Eric - Section 2

spent the next summer at my grandparents’ again. My mom drove me there the day after last day of school, because she had to work the very next day and didn’t want me to be alone. I didn’t want to be alone, either.

We got to Grandma and Grandpa’s house about ten thirty that night. I was still
rather disoriented from the whole thing with Eric. Kenny told me later what had
happened. He had woken up when I made the first noise, but wasn’t awake enough
to do anything. When I yelled, I had jumped up and punched Eric in the face and
kicked him to the floor. Then Kenny had reached over and pulled me closer to him
so Eric wouldn’t get back up.

I was almost impressed with myself. I’d never punched anyone before, and Kenny
called me at my grandparents’ house later that week to tell me that Eric’s doctor
said he’d broken his nose. I smiled at first, but then felt bad, and still felt dirty. After
I got off the phone with Kenny I took a long shower and scrubbed myself so hard I
thought I’d bleed.

I was a bit scared of seventh grade. If people were sexually active in fifth and sixth
grade, who knew what Eric’s parties would be like in seventh grade? Orgies? I didn’t
know, and I really didn’t want to think about it. So I just enjoyed my time at my
grandparents’ while I could, my body unharmed, not pressured by anybody to do
anything. It was really nice. Grandma got me more tanning sessions too.

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The first day of seventh grade reminded me of the first day of fifth grade. Gray, muggy, humid and hot. I could feel the sweat dripping down my face as I walked to the car in the morning. I’d have to fix my makeup in the bathroom as soon as I got there.

My hair was a mess. So was everyone else’s, though. So it was okay.

I don’t remember my outfit. I had so much clothes by then that everything kind of
blurred together -- the countless jeans, shirts, sweaters, shoes… there were just
too many to remember what I wore on any given day.

The first person I saw was Gabriel. I haven’t really talked about him, have I? There’s
not much to say. He’s really popular, preppy and never does anything wrong. He
and Eric have always made fun of each other and attacked each other for
everything -- and it’s been like that for as long as I can remember. I don’t think Eric
really hates him, but I think that deep down, Gabriel does hate Eric. Maybe Eric
doesn’t know that. They’re kind of friends, though. It’s really hard to describe.

He smiled at me and fell into step next to me. “How was your summer?”

“Okay,” I answered, wiping the sweat off my temples as we walked inside the
doors. “Just stayed at my grandparents’ and chilled.”

He laughed. “You seen Eric yet?”

I shook my head no.

“Oh, boy. Wait until you do.”

“What?”

“Well, he got even more muscles, grew his hair longer, dyed it blonde again, and he
tans now.”

I hooted quietly. “Anything else?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Pierced his nose and his ears. Still punk - preppy. Brooklyn told
me she couldn’t wait to bang him again.”

I grimaced. “Nice.”

Gabriel laughed. “Yep.”

“So how long’s his hair?”

“See for yourself,” said Gabriel, gesturing behind us at Eric, who had just walked in
the door and was trying to catch up with us.

I turned around and was overwhelmed by something. I’m not sure what it was. It could have been desire, horniness, or love. I don’t know. Even looking back today I don’t know what it was. But it hit me really hard and my eyes kind of clouded over for a minute -- like when you sit up really fast after you’ve fallen asleep.

His hair was long, emo-like, and was bleach blonde, though half inch black roots were visible. It was parted far over on one side and swept over to one side, almost entirely covering one eye and reaching down past his chin in layers. The back was pretty long, too, about halfway down his neck. He was wearing a hemp choker and had two small diamond studs in his ears, another small diamond stud in his nose, and still had the thick metal braces and though I couldn’t see it, a big metal stud in his mouth. He was wearing a tight olive green Hollister shirt that was long but bunched up above his belt because he was so skinny. His pants were so torn you could see more skin than jean. He was wearing dark brown skateboard shoes with the black laces undone. And like Gabriel had said, he was tan, as opposed to fifth grade, when he’d had black hair and pale skin, he was now blonde and tan.

Even I couldn’t deny that he was pretty fucking hot.

“Hey,” he said breathlessly, grinning his metal smile.

“Hey,” I said, smiling at him, as my ‘commitment’ rushed through my head, as did
thoughts of abandoning it. I felt kind of dizzy.

He yawned. “How was your summer, Trinity?” he asked.

“Boring,” I answered. “Just shopped and got my hair done every month with my
grandma.”

He laughed. “Dude, your grandma’s awesome, though.”

“Yeah, in small doses,” I answered as we walked upstairs to the seventh grade hallway.

We found our first hour class, algebra, and, thank God, we got to pick our seats. I
ended up between him and Kenny, but for some reason I didn’t mind so much this
year.

Of course, five minutes into the class, the regular note arrived at my desk from Eric.

So… Are you going to be a goody-goody this year, too?

I smiled slightly. I knew that that was coming.

Sorry, but as much of one as I was last year.

Damn it, he wrote back.

I will make out with you, though.

All right.

When’s your first party?

Tonight, so I can make out with you sooner.

I coughed to hide my laugh.

Okay, sounds good.


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I wore a loose, flowing white skirt, brown flipflops, and a brown shirt to Eric’s party. I used the straightener my grandma bought me and straightened my hair, then put it in pigtails. I wore a lot of makeup.

I didn’t even bother ask my mom. She was staring at MTV and drinking her seventh
beer, so I just grabbed my purse and walked out the door and started on the twelve
block walk to Eric’s.

I got there a bit late, but not too late. I walked in the basement door and looked for
Eric. He was doing what he always did -- leaning on the counter, drinking, and
talking to his fan club.

I walked over to join him. I remember thinking that he looked really hot in the dim
lighting. He smiled at me and some random thought of running my tongue over his braces entered my head. Then I don’t know what happened. Something else, somebody else just took over me. I grabbed his hand and pulled him over to me and whispered into his ear -- or his shoulder, really, since he was so tall -- “Come on, I want to make out with you.”

He took a small step back and looked at me. “Really? Now?”

I nodded.

He led me over to a corner that was pretty dark and pushed me against the wall. He
put his arms above my head and pressed himself against me. I could feel his
muscles pushing at his clothes, his breath on my face. Then he kissed me. The big
metal stud in his tongue rubbed against every crevice of my mouth, and my tongue
roamed over his braces and teeth. He pushed himself against me even harder, my
legs spreading a little bit. I could feel his hardness pressed into the soft place
between my legs. I moved my arms and put them under his arms and around his
neck, pulling him even closer. His kiss moved down my mouth onto my neck a little
bit and then back up to my mouth. I could hear his breathing get deeper, and he
started to push into me over and over.

Why does he do this every time? I wondered. Why can’t he just make out with me?
Why does every kiss have to turn into him trying to fuck me?

I broke the kiss and heard him sigh. “Okay, I’ll stop,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry,” I told him.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. He let me go gently. Then he just looked at me. It was like
he was trying to read my mind with his eyes. But his look was so intense I just
dropped my eyes to the floor and watched his clean blue and pink Shox walk away.

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The next party was different. It was on a Friday, so it was an all-nighter. I hung out with Eric and Kenny the whole time, but there was something different about Eric. He didn’t have that look in his eye yet, but he was being nicer, less sexually aggressive towards me. It was kind of nice, really. About three thirty, when we fell asleep, I fell asleep on him again, as was usual. I fell asleep on my side, my head in his lap, his hands in my hair again.

He woke me up around four. “Come here,” he said quietly. I sat up as best I could,
my head almost in his shoulder. Without any ado whatsoever, he kissed me. But
that was all. His hands didn’t wander. One was on my waist, the other in my hair. It
was a nice, soft kiss. The hard piece of metal in his tongue stroked my mouth
tenderly, his mouth easing mine open all the way. Then he slowly closed our
mouths and drew his tongue back out. Finally he broke the kiss.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, one hand rubbing my head.

I couldn’t see his face in the dark or hear his tone from his whisper, so I was unsure
of how to answer. “I don’t know,” I finally said.

He was quiet. “Just answer,” he told me.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “That’s what I want.”

He used his hand and gently pulled my head back down to his lap, this time face up. He was leaning back against the couch, so all I could see was his muscles and his chin.

Then he played with my hair until I fell asleep.

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The next Monday, he had the look in his eyes. I hadn’t remembered exactly how it looked from the year before, but it was back with a painful intensity. He was sleepy, cruel, and everything he did and said was kind of erratic and out of character.

That Tuesday, he had another party. He was normal then.

I asked him about it. I’m not sure why, but I did.

I walked in and found him. He was having a casual argument with Gabriel about
where he got his shoes or something. Kenny was standing by and laughing, as
were Stan, Craig and Brooklyn.

I joined the group quietly, trying not to distract anyone. Brooklyn smiled at me and
gestured for me to come over by her. I sighed to myself and walked over to her. She
was sitting on a couch next to Craig and Kenny.

“Kenny, scoot over,” she told him.

He groaned and shook his head. “Nope.”

“Sit on him,” Brooklyn told me.

I laughed.

“Do it,” she said. I could tell she was being serious.

Kenny smiled and gestured openly with his hands. “Go ahead.”

Something inside me crumbled, but I did it anyway. Kenny’s lap was soft. His
hands circled my waist, but he didn’t do anything disturbing. I leaned back into his
shoulder.

“I’m going to sneak out and sleep with Craig tonight,” Brooklyn whispered into my
ear.

I pretended to be interested. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling and wrinkling her nose.

“Have fun,” I told her, putting on my mask of sincerity.

“Oh, I will,” she said happily. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Craig’s hand inch up
her thigh.

Kenny made an effort to sit up underneath me. He was enormously tall and skinny,
but not muscley like Eric, so when he sat up my head was even with his chin. He propped his chin on my shoulder.

Brooklyn giggled. “You guys are so cute.”

I grinned my fake smile.

Eventually Eric came over. He sat next to Kenny. “Hey, come sit in my lap,” he
said, nudging me.

“Yeah, I need a drink anyway,” said Kenny.

I slid off of him and onto Eric’s lap. He was just as bony and hard as Kenny had
been, but his muscles felt different and he wasn’t quite as tall. His hands were
gropier, though. But not to a point where it bothered me. As long as people were
around and he wasn’t actually trying anything, it was okay.

One hand he had on my stomach, and the other had moved down and he put right
between my legs. His entire hand. I was actually pretty shocked by his braveness.

After a few minutes, I got used to it. But then he started stroking me. Slowly, he
moved his hand up and down. I tensed, but didn’t make him stop. Then he started
moving his thumb a little bit, sending a tingle up my back as he rubbed something I
didn’t know I had.

I regretted dressing down. I was wearing a t shirt and cotton short shorts. I should have worn jeans, I scolded myself.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered into my hair.

“I don’t know,” I answered.

I really didn’t know. It felt amazingly good, and it wasn’t his dick. Was it okay? I
didn’t know how I was supposed to feel about it.

His thumb pushed harder and moved up and down faster. I gritted my teeth to keep
from moaning. Then I felt his middle and index fingers push a little bit, just a little,
and it was too much for me. It felt too good to be right.

“Okay, stop,” I said, taking a deep breath. He slowly moved his hand and left it on
my thigh. As soon as he moved it, I wanted it back.

I ground my teeth really hard, trying to get that thought out of my head.

A little bit later, we were all over by the bar in the kitchen and drinking strawberry
daiquiris, and Eric came over next to me. He was a bit too close to me to be comfortable, but I didn’t move.

“Did that feel good? What I did earlier?” he asked.

I swallowed and looked at my hands, encircling my bottle. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Why won’t you look at me?”

I felt his soft hand under my chin, pulling my gaze up to his.

I shrugged. He still hadn’t let go of my jaw. He moved really close to me, so my
head was in his shoulder, and whispered into my ear. “Trinity, it’s not bad if it feels
good. I wish you’d just loosen up a little bit and have fun. I don’t want you to be like
Brooklyn, but...”

“But what?” I asked his shoulder.

“I really like you, Trinity. I just wish you could tell.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled his deep, musky cologne. “I’m sorry,” I told him.

He sighed and let go of me. “Okay.”

He didn’t look at me. He just took a drink of his strawberry daiquiri.

“Can... Can I ask you something?” I asked him quietly.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“You know how some days, you act a little bit... Weird? And you’re just kind of
different? Like... There’s just something different about you, in your eyes?”

He looked at me, his face blank of expression.

“No,” he said finally. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He walked away.

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My grandma died during seventh grade. She over exercised and had a heart attack.
My grandpa had to move into a nursing home

I asked my mom what I was going to do over the summer. She shrugged. “I don’t
know, honey,” she said finally. “I guess you’ll stay at home. I can trust you, right?”

I nodded, but I was lying.

The first day she was gone I called Eric. “Let’s go shopping,” I told him. He walked
over about half hour later, wallet in pocket.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “We can take the bus to Baton Rouge and go to the mall or
whatever.”

He shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

We called and checked the bus times, then called a cab to go to the bus stop that
ran in twenty minutes.

“We’ve got to be back by eight, though,” I told Eric. “My mom gets home at eight
thirty or eight forty five.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding.

We got on the bus. It was nearly empty. There were a few pot smokers in the very
back of the bus, dressed in black with their Marilyn Manson beanies on, even though it was nearly one hundred degrees outside. I myself was dressed in a pair of tattered jean capris, a white spaghetti strap shirt -- I didn’t have any boobs to worry
about -- brown flipflops, and my favorite taxicab driver hat. It was brown suede with a
big buckle on the left side. My hair was straight and in low pigtails and I had one big
necklace on.

I don’t remember what Eric was wearing. I think he was wearing long, baggy white sweatpant shorts, nice sneakers, and a kind of baggy name brand shirt, but I don’t remember. And of course, his hair was long, shaggy, hung in his eyes and had long dark roots. And he was tan.

He was a bit too tan. I kept my tan moderate, so it looked natural, really, but he
embraced the “unlimited tanning sessions for a year” deal, and went a bit too often.
He was really dark. Luckily for him, he didn’t turn orange -- he just got really dark. It
was pretty hot, actually.

I remember he had his favorite ring on -- it was a big, chunky sapphire that was
wider than his finger. He wore it on his right middle finger. I loved that ring. I wasn’t
much of a ring person, and every time I got one I lost it, so I envied his ability to keep the same one for two years.

The bus ride was long, and Eric fell asleep on the way. He was so cute when he
was asleep. I woke him up when the pot smokers got off, because we were the next
stop.

We got to the mall and spent about six hundred dollars -- some of it cash, some of
it on his mom’s credit card. Or, rather, one of his mom’s credit cards. I had about
five bags of stuff, he had about four. Then we went to get our roots retouched, since
we were both growing back in darker. He persuaded me to get black lowlights,
which actually looked really good.

We were walking to go catch a cab to the bus stop when we passed a tanning
salon.

He turned to me. “We should go tanning together,” he said, grinning.

I kind of looked at him, then smiled. “Okay.”

We went in in our underwear. He was wearing pink boxers, which I found kind of
funny. “You didn’t do that for me, did you?” I asked him, laughing.

He laughed and said no, he just thought they were cool. “I got them at Wal-Mart,
actually,” he told me. “They were like eight dollars, and I thought they were so
fabulous.”

It was scary being that close to him and being able to see almost every single
muscle in his body. He traced his hands over my body. I didn’t have any curves,
just bones and a tiny waist. He didn’t do anything that made me feel awkward, just kind of touched me like he was fascinated, like I was something special. I came out
of the tanning bed with a smile.

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The next couple years, truth be told, were kind of a blur to me. Nothing to notable happened... Eric still had his strange days, still wanted to sleep with me -- but the
unwanted advances from fifth, sixth and seventh grade were gone. He never had a
girlfriend, though. He just slept with girls like Brooklyn, at parties sometimes, but most usually on nights when I wasn’t around, I guess so I wouldn’t feel weird about
it. I guess he really did care about me, I just was too stupid to realize it at the time.

Nothing significant that I can remember happened until tenth grade. And it was
pretty fucking significant.


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Eric’s hair was so long by now that he wore it like a girl. It was past his shoulders and about twelve different shades of blonde. He parted it in the middle and straightened it. He had it heavily layered since he had so much hair. He had finally gotten rid of his braces. He pierced his ears some more and also pierced his bottom lip. He usually wore a small stud in it, though, like his trademark diamond -- he said he didn’t want to look like a vampire. Of course, he was still tan, muscley and skinny.

He was a bit different in tenth grade. Or maybe I was different. Looking back on it
now, I’m not sure of hardly anything -- my perspective was always warped, always
twisted by my age and my mental ability. Like his muscles -- looking at pictures I
have of him back in fifth and sixth grade, he looks like a fifth grader, looks like a
sixth grader, just extraordinarily fit. It’s just that when I was in fifth and sixth grade
he was mature and muscley in my eyes. I don’t know how many other things about
him I perceived a different way than they really were just because of how young and
immature I was. All I know is what I thought at the time, so that’s what I’ll tell you.

The first day of tenth grade was swelteringly hot and bright. It was so bright it made
my eyes hurt. On the way to school, I realized it was Eric’s new car in front of us. He was one of the only kids in town who could actually afford their own car. A new one, too. It was some fancy sportscar, a deep red color. It was so new you could still see the sparkles in the paint.

When we got to the school I got out of my mom’s car quickly and hurried to catch
up with Eric.

“Hey,” I said, smiling as I fell into step next to him.

He turned to me and grinned.

We had hung out most of the summer, going to each others’ houses while my mom was at work, sometimes telling my mom I was staying at Brooklyn’s and then
staying at Eric’s, because his mom just did not give a shit. He stayed true to what
he had said in seventh grade and didn’t try anything, ever again. There were times
when I found myself wishing he would, but never said anything, and never regretted
it, either.

But something had changed him. I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something darker about him. He exuded something almost scary, almost violent.
Just in the way he uttered his words, the way he looked at you, like there was a
cloud or a screen over his eyes.

Kenny had changed quite a bit, too, but mostly just physically. He had started
working out too, going to the gym with Eric, but he didn’t tan. He claimed to like his
freckles. His hair was longer now, much like Eric’s had been in seventh grade, but it
was black. He was by far more punk and emo than Eric ever was, because Eric
was just way too preppy.

Eric’s first party was on the first Friday of the year. I dressed really nice. I wore a
denim micromini skirt and a thong, feeling particularly daring, with a pair of brown
slouchy suede stiletto boots that came up past my knees. I wore a long, black spaghetti strap shirt to piss Brooklyn off, since she was now daily berating me
about how skinny I was. She had put on weight -- sure, all the guys still liked her,
but she had her muffin top moments. Her tan was orange, her hair was
overbleached to a nearly platinum blonde color. I honestly could not stand her, but no one had to know that.

Anyway, I didn’t fall asleep until about four. I fell asleep on Eric, which was to be
expected. This time, though, my head was on a pillow, my legs and ass in his lap. I
wasn’t really worried, though, because of how he’d been the past few years.

I woke up to him gently stroking my hip.

“Are you awake?” he asked after a minute.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“Come here.”

I sat up and started to take my legs off his lap, but he used a hand to keep them
there. I sat up and put one hand on his shoulder to keep from falling off.

“You remember that time in seventh grade... When I touched you with my hand,
and you really liked it, just never admitted it?”

I swallowed. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Do you want to feel like that again?”

I was quiet.

“I’m not asking to fuck you, Trinity.”

“What are you asking?”

It was his turn to be quiet.

“Lay down,” he said finally.

I did.

He moved out from under my legs and pushed my skirt up a little -- it couldn’t go up too far anyway, it was too short already. I felt his soft hands pull my thong down
and off my legs completely. Then I could feel his fingers tracing the inside of my
legs, not stroking, not rubbing, just tracing the outline of the triangle, moving in
slowly. I closed my eyes as I felt the now familiar tingle travel up my back.

Suddenly my back arched with pleasure as I felt something soft and wet right in the
place that had been yearning to be touched. It took me a moment to realize that it
was Eric’s mouth. It felt three times as good as his kisses -- he was pushing into
me with his tongue and sucking the small knot in turn, making an unbearably
gratifying rhythm. I was breathing heavily and moaned every now and then, and after
a few minutes I felt like I lost complete control of my body as my entire body shuddered.

He crawled on top of me but didn’t push into me, just on all fours above me, his
legs between mine. He lowered himself to his elbows, his face by my ear.

“Was that okay?” he asked, but I could tell from his voice that he was smiling.

“Yeah,” I said, still breathing hard.

He moved me a little bit to the right so I was against the back of the couch and he
laid down next to me and we both fell asleep within five minutes.

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...continued in Section 3.