Madeline’s bright brown eyes drilled through me. “That really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  “Sometimes I don’t think anybody understands me.” I focused on the road and tried to ignore her gaze. “I don’t think anyone really understands how it feels to be a preacher’s kid.”

  “I understand.”

  I knew Madeline was being sincere, but I wasn’t in the mood to discuss how pathetic my life was. “Sorry for pulling you away from the party. You looked like you were having a good time.”

  “It’s okay. After a while, all the parties are the same. Same dumb guys saying the same stupid things. If anything, I wish I had taken Hershel up on his offer for that beer.” She settled into her seat and pulled her purse from the glove compartment. “Did you enjoy the party?”

  I thought back to how comfortable everyone else had looked. “I would have had more fun at the nursing home.”

  “Well, to hell with that lame-ass party.” Madeline flipped on my overhead light. “Now where are we going?”

  “I assumed I was taking you home.”

  “Are you kidding? The night hasn’t even started yet.”

  She pulled a tube of lipstick and a compact mirror from her purse. “You promised to take me to a party, and I intend to hold you to your word. You’re taking me dancing.”

  “Dancing? You mean, like, at a club?”

  “Well, I’m not going to dance in the middle of the street.”

  “But what about Frank?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you—Frank’s not my boyfriend.”

  My fingers choked the steering wheel. “Of course he isn’t. Y’all just do stuff.”

  Madeline remained quiet as she applied a fresh coat of lipstick. I knew I should have apologized, but I didn’t want to. I was only repeating what she had said herself.

  After seconds of painstaking silence, Madeline closed her lipstick and snapped her mirror shut. “Pull over.”

  “But it’s dark. And we’re not even close to a side street.”

  “Pull over. Now.”

  I gulped, turned on my signal light, and veered onto the shoulder of the road. Cars whizzed past us at an alarming speed, but that didn’t stop Madeline from opening her door and marching to the front of the car. She stood with her arms crossed and glared at me until I got out.

  “Madeline, I’m sorry,” I said before I had even reached her.

  “Joshua, I know you’re upset and angry and hurt, so I’m giving you a pass.” She jabbed her finger into my chest. “But if you ever say anything like that again, I’m gonna stick my foot so far up your ass, you’ll be licking my toenail polish off your tonsils for a month.” Then she smiled. “Now give me your keys. I’m driving.”

  Not being one to argue with eighteen-year-old baristas in red sundresses, I handed her the keys and we returned to the car.

  Madeline didn’t even check the rearview mirror as she pulled back onto the road. “You’d better buckle up.” She floored the gas pedal. “I like to drive fast.”

  * * *

  “Stay here,” Madeline said as we walked up to the edge of the club. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  I stayed in the shadows of what must have been the seediest-looking building in Conway. Broken beer bottles littered the cracked asphalt pavement. There was a tinge of smoke in the air, and I wasn’t naive enough to believe it was solely from cigarettes.

  Madeline sashayed toward the bouncer. She was tall, especially in her heels, but he towered over her. She beckoned to him with her finger, and he immediately doubled over so that they were face to face. Madeline placed her hand on his shoulder and said something to him. He looked at her for a few long seconds, and finally nodded.

  Madeline smiled and waved me over. The bouncer looked even bigger up close—Jenn’s boyfriend was a dwarf compared to him. His black T-shirt struggled to contain his biceps. He sported black and brown dreadlocks and an ugly scowl.

  “This is my friend Joshua,” Madeline told him. “Like I said, he forgot his ID.”

  The bouncer sneered at me. “Give me your hand.”

  I extended my sweaty hand to him, palm up. He grabbed it, flipped it over, and plastered a rubber stamp on the back of it. “If I see you with a drink, I’m throwing you both out.”

  “Yes, sir. No drinks. I promise.”

  He nodded toward a much smaller guy standing behind a counter just inside the building. “It’s a ten-dollar cover charge.”

  My hands trembled as I pulled the money from my wallet. I handed the cashier two tens, but he shook his head and handed one of the bills back. “Just ten for you,” he said. “Free for her.”

  Madeline took my stamped hand. “It’s usually five for girls, but Patrick and Ross always let me in for free.” She winked. “I’m something of a celebrity around here.”

  Madeline led me inside the main room of the club, which basked in flickering neon lights. The entire room vibrated with every downbeat of the reggae music pumping through the sound system. I was afraid she was going to pull me onto the dance floor. Instead, she led me to a worse location—the bar.

  She pushed her way past a couple of guys and leaned against the bar, her chest resting on top of the dark wooden veneer. “Hey, Chris,” she said. “Let me have two tequila shots.”

  I hated the way the bartender leered at her, his dark eyes glued to her chest. Once he turned from her and began to pour the drinks, Madeline smirked at me. I didn’t smile back.

  “Don’t be like that, Joshua.” She stood upright again. “I’m trying to get us drinks without having to show ID.”

  “Maybe you forgot, but I don’t drink.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And I thought you said you were tired of being a saint.”

  The bartender came back, drinks in hand, eyes on Madeline. She handed him a few bills and took the drinks, a wedge of lime teetering on the rim of each glass. “Come on. It’s too crowded over here.”

  I followed her to the far end of the bar. Madeline removed the lime from one of the glasses, and without even pausing, she downed the shot. Her face scrunched up for a half second before returning to normal. Then she placed the lime in her mouth and sucked long and hard.

  At that instant, I knew I would be jealous of limes for the rest of my life.

  “Hmmm.” Madeline ran her tongue over her lips. “Good stuff.”

  I wondered just how good those shots were. I mean, if Madeline and the guys from youth group and just about everyone else in Conway could drink, maybe it wasn’t that big a deal.

  Hey, even Jesus turned water to wine, right?

  Maybe Madeline sensed a shift in my thinking, because she nudged the other shot toward me. “You can have it, if you want it,” she said, her voice low and throaty and dead sexy. But before I could decide whether to reach for it or not, she pulled it back. “No, you’d better not. Someone has to drive.”

  Yeah. Lucky me.

  She knocked back the second shot, and the same pained expression came to her face. “Yuck! I may as well be guzzling gasoline.”

  “Then why even drink it?”

  She placed the shot glass next to the other one, both stained with lipstick. “Because it’s fun.”

  Madeline sat down on one of the stools, and I just about came unglued with the way she straddled that seat, that dress of hers barely hiding her shiny brown thighs.

  “I don’t bite.” She patted the stool next to her. “You can sit beside me.”

  I sat down and Madeline took my hand. She laced her fingers through mine and held my hand in her lap. Her red dress scorched my skin.

  Madeline swayed in her seat for the next few songs, and I sat there watching her sway, wanting to be pulled along with her.

  I could have sat there forever and watched her, but when the DJ played a different, more upbeat type of reggae, Madeline jumped out of her seat. “I love dancehall!” She started toward the dance floor, lugging me behind her. “Come on,” she coaxed. “Dazzle me with your greatness.”

  I was so busy watching her walk, I almost tripped as she weaved through the crowd forming on the dance floor. “I’m not much of a dancer,” I yelled over the music.

  She stopped in the middle of the floor and placed my sweaty hands on her soft hips. “Just move from side to side. Sway a little.”

  Maybe it was my imagination, but I swore I could make out a pair of lace underwear beneath her dress, beneath my fingers.

  Madeline moved her body, perfectly in tune with the music. I shuffled my feet and tried to do the same, but the song was too fast. I focused on my feet, watching them stumble back and forth, side to side.

  After a few seconds of me floundering around, Madeline stopped moving. “You’re thinking about it too hard.”

  I kept staring at my feet. “The music’s too fast. I feel like I’m making a fool of myself.”

  She took my face in her hands and made me look up. “Stop worrying about what other people are thinking. Nobody’s looking at you.”

  I glanced around. It was true—everyone else was too busy grooving to the music to pay attention to me.

  “Close your eyes. Listen to the music. Let it take over your body.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to relax. My feet moved from left to right. My hips swayed in rhythm to the beat of the song. I breathed in the music, letting it pump through me.

  I opened my eyes to see Madeline beaming. “Much better,” she said.

  We continued to dance—if you could call what I was doing dancing—for two songs. Just when I felt like I was gaining control over my rhythmic spazzing, the DJ switched to a slow song with a soft, pulsating beat.

  I stopped dancing, unsure what to do with my hands, with my body. “We can sit this one out if you want,” I said. “I don’t really like slow songs.”

  She grinned. “What? Don’t you want to get close to me?”

  “Well, I…”

  Madeline slid her arms around my neck and leaned into me, and I lost the ability to speak. My arms tightened around her waist, my palms resting on the curve of her bottom. Her scent engulfed me.

  “You’re a good slow dancer.” She laid her head on my shoulder; her body melted into mine. “I like the way you hold me.”

  I liked the way I held her as well.

  * * *

  “You’re not as bad a dancer as you think you are,”

  Madeline said when we left the dance floor a few songs later. “Your body has a natural rhythm—if you allow it to be taken over by the music.”

  We headed to one of the booths along the far edge of the club. Madeline hesitated as we passed the bar, but didn’t stop.

  We slipped into the booth. This time, she didn’t have to ask me to sit by her. “How’d you learn to dance like that?” I asked.

  “I used to take classes. Dad made me stop, though. He said my movements sent ‘mixed messages.’”

  “That sounds like something my dad would say.”

  Madeline shook her head. “Your dad is a good, kind man. He’s nothing like my father.” Her eyes glowed with sadness. “Let’s talk about something else. I don’t like getting depressed when I drink.”

  “Your dad…” I stopped, letting my words disappear into the pounding music and flashing lights. Now wasn’t the time to discuss her father, but then again, it never seemed like a good time.

  What had he done to her? Why didn’t she ever want to talk about it?

  I just wanted her to talk to me. Then maybe I could help her. I could show her how beautiful and perfect she really was.

  We sat there, friends and strangers at the same time. After a while, an old guy walked by with a container of roses. “Want to buy a rose for the pretty girl?” He looked like he hadn’t shaved in years, and he smelled like wet newspaper. “Only three dollars.”

  I reached for my wallet. “I’ll take a red one.”

  Madeline grabbed my wrist, her fingers sticky and damp. “Joshua, what are you doing?”

  With my free hand, I pulled three crisp dollar bills from my wallet. “What do you think?”

  “Have you looked at those roses? They look like he pulled them from the bottom of a ditch.” She let go of my wrist. “If you really want to buy something, get me another drink, not a rose.”

  I laughed, even though I knew she wasn’t joking.

  I handed the guy my money. Maybe he was annoyed at Madeline, or maybe he was upset that I didn’t give him a tip, because he bypassed all the decent roses and handed me the most god-awful-looking one, yellow with torn petals and a crooked, thorny stem.

  Madeline turned toward the man, who had already moved on. “Hey, what the hell is this supposed to be?” she yelled. “This is a damn rip-off.”

  “Madeline, calm down.” Trying not to prick myself, I gently peeled off the worn outer layers. I held it in front of me to inspect, and sure enough, I caught my thumb on one of the thorns.

  “Take it back and get another one,” she said. “You deserve better for your money.”

  I broke off the top three thorns and then broke off the stem below that. I extended the rose to her. “There you go, good as new.”

  Madeline stared at the flower for a few seconds, her hand hovering in the space between me and her. “Thank you,” she said, finally taking the rose. She brought it to her nose and took in its scent. “It’s beautiful.”

  I scooted closer to her so that her thigh pressed against mine. “I don’t know what happened between you and your dad, but I think—”

  “Shhh.” Madeline put her fingers to my mouth. “You know, most guys would have tried to kiss me by this point in the date.” She tucked the rose behind her ear and smiled that beautiful smile of hers. “I’m starting to wonder what’s taking you so long.”

  I tried to think of something charming or witty or romantic to say, but instead I just said, “I thought this wasn’t a date?”

  Madeline paused, her lips floating in front of me. In my head, a big red neon sign flashed: Stupid, Stupid, Stupid! She laughed. “Shut up, you big saint, and kiss me.”

  And, being the good obedient boy I was, I did.

  chapter 11

  Although it’s not stated as such in the Bible, most people think that lust is one of the seven deadly sins. After that first kiss with Madeline, I had to agree.

  As I pulled up to her aunt’s house, many hours and kisses later, my whole body hungered for her, quivering and tingling. I turned to her and she obliged, sliding her hand behind my head and pulling me to her face. I tasted the tequila and lime on her lips, on her tongue, but I ignored it. Once you got used to the taste, it wasn’t that bad. After a few minutes, she pulled away and took a breath. “You’re quite the kisser, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged. How was I supposed to answer that?

  She took my hand and pecked my fingertips. “I like kissing you,” she said. “I like being with you. It’s so…I don’t know. Simple. Easy.”

  We sat in silence, my hand cradled in hers, her fingers soft against my skin. I watched her—studied her—as she looked out of her window toward the house. None of the lights were on inside.

  It’s funny, but the more I sat there, taking in Madeline’s shape, the more I thought about what Jenn and Tony had said to me earlier that night. To them, I was a saint. A prude. A guy who lived for everyone else, not for himself.

  I didn’t want to be that guy. Not tonight. Not with Madeline.

  But before I could summon the courage to do anything, Madeline released my hand. “I should go.” Her breath fogged the window. “Tequila always gives me a hangover in the morning.”

  “Can’t we hang out a little more?” Good Lord, I was practically begging.

  “Just being curious, if we did hang out, what would you do? What would we do?”

  I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

  She leaned over and kissed me quickly, saving me from the shame that was no doubt etched on my face. “Come on. It’s getting late.” She touched her rose, still perched behind her ear. “Plus, I want to get this in some water.”

  We got out of the car and headed up the steps. I tried not to focus on her body as she swayed in front of me.

  She stuck her key into the doorknob, but didn’t unlock the door. “What if…” She let her hands fall to her sides, her purse bouncing against her thigh. “What if I called Frank tomorrow and told him I didn’t want to see him anymore? Would you be okay with that?”

  I nodded, even though she wasn’t looking at me. “I’d like that a lot,” I said. I fought the urge to say more.

  Madeline turned around then, her purple lips beckoning to me in the darkness, and kissed me. I breathed her in, savoring the taste of tequila and lime.

  With a light thud, her purse fell to the wooden porch. I slid my hand to her stomach, then around her waist. My fingers ached to touch her.

  Madeline pushed herself even further into me; her tongue danced circles with mine. She ran her fingers along the back of my neck. Her thumb pressed hard against the vein throbbing underneath my skin.

  A sigh escaped from her lips—or perhaps I was the one who sighed. I wasn’t sure anymore; the lines between our bodies and mouths and skin had blurred to the point where I couldn’t tell where I ended and Madeline began.

  I moved my hand to her face, her cheek sticky and warm. My hand slid lower, and I hesitated for a half second as my fingers brushed against the silver cross hanging from her neck.

  I could do this.

  I was not a saint.

  I was not a prude.

  My hand floated lower and lower, until my fingers cupped her breast. I squeezed.

  She breathed in hard, and the kissing intensified. I drowned in the wetness and warmth of her mouth. I pushed against her, sandwiching her between me and the reddish orange brick of her aunt’s house.

  I squeezed harder, kissed harder. I wanted her so badly. I wanted…

  Wait.

  Something was wrong.

  Her hands lay frozen on the back of my neck. Her lips remained still against mine; her breaths were non-existent.

  I opened my eyes and she stared back at me, her gaze a mixture of sadness and surprise.

  “Joshua…” She pushed me away, firmly but not forcefully. “We can’t…I can’t—”

 

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