The F- It List Part 18

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calm down from our enthusiastic standing ovation, and when we did Leo immediately took my hand in his.

I never was much for holding hands. Most people were so clammy, or our fi ngers fi t together wrong. There was nothing worse than intertwined fi ngers as a gesture of romance only to realize that the boy's hands were stumpy and there was barely enough room to lace our fi ngers together. Leo didn't weave our fi ngers, but held my hand on his lap with a grip that tightened every time he laughed at something brilliant Bruce said. Leo's hand was much larger than mine, with prominent veins. At times, no matter how funny or engaging Bruce was, I was distracted by the force with which Leo would jerk my hand with a laugh. Not a bad distraction, but I wanted to focus on Bruce, maybe learn something for my own movies.

I fi shed my hand away from Leo's and pretended to dig some- thing out of my back pocket. He didn't seem to notice. I spent the rest of the show wondering why Leo didn't try to hold my hand again.

Bruce was selling and signing copies of his books, posters, s.h.i.+rts, and any other weird artifact people brought to him. When it was time for me and Leo to greet him, I told Bruce, "You are a legend."

He thanked me and off ered to sign an Army of Darkness poster I brought along. "Gimme some sugar, Baby," he wrote, a cla.s.sic line.

One of my favorites. I asked Leo to take a picture of me and Bruce with my phone, and he did. Then the next person in line, a rather large woman with a Bubba Ho- Tep t-s.h.i.+rt on, asked us, "Do you want a picture with both of you?"

"Sure," Leo answered before I could decide for myself. When the moment was over, Leo and I reviewed the picture. We stood on either side of Bruce, smiling like dorks, while Bruce produced bunny --1 ears behind our heads. Cla.s.sic.

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If it were possible for me to feel jubilant, that's how I felt as Leo and I walked back to my car. For two seconds I forgot about my dad and Becca and just reveled in the primo eve ning.

Leo was bubbly, too, and quoted moments from Bruce's Q&A verbatim. "Remember when ... ?" "And then he said ..." It was funny how cute and sweet such a big, supposedly scary guy could look. I started the car, and the clock read 10:45. "What time do you have to be home?" I asked.

"One," he answered.

"Midnight for me. But you can have my gla.s.s slipper." He smiled, illuminated by the parking lot lights. "What do you want to do?" I asked. I knew the question was too open, too obvious. At that time of night, we could go back to someone's house and worry about waiting parents, go to Denny's for coff ee, which I had previously off ered to cover, or fi nd somewhere to park the car.

"How about the Halloween store?" Leo suggested. I hadn't thought of that.

"Is there one up yet?" The phenomenon of pop- up Halloween stores was always exciting and depressing at the same time. Anything huge and Halloweeny meant awesomeness in my book, but they were always thrown into some giant, dead store s.p.a.ce that would become empty again once the holiday ended. Or at least until the pop- up Christ- mas store took its place.

"Sure," I agreed. "Where is it?"

"Where the Borders used to be," he directed.

I drove to the strip mall parking lot and parked in the vast empti- ness. We unclicked our seat belts and walked up to the blackened -1- windows. Leo cupped his hands around his eyes and peered in. "I 0- guess we're a little late," Leo noticed as we surveyed the dark store.

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"They stay open later when Halloween gets closer," I mentioned.

"Next time," he suggested.

I mulled over the idea of a next time as we returned to the car.

"So," I asked as Leo hopped in and shut the door. "What now?" I started the car and turned on WVVX, a local station that turned from Spanish to metal at 8:00 p.m.

As I attempted to tug on my seat belt, Leo slid toward me and ran his hand up my arm. At that moment, the streetlight above the car fl ick- ered off . "I planned that," he said. He leaned over and kissed me, his position awkward and sideways, the steering wheel preventing us from getting comfortably close. I gently pushed his chest away from me and crawled my way over the armrest and into the backseat. Leo fol- lowed, less gracefully, and stumbled until we were next to each other.

Our hands were everywhere. He pulled my s.h.i.+rt over my head, and I did the same to his. Or was it the other way around? He leaned back onto the leather bench seat, and I rested on top of him. Without taking my bra off , Leo slid his hand inside it and drove me to an embarra.s.sing squeak.

"What was that?" He laughed quietly, as if talking loudly would alert someone outside to our presence.

I bit his lip slightly harder than playfully, which he took to mean I wanted more. I did.

Somehow my hand found its way down to the b.u.t.tons of Leo's jeans, and I undid them one by one before fi tting my hand inside and feeling him against me. He responded with a moan, and dug around until my jeans were unb.u.t.toned, too. We slithered out of our pants and rubbed our barely dressed bodies together, kissing, grinding, grip- ping. He hooked his fi nger onto the top of my undies and started to --1 pull them off .

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"Wait," I breathed. "We're not going to have s.e.x," I told him.

"Why is it you keep saying that?" He didn't sound annoyed, just curious.

"I've said it twice." His fi nger remained on my undies, which were now halfway down one side of my leg.

"Does that mean third time's a charm?" He smiled. I smacked his freckled shoulder and s.h.i.+fted onto my knees to pull on my undies.

"Wait," he stopped me. "We don't have to have s.e.x. I don't have a condom anyway. Unless you do."

"Even if I did, I said no." My undies were back in place, and I was sitting up. Leo pushed himself up next to me and began kissing my ear.

"Can I still take your pan ties off if I promise we won't have s.e.x to night?"

His hands didn't give me time to answer, and he felt so good I wouldn't have said no anyway. After my undies were somewhere on the fl oor of the car, Leo took my hips and turned me so I was reclin- ing on the seat. He slithered down to where my underwear used to be and placed his hands on either thigh, separating them. I grabbed onto his hair, not hard enough to pull him away from what he was doing but enough to steady myself. Even lying down, I felt like I could fall at any moment. He was masterful at what he did, and I squirmed in painful ecstasy. My head started going to that place where I wondered how he got so skilled, but I willed myself to drown in the moment. I gasped and palmed the car seat, reaching for anything I could before I completely succ.u.mbed. When it was over, I released my grip and my hands cramped. I couldn't move. I couldn't talk. I couldn't think.

-1- That must be what heaven is like.

0- I heard Leo groping around for his clothes, and I opened my

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eyes. He had a, well, me- eating grin on his face, and I was embar- ra.s.sed to look at him after how I completely let go. When we were both dressed, I noticed the clock. "s.h.i.+t. I have to get home," I said.

We climbed into the front seat, a Megadeath song playing as I drove Leo back to his house. When we got there, Leo unclicked his seat belt.

I thought he'd slide over for a good- night kiss, but he just said, "I had a good night."

"Me, too," I answered, rus.h.i.+ng home in my head so my mom wasn't worried. I never wanted to call her when I was late, in case she was asleep and my call woke her up. Better to be late without her knowing if at all possible.

There was a pause, both of us wondering what to do. Leo's mom helped us out, calling from the front door. "Leo? Is that you?"

"And that's why we didn't go back to my house," Leo said. "See you Monday." He got out, and I drove away without looking back.

When I got home, Mom was asleep in her room, and the house was quiet.

I went to my room and dug out my jeans pockets and threw keys, cash, and phone on my desk. There was a text I must have missed during the movie. Or something else. It was from Becca.

I'm dying, was all it said.

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CHAPTER.

17.

I checked the time Becca's message was sent: 9:14. It was cur- rently 12:17. If I texted her back, would I awaken her from a pain- free slumber? What if she were back in the hospital? I had to try.

R U OK? R U dead?

After I sent the text, I turned on my computer and logged onto Skype. Chances were slim that Aunt Judy was still up and waiting for a midnight chat unless she had some seedy secret life I didn't know about. Maybe I would like her better if that were true. Like a Mullets Anonymous group or something.

h.e.l.lo? Come in, Becca. Do you read me, Becca? I typed.

Nothing from either phone or computer.

To calm my nerves I played a video of Troll I downloaded last week. It was such a c.r.a.ppy movie, but the guy who played Atreyu -1- from The NeverEnding Story was in it. And a weird plant lady.

0- I wished I could talk to Becca about what happened with Leo. It

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was exactly the kind of story my s.e.x- obsessed bestie would have been dying to hear every drippy detail of. But instead she was just dying. For a second, I almost felt angry at her, which made me feel like the biggest d.i.c.k in the world. How could I possibly be mad at my best friend when she was sick- possibly dying- with cancer just because I couldn't talk to her about Leo Dietz going down on me?

Shame on me for even allowing a guy down there when Becca was so sick. Is that how she felt when she was doing I don't even want to think about it with Davis? Was this payback in the most disgusting form possible? I wanted to ask G.o.d, to talk to him one- on- one, but I couldn't decide if I even believed in him at the moment. Plus, kind of a weird topic. Death and sickness and s.e.x and so much guilt- where did G.o.d fi t into that?

As my internal moral battle raged, my Skype rang. It was not Aunt Judy and her mullet club but Becca. I scrambled to my desk chair and answered. The view of Becca was a close- up of her bald head resting on a stack of pillows in her bed. She looked tired and pasty.