American Outlaw - Jesse James [15]
“Yeah,” I said softly. I didn’t know where to look.
“Do you have a girlfriend or anything?”
“No,” I mumbled. “I’m too busy . . . football.”
“Oh, that’s crazy. A boy as cute as you should have a girlfriend. I mean, that’s really crazy.”
“Well,” I said, awkwardly. “Thanks.”
“Jesse?” she said. “I just had an awesome idea. Do you want a massage?”
“Uh . . .”
“It’ll feel great, I promise! I’m super good at massage.”
“I guess so,” I said.
“Come here.” She reached for my shoulders and started to rub them very gently. I was still sitting bolt upright.
“How does that feel?” she asked.
“Nice.”
“You could give me a massage next, if you want.” She giggled. “I bet you’re really good at it.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I really like your body,” the girl whispered. I could feel her hot breath on my neck. Her hands strayed from my shoulders. They grazed my sides and came to rest on my thighs.
I didn’t say anything. My whole body tensed.
“What do you think of my body?” she whispered. “Do you want to see more of it?” Her lips came so close to my ear that I could feel how wet they were. “Do you want to see me . . . naked?”
Abruptly, I stood up. “I gotta go.”
Tracy looked at me, startled.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m sorry. I just—I really, really gotta go.” I raced up the stairs to my bedroom and slammed the door behind me.
A couple of minutes later, I heard the front door open, then close. Tracy, who I guessed was a teenaged hooker my dad had hired to deflower me, had left the building.
——
“I would give my left nut for that girl,” Bobby moaned.
“You’d give your nut for any girl,” I said.
“Yeah. But I’d give my left for Rhonda Clark, and my left is my special nut.” He stared at me. “It’s the low hanger.”
Rhonda Clark was tan and dark. She was so gorgeous that everyone always seemed to be staring at her. But she wasn’t the kind of girl who went out of her way to talk to everybody.
“Bobby, just to let you know,” I said, “you might have some competition there.”
“You got your eye on Rhonda?”
“She’s amazing,” I admitted.
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“Sorry,” I said.
Bobby snorted. “Well, good luck, is all I can say, James. I mean, come on, man—that girl is far too fine for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Frankly, a girl like Rhonda would be a lot more comfortable on the arm of someone with a touch of class.” Bobby looked at me pityingly. “Which would be me, naturally.”
I patted Bobby gently on the back. “Let’s not fight over someone who probably doesn’t even know either of us exist.”
“Get your hand off of me,” Bobby said. “Whoa. Don’t seduce me, James, you sick freak.”
I never expected even to talk to her. So I couldn’t even believe it when Rhonda started looking back at me when I shyly stared at her in the halls. She smiled right at me.
“Hey, come over here,” she commanded one afternoon.
“Who, me?”
She giggled. “Yes, you.” Rhonda crossed her arms over the books she was carrying. “You keep looking at me. What’s your name?”
“I’m . . . uh . . . Jesse,” I said, finally.
“Don’t you play football or something?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“I heard you were pretty good,” she said.
“I’m okay,” I said.
“No, I heard you were really good.” Rhonda smiled. “Is there anything else you’re good at?”
I thought for a second. “Swap meets?”
She looked unimpressed, and I hated myself for being so lame. I racked my mind to think what was cool about me: What could I boast about to impress this pretty girl who, against all odds, was talking to me in the La Sierra hallway?
“Well, I know a little bit about cars,” I said, finally.
“Oh my God!” Rhonda squealed. “You know how to fix cars?”
“Sure,” I said, delighted I’d stumbled on to something that this girl actually cared about. “I mean, it depends. But I can fix a lot of stuff.”
“My mom’s Chevy has been broken for three weeks!” She shifted the books in her arms, displaying casually a little bit of her rockin’ bod. “I don’t suppose you would want to take a look at it for me?”
“Shit,” I said, “I’d love to. I mean . . . sorry. I didn’t mean to say