Page 7 of Second Chance Ex
“Come and look at this.” Dad waves me over.
I move next to him, looking down at the iPad screen, at the black and white Ring camera view of my parent’s front porch, at what looks like the little old woman from a few doors down, doing God knows what with Dad’s prized azaleas.
“I told your mother that someone was sabotaging me,” Dad splutters, peering over his wireframes at the screen. “I didn’t for the life of me think it was Victoria Hudson. She’s eighty-six years old, for goodness’ sake.”
“Maybe she just wanted some fresh flowers?” I shrug.
Dad scratches his bearded chin. “I think I’ll go reset the timer on the automatic sprinklers… that’ll teach her.” He gets up and gives me a quick peck on my cheek before waddling off through the side door that leads to the garage. Poor Mrs. Hudson doesn’t know what she’s started.
Mom tuts, shaking her head, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Here you are, my sweet.” She thrusts a glass of wine in my face. “Coincidentally I’m making pot roast for dinner.” She winks, knowing it’s one of my favorites.
I accept the drink with a smile, taking an unladylike gulp, trying not to grimace. Chardonnay. I hate chardonnay. But I say nothing, swallowing it back as if it’s going out of fashion because God knows I need it after today.
After a delicious meal,two more glasses of chardonnay I forced down, and a movie with Mom and Dad, although my father spent most of the ninety-minute Jim Carrey film snoring so loud I had to turn up the volume twice, I head upstairs and take a long soak in the tub. So long, in fact, by the time I’m dressed in my pajamas, my hair wrapped in a towel, the house is silent and I assume my parents have gone off to bed.
I pad quietly across the landing and into my old bedroom which is exactly how I left it when I went off to college what feels like a lifetime ago. My eclectic mix of Taylor Swift, Blink 182, One Direction, Jimmy Eat World, and horror movie posters still hang on the wall, and the photos I took throughout my teenage years are still stuck around the edge of the mirror on my old dressing table. Even the bed is still covered in my belovedTwilightduvet. My bedroom is like stepping back in time to a simpler life, and I can’t help but grin at the fondness of the memories that accompany it.
I sit on the edge of my bed, and check my phone where it’s charging on the nightstand. Nothing. No newcalls. No texts. Not even a generic direct marketing email from a company I’ve unsubscribed from at least sixteen times. With a groan, I fall back on the pillows and just lie there, staring up at the ceiling. I was exhausted earlier. Mentally and physically. But now, here I am, wide awake, thinking of things from the past I absolutely shouldn’t be thinking about, which is when a memory suddenly comes to me.
Hastily, I push up with my elbow and reach into the nightstand drawer. I rifle through the clutter inside; concert ticket stubs I collected over the years, old lip glosses and nail polishes, a random calculator for some reason. And then I find it, right there, hidden away at the back, and I release the breath I’ve been holding.
I sit up, crossing my legs under me, staring down at the neatly-folded yet crumpled piece of paper in my hands. It once was white. Now, almost ten years later, it’s a little yellowish, the creases almost sepia, worn from where it’s been folded and unfolded at least a hundred times over the years. Carefully, I open the fragile paper, holding my breath as I do. And even though I know this is a terrible idea, I just can’t help myself; I’ve always been a sucker for the worst kind of punishment.
The words that were once completely ingrained in my mind cause a sadness to wash over me, one I haven’t felt in a little while.Nothing hurts worse than when love goes wrong.
I remember reading those eight tiny words for the very first time and thinking he was just trying to break it to me gently. I was only sixteen, after all. But now, after everything we’ve been through, those eight simpleyet heartbreaking words resonate through every fiber of my being.
He was so right. Nothing hurts worse than when love goes wrong. I just wish I’d taken his word for it back then; it would have saved us both a world of pain.
Iknow it’s ridiculous, but as I walk into the main school building on Monday after the party at Joey’s house, everything feels more than a little different. I feel different. But I guess that’s because Iamdifferent. This last weekend, everything changed. Why? Well, because not only did I experience my first ever kiss, but I kissed Joey Tanner. In fact, I kissed Joey so much this weekend, I spent more time kissing him than not kissing him.
After boycottingthe party and hiding out in Joey’s bedroom, the two of us settled onto his bed as the originalScreambegan playing on the huge flatscreen. But after a while something totally unexpected happened. So unexpected that, at first, I thought I was imagining it.
I felt Joey’s hand touch my leg. And not just an innocent,accidental graze, he purposely placed his hand on my leg—my thigh to be exact—just above my knee. Definite thigh territory. And he kept it there, as if that’s where his hand belonged. I spent at least seven whole minutes just staring at his big hand right there on my thigh instead of watching the movie. When his thumb started tracing circles over my skin, round and round, round and round, I’m quite sure my heart stopped beating for at least a few imperative seconds. It was like I was having some sort of out of body experience. There I was, in Joey Tanner’s bedroom, on his bed, and he was… he was touching me. He must have sensed my internal freak out, because he looked at me then. His eyes searching mine through the dim light of the television glow, hand remaining firmly in place on my thigh.
“Is-is this okay?” he asked, his low voice seemingly deeper, raspy almost.
I swallowed hard. Frankly, I didn’t know. Was it okay? Is this why he brought it into his bedroom? I was sure he could hear my racing heart, see the goosebumps prickle my skin. But all I could do was nod. And in return, he went straight back to stroking me with his thumb, his gaze momentarily dipping down to my lips in a way that made my stomach drop into the pit of my gut. He was looking at me in a way he shouldn’t have been looking at me. But the confusing thing was that I wanted him to look at me like that. In that moment I wanted him to do whatever the hell he damn well wanted to.
Joey shifted on the bed and suddenly, yet so tentative and careful, he was hovering over me and I found myself falling back against his pillows which were soft yet firm and smelled of him, his weight pressed against me in a way I didn’t know I needed until right at that moment.
“Isthisokay?” he asked again, leaning in so close I could feel his breath fan against my cheek.
I nodded quickly, gripping his t-shirt with everything I had, terrified of what was about to happen, but even more terrified that he might stop, that I might suddenly wake up to find this had all been some completely inappropriate and confusing dream. But then, before I could think too much into what was or wasn’t happening, Joey’s lips grazed mine in a kiss so soft it stole every last part of my breath.
Forgetting how to fill my lungs with the air they needed to survive, I stared at him, shocked. “You just kissed me…” I winced at my own embarrassing words because what an idiot.
Joey chuckled, and the sound was delicious as it vibrated from his chest and straight through me. But then he kissed me again. And again. And again. Slow, lingering kisses, one after the other, like he was testing me. When his eyes met mine, it was almost as if he was silently asking, yet again, if this was okay. And I wanted to screamYES. Yes, yes, yes! It’s fine, kiss me you fool. But I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I said nothing, craning my neck as far as I could to meet his lips half-way. And then it was like the band that had been holding his resolve together snapped, and his lips crashed against mine almost violently, his kiss fervent and messy and desperate. When his tongue slipped into my mouth I gasped, but it only made him kiss me even deeper, harder, swallowing every sound that involuntarily left my body.
I was unsure at first, worried I was doing it all wrong, especially when our teeth clinked together and he sniggered against my lips. I’d never kissed anyone before. Harry Styles in poster-form doesn’t count. I mean, I’d practiced on my hand, but Joey’s lips were the furthest thing from my hand. This was undeniably real. And it was really happening. Joey Tanner wasreallykissing me with everything he had. One of his hands cupped my cheek while the other landed at mywaist, his fingers toying dangerously with the hem of my sweater. If he tried to take it off, I doubt I’d be able to tell him no. When he nestled himself between my legs and moved his hips, I felt something I’d never felt before. I wasn’t completely clueless, I knew what it was, but it still made me freeze which caused Joey to stop abruptly, pulling away like he’d been burned.
“Shit,” he hissed through clenched teeth, hovering over me, his eyes wide and frantic, gaze skittering across my face. He was breathless. But more than that, he was almost frenzied. “Shit, Prue, I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t meant to, I was?—”
“No, it’s okay,” I interjected, not wanting him to finish what I feared he was about to say. I didn’t want this to stop. Stopping was literally the last thing I wanted. I wanted him to keep going. Right at that moment, I probably would’ve done whatever the hell he asked me to do.
Joey ducked down again, only this time he placed a soft, chaste kiss on my lips. No tongue. And then he carefully rolled off me, falling to the other side of the bed. And we laid there, side by side, staring up at the ceiling, our ragged breaths accompanied only by the teenager crying out in pain in the background asScreamcontinued playing on the television.
