugging and fucking—the works, until we get there. It’s what? —two days drive from here. We’d stay in a hotel every night and sleep in the same bed. You tell me all your secrets and I’ll tell you mine. We’ll be the best boyfriend-girlfriend team that ever lived. But we wouldn’t have to be a real one.”

“You’re crazy, Mo,” I say, my heart thumping its rabbit feet hard in my chest. I dive into the water and swim away from him to escape. Why is hearing him say everything I’ve ever wanted to hear both terrifying and disappointing and impossible to bear? Maybe because he’s only saying it in jest?

Mozey stands and pulls his t-shirt back over the body I’m aching to touch. I want to know every inch of his flesh better than I know my own.

“What do you say, Sweat Lana? Want to play?” He’s pulling on his jeans, and my heart is drowning in uncertainty. He sounds kind of mean. I want to be real lovers. I want him to genuinely desire me.

“When we get to Mexico City, you get to make the choice. We either keep playing the game or we call it off. But I’d appreciate it if you would pretend to be my girl when I go see my family. I haven’t seen them in ten years, and I think they’d be proud if I showed up with a beautiful, American-Russian girlfriend instead of with nothing, which is exactly what I got now.”

I submerge myself underwater until my lungs burn and I can no longer hold my breath. I paddle my arms to the surface and gulp in air then tip my head back to smooth my hair. My shirt is soaked and dragging me down, my shorts feel like heavy, wet tarp clinging to my body.

“Maybe you could come to the consulate with me and convince them too. That way they might expedite my papers, because I tell you, I’ve got no intention of staying in Mexico. I don’t even speak the fucking language,” he says, running his fingers through his wet hair. He’s angry and sarcastic, and I don’t feel like responding to him.

“Maybe if we pretend then you can let go a little. We’re not at Pathways anymore—that place is closed. You’re not my social worker—that’s just how we met. And I’m not underage, I never was. It wouldn’t be statutory rape.”

I pinch my nose and then snort out the excess water. I tear my t-shirt off in anger because it’s dragging me under. I’m wearing a full-coverage sports bra, but it doesn’t stop Mozey’s eyes from roaming my body with a lusty gleam. I slip out of my bulky shorts the whole while never breaking eye contact with him. They glide in slow motion to the bottom of the pool when I let them go, like wayward sails of a sinking ship. I stare into his face and lick my lips.

“Stop being so scared. The only thing inappropriate about our relationship is your inhibition,” Mozey says, walking backward toward the pool door. I tread in the bright blue water that flashes silver wake as I move my limbs. Then slowly I make my way to the edge of the pool. I look up into the dark sky where the stars are blurred in light pollution from this feral city. I cling to the rim like I’m clinging onto my old life. The one I had before Mozey reappeared and turned me inside out.

CHAPTER 23

When I finally make my way back to my room, I find Mozey reclined on my bed, arms folded behind his head, and he’s kicked off his shoes. My feet are dragging, and I’m hesitant to say anything weighed down by the fear that anything I do say will fuck it all up. I’ll go home. I’ll end up back with Dale. It doesn’t help matters that I feel like everyone is waiting to see what I’ll do. Rocco, Tommy and Coco are probably huddled up in their room with drinking glasses against the wall, all shushing each other in unison, taking bets on who will be the first to fall. Or maybe they left feeling like their job was now done. They helped me get what I wanted, and now I’m stuck lugging around this trophy, no matter how big and cumbersome.

“Did you get to meet my friends?”

“I did. They were very accommodating. It seems like they like you a lot,” he says, turning his head toward me and taking in my wet clothing.

“Are you angry at me, Lana? It seems like you’re disappointed you found me.”

“I’m not. I guess I never imagined what it would really be like when I found you.”

“Do you want to have a real relationship with me? Do you want me to ask you to be my lover and my girlfriend?”

I’m shivering from the wet clothes clinging to my skin. Now my teeth chatter at his directness and his ability to speak candidly. Yes! Yes, please! That is what I’ve wanted for so long. Instead, I say nothing and fiddle with the hem of my t-shirt.

“I don’t think you can. Either say it or do it. If you can’t admit your own feelings then why are you looking for me?’

“I want to shower, and then I think I need a drink. I’m still deciding on your idea from the pool. I thought I’d drive you as your old social worker or as a friend of the family.”

“Whatever,” Mozey says, stuffing a pillow under his arm. “If you can’t even be honest with yourself, I don’t know why I’d expect anything different with me. You’re right about the drinks. We could use them. You shower, and I’ll get us some.”

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