Page 8 of Jagged Line Paradise

I tug at the collar of my hoodie to loosen the drawstrings she pulled tight, lift my hood to cover my head, and run after her. She’s fast, but not quite fast enough to outrun me, especially in those damn flip-flops. I run at half speed, enjoying the view of Lonnie running away from me down the incline, curving down to the left to jog toward the dirt road that divides the bluff overlook from our trashy trailer community.

Paradise Park—aptly named given that this shit hole is neither paradise nor a park. It’s a fucking graveyard for white trash junkies like Cindy Briar, or like my mom who OD’d and died on our bathroom floor with the needle still sticking out of her arm when I was thirteen. I don’t think I would’ve ever recovered from finding her dead like that if it hadn’t been for Avalon and her unshakeable sunshine.

I’m chasing goddamn sunshine across the dirt car path toward Paradise Park, and I think I would chase this girl forever. I just hope I’ll get lucky and she’ll let me catch her.

She darts around behind old lady Hobart’s mobile home, but she never comes around the other side. She’s toying with me, playing hide and seek in the dark. This isn’t exactly a safe place to play games like this, but I guess I’m feeling fucking reckless tonight. Her free spirit just has that kind of effect on me.

I slow to a walk to sneak around the side. I’m completely aware and stupidly unconcerned that someone might freak the fuck out seeing a brown boy like me with a bad reputation creeping around an old lady’s home after dark with my hood on.

When I get close to the back, I slow to a creep, take a breath, and then jump out in front of her. She startles and squeaks, and it’s so fucking cute. She runs off and I chase after her, this time deciding I’m gonna catch her. She darts past the next three homes and sprints up the hill in the direction of the mountains toward her mom’s shitty, silver trailer parked around the bend, nestled near the Joshua trees.

She stops when she gets to the back of it and turns to face me, taunting, tempting me to catch her and hell, am I going to. I bend as I dart for her, stretching out my arms. I wrap them around her waist and lift her right off her feet. She squeals as I lift her, carrying her back a few steps until we’re fully behind the trailer.

“Put me down.” She giggles.

I set her on her feet and look down at her. Her eyes catch my gaze, and her face quickly slips from playful to wanting. At least, I think that’s what I see—it’s hard to tell in the dark. But then she takes a step closer to me without breaking our stare. She lifts her hands to grasp my cheeks beneath my hood. Her chest bumps mine and fuck all, I can’t control myself. I grab her hips and push until her back hits the side of the trailer, then I kiss her with hunger.

She expected it. She knew it was coming and she was ready for it. This time, she’s more confident as she seeks my tongue, drawing me in, exploring with urgency.

What the fuck is evenhappening right now? How did the stars align? What luckdid I find that she kissed me back when Imade a move and she didn’t run screaming?

Diosmío, I fucking love her.

I’m suddenly frantic, holding her body to the trailer with mine pressed up against her, my hands wandering like I’m searching her for the Holy fucking Grail or something. I’d think twice about it if she weren’t acting the same, like she’s just as inexplicably desperate as I am.

I break our kiss only so I can move to her neck, kissing and licking and biting without care. I’m out of control with her and it feels so damn good.

“Andrés,” she breathes my name, and if I wasn’t fully hard before, I certainly am now.

I sneak my hands beneath her shirt for the second time tonight. I grab both her tits and squeeze, causing her breath to catch and her body to stiffen. She sinks in my hold, pushing into me, wiggling and squirming as if she just can’t get enough of me.

“Luzdemi vida,” I say against her throat, my voice gruff and low.

Light of my life.

She knows enough Spanish to understand me.

Her body slumps, as if her knees give out beneath her, and her hips roll forward. “Is this real?” she asks through uneven breaths. “Do you really want me? I don’t want to just be an easy lay for you.”

A laugh bursts from my chest. I can’t stop it. That’s the most ridiculous fucking thing I’ve ever heard her say. Not only because she’s a virgin, but because there is nothing easy about this. Everything about this is complicated and having sex with her will add about eighteen new levels of complicated.

Thankfully, she starts laughing, too, because she knows how ridiculous that is.

I sink through my knees so I can level my eyes with hers, stroking her porcelain, freckled cheek in my palm. “I could find an easy lay if I wanted one, sunshine. But that’s not what I want.”

She watches me as I speak, her eyes flickering as she holds my gaze. “Touch me.”

I drag my hand down the side of her cheek, drawing my fingers back and gripping her chin between my thumb and the knuckle of my index finger. “You really want me to?”

She nods. “Yes.” A tiny, adorable, crooked smile curls up the side of her mouth. “Itismy birthday.” I grin at just how sexy-cute she is when she says it.

I keep her chin in my hold, tilting up to force her to look at me as I push her head back against the trailer. I let my other hand trail down her stomach. She sucks in her belly with a sharp breath as my fingers glide lower, to the button of her denim shorts.

It feels like some precious perfect thing to be the first to touch her like this—to be the first man to make her gasp, pant, and moan. My hand falls between her legs and though her thighs are clenched—either from nerves or lust—I manage to slip between them and cup my palm over her denim-covered pussy.

I lean in close, my lips brushing the shell of her ear as I whisper, “Are you wet?”

Another breath and a sigh that makes my balls tighten.

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