Music to Murder Boys to - Chapter 2
Jordan and I are in the parking lot of the only McDonald’s in town, our faces streaked in yellow from the glowing arch. It’s 3 am, quiet like most nights in The Mills.
“I want you to be my girl,” Jordan whispers, his face inches from mine.
I don’t trust him. He’s never had a girlfriend for more than two weeks. I know he’s dangerous but I'd be lying if I said his trap boy demeanor didn't ignite a fire inside of me. I’m such a cliche for falling for the bad boy. I can’t help that I find his nonchalance for life so attractive. He’s not stressing about the SAT’s or getting into the right college. He lives for now. Plus, he’s spent the last three weeks with me of all people. The girl with no boobs or ass. The tomboy with an obsession for manga and anime. The one girl that every guy manages to throw into the friend zone because she’s too much like one of the boys. Surely I've withstood the test of time, based on his track record.
“Yes,” I splutter. “I want you to be my nigga.” I immediately cringe. I don’t know why the hell I said that. I don’t even talk like that!
He laughs and unbuckles his seat-belt. His breath smells like weed with a hint of mint. Lust lingers in his hazel eyes. He wants me and if I weren’t so nervous, I’d want him too. I think. My heart starts to flutter against my chest.
His lips crash into mine. I accidentally bite myself from the impact and hope he doesn’t taste blood. His hands travel across my chest, down my side, and then to my crotch. I clench my thighs shut.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this here,” I suggest, hoping a forced laugh would soften the blow of my words.
He ignores me and starts kissing my neck.
“Jordan,” I say with a little more power, “I don’t want to have sex.”
He pulls away with a dumbfounded look on his face. “Are you serious?” he asks.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before. I want my first time to be special. I'm nervous. And it doesn't feel right out here in a McDonald's parking lot.”
He shakes his head. “But this is special.”
“I’m just not ready,” I say.
He grimaces and ties his hair back.
I place a hand on his knee. “When I’m ready I will let you know. Let’s just keep taking things slow,” I say. "I've been enjoying getting to know you."
“A’ight,” he nods. “Can I have one more kiss though?”
I laugh, nervously. “Yeah, you can have one more kiss.”
He leans over the seat again. This kiss is more aggressive. He reaches down for the seat lever and I start to fall back. He hops over and lands on top of me.
“Jordan, no.”
The pressure of his body is suffocating. He presses his left arm against my collarbone as he uses his free hand to rip my pants off.
I yell ‘No!’ so many times that it doesn’t feel like a word anymore. Eventually, my body goes limp. Every ounce of fight is rung out of me like a dirty sponge. I wait for it to be over. My eyes fixated on the bright golden arches, praying and hoping that someone will come save me.
When it’s all over he pushes a stray dread out of his face and says, “That was fun but I don’t think we're going to work out, shawty.”
I don’t respond.
“If you need a plan b I can take you to Walgreens in the morning.”
I don’t go to sleep when I get home. I stare at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and wallow in emptiness. I take a few hits from my bong to get as high as I can. It’s no use- being in the clouds only brings me closer to thunderstorms. I take a shower, wash my hair, shave my legs, wash my clothes. But he’s still there, haunting me. I can’t get him out of me.
When the sun comes up carrying pale blue light through the cracks in my blinds, Grandma eases her way in my room.
“You been up all night. You okay, baby? I heard you tossin’ and turnin and walkin’ all through the house last night.’”
I force a smile. “Yeah, grandma, I’m fine. Finals.”
She stalls in the doorway for a bit, wading on my words. When she realizes I’m not going to elaborate she leaves.
And I shatter.