Chapter 5: A Light In The Window (Part2)

He lay propped up on his arms, completely naked. I stared down at him in the faint moonlight, savoring the moment.

There was a gentle wind blowing through the trees, and the smell of autumn leaves. I heard bats chirping high overhead. The full moon illuminated their wings. It would have been romantic, if only I had had a real boyfriend with me.

Trevor was completely blind in the darkness, feeling everything with his hands and lips. He kissed me all over my face and touched the small of my back. Even blind, it didn't take him long to find the buttons on my shirt.

"No, you first," I told him. I lifted off his sweater, as unclumsily as I could. I had never done this before. He was wearing a V-neck T-shirt underneath and an undershirt underneath that. This is going to take forever, I thought.

I felt his naked chest. Why not? It was right in front of me. It was soft and smooth and muscular.

He pulled me closer, my lacy black rayon shirt touching his naked torso.

"Now you, baby. I want you so bad," he said, straight out of some skin flick on cable.

"Me too, baby." I sighed, rolling my eyes.

I leaned him down slowly on the damp earth. I slid off his loafers and socks. He eagerly took off the rest.

He lay propped up on his arms, completely naked.

I stared down at him in the faint moonlight, savoring the moment. How many girls had Mr. Gorgeous laid out by a tree, only to cast them aside the next day? I wasn't the first and I wasn't going to be the last. I was just going to be different.

"Hurry up--come over here," he said. "I'm cold!"

"I'll just be a minute. I don't want you to see me undress."

"I can't see you! I can't even see my own hands!"

"Well, just hang on."

I had Trevor Mitchell's clothes in my arms. His sweater, V-neck, undershirt, khakis, socks, loafers, and underwear. I had his power. His mask. I had his whole life.

What was a girl to do?

This girl ran. I ran so hard, like I had never run before. Like I had been training every day in gym class. If Mr. Harris could have seen me then, he surely would have put me on the track team.

The bats flew off, too, as if they were in sync with my movements. I quickly reached the house, Trevor's ensemble wadded in my arms.

The snobs drinking on the back porch were too busy talking about their shallow lives to notice me emptying a trash bag half filled with beer cans and stuffing in Trevor's clothes.

I carried the bag into the house and grabbed a startled Becky by the arm. She was delivering beer to a table of poker players.

"Where were you?" she screamed. "I couldn't find you anywhere! I was forced to wait on these creeps! Back and forth-- beer, chips, beer, chips. And now cigars! Raven, where am I supposed to get cigars?"

"Forget about cigars! We've gotta run!"

"Hey, toots, where are those pretzels?" a drunken jock demanded.

"The bar is closed!" I said in his face.

"Great service demands a great tip!" I grabbed his poker earnings and stuffed them into Becky's purse. "Time to go!" I said, pulling her away.

"What's in the bag?" she asked.

"Trash, what else?"

I pushed her out the front door. The nice thing about not having friends was there was no one to say good-bye to.

"What happened?" she kept asking as I pulled her across the front yard. Her ten-year-old pickup truck sat at the end of the street, waiting for us like home base.

"Where were you, Raven? You have leaves in your hair."

I waited until we were halfway home before I turned to her with a huge grin and shouted,

"I screwed Trevor Mitchell!"

"You did what?" she shouted back, almost swerving off the road.

"With who?"

"I screwed Trevor Mitchell."

"You didn't! You couldn't! You wouldn't!"

"No, I mean figuratively. I screwed him so bad, Becky, and I have the clothes to prove it!"

And I pulled them out of the trash bag one by one.

We laughed and shrieked as Becky turned a corner near Benson Hill.

Somehow Trevor would find his way out of the darkness. But he wouldn't have his rich threads to mask himself. He'd be naked, cold, alone. Exposed for who he really was.

I would remember my Sweet Sixteenth birthday for the rest of my life and now Trevor Mitchell would, too. --

To be continued...