Chapter 13: The Invisible Girl in Room Thirteen by Stephen Simpson
Oliver gave me a funny look. A needy look. He reached out
and brushed the flyaway hair back from my face, barely skimming my cheek. My
stomach clamped down in nerves as he leaned closer. Then, softly, his lips were
on mine.
I felt confused. Two different emotions rushed through me at
the same time. A murderous rage and a feeling of overwhelming desire to be
happy.
Slowly I pulled away from him and looked at him, brushing my
fingertips lightly across his lower lip and then wove his fingers through mine.
Something was happening to me.
We were standing in shadows and the voices of the other kids
and teachers seemed distant but I could see their dark bodies etched clearly
against the big bonfire they had built on the large stretch of sand between the
camp-site and the edge of the lake.
“We should get back,” I said.
His shoulder brushed mine as he leaned closer and whispered
in my ear, “You don’t have to go.”
I did not want to go.
He sat down on the edge of the dock, letting his legs dangle
over the side and pulled me down to sit beside him. The dock was high enough so
that our feet did not touch the cold, dark water. A slight breeze swirled
around us making me feel a little cold.
I turned around to face Oliver. “So, are you ever...”
He raised his eyes to meet mine.
Was he looking at… Me?
“Going to kiss me again?” He asked softly as the one side of
his mouth pulled up in an amused smile.
Flustered, I said, “No. That’s not what I was going to say.”
He chuckled softly as he nudged me playfully. “I know. What
did you want to know?”
“I… I forgot what I was going to say.” I looked down at the
water below us and the way the glow from the bonfire reflected off the peak of
the ripples the breeze was creating. My legs swung backwards and forwards.
He shook his head. “Remember when I said earlier today, we
needed to talk.”
I shrugged my shoulders without looking back at him,
pretending to be mesmerized by the water.
“It’s really dark out here,” he said as he looked over his
shoulder at the tall, dark trees behind us.
“It makes it easier to see the stars,” I said, looking up at
the sky.
Oliver lay back on the dock. “There are so many,” he said.
“That’s because there’s no moon.”
He laughed softly. “The moon is still there; we just can’t
see it.”
I am like the moon.
I eased myself down next to him and we both watched the sky
in silence.
“You know,” he said quietly. “I’m glad I kissed you. At
first, I thought I shouldn’t have done it. It was too soon and I’m not even
sure if...”
Then why? Why would he kiss me if he was not sure he wanted
to? Did he think he would get his way with me easily? Did he imagine we would
go all the way, here in the dark, just the two of us? I know I am not the first
girl he had kissed, with whom he had been alone in the dark.
Will I even be the last?
“If what?” I asked softly.
He lifted his head off the dock and leaned on his elbow,
then tilted his head toward me and leaned closer, kissing me softly on the
lips. He pulled away, and then moved his mouth to my cheek, nose, eyes, brow,
his kisses followed a trail determined by him.
I could barely breathe.
He stopped, his face hovering an inch above mine.
I could not read his expression and I was not sure if it was
because there was hardly any light or if he was trying to hide his emotions.
I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic to hide the way
I was feeling.
“What if?” He asked before he kissed me. His hands rested on
the waist band of my jeans and he looped his fingers through the belt loop on
one side to pull me on to my side to face him.
My hands came up to his chest to push him away.
“What’s wrong?” Oliver asked, his lips still so close they
brushed mine as he spoke.
“Not too fast,” I said.
“As slow as you want,” he said as his warm hand slid under
the hem of my T-shirt.
My top crept up, exposing my stomach to the night chill.
He traced his finger along my waist while kissing the side
of my neck. Of course, I had imagined being kissed like this, but the reality
was so much more intense.
As Oliver slid his hand higher up my waist, I put my hand on
top of his, not sure if I wanted to never move again or if I wanted to make him
stop. I was conflicted. My body wanted him to continue, to see where this would
lead. The voice in my head warned me he was only using me. He would break my
heart. If I let him continue, he would discard me like a used rag.
“Too fast?” He asked and he sounded concerned.
“I think so, yes,” I said softly.
Slowly he pulled his hand out from under mine and making
small, lazy circles on my skin which gave me goose bumps he moved his hand
slowly down my waist until his hand was resting on the waist band of my jeans
again.
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