An excerpt from Sidestepping Reality, Jess Mariano's third novel
Olivia seemingly appeared out of thin air, a mystical being haphazardly staring in his oh-so common tale of woe and misery. A manic pixie dream girl tailored fit to garnered looks of disapproval and sympathies, her idiosyncrasies off putting, but nevertheless magnetic and alluring, pulling even the doubters into her orbit, never loosening her grip and never letting go.
It was a common narrative, an unoriginal anecdote known to all. The story of a boy meeting a girl and the universe revolving backwards, upending even the most common of senses. Another allegory of lust and betrayal and of hope and loneliness filling yet more bounded pages, words reluctantly streamed together telling yet another uninspired tale.
She had the ability of constructing mountains and reaching for the moon and stars before tearing them down with insecurities and thoughtlessness, going against type while reinforcing the self-imposed trope. She aroused something within him, ever since showing up at his parent's Christmas party with nothing but a blouse and jeans during one of the coldest night in winter, never minding the snowstorm roaring outside.
"Come on," she said, as she nudged him along, not waiting to seek nor accept his approval. Her long blonde hair effortlessly floated alongside the wind, tangles unheard of as it settled back down on her shoulders. "Live your life. Don't hold back."
Words she repeatedly uttered, a steady reminder of their radically different approach in life. His was the cookie cutter variety and hers was laying everything out on the table and not looking back. She would speak those words with exasperation or with careful thought, trying to convince others, but mostly herself, that the self-conceived adage had conduct and perception. In reality, these words were masking a malady of hesitancy and alienation.
"We're just skinny-dipping, not robbing a bank, Robert," she said, pulling him along to the edge of the lake. She quickly tore off his clothes before working on hers, giving him a full kiss on the mouth after she successfully rendered them naked, bare skin to bare skin, tongue clashing tongue, urgency highlighting every adventure and every mundane task. "Meet me in the middle," she at last uttered, pulling herself away from him without a care in the world. "I'll tell you a secret."
Robert watched as this outlandish being ran into the darken waters, the moon had yet to come out behind the clouds. The trees guarded their unseemly actions from the world beyond. His mouth tasted metallic, a playful departing bite on the lips before she left his side, claiming him as belonging to herself, while refusing to let him claim her.
He walked slowly to the waterfront, taking a tentative step into the lake before him. The water was freezing, bumps suddenly appeared on his skin. He heard her singing somewhere out in the lake, her voice an angelic melody, taunting him and enticing him.
"Robert," she sang. "Come find me." Another nudge. Another entrance into her merry-go-round.
He took another step into the lake before deciding to fully immerse himself into the waters. Finding her in the middle, just as she said, he impulsively grabbed her close and instigated another kiss, the cold water doing nothing to hide his desire for her. She was the pathway out of this small-town life, where point B must always followed point A and never diverged from the path.
"Slow down, mister," she said, breaking free and taking a deep breath. "We have all night for that." She gave him another kiss, pulling him ever so closer. "All night to play," she whispered, her voice holding conviction, saying the right words and wanting them to be true. "All night to have fun."
She gave Robert a seductive smile before pulling away.
His voice barely held traction as he called after her. "So, what's the secret?"
"You wouldn't like it," she replied. The water splashing added to the sounds of crickets and frogs that filled the night air, sounds he associated with childhood, summer filled with camp stories and s'mores, back when he believed in the lies told around a campfire.
"I never liked what you do," Robert admitted, feeling bold behind the statement. He never had the audacity to get what he desire in life, letting others pull him along and granting him access to his own life. "But I always come around. I never made the point to stop you. I am not your keeper."
Olivia beckoned him over with a nod of her head, standing in the shallow part of the lake, the water only going up to the middle of her breasts.
He swam over, always following, never leading. She had a long shadow over him, encasing him whole but never suffocating. Even she did not have far flung expectations for him.
Olivia waited till he was standing in front of her, her fingers playfully walked across his chest before going lower. "I'm planning on leaving."
His skin tickled with her feather-like touches. "So is every teenager in this town."
"No," she said sternly, hand flat against his naval. "I'm leaving."
Robert was cold all over, the only heat came from her hand. All of the sudden, she stepped closer to him, breathing him in and tasting him with her tongue. "Come with me," she whispered, her breath hot against his chilled skin. "Let's see what the world has to offer us."
Her touch was blinding him, confusing his senses, going from hot to cold and back to desire. Her fingers were talented and he reciprocated her actions with ones of his own. He heard her breaths quicken, becoming short spurts as he worked to give her pleasure, afraid to be another boring and mundane part of the town she desperately wanted to escape from. Robert wanted to leave a mark on her, like she had done so on him. He wanted to be one with her, giving in to chance and circumstance.
All of the sudden she stopped, withholding desires and prolonging gratification. Olivia gave him another seductive smile, tongue between her teeth, eyes filled with mischief, before entangling her legs with his. "Run away with me."
Robert held his breath. The moment he was waiting for presenting itself; she was never his to begin with. He worked his fingers again, hearing her sigh with content. He gave her this, his attention, his affection. She had a sway with him, with all the teenage boys in their class. Her touch was magic, fleeting and encompassing. She gave him this, this moment, but nothing more, just as he knew that he would eventually not go with her, if she even make it out; the town refused to let go of its grip, dragging every inhabitants back where they belonged and punishing them for daring to dream.
But were they true?
They were all excuses and lies, forcing falsehoods to fiction and giving shortcomings justification. This was how the townspeople coped, passing down their doubts and defects generations after generations. Lies he inherited and lies he told himself, giving himself reasons to not react, to the girl in front of him, to standard expectations exerted by his parents, his teachers, his friends.
Robert closed the distance between them, tongues clashing once again, before giving himself to her.
Screw expectations. Screw this town.
He would take charge of his story. He would be his own damn author of his demise and his own damn author of his heroic deeds. He would be the one to paint his story with words of his own making, not through the scribe of another. Not anymore.
"Okay."
Author's Note: There's always a heading at the beginning of the chapter, usually describing either the content of the chapter or the time period in which the chapter is set. Just FYI. :)
