Page 23 of Barbed Wire Fences
“What about… like, hand stuff?” I ask.
His eyes grow wider. “Jael.” It’s a warning.
“Look, don’t make me feel bad about asking this, Rhett. I’m embarrassed enough to be coming to you, but you know more than anyone that I could never ask my mom or dad and searching this online isn’t going to help. So, are you going to help me out, or should I ask another guy? Maybe I should check with Colt Marshall the next time he comes to hang out with Maverick and Molly,” I say, folding my arms across my chest knowing he’s going to hate that suggestion.
He lets out a growl and I take a step back as he shakes his head no. “Don’t ask Colt. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. But Owen isn’t pressuring you into this, is he?”
“No,” I lie again and this time I feel the tiniest bit of guilt for not telling the truth.
Owen isn’t pressuring me into this. At least, he wasn’t before. I’ve wanted to have sex and lose my virginity to him. I’ve had a crush on Owen since I moved here and was fourteen-years old.
This is what I want.
I think.
I don’t know.
He watches me closely, studying to see if I’m telling him the truth then nods again. “Meet me at the lake behind the trailer park tonight. I’ll answer all your questions then.”
???
The whistle for the game sounds loudly, bringing me back to my current reality which is sitting at a high school football game without Rhett.
Owen turns to me, his face lit with the kind of excitement I just can’t muster for a pretty lame first night out in Whitewood Creek.
“You interested in hanging out for a bit longer?” he asks, his grin wide and hopeful.
Everything in me wants to shoutNO!To head back to the hotel where I’m staying while I’m in town, slip under the sheets, pull my sleep mask on, and let my sound machine drown out the world with that oddly comforting “inside a dishwasher” noise.
But with no work until tomorrow night, I figure spending a little more time with Owen might not be the worst idea—especially somewhere quieter, where we’re not battling the chaos of Friday night football just to hear each other. Maybe we can have an actual conversation and catch up. Perhaps we can find a way to be friends.
“Sure,” I say with a small nod, forcing a smile that I hope looks convincing.
A few minutes later, I’m trailing behind him in my car, headlights catching the back of his truck as he leads me out of town. I half-expected him to take me to some bar or a diner, someplace loud and easy, but instead we’re headed toward where he lives now. The idea of showing up at his place, just the two of us, twists in my stomach, but I shove it down. It’s been ten years. Things are different. We’re just two people catching up. Nothing more.
“I had fun tonight,” he says, hopping out of his truck without bothering to open my door once we hit his driveway.
“Me too,” I lie, following him up a small, stone path that leads to his front door. Though I’m not even sure why I said that. We’ve hardly exchanged two words the entire evening since Owen spent the whole time cheering along with the crowd. Who knew he still had so much school spirit?
Owen pushes the front door open, flicks on a small floor lamp, and steps aside to let me walk in ahead of him. The space is cozy, small, and dimly lit, but before I have time to take in any more of the details, his hands are on my hips, forcing me flush against him.
My mind hardly has time to process what’s happening but the next thing I know, I’m pressed up against the living room wall, and his lips are crashing into mine with a force that’s overwhelming.
The kiss is aggressive, demanding, almost identical to the last time that we kissed years ago which reminds me just how much I never enjoyed it. That same forcefulness left a bad taste in my mouth then, and now it brings an uncomfortable flood of memories that I’ve suppressed rushing back like a tsunami.
I feel a familiar sense of nausea rising, bile creeping up my throat. The hot dogs I foolishly ate at the game churn uneasily in my stomach, threatening to make an appearance at the taste of Owen on my tongue. A horrifying visual flashes through my mind—if I throw up in his mouth, there’s no recovering from it. I might as well pack my things tonight and drive straight back to Richmond, forget helping my mom with my dad’s will, forgeteverything.
It’s like an out-of-body experience, reliving a piece of my past I thought I’d buried deep enough to forget and I’m frozen, pinnedto the wall. But when Owen’s hands move between my legs like he has a right to touch me there, it slams me back into the present with horrid clarity.
“Stop,” I say firmly, pushing at his chest and attempting to get him as far away as possible. My voice is steady and more confident now, but he’s not budging. “I said stop!” I repeat, shoving harder this time until finally he stops, his one hand still digging into my hips. His eyes narrow as he stares at me, frustration flashing across his face.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Jael?” he snaps, his tone dripping with disbelief as he finally lets me go.
“No, I’m not kidding,” I reply sharply, crossing my arms over my chest and tugging my dress down to smooth it back into place.
Embarrassment washes over me, hot and heavy, at how quickly things just spiraled out of control. I didn’t want this. What was I thinking going on this date in the first place? Of course, Owen hasn’t changed but I have.
Owen keeps staring at me like I’ve just insulted him, but I’m already regretting every decision that’s led me to this moment and back to this town. This was a mistake—coming here, agreeing to “hang out,” pretending for even a second that we could leave the past where it belonged and be friends. Rhett was right. I don’t know what I’m doing.
