Chapter Text
Chrissy hates it when people bail on group projects.
Especially when that means being left alone with Eddie Munson, the long-haired freak, outside his decaying trailer home. The chill in the air making her bare legs tremble. The autumn sun disappearing rapidly.
“Are you cold?” Eddie asks after the most awkward small talk of Chrissy’s life. Featuring Eddie smoking and rambling. Going on and on about missing guitar amps and the inebriated antics of his friends while she nods semi-agreeably, eyes averted.
She’s standing as far as she possibly can from him, holding her books close. Jotting down notes about Saturn with numb fingers in the fading light. Anything to not have to look at her assignment partner directly.
“I’m o-okay,” she says, jaw chattering.
He takes a long drag of smoke before exhaling it towards the red sky. “You’re vibrating.”
She musters a glance upwards, though she can never hold that deep brown gaze long without her skin burning. “I’m f-fine.” She quickly looks away again, but can feel his eyes on her, unsettling. Seeing into her somehow.
Too aware.
“Impressive lying, Cunningham. The clanking teeth really sold it.” His tone is dry as he glances at his watch. “Okay, it’s been twenty minutes and still no sign of Stooge number three. Shall we go inside or would you rather chip a molar out here?”
Chrissy hates that it’s come to this, but she needs a good grade in this class even if that means being alone with him. She sighs. “Go inside, I guess.”
“Well, don’t sound too enthused now.” Eddie flicks his cigarette to the ground and digs his heel into the remains. “Fucking Milton. Leaving it all up to us.”
Chrissy grimaces. From what she’s heard about Eddie, she’s positive that it will all be up to her considering this is his third attempt at twelfth grade. She clears her throat and follows after him into the trailer, which isn’t that much warmer than outside.
It smells a bit off in here, like the garbage hasn’t been taken out in a few weeks. She wrinkles her nose at the piling dishes in the sink. It’s definitely nothing like her place.
“The lady is displeased,” Eddie says through a smirk. “Sorry it’s not all chandeliers and roses.”
Chrissy’s brows pinch, annoyed by his tone. “I didn’t say anything, did I?”
“You’ve got one of those faces that hides nothing. It’s one of your more interesting traits.”
That’s the last thing she wanted him to say. All she’s been trying to do since she’s arrived is hide.
Eddie folds his arms, leans against the kitchen counter behind him. “Why didn’t we do this at your place again? This isn’t exactly a prime location. Barely got any room here.”
Because her parents would not allow Eddie Munson anywhere near her house, even if he’s assigned to be her science partner. They don’t even know she’s here right now.
She hitches her books higher in her arms, the weight of the bag on her shoulder feeling heavier by the minute. “I try not to be home as much as possible.”
And that’s the truth.
Eddie scans her over, head slanting. Something she feels more than sees. He doesn’t press her though it seems like he wants to ask questions.
Instead he says, “Sit down”, in a firm tone.
“Sorry?”
He lifts his chin towards the couch. “You sit down. I’ll clear the coffee table.’
A slight flare in her gut at him telling her what to do. It’s bad enough that he’s a freak. Does he have to be bossy on top of that?
Eddie sweeps the empty beer cans and cigarette butts into a small garbage bin as Chrissy seats herself on the sagging couch. Plops her bag on the floor. She glances around, eyes searching the strange collection of baseball hats on the wall. The sea of clutter. Trying not to notice Eddie’s lean body as he maneuvers around the cramped premises. As he lays old newspaper down on the coffee table.
She’s always trying not to notice him.
Just as he presses down the last piece of newsprint, he catches her gaze. A shock to her nervous system. His mouth twitches at the corner and she quickly focuses on writing down notes, eyes glued to the paper. Warmth floods her chest and face, the cold temperature forgotten.
Then Eddie sinks down next to her and she’s immediately struck by the static-filled pulse between them. An invisible tissue that writhes and kicks. Powerfully uncomfortable.
His couch is too small. His knees are practically grazing hers. Can’t he bring up a chair and sit on the other side of the table? Maybe she should sit on the floor-
“So you brought supplies, right?”
“Oh. Yeah.” She starts digging the items out of her bag, placing them on the table. Styrofoam balls. Brushes. Acrylic paint. “Did you bring the wires?”
“Got em’ right here.” Eddie lays the thin metal wires across the table. “Let’s make a fucking solar system.” He grins, giving jazz hands for emphasis.
God, he’s such a loser.
Which is unfortunate because he has a great smile.
Not that she’s focusing on it.
“How many balls do you want?” Chrissy offers him a styrofoam sphere.
“Already got a pair.”
Ugh. Of course he’d make things awkward. “Could you not?”
“What? You walked right into that one.” He takes the styrofoam from her. “Gimme approximately half of eight.”
Chrissy rolls her eyes and passes him three more balls, successfully avoiding touching his fingers. Then she cracks open a tube of acrylic paint.
“Wait, which planet are you doing?”
“Venus.” She reaches for a paintbrush.
“No fair, I was hoping for Venus.”
“I’m a girl so I should have it.”
“Oh, of course.” Eddie picks up each ball one by one to squint at her handwritten labels for every planet. “Okay, I guess I’m doing Mars if we’re going to be so on the nose.”
They start painting, drifting off into a tense quiet.
“You’re painting Venus pink?” Eddie breaks the silence, elbows resting on his knees.
“It’s a girly planet.”
“I don’t think it’s actually pink, though. I’m pretty sure it’s a yellowy orange.”
“If you were paying attention,” she says crisply, “you would have heard the teacher say the colors didn’t need to be accurate.”
“Really. Guess I was more focused on uh, other parts of that class.”
What is that supposed to mean? She doesn’t like how suggestive his cadence was there. Her ears are turning pink as her planet.
Another oppressive silence ensues, until Eddie punctures it again.
“So…I bet you never envisioned hanging out in my living room before.” He dips his paintbrush into a crimson glob.
“Nope.” But she has envisioned him. Many times.
He paints a bloody line down the center of a sphere.“You know, you could at least pretend to be a little more optimistic about the whole thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re like…” He gives a casual shrug. “Full of hate.”
She glances at him in surprise. “I am not full of hate.” But when she takes in his expression, she realizes he’s grinning slightly.
“Just sayin’, your energy’s all off. Usually you’re bouncy and bright-eyed. Here you’re Oscar the Grouch. I don’t know what happened to you, but I’m guessing I’m part of the equation.”
Her spine goes rigid. Tongue-tied for a dragging moment.
“Look, Eddie,” Chrissy begins, but their eyes lock in a way that has her frozen. Sucked in by the sharp perception behind his gaze. Dazed by it. She quickly collects herself, facing away from him. “-I’m not going to pretend that I’m thrilled to be here. Because I’m not. You’re not exactly the type of person I want to hang out with.”
“Ouch.” Eddie’s brushwork remains steady. “And why’s that?”
“You won’t like what I have to say.”
“Probably not, but I’m dying to hear it.”
She takes a breath, uneasy, yet unable to stop herself from blabbing.“Let’s be real. You’re…a juvenile delinquent. And if anyone found out I was here, they’d try to come rescue me.”
“Hm. Okay.” Eddie quirks his head, making a face like he’s attempting to process this. Obviously exaggerated for effect. “That’s weird, because from the way you stare at me all the time, you’d think I was prime hang-out material.”
The air fills with a sudden gravity. Weighing her down, her bones pressurized.
Eddie’s voice is a lazy, knowing lilt as he paints with precise strokes. Gaze on the half-red orb in his hand. “You think I’m blind, Chrissy? Think I don’t feel your eyes on my back everytime I walk down the hall?”
Chrissy laughs abruptly, but there’s this nervous trill behind it that she knows is a dead giveaway. “You’re totally delusional.” Pink paint drips from her brush to the newspaper in a neon splat. “Like, you’re joking, right?”
Eddie lifts his shoulders briefly, still focused on his handiwork. “Maybe I am or…” He dips his brush again. “Maybe you’re in denial.”
Chrissy scoffs, sweat prickling. “You’re so not my type.”
“Oh? And what is your type, Chrissy? Is it Jason?”
She bristles, defensive. “Of course it’s Jason!”
"See, that’s what I don’t get. You’re all hugs with him and all hungry eyes with me.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Something’s not adding up here.”
Her breath is compressed in her throat, trapped there.
“I…” Chrissy blinks at him, wild-eyed, her mind churning for a smart retort that won’t come. “I won’t even acknowledge that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not true!” She lays down her brush and stands up, poised to flee. Tugging awkwardly at her skirt, smoothing it. “Can I use your bathroom?”
Eddie gestures down the hall, slow and smug. “Don’t get lost now.”
Chrissy makes a beeline for the nearest toilet before finding herself in a closet-sized crypt of a restroom. A dull bulb haloing her in yellow light. Exposing her worry in the small mirror.
It was a mistake to do this alone with him.
She doesn’t get why she’s so easily flustered by him, so flushed and confused in his presence.
Maybe she should go home. Fake a sudden flu. Anything to escape his cutting analysis of her.
Or maybe he’s just a little too similar to the guy in her fantasies. The ones where she’s overwhelmed by leather, long hair, and throbbing guitar solos. The ones that won’t quit no matter how many times she kisses Jason. No matter how many times she lets him feel under her skirt.
She stares at herself in the mirror, cupping her face with hot hands. “What is wrong with you?”
But despite her anxieties, Chrissy knows she won’t leave here without that project being done. It’s non-negotiable. If she doesn’t get a good grade her mom will have a fit. Maybe even restrict her free time if she’s in the mood. She’s done it before. Shrunk Chrissy’s world into a small orbit where even Jason isn’t allowed to enter.
And the thought of either Jason or her mother finding out where she is right now only encourages her to want to get this whole ordeal over with as soon as possible.
So after mindlessly washing her hands with a dried-out bar of soap, Chrissy returns to the living room, where Eddie is working on his third planet. He gives her only a brief glance, but the charge between them is still as volatile as when she left.
She swallows her nerves and keeps her distance. Sitting on her knees at the opposite end of the coffee table instead of right beside him. Which ends up just as unnerving because she can feel him looking down at her. A trailer park king on his ratty throne.
She picks up her paint brush and gets back to work.
After he doesn’t say anything for awhile, Chrissy thinks maybe the ordeal is over. That they can return to some semblance of normalcy.
Eddie shatters that hope. “Did you just go to the bathroom to get away from me?”
Chrissy pauses mid-brush stroke. “Could you like, try not to make things uncomfortable for one second? You’re relentless.”
“Hey, I gave you a good few minutes,” Eddie says through one of those teasing half-grins. “You try to escape out the window?”
Chrissy stabs her brush into pink paint, already half dried-out. “I want an A in this class and I’m gonna get it. If that means putting up with you, so be it.”
“Wow, so brave and courageous of you,” Eddie drawls as he sets a glistening green ball on a piece of newspaper.
She keeps her mouth shut. Astonishingly, so does he. They continue the project in an edgy, unpleasant dance of dipping into paint and avoiding each other’s gaze.
After they finally finish painting the planets, the colors lined up like a rainbow before them, Eddie stretches. Extends his arms above his head and cracks his neck with a loud pop that makes her wince. “Wanna get high?”
Chrissy jerks her head up to look at him with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”
His expression is contained. Darkly amused. Like he doesn’t care how much this question rattles her. Like he enjoys it. “Come on, you could use the loosening up. You’re wound up so tight you’re gonna snap in half.”
“I am not uptight.”
“Just in my presence.”
“For good reason.”
“Fair.” He drums his fingers on his knees. “But I’m still gonna smoke that joint.” Eddie rises with a grunt, grabs the metal wires off the table, and casually heads down the hall.
Annoyed that he’s getting stoned before the project is finished, Chrissy eventually follows him. She’s not sure why. To scold him? To tell him yet again that he’s a bad person?
Or maybe just to see what his bedroom looks like.
His door is wide open when she catches up to him. Eddie is sitting on the edge of his bed, one foot on the floor, the other resting on the mattress. He’s rolling a joint between his fingers. Licking it with a well-practiced motion that’s hard to tear her eyes away from. Especially when he looks at her mid-glide.
Chrissy stands at the threshold, hesitant. She takes in his lair. The band posters. The mess. The musty smells of Nag Champa incense and teenage boy. She can’t help but notice how the aesthetic that won’t leave her daydreams is all over his walls.
“Could you make a choice about being here or not?” Eddie lies back in his bed, hand behind his head, joint between his fingers. Evidently ready to relax. “Close the door if you’re staying. Put the towel under it.”
Chrissy stands there for a beat, then obeys. Pushing a ratty old towel against the closed door with her foot. “I’m assuming you’re not allowed to do this?”
“No, I’m allowed, Uncle Wayne just doesn’t like the smell permeating the entire premises.” He leans to light a fresh stick of incense on his bedside table.
“Nice guitar,” she gestures to the black electric instrument on his wall. She’s never heard him play, but rumor is he’s good. Real good.
“She’s my baby.” He cracks open his window. “And with any luck she’ll take me to the big time.” A nonchalant statement, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness there.
Chrissy sits on the floor as elegantly as she can. Unsure how she feels about being on a carpet this dirty, yet unable to get closer to him. Clinging to some semblance of decency by keeping space between them.
“Why are you even here?” Eddie asks around his joint as he lights up. He takes a quick few drags and weed burns pungently. Exhales a voluminous cloud as he stares at her. “Go home, Chrissy. I’ll finish up the details and we’ll call it even.”
“It’s not even at all,” she protests. “I wrote the accompanying essay for it.”
“I did offer to help, you know.”
“We both know academics aren’t your strong suit. I thought I’d save you the energy.”
He stills, furrowing his brows. “It’s incredible how casually insulting you are.”
“Sorry,” she says, quieter, wondering why she feels at liberty to insult him. She knows she’d never be able to talk to Jason that way. In fact, she’d be afraid to.
“Do I provoke you?” Eddie says between drawn-out inhales of smoke. “You’re nice to pretty much everyone except me.”
“No,” she says weakly, looking at the old carpet. Feels his assessment of her all the while. Him looking her up and down. Absorbing her. Taking her in.
She doesn’t dislike the feeling.
A tense silence before Eddie pipes up. “New rule. If you’re going to be in this room, you have to get high.”
She lifts her head to look at him, eyebrows raised. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” he assures her. “Or I won’t do the wires.”
Her eyes bulge. That’s just cruel. It’s one of the most critical parts of the assignment. They need to hang up the planets. Otherwise it’s just a bunch of painted orbs. “But you have to.”
“No, I don’t. I got good grades this year. Failing this assignment would only bring my mark down by 10 percent and all I gotta do is pass.”
Chrissy bites the inside of her cheek. Folds her arms, infuriated. How dare he dangle this over her? What is his problem?
Then something urgent inside her rears its head.
Something rebellious. Something that wants to prove he can’t shake her. She’s not a total stranger to this. She’s tried pot before at a party once. It tasted gross and made her tired. She was okay after that.
She’ll be okay after this too.
“Fine.” She crawls over to him. As she’s doing so, she realizes that he can probably see her cleavage from this angle. Why did she wear the shirt that always gapes open when she bends over?
She sits down on her knees in front of him. Watching him laid back on the mattress above. A part of her wants him to pet her head. It’s a such a strange and violent want.
She ignores it. Takes the joint from him, skin touching with a little spark. Inhales twice, coughs. Eyes watering.
“Tastes awful,” she croaks, returning the joint to his warm fingers.
Eddie doesn’t respond, just watches her. Like he knows he’s observing a rare and unprecedented event.
The high hits within minutes. Colors brightening. The fabric against her skin oddly sensual. “Oh my god, what is this?”
“Maui Wowie.” Eddie takes one last hit off the joint and then tamps it in his bedside ashtray. “Good shit, huh?”
“It’s so strong.” She presses a hand against his bedspread, steadying herself.
“You expected different? I hope my rep is better than that.” A pause. “You alright down there, Cunningham?”
She cups her forehead in her palm. “I feel dizzy.”
“You uh, can lie down if you want.” Eddie pats the bed beside him. Then he catches her wary look and promises, “I won’t do anything.”
Chrissy doesn’t know how to respond to this. Especially the concept of him doing something or what that would entail. The entire premise of lying next to him feels dangerously suggestive, and also…enticing.
It should not be enticing.
“Want me to drive you home?” Eddie asks flatly.
She shakes her head. Stares at her hand on his bedspread before taking a long breath. Her vision is fuzzing over in a pleasant way, and she finds herself staring at his thick-fingered hand resting on his stomach. At the long stretch of his legs. The rise and fall of his chest under his Metallica shirt.
He looks so comfortable.
“Move over.” Before she can fully comprehend her actions, she climbs onto his bed as he shifts. Pastes her spine to the mattress and watches patterns emerge on the textured ceiling.
The electricity between them is downright scary. As if the space between them has an alien life of its own. If she thought it was intense before, it is far worse under the influence.
“Well, this is fascinating,” Eddie says after a hazy beat. “You’re a total lightweight, huh?”
“You smoke too much pot.”
“Yeah, that’s for sure.” Eddie nods in her peripheral.
Chrissy goes quiet, hoping he won’t say anything more about this. That he won’t notice how taut this moment is. How vulnerable.
“You know, I have to be honest with you, Chrissy.” Eddie finally says, turning his head to watch her. “You’re insanely hot.”
“What?” Chrissy sputters, horrified, riveted.
Flattered.
“Like, now that I have you in my bed, it just has to be said.”
“Have me?” She attempts to look him in the eye but the reality of his attraction hits her so hard, all she can do is stare at his mouth. Which…does not make this moment easier. “I’m just resting here so I don’t walk into a wall.”
“That bad?”
“Yes.” She forces her gaze from his full lips to the ceiling again. “My body is melting.” And the pot might not be the only reason for that.
“Mine too,” Eddie says, though he seems far more at ease and lucid compared to her. Taking her in with those probing, dark eyes. “So it’s perfect conditions for us to reveal our deepest secrets to each other, right?”
“You are crazy.”
“Yeah, but you knew that already so this shouldn’t come as a surprise, should it?”
It’s disconcerting how he has a slick answer for everything. How he pulls the rug from under her at every step. She doesn’t know what would pull the rug from under him. If she denied him? If she gave in and followed him into his weird little world?
But…she did follow him.
And his world is intoxicating. Making her flush-faced and deeply interested in whatever happens next.
“Fine,” she says, demure hands folded on her belly. “You first. What’s your big, deep secret?”
“I have a huge crush on you.”
Her lungs are not functioning, her air stunted. “Oh.”
“I know,” he says easily. “I don’t make it as obvious as you do.”
She can’t believe his casual arrogance, even as it does something to her insides. “I don't get what you mean.”
“You clearly want to jump me.”
“What the hell!” She smacks his arm, open-mouthed.
Eddie grins. “Anyway, now it’s your turn.”
She shakes her head, still reeling.“I am not saying anything to you.”
“Alright, you can kiss that A goodbye, Cunningham.”
Chrissy groans, pressing her hands to her scalp. “Okay. Fine.” She blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m a virgin.”
She’s not certain why she said it. Maybe it’ll keep Eddie away from her? She’s not some slut trying to jump everyone. She has standards!
“Well, that was a given,” Eddie snorts.
“A given?”
“You don’t exactly scream experience.”
“I have some experience,” she gripes.
“Oh yeah, you’ve done other stuff?” he asks a little too lightly.
“Yes.” A short nod.
“Like…?”
“I’m not going to tell you.” And if she did, he’d probably find her hopeless. All she’s experienced is Jason’s fumbling beneath her underwear a few times. Sweaty and awkward and stinging. Not the ecstatic highs she’s heard whispered about in the girl’s locker room.
“To be honest,” Eddie continues in a low murmur. “I’d be surprised if you’ve ever even touched yourself.”
She pinkens at his accuracy, his ability to pinpoint her most vulnerable parts. “I can’t believe we’re talking about this. I don’t even know you.”
“So you haven’t?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She can’t shut up for some reason. Like he’s tossed a fishing line at her, the hook caught in her mouth and dragging her rapidly to him. “Because I don’t know how and…Jason says only he can touch me.”
Eddie stiffens beside her. “Does he now?”
“He’s super possessive.”
A long pause. “Can’t blame him. I’d be too if I were him.”
“You’re the possessive type?” She tries to frame it as a simple question, but it comes out...interested.
“With you I might be.” A dangerous pause as she soaks that in. “I’d let you touch yourself though.”
That sends heat up her spine, makes her hyper-aware of a reality where Eddie is in Jason’s shoes. Where Eddie’s the one making sure no other guys look at her. The one wanting to know where she is at all times. Where it’s his hand pushing under her panties, exploring her.
Chrissy’s sweating so hard, she knows perspiration is seeping through her shirt. “This is so bizarre. I feel like I’m dreaming.”
“Same,” he says with a touch of humility. “You’re kinda like my fantasy come to life.”
She might pass out. “You’re making this so much worse.”
“You got any fantasies?” Eddie quickly re-directs her, opening up another iridescent world.
Chrissy’s not sure if she’s ready for that world yet. “Not really.”
“You can’t be that boring.”
Annoyed, she glares at him. “I am not boring.”
“No, but it seems you have a limited imagination.”
She knows what he’s doing. Trying to get a rise out of her. Trying to get her to bare herself even further.
Even so, she can’t help but fall for it. That hook in her imbedded deep. “Okay, I have one.”
“Oh?”
“You’re gonna laugh.”
“Try me.”
She squeezes her fingers together, pressed against her navel. A secure hold. “I want to be a groupie. In my fantasy, I mean.”
She can practically feel the flash of arousal coursing through him, and despite her mortification, it’s gratifying.
“Okay, I’m not laughing but I am surprised.” He takes a moment to muse, silent for a few breaths. “Actually, it makes perfect sense.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re sexually repressed, so of course your fantasy would be the polar opposite of what you are.”
“I am not sexually repressed!”
“Yeah, that’s why you’ve never touched yourself right?”
He’s so infuriating. Thinks he knows so much. “I have a sex drive, okay. I literally just told you my fantasy.”
“It’s all very vague,” Eddie hums. “Not a lot of detail.”
“What more do you need to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me.”
Yet another avenue where she should turn back.
She doesn’t.
“Okay. So…” She stares at the ceiling, suddenly aware of the damp heat between her legs. “Basically, I go see this rockstar backstage after the show.”
“What kind of rockstar?”
“What does it matter?”
“I just want a better grasp of what’s happening here.”
“He’s like…basically a glam rocker guy. In leather pants and silver studs. Long hair.”
“So the David Lee Roth vibe,” Eddie suggests.
“Ew, not him.” Chrissy grimaces. “More like…Nikki Sixx or something.”
“Wild.” A pause. “Go on.”
“So I approach the backstage room…”
“What are you wearing?”
“Something really revealing.”
“Revealing how?”
“Do you really need to know?”
“Absolutely. Paint me a picture.”
“I’m wearing lingerie, I guess. White lingerie. No. Pink. One of those.”
As she’s speaking she realizes that her hand has travelled down her stomach, playing at the top of her skirt. Instead of jerking her hand away, she just…inches a few fingers under the fabric. Keeps them still against her inner thigh.
The pot makes it all so easy, and she knows that Eddie is observing this without saying anything. A silent witness.
She lets it happen. Doesn’t let herself think about it.
“So I go in the room,” Chrissy says, “and he’s just lounging, spread out. And there’s a girl with him.”
“Threesome?”
“No. He wants me instead, so he kicks the girl out and beckons me over.”
“Ah, I see. You wanna feel special.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“So then what happens?”
“I go over to him,” she continues, “and he tells me that I’m the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen in his life. That he needs me right then and there.”
“Needs you for what?” A coy prod.
“Sex,” Chrissy says, blunter than intended, her inhales deepening. “He has to have me on the spot. He won’t let me go without showing me I’m his. That he owns me.”
“Damn.”
Chrissy can tell that’s an authentic reaction from him. Aroused by her admission. And for some reason it doesn’t bother her. It only pushes her deeper into the dream world. Hearing his raspy voice, his cadence, his encouragement. The subtle breaths next to her indicating his interest.
She’s right inside of it, submerged in the fantasy. All the while he watches her drown.
“So then I sit on his lap, and he’s hard.”
“Of course he fucking is,” Eddie mutters.
“And then we kiss.”
“Are you wet?” The question slices the air, piercing her.
She hesitates, heart bouncing in her chest.“I guess. I don’t really think about these things in my fantasy. It’s more about the guy.”
“I mean, right now. Are you wet?”
She’s going to burn alive. “Eddie, don’t ask me that.”
“So you are?”
A long silence. “Yes,” she says softly.
Eddie lets her sit in that tension before saying,“You really wish you could touch yourself right now, don’t you?”
He can’t actually be speaking these words. “No.”
“Your fingers are edging under your skirt, Chrissy. I’ve been watching them move for the past five minutes.”
“Don’t watch me then.”
“Watch you what? Touch yourself?”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“You can do it, you know. I won’t judge.”
And there’s something in his voice, in his inviting tone, that yanks on that hook. That reels her in until she’s flip-flopping in his hand. Fish out of water. Dying for release.
“I promise I won’t watch,” he murmurs.
“I can’t…”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because that would be deeply disturbed,” she says with a choked, nervous laugh.
“But you’re already high, in my bed, telling me your sexual fantasies. You think Jason would be okay with any of that?”
That crashes into her dreamy high, making her excruciatingly aware of the reality of this. Of what she’s already given to Eddie. To herself.
“He’s not gonna know,” she whispers.
Eddie’s voice lowers further, conspiratorial.“And he’s not gonna know you touched yourself either.”
His words linger. Tempting. Inevitable.
Her resolve shatters. “Promise you won’t look?”
He gives her a heated once-over before draping an arm over his eyes. “Promise.”
She starts thinking out loud, reassuring herself. “This is just a one time thing that’ll never happen again, so…it’s fine, right?”
“If you think it is, sure.” A grin flickers. “Your call.”
There’s a moment of waiting there, hovering on precipice. Breath held.
Then she’s pushing her hand beneath her skirt, her panties so damp it’s like they’ve been coated in slick.
This is not a common occurrence for her. Something shocking and humiliating about it. Something twisted, flying in the face of everything she knows about herself. About sex. About her pleasure.
All of this for him.
All of this for Eddie and he hasn’t even touched her.
She starts to slide her fingers up and down the crotch of her underwear, awkward, floundering at being so exposed-
“You have no idea what you’re doing, right?” Eddie’s voice pins her anxieties to the wall.
“And you do?”
“I’ve touched a few girls there before.”
“You have?” It shouldn’t surprise her at this point, not with his confidence. But it doesn’t sit well in her stomach.
Maybe she has a possessive streak too.
“Yeah, they even liked it and everything,” he teases.
“Well, you can’t touch me.” Though she desperately wants him to. The thought of his hand on her has her buzzing, achy.
But there needs to be a line here. A boundary, though Eddie’s already pushed through so many, she’s not sure where she stands anymore.
“I know,” he says. “I’m not going to do anything, but I could… help you out.”
She considers. “Like, tell me what to do?”
“Yeah.”
This is too surreal. Too loaded. Maybe she should back out now.
But before she can dwell on the consequences of this, Eddie’s voice is low and soothing beside her.“Are you touching your pussy yet?”
She swallows at his coarse language. Jason has never used that word with her before. “Through my panties, yeah.”
“Well, slide your hand underneath them.”
She hesitates. Then does just that, sensation already fluttering. “Okay.”
“Now, just….run your fingers up and down your vulva.”
Okay, so he does know the clinical words too. Most guys probably wouldn’t. Maybe it’s because he’s older. Forced to take Sex Ed multiple times.
She slides her fingers over herself and there’s a slippery-wet sound. Embarrassingly vivid to her ears.
“Holy fuck, you’re soaked,” he rasps.
Chrissy turns beet-red at his obvious appreciation. Doesn’t know what to say or if she should say anything at all.
“Uh…” She pauses, then continues, trying to get comfortable with the reality of her arousal being heard by Eddie. At this version of herself that only existed within the confines of her mind now taking center stage.
“Jesus, that sounds so sexy,” he continues under his breath
“You don’t have to say things like that.” Because it makes this too real. Too addictive.
“Yes, I do,” he says huskily. “You need to be told these things for your own good.”
“Why?”
“Because Jason isn’t going to say them like I do, is he?”
That shouldn’t make her wetter, but it does.
She can’t bring herself to answer him. “What do I do now?”
“That hard nub at the top of your pussy?” Eddie says breathily. “Your clit. You feel it?”
She caresses herself until she brushes a spot that makes her legs jolt. “Yeah…”
“Rub it super lightly.”
A slight moan from her closed mouth as her own touch startles her. She’s so sensitive down there right now. “That feels nice.”
“It’d feel even nicer if I was licking it, but I guess that’ll just be my own personal fantasy.”
“Eddie.”
“What?”
“You’re saying things that make me feel weird.” And out of control. Desperate.
“Yeah, do they make you feel hot?”
Chrissy goes silent, flustered. “I don’t know, but I know you shouldn’t be saying them.”
“That’s what makes it hot.”
And that’s when Chrissy notices that Eddie’s hand is on his crotch, cupping himself through his jeans. She can see the indecent outline of his dick. Much thicker than she anticipated.
There’s a quick clenching deep inside of her. Like her vaginal walls had an animal reaction to him. Almost painful.
She quickly jerks her head away, pretending she didn’t see that. That it didn’t do something volatile to her. “What now?”
“Just keep rubbing in little circles. Go as fast or as slow as you want, just do what feels good.”
Chrissy does, finding a pleasurable rhythm before she notices Eddie is moving his hand too. “You’re touching yourself.”
“No peeking, remember?” he drawls, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“I wasn’t-“
But then he’s unzipping himself, slowly taking his hard dick out. She sucks in a loud breath, not expecting the primal beauty of it. How it dwarfs his hand. How it drips at the head. “You better not be staring, Chrissy. It’s rude.”
Chrissy’s mouth is open, fingers frozen against her wetness. “You’re so…”
“Like what you see?” He streaks his thumb over the head of his cock in punctuation.
“Um.”
“You don’t have to answer that.” His hand starts languidly moving up and down his shaft, spreading that slick until he’s glistening. “I just like turning you on.”
He reads her so well, even without seeing her. Like her thoughts and feelings are transmitting instantly to his head. Like he’s looking through her eyes. Has a key to her that she doesn’t possess.
But he is giving that key to her now. One she never knew she had a lock for.
“Keep touching yourself,” he breathes, hips lifting slightly. “Seriously, I need to hear it.”
She complies, unable to stop herself from looking at him, even while he dutifully covers his eyes.
“I want you to slowly put your middle finger inside yourself,” he says.
She hesitates, but follows through. The sensation of filling herself up making her heart pound. Her inner thighs twitch.
“That feel good?”
“It feels a little strange…but I like it.”
“Curl your finger inside, like a hook.”
This is already far more intricate than anything Jason has done to her.
“Then press up against the inside of your pussy,” he continues. “Kinda like…wiggle it?”
Her brows furrow. “Wiggle it?”
“Like against the top part. It’s kind of hard to explain. I’d show you, but…yeah,” he fades off, resigned.
The thought of his fingers inside of her pushes her into a new realm of eroticism. She can easily imagine that it’s him doing this to her if she focuses on it. Adding a layer of fantasy that has her toes curling.
She attempts to follow his lead, and it doesn’t take long to understand what he means. The sensation far more enjoyable than she expected. She never knew she could feel anything like this before. Maybe the girls in the locker room weren’t exaggerating.
“Try rubbing your clit with your other hand.” Eddie pumps himself a little faster now.
It seems like far too much work. Like patting your tummy while rubbing your head. But she tries, and-
“Ohh.” Her own moan rattles her with its sudden intensity.
“Fucckk, don’t make sounds like that. You’ll make me come.”
She tries to stop the sound by pressing her lips together but it still comes out in muted agony.
“Think you found your sweet spot?” Eddie’s voice takes her further, deeper into the electric void swirling inside her.
Her vision starts to blur, a tingling pleasure starting-
“Think my cock would fill you up even better?” he grunts, hand now moving quickly. Helplessly. She matches the motion with her own fingers. Fucking herself. Giving herself molten pleasure, his words helping her-
Then light suffuses her and she jerks like she’s possessed. Heels digging. Heatwave rushing her. Her abdomen clenching as white fire envelops her head to toe.
As she lands back on earth, she sees Eddie jerking off rapidly, nearing his own ascension.
Then, without warning, he grabs her hand and puts her sticky fingers in his mouth. Sucking them with a swirling tongue that sends aftershocks through her. None of this feels out of place. A natural extension of their shared world.
He comes then, on his bare stomach. The sounds he makes, also amplifying those after shocks. Like she can’t quite leave this realm of lingering pleasure.
They both lay there after, shoulder to shoulder. Eddie breathing heavy, her still dizzy and starry-eyed.
“Well that was…” He drifts off, holding her damp fingers against his chest. There’s a long quiet before he gently places her hand back down by her side. “Thank you.”
There’s something so genuine about that thank you. So endearing. “Do you need some tissues?”
“Uh, yeah.” He grins, sheepish. “They’re on my side table.”
The tissues are actually a roll of toilet paper, which seems especially adolescent and funny to her now. She hands it to him and he wipes himself down.
“So, um…” she starts, at a loss for words. Still shaken by all of this. Still high from something beyond weed. Still in it. Like there’s no real comedown from this.
No going back.
“Obviously your secret’s safe with me,” Eddie says.
“Right,” Chrissy sits up, attempting to distance herself from this moment.
“And I’ll do the wires.” He pulls his shirt back down and tucks himself back in his jeans. A cautious energy emanating from him. Like for once he doesn’t know what to say.
“Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“That was…” Her voice is delicate. “Really nice.”
It’s an understatement, but she can’t quite express herself right now. Can’t admit the full depth of what she just experienced with him.
He glances quickly at her. “You were into it, huh?”
“You know I was.” Her smile is small and bashful as she turns to rest her feet on the floor, looking away from him. A bittersweet tug of emotion in her. “Whoever your next lover is, is gonna be a lucky girl.”
Next lover. Not her.
“Wow, you’ve really turned around since you first walked in here.” His dry humor returns. “Funny what an orgasm will do.”
She blushes, nodding slowly. “My first.”
She should stop admitting things to him, but it’s too easy now. He just draws truths out of her like a magnet.
“Kinda wish I could have done more than just talk to you,” Eddie says, his voice detached, but with an underlying hope that has goosebumps prickling her skin. Like he’s trying not to show just how much he wishes it.
“What would you have done?” Chrissy asks lightly, curious, a spark of underlying arousal beginning to glow again.
“I’d have kissed you for one thing.”
She glances over her shoulder. Meets his dark gaze which is just way too much to handle. Her eyes dart to the floor. “You would?”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since I first laid eyes on you, Chrissy. Of course I’d kiss you first thing.”
She sucks in a harsh breath, sweating all over again, dragged deeper into his world once more. “What else would you have done?”
“I’d have put my hands all over you.” His voice takes on an erotic timbre again. “And my mouth.”
She shivers, unable to prevent the imagery of that coursing through her mind. “Then what?”
“I’d taste you again. Your fingers weren’t enough. You taste so fucking good. I’d eat you out and make you come twice as hard as you just did.”
She’s burning up but her instincts know this is unravelling fast. Getting into territory that could make her do something far more scandalous than just touching herself in front of him. “Eddie, this is a lot.”
“I’m barely scratching the surface.”
“I know you are,” she laughs weakly, off-kilter. “But we have to stop, this is crazy.”
“I know, I know.” He sighs. “I get it.” He backs off, retreating into himself in a way that kind of hurts her heart.
After a beat she stands up. “I guess I should go home now.”
“Yeah, you probably should.” Eddie glances out the black window. “It’s super dark out now. You wanna ride?”
She hesitates. She was going to take the last bus, but a part of her isn’t ready to let him go yet. Doesn’t want this night to end. “Okay. But…don’t make fun of me.”
His brows pinch together. “Why would I make fun of you?”
So many reasons. Everything that happened in this room could be used against her. There’s a devastating fragility in that. “Because I was so…open with you. And kind of slutty-”
“Chrissy, listen to me.” His tone is soft and serious. “It’s a fucking privilege what you just gave me. I don’t take that lightly.”
That hits her hard. “You mean that?”
“I do. I’m just lucky that you flew down from your cloud to bless me.”
She's taken aback by his reverence. How he undoes her with just a few sentences. “No need for flattery.”
“Not flattery, just the truth.” He gets up off the bed, towering over her. Reminding her of their bodies again. Their proximity. The charge between them. “Let’s go.”
*
Outside, the sky is pitch-dark. The night freezing cold. The stars oddly bright in contrast, like they’re magically closer than usual. A brilliant shimmer of lights above them.
When Chrissy climbs into Eddie’s van, her emotions are ricocheting inside of her in a frenzy. Horny, embrassed, relieved, scared, sad.
Basically, she’s a disaster.
She’s a disaster because she knows she’s going to crave this for the rest of her life.
Eddie settles next to her, just as on edge. He starts the engine and when he does, bright, bold sound fills the vehicle. A guitar solo ringing in her ears. Complex and beautiful and weird. A delightful shock that vibrates through her.
He quickly punches the eject button and the music stops. “Sorry.”
“What? No, wait, that was cool. What was that?”
“That’s Corroded Coffin.”
“So that was you playing?” Her brows rise.
“Yup.”
“Wow, you’re…like…extremely talented.”
“Thanks, but you could tell that from three seconds of a song?”
She can. She doesn’t know how, but she can. “I want to hear more. Please.“
Eddie gives her a look of pride and anxiety, all in one. He pushes the tape back in and presses play. The song continues, somehow getting better and better with every note. His voice coming to the forefront too, heaving with sinuous charm. Leaving her feeling like she’s riding a roller coaster, swept away into a universe that’s feral, sexy, and unhinged.
Eddie doesn’t say anything, just drives. Just lets her listen. Lets her sink right into each thrum of his guitar. Deep in metal reverie.
After the song ends, Chrissy is blown away. Gooseflesh all over. “If you guys don’t make it, there’s something deeply wrong with this world.”
“Well, there is something deeply wrong with this world so don’t jinx it.” He grins. Then there’s a pause, tentative and almost shy. “You’re not just being nice, right? You really like it?”
“I really, really like it,” she says simply, looking at him with warmth, wanting to touch him. Stopping herself from doing so.
“That means a lot,” he replies. Then after a beat he says. “Chrissy Cunningham, queen of Hawkins, likes my music. Somebody pinch me.”
Chrissy can’t stop smiling. Can’t stop her pulse from beating faster as they carry on in pleasant silence. But it’s a heavy one too, each minute taking her closer to her world. To a cage that she’s not sure she’ll ever be able fully escape once she’s locked inside it again.
After she guides Eddie to parking a block away from her house, he turns to her with a slightly pained look behind his eyes. “So, uh, I’ll try my best to guarantee this project’s an A.”
“So sweet to me now,” she says with a teasing voice, a strange ache in her chest.
“Well, you did just make my dreams come true. Least I could do.”
There’s a beat between them that seems to tremble. Full of something unfulfilled. Hungry for a reality that can’t be.
Then, without thinking, she leans forward and kisses him.
Eddie stills for a moment, clearly surprised. Then he deepens it, offering himself to her with his mouth, with the silk of his tongue. His own vulnerability exposed to her, his own desperate need.
She pulls away, breathing hard.
“This…never happened,” she whispers, imploring him with her eyes. Needing him to understand.
“Never,” he says softly, reflecting that awareness. Respecting it.
This has to be as far as they go.
“Bye, Chrissy.” A wistful tone that makes getting out of the van feel impossible.
“Bye, Eddie.” She forces herself to open the passenger door and exits into the frigid darkness. Feeling naked. Stripped to the bone.
She heads towards her house, not looking back, but staring at the heady stars above. In awe of them.
In awe of him.
“Never again,” she repeats under her chilled breath.
But as she says the words, she hopes with her entire soul they’re not true.