Page 11 of Summer Skate

JESSICA

I CAN SMELL HIM BEHIND ME . I recognize the scent of his clothes, his skin, from earlier.

There are so many people, so many bodies, but I still know it’s him.

When I feel his hands on my body, I turn, pretend not to know.

He pretends he doesn’t know either. He stands there innocently, a blank look on his face.

I stare at him, shake my head. No . I turn. I keep walking. A few seconds later, he does it again. Quickly this time, I turn. His hands are in his pockets. He stares back at me. I keep walking.

The third time he lingers for a few seconds, motionless behind me, and I stop.

I can’t move either. What I want to do is turn around and lick his skin.

My body is humming. I’m feeling the pleasure so deeply.

Too deeply. But I force myself to snap out of it, and then I keep walking toward the door, at a faster pace.

I have my wits about me now and I know what to do: Lose him in the crowd.

I duck and weave and in no time at all, I am out the door, relieved at the night air.

I look at the line of parked cars in the driveway, imagine myself shimmying past each one, the way I did when I got here.

No. Too slow . I decide to cut through the woods this time, to make a run for it.

All I can hear now is the muffled sound of the party and the crunch of my flip-flops against leaves and tree branches. All I can feel now is my own heartbeat.

I’m halfway through the woods when I hear somebody running behind me.

I pick up my pace. I can see my house now and I go toward it like a beacon of safety.

When I get to the line between our properties, I go sideways through a row of trees, covering my face with my hands so that my eyes don’t get hit with any branches.

I sprint across my driveway, open the front door and then close it, slam it shut, keel over, one hand on the door, breathing heavily at the ground.

I press the door and turn the lock. I take a nearby chair and drag it in front of the door, for extra protection.

I take out my phone and put it on the kitchen counter, so that I can’t be reached by anyone, then run upstairs to my bedroom. I close the door so that I can’t hear anything beyond this room. I lock it.

I get into bed and let my breathing even out, wait for my heartbeat to settle.

I count my inhales and exhales until they steady.

I hear a knock on the front door. Maybe.

Could have been a knock. Could have been something else.

But then it happens again and I’m sure. I am not answering it. I am not going anywhere.

I take off my dress, bra, and underwear and put them on the floor next to the bed.

I lie there naked. I put my fingers inside my body.

They slip in easily because I’m so wet. I have to press hard to get any traction.

It is like rubbing out a stain that you want desperately to go away.

I hear the sound of more knocking. Louder now.

I close my eyes and suddenly, we are at the party again.

Except this time he’s whispering in my ear, all the things he wants to do to me but can’t.

I want him to be frustrated. I want him to be going out of his mind. He is.

There is more knocking. I am moaning to the sound of his hands on my door. My hips are beginning to lift. The knocks get louder. I overcome them with the sound of my own voice as I start to come, and then, picturing his eyes above me in the dark, come harder.