Jason nodded. “Just—I don’t ever want to pressure you into anything. I just…I always want more of you. I feel greedy, in a way. I just want to kiss you more, and touch you more. Like you said, it’s dangerous. I feel like you’re a drug, and I’m getting addicted to you.” He pulled my hair away from my jawline and my ear, and pressed a kiss to my skin where jaw met earlobe. “We should get you up there.”
He knelt down and made a cradle with his laced-together hands. I hesitated, then put my foot in his hand and held on to his shoulder with one hand and the drainpipe with the other. Jason gave a whispered count to three and then lifted me up. I had to stifle a squeal as I was rocketed into the air. I bypassed the first handhold, balancing precariously with one foot in his hand.
“Stand on my shoulders,” Jason instructed. I shifted my weight carefully, holding on to the drainpipe with both hands, and then found myself standing on Jason’s shoulders. The window was closer now, but still far away.
“I’m still not close enough,” I said. “The other hold is still a few feet farther up.”
Jason moved beneath me, widening his stance. He grabbed hold of my ankles and glanced up at me. “Okay, you’re gonna stand on my hands.”
“Are you crazy? You can’t hold my weight with just your arms! I’ll break you in half!”
Jason snorted. “You’re a freaking feather, here. Quit arguing and do it. I’ll be fine. I won’t let you fall. I promise.” He lifted one of my ankles and slid his flattened palm under my foot, then straightened his arm so my leg was bent double beneath me. “Now stand up on that foot and then lift the other as soon as you can. Hold on to the pipe for balance. If you feel yourself falling, let it happen. I swear to you I’ll catch you.”
I swallowed hard, felt my breathing quicken and my heartbeat churn into a pounding frenzy. “I’m scared, Jason.”
“I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen. I promise. Now, on three. Ready? One…two…three!” On three, I pushed up off his shoulders, felt his arms stiffen beneath me, and then my other leg was straightening and his hand was there beneath my foot and I was standing on his hands, twelve feet or so above the ground.
My heart was thudding in my chest, blood pulsing in my ears. I wobbled, and Jason adjusted, and then I was steady. I had the pipe in hand, and then there was the foothold right there at belly level. I grabbed the pipe as far above my head as I could and pulled with all my might, scrabbling at the wall to gain purchase. I felt a moment of panic when Jason’s hands fell away and I was on my own, clinging to the wall. Then, miraculously, my feet found the wooden bar and I was slowly, shakily, rising to my feet.
“Holy shit,” I breathed. I looked down at Jason, which was a mistake. “Holy sh-shit! I did it!”
“I knew you could, Beck. Now, just a bit farther. Open the window?”
I pushed at it, but only got it open a few inches. “It’s stuck.” I tapped on the glass with a fingernail, and then within a few moments Ben’s face was at the window.
He seemed shocked, half-asleep, just standing there, blinking at me in confusion, and then he sprang into action. He pulled the window open and grabbed me under my arms and tugged me through the window. “Damn, Becca. You scared the blue shitting Jesus out of me.”
I tumbled to the thick-pile carpeting face first, feet still hanging out the window with my supposedly glorious ass sticking in the air. I righted myself and stuck my head out the window, waving to Jason. He waggled his phone in the air at me, mouthing call me before vanishing into the trees.
I turned back to Ben. “Did you just say ‘blue shitting Jesus’?”
He grinned at me. “Yep. Turns out Jesus shits blue. Who knew?” He shrugged as if it was a great secret demystified.
I laughed and shoved him playfully. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me it was so hard to climb back up?”
He shrugged. “Guess it didn’t occur to me. It doesn’t seem hard to me anymore. But then, I’ve been doing it for a while.”
“I don’t think I’d have been able to get back in without Jason’s help,” I said.
“Have fun?”
I nodded, not wanting to spoil the wonder of my night by talking about it with my stoner brother. “It was great. I’m beat, though, gonna go to bed.” I tossed Ben’s backpack on his bed. “Turns out we didn’t drink any of it. We had plenty of fun without it.”
Ben fished the bottle out of the bag, then twisted the cap off and took a long slug, swallowing without so much as a wince. “More for me.” He tossed the backpack on the ground, lay back on the bed, and took another long slug. “’Night, Beck.”
I hesitated at the door, watching him as he took a third drink, by which point the bottle was emptied past the neck, nearly to the top of the label. “Are you sure you should—”
“’Night, Beck.” He repeated it more forcefully, clearly closing the topic of his drinking.
I left, my gut heavy with worry. He’d shifted from happy to upset so fast, and he’d downed nearly a quarter of a fifth of whiskey within minutes, acting as if he’d done it frequently. By the time I’d tiptoed to my bedroom, stripped down to T-shirt and panties, and snuggled into my bed, I’d forgotten Ben. I had Jason on the brain, his hands skimming my hips, his lips touching mine, devouring mine.
My last thought was how I’d manage to sneak out to see him as often as I’d want to.
FIVE: Fight Night
Jason
The following Monday
Becca had texted me a few times over the weekend, but we hadn’t managed to see each other. I’d asked, but she’d claimed her dad was acting suspicious so she had to lie low. As for me, weekends were the worst. Dad usually had weekends off unless something big came up, which meant I had to keep busy to stay away from him. Usually I stayed in my room, studying, or in the basement working out. This weekend, I didn’t manage to keep out of his way quite enough. He’d tied on a real bender Sunday, mixing in a case of beer with his two fifths of Jack. I’d worked out, done my homework, and had tried sneaking into the kitchen for some lunch. Bad plan. I was pretty sure he’d bruised a few ribs and loosened a tooth, but I’d fought him off enough that he’d gone back to his booze and Band of Brothers marathon.
Why he tortured himself with war movies, I’d never figured out, but he was always meanest when he was in those moods. I’d taken my lunch and eaten it in my room. Dinner hadn’t happened till after one-thirty in the morning after he was passed out.