Grown(21)

I nod, afraid my voice will come out as a quiver.

He speeds off, threading his fingers through mine, and I snuggle into the warmth of his heated butter-leather seats, the radio playing Marvin Gaye. I’m in Korey Fields’s car! He picked me up from the station. I’ve never had a boy pick me up before.

Told Gab I was skipping school. Told Mom I had a swim meet in the evening. With all bases covered, we have at least twelve glorious hours to spend together.

Alone.

There’s a slight hint of fear in Korey’s eyes as he stands in the shallow end of his building’s indoor pool, waist-deep.

“You sure you know what you doing?”

Korey’s shirt is off. I can marvel at every groove of his chest and six-pack in person.

“Huh?” I mumble, drooling.

He smirks, splashing some water at me.

“Girl, you ain’t paying attention.”

“Trust me! I taught the Littles how to swim. I can teach you.”

“Damn, now you comparing me to the kiddies? Way to make me feel like a man.”

I laugh. “I swear I won’t let you drown.”

He nods. “OK.”

We practice holding our breath and blowing bubbles before I teach him a few kicks. I try to be just as gentle as he is with me in the studio. But here, he’s staring through my swimsuit, eyes swiping over my body.

“So you’re just going to doggy-paddle over to me. You got this! Ready?”

He nods.

“GO!”

He kicks and wiggles through the water, his splashes like tidal waves.

“That’s it. You’re doing it!”

Then, his arms are around me, not like he’s trying to feel me up, but in desperation, clinging to life.

“It’s OK,” I say. “You’re OK!”

He stands, wiping his face, his eyes hard for a split second.

“Yo, that’s enough,” he hisses.

I back away, shivers crawling up my arms.

“Um, OK.”

We sit on the edge of the pool in silence, our legs dangling in the water, my stomach tying itself in knots. I pushed him too hard. He’s scared of the water. He’s never going to forgive me. Stupid, so stupid!

“My grandma hated the water,” he says, his voice cold. “She heard about all these kids drowning in the public pool and never let me near it. She was like that, scared of things she heard of but didn’t see with her own eyes. Now she’s gone, and she won’t see this either.” He turns with a slight smile. “But this was . . . cool. Can we do this again on Saturday?”

I bite my lip. “I can’t. It’s my homecoming dance.”

His face contorts. “Oh. Oh, OK.”

The disappointment swallows up all the chlorine-drenched air.

“I mean, I can . . . not go.”

“Nah, nah, I want you to go,” he says, placing a gentle hand on my bare thigh. “I never went to a homecoming dance.”

“Really?”

“Nope. No dances or prom in homeschool.”

“What was that like?”

“Homeschool?” He chuckles.

“Yeah, but homeschool while touring all over the world? I mean, that must have been lit!”

His jaw tightens, eyes growing distant as he stares into the water.

“It was . . . lonely.” He takes a deep breath and slides back into the pool. “Come on, time to go.”

I pout right before he grabs my waist, lifts me off the edge, and drops me in.

“Eek!” I giggle.

“Shhh.” He laughs, arms wrapping around me. He looks over his shoulder at the door and I’m glad to see the smile back on his face. His eyes are on me now. He cups my face with both hands, pulling us inches apart, my bones thrumming.

Then he kisses me.

The pool becomes a hot tub, sweat beading around my neck, and I forget how to breathe.

“Thank you for teaching me how to swim.” He exhales, our foreheads touching.

Combust. That’s what will happen if I stay this close to him for too long. I’ll be a girl wrapped in a blanket of flames, floating on water.

After we dry off and change back into our clothes, we return to the studio. I feel lighter, my chest an egg cracked open, sunny yolk spilling out, leaking love all over the room. I can’t wipe the smile off my face and my lips are sore from kissing.

Kissing. I was kissing Korey Fields.

“So you got a date to this dance?”

The question rips me out of my daydreaming.

“Um, no.”

He nods, busying himself with some music sheets.

“You not lying, are you?”

My stomach tenses. Korey has a weird look in his eyes. Is he jealous?

“N-n-no. No.”

He shrugs and sits behind his keyboard. “So, what’s tomorrow’s movie?”

“Beauty and the Beast.”

“Ha! Tale as old as time . . .”

I spin around and sing with him. “True as it can be . . . wow, I love that song! I mean, the Disney version is beautiful, but that Peabo Bryson with Celine Dion . . . that hits!”

Korey snaps his fingers, jumping from behind his board.

“Bet. Let’s do it!”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He digs in a leather bag sitting by the door and takes out a camera. “Mind if I record?”