I thrashed against the strong hold, dropping both my shoes and the flashlight in my struggle. Blind fear took the place of sense, and I bit one of the fingers over my mouth with gusty violence.
“Ow! Dammit that hurt!” I felt the hard chest behind me vibrate as the hand was removed from my mouth. I recognized that the voice of my captor belonged to either Duane or Beau Winston.
Therefore I froze.
“Who the hell are you, and what the hell are you doing here, and why the hell did you bite me?”
I swallowed, tearing my lip through my teeth. My back was still to his front, my feet were still not touching the ground.
Tentatively, I asked, “Duane?”
He stilled, and I felt some of the tension leave his arms. Slowly, carefully, gently he set me down and turned me to face him. I could just make out a shadow of his features in the starlight.
“Jessica?” he asked, his hands on my shoulders. “Jessica James?”
“Yes. Yes, it’s me.” I swallowed my last word, my knees feeling weak as adrenaline left my body. I was so relieved. Despite our lengthy history of mutual dislike and his trickery earlier in the evening, my chest flooded with warmth at the sight of him. I couldn’t ever remember being so happy to see the outline of another person in my whole life.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and concerned.
Overcome, I lunged forward and threw my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. I knew I was behaving like a lunatic, but I’d spent the whole night thinking about him. I needed him to hold me; even if he didn’t like me, I needed him.
He shushed me, his arms coming around my body, his hand petting my hair. “It’s all right, Jessica. I got you now.”
I had no idea how much time passed as we stood holding each other. I know I snuggled shamelessly closer, eliciting a short, velvety chuckle from him.
And then, just as I was beginning to relax and decide what to do next, he surprised me by saying, “Jessica, I’m not Duane, honey. I’m Beau.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, but before I could react, before I distinguished whether what I felt was joy or disappointment, the screams started.
CHAPTER 3
“Let love find you. Don’t go looking for it. The best way to attract a mate is to post an ad on Craigslist titled, “Have lube, will travel.”
― Jarod Kintz, Love quotes for the ages. Specifically ages 18-81.
~Duane~
I knew the exact moment I fell for Jessica James. I remember it clear as day.
Even though I hadn’t set eyes on her for years, time and distance hadn’t dulled the memory. The constancy of my regard for Jessica just made her presence now in Green Valley feel transitory, like she was slipping through my fingers.
I was sixteen. She was fourteen. I’d shoved her off a dock into the river behind our house. Instead of screaming or freaking out like a stupid girl, she’d grabbed my leg on her way down and pulled me under too, dragging me out to the middle.
I was in swim shorts, and she was in her Sunday school dress. While we were struggling under the water, she’d pulled my shorts down and off, then escaped. Seeing as how she’d been on the swim team since elementary school, she was the better swimmer, even in a Sunday school dress.
Jessica had climbed onto the bank. Her blonde hair had been wet, tangled around her face, down her back. Her white dress had clung to her body making every young curve visible, and she’d taken off. She’d always been real pretty, but so had lots of other girls. Spitting mad, I ran after her, not caring one lick that I was naked.
I’d caught her easily enough—I was the better runner, faster—and tackled her to the ground. I’d pinned her hands above her head and searched them. They were empty.
“Where are my shorts?” I’d demanded, furious.
Her body had shook beneath mine; she was laughing. She was laughing so hard she could hardly breathe, and I remember thinking she was beautiful.
Then she’d said, “I threw them in a tree.”
I’d watched her, again losing her breath to laughter, and I couldn’t stop my smile. “You threw them in a tree?” I asked, feeling a touch of wonder at her cleverness.
“Yeah,” she’d said, her smile wide and crooked, “you think being mean is enough. Being mean and being smart is better.”
That was the moment. That was when it happened.
Though I grew up seeing her nearly every day, I hadn’t noticed she was a girl—or the existence of any other girl—until I was nearly thirteen. By then it was too late. She disliked me. But she worshipped my brother. He didn’t see her, not really. Not like I did.
Sure, we’d argued since childhood. But that’s what kids do when they’re in a pack of wild children. I’d always liked her, but I fell hard the day she threw my swim trunks into a tree.