She slaps the nape of her neck, giving this gnat mad props for somehow managing not to drown in her sweat. There's lots of it all over her, lots of gnats swarming, lots of people everywhere: hands sloshing through coolers of half-melted ice, legs jogging in that awkward, stilted way where the sand's deep, butts of all sizes hanging out of bathing suits.
Even though it's god-awful humid, her bikini top feels super starchy. She hasn't worn the thing since Molly's rooftop pool party at her dad's swanky Manhattan hotel where Alex spent a few hours hogging Molly's inflatable lounge-thing in the deep end while she pretended to listen about Molly's ex, and then flicked a bunch of cocktail weenies on someone's arriving Sweet Sixteen party from the balcony. That was about a year ago, and she totally didn't wash the bathing suit. So, it's been just chilling in the back of her underwear drawer, getting all stiff with leftover chlorine and junk.
Their Cherry Cokes are warm now with the bottle giving between her fingers almost like plastic wrap. They have just over a towel's length of personal space before there's some other dope with a giant sunhat or book or whatever. The shoreline looks like someone sliced the tops off several blocks worth of New York apartments, lifted everyone up, and dumped them all in the sand. There's got to be at least three hundred people just in sight. And, everything smells like a crockpot filled with garbage.
"Yo, this place is awesome!" Jesse's grinning. "I haven't been to the beach since I was like twelve."
She half-heartedly smiles and smacks another bug on her ankle. "Yeah, Coney Island is the best."
He doesn't seem to notice her sarcasm, though he frowns a little.
"Actually, that trip blew. Jake was maybe two or three months old, and my parents took us to San Diego to visit these distant cousins who were like in private schools and played tennis and could speak Chinese. Everyone was all over Jake, taking shit-tons of pictures of him in dumb, fucking baby hats."
Three little kids storm by, screaming their heads off while a skinny chick in one of those UV-blocking long-sleeved shirts runs after them.
Jesse flexes his toes in the sand. "My dad yelled at me because I forgot to put more suntan lotion on Jake when he and my mom went to collect sand dollars or some shit. Jake looked like one of those atomic fireballs, like the cinnamon candy that kills your tongue. He wouldn't stop crying, like 24/7."
He crams some chili cheese fries in his mouth. "They made me stay inside with Jake the rest of the week, and like coat him in this special baby ointment every hour. It smelled like mothballs and piss. And, my cousins didn't 'believe' in TV, so I ended up reading like Time magazines while everyone else was fucking waterskiing and playing volleyball."
"Your family sucks," she says. "One time, I accidentally left Max on Mars, and I still managed to watch all my shows and get fro-yo with Harper after school."
He shovels in another handful of fries. "I thought your dad was a hard-ass? Like he doesn't let you do magic when you want and shit, right?"
"My mom and dad act all strict and stuff when they lecture me, but it's mostly talk," she says. She dabs a bare fry in the puddle of nacho cheese, swirling it around like an edible paint brush. "They basically ignore everything I do until I slip up and they catch me like sneaking a pocket-elf into my Spanish test or putting a charm on Harper to make her a better waitress. It's like you've been in my room for days, and they haven't even popped their heads in to check up on me or anything."
"Yeah, my parents were kind of the same. Like, I was only like a topic of discussion when I'd bring back a shitty report card or I came home drunk." He picks up a rosy, pale, fractured chip of a seashell, thumbing the grooves on the top. "But, like, at least your parents still talk to you. I can't even get my mom to pick up her fucking phone."
Alex just scooped a huge glob of chili onto her tongue, so she waits a second to swallow, because this isn't a talk-with-your-mouthful kind of conversation. He's talking about his parents.
"Have you seriously not heard from your mom or anything since you bought the house back?"
Jesse shakes his head. "I guess they pretty much see me as a lost fucking cause, you know, given up and shit."
"That's really messed up." She nudges him with her leg. "I know this is super cliché or sappy or whatever, but they're missing out, like missing out on a great guy. As far as I can tell, they're just a couple of dicks."
He kind of frowns. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone call my mom a dick before."
"Ooh, too much?" she says.
"Nah. It's a little extreme, but it's like the thought that counts," he says, squinting against the sun. He lays his hand over hers, running his fingertips over her knuckles.
A seagull squawks a shrill sound over their heads, jolting the girl tanning a few towels over. There's a family under a beach umbrella next them, all creepily wearing matching blue swimsuits, chowing down on some KFC.
"Yo, what's Mars like?
She shrugs. "Uh, I guess pretty sandy, dry, and hot. It's like this except without the water, and we'd be alone."
"Could you breathe there? Or did you have like astronaut suits or whatever?"
"No suits. Wizards can breathe in space. It's pretty awesome."
"Hell, yeah it is! That's some like Green Lantern shit!"
She absentmindedly taps his knee, not sure if she really wants to say what she's about to tell him. "It's…it's not a big deal or anything. But, you're kind of the only guy I've been with who knows I'm a wizard."
"Seriously?" he says. He chews at his upper lip. "Well, you're the only chick I've been with that knows about…like the play-by-play of my life, even all the bad shit."
He chuckles. "Meth and magic; sounds like the name of like a weird-ass store that sells like tarot cards and…well, meth, I guess."
"We'd make so much cheddar," she says, smiling.
Jesse goes quiet for a minute. She starts listening to these two blonde guys talk about how being gay for Robert Downey Jr. doesn't even really count as gay when Jesse lifts his chin. "Yo, why haven't I heard this Lil Wayne song before?"
She laughs because he's doing a very white-guy head bob to the song playing on her iPod speakers. And, it's seriously freaking weird seeing him at the beach. He's lost all of his layers, wearing a light blue pair of swim trunks she bought him from Target, and his black-and-white Air Force Ones. He'd been very against flip-flops.
"It's new and Drake, not Lil Wayne." She pokes his adorably pale shoulder. "Damn son, when was the last time your skin saw daylight? You look like a naked Klondike bar."
Alex swears the mischievous glimmer in his eye makes them even bluer, which should be physically impossible, or at least like a misdemeanor or something.
"So, you're saying I'm delicious, and you'd do like all kinds of weird shit to get me in your mouth?"
She props her chin on her knee with her legs tucked into her chest. "Absolutely."
Maybe her voice is a little too gentle, soft, sincere.
He looks stunned for a minute, before he's smiling again, and he bops her side with his shoulder. "Yo, I'm not that good. You sure you're not sick of me or whatever? You know, ready to return me, like get a refund?"
Alex feels her cell phone vibrate by her elbow, and she snatches it up to see a text from Harper. All it says is "TMI ALEX!" And, Alex guesses that's pretty fair considering her last message to Harper was "Guess who rode Jesse hardcore like a motherflipping go-kart?" Although, Harper did say she wanted to me kept in the loop, and Alex had at least censored herself a little bit.
Two dudes in backwards baseballs caps start a clumsy fistfight a few yards off as a clump of children circle around them with plastic shovels raised like they're in that cool book where they kill the pig on that island. No else seems to really care.
Using his arm for leverage, she's able to stand. She twists her hair up into a ponytail. "Let's get in the water."
They have to wade through who knows how many beachgoers before they even get their legs wet. The waves are pretty mellow, and they trudge out until about chest level, the ocean feeling amazingly cool.
Alex hops along with the roll of the water. It's still for a while, so she decides to float on her back.
"You gonna like answer my question sometime today?" He's leaning over her, shadowing the sun off her face.
"Oh my gosh, stop being so sensitive. I'm not sick of you." She sighs. "But, if you keep up this whole I-think-I'm-a-toy thing you got going on, maybe I'll like pull a Twilight Zone, and turn you into a doll. Just keep you on a shelf, sitting there in your thug doll clothes with itty-bitty plastic teenths of crystal in your pockets and a tiny pack of smokes. You'd still have human thoughts or whatever, and the world would seem giant and scary."
Skimming the surface with her hands, she taps his thigh with her foot. "Then at night, I'd play with you."
"Kinky little shit," he says. He tilts closer and splashes her.
"Jerk!" She bobs to her feet, splashes him harder.
They goof off in the water for almost an hour, bodysurfing, dunking each other, mocking hairy guys in speedos. By the time they're toweling off, her skin feels like it's one giant grape corpse. He totally laughs at that joke, and she feels pretty boss about it.
She takes him to Luna Park because there's a ton of other stuff to do at Coney Island besides the beach. Standing by the front entrance, she watches Jesse excitedly freak out about the crazy scary Superman ride that straps you in at an angle that makes you feel like you're flying. He's also pretty psyched about the bumper cars and the whack-a-mole and the massive amounts of delicious fried carnival food.
Just as he's finally ready to pick a direction, she literally bumps into someone. It knocks the sunglasses right off her face. But, plowing into people is kind of a Coney Island staple, and it wouldn't be a big deal at all if the guy handing back her neon blue Ray-Bans wasn't T.J.
He's dressed like an eight-year-old: red Pokémon swim trunks, white visor with some sort of bank name stitched to the front and a piss yellow tank top with a penguin in shades, sitting on an ice cube with the words "I'm Pretty Cool" in block letters. The second he recognizes her, he tugs his mesh, drawstring bag further up his sunburned shoulder and does a legit creeper whistle, like a catcall, except twice as awkward since she's standing like right in front of him.
"Oh my, oh my. I really dropped the ball when I set up the logistics of our Facebook relationship, because I definitely should have demanded a couple of nudes." He holds out his hand. "Tasteful ones, of course."
"Not sure what to say to that. But, it was great seeing you. Can't wait for our breakup in September." She grabs Jesse's elbow to start pulling him through an opening in the crowd. But, T.J.'s spooky-as-shit super cold hand clamps down on her forearm like it's a dead thing or snot or maybe like a wad of zombie phlegm.
"Hold up. It's not every day that I get to see my social media sweetheart in the flesh," T.J. says. He's fingers do a starfish-like splay. "The very tan flesh, if I may add. Give me at least a couple of minutes to catch up."
Alex shakes him off so hard, she accidentally knocks into Jesse. He steadies her, lacing their fingers together, squeezing her hand. It comforts her like no other.
"Dude, I saw you like three days ago. I have no updates."
"Well, who's this guy getting all chummy with you?" T.J. frowns. "Did she tell you I'm her boyfriend?"
She decides to answer for Jesse, because she's pretty sure with the way he's gripping her palm, he's pretty close to breaking T.J.'s jaw.
Alex musters her fakest, polite smile. "This is my cousin."
"A cousin you hold hands with?" He kind of shrugs with his mouth drawn up. "I've heard that's pretty common in a few wizard circles. But, I always assumed if you were into that whole old-school, keeping-the-magical-bloodlines-pure deal, you'd go for Justin. I mean, you guys look at each other funny sometimes."
"What?" Alex says. It's literally the only word she can think of, because, well, what? It takes her a good second to remember she's trying to get very far away from this guy. "Just because I hold my cousin's hand, doesn't mean we're about to move to Louisiana together. Though, he did fly in from out of town, so I'd like to show him around the park while the sun's still out. I guess I'll see you…."
"Does your cousin have a name?"
A group of middle school girls in brightly colored one-pieces, nibbling on giant pretzels, wanders between them, and Alex kind of wants to tag along.
"Yes, of course he does. This is Je…." Suddenly the idea of saying his real name feels like a risk. T.J. could like Google it, and then somehow use that shit against her, or maybe even rat her out to the wizard council. "…Jedidiah."
"Jedidiah?" T.J.'s giving her an I-call-your-bullshit squint.
"Yeah," Jesse says. "I'm like Amish and shit, and I'm named after my great-great-great-grandfather who fought in a bunch of wars for our country. So, you gonna keep making fun of my name?"
Jesse ran with that like a total champ, and Alex has possibly never found him more attractive.
"Alex, how about we skip the part where I tell you that the Amish don't swear, condone wizardry, or use airplanes as means of transportation, and get to the point where I ask you for a quick snapshot of the two of us? Because I'd be a complete idiot if I didn't have a little photographic assistance to remember you in your bikini." He rummages through his bag.
"I'm gonna pass," Alex says. "The deal was one profile picture. So, yeah."
She starts to lead them away for the second time when T.J. loudly clears his throat, even raising himself up on his flip-flopped toes. "You know, I could always just, I don't know, give those TMZ guys by the shaved ice stand, stalking Ashley Tisdale, a hot tip on an up-incoming actor who can apparently be in two places at the same gosh dang time."
Alex's features still, though she manages a weak-sounding scoff. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I'm not one hundred percent sure if this is actually him or Jesse. But, from the graphic on his shirt and the ounce of weed I sold you, I'm going to take a wild guess, and say Jesse."
"An ounce, my ass," Jesse says, getting in T.J.'s face. "That was like barely an eighth, you little bitch."
T.J. grins. "I'll take who is Jesse Pinkman for 1,000. And, for bonus points, I'd like to clarify that I knew the whole time, and I just wanted to watch you flail around about your fake Amish kissing cousin. Now, are we going to take this or what?"
Before she can say anything, T.J. discreetly displays his wand from the opening of his bag. "I'm thinking Jesse's been here since at least Tuesday. So, this bad boy could do some serious damage, if you know what I mean."
Alex steps in front of Jesse on instinct, teeth gritted, voice low. "Do…not…hurt him. If you even move towards your wand, I am going to gag you with your own stupid hat and scalp you right in front of the giant teacups. Understand?"
His face has turned at least two or three shades paler, but he's still wearing that stupid smirk. "I'll show you a giant teacup. Now, come on, let's get on the Ferris wheel."
She's not up for arguing anymore, rage making her pretty edgy. So, she just marches over to the stupid Ferris wheel while T.J. elatedly follows. They only have to wait a few minutes to get on, and he waits until they've reached the top of the loop to take the picture. His arm's slung over her shoulder with his face close enough to her cheek for her to tell he's had some sort of chili very recently.
Once she's back on the asphalt and not stuck in a tiny swing with a complete douchebag, she hightails it out of there as fast as she can, pulling Jesse along. She doesn't stop zigzagging through tourists until they're safely on the other side of the park around a bunch of families.
Alex darts to the nearest concession stand and gets in line. "I could so go for a corn dog right now. You want one?"
"Yo," he says. His touch is gentle on the small of her back. "Back there, with that guy, I don't know if…."
"Can we please not talk about T.J.? We finally ditched the loser. So, let's like eat our weight in processed pork and do some fun crap, alright?" She smiles.
He gives her a tight-lipped nod.
The wait for food takes forever, so she decides to go on a few roller coasters instead. They hit up the whack-a-mole and one of those ring toss things before they manage to find an open bench close to a dart/balloon popping game and share a funnel cake. When they're down to the last couple of strings of dough, Jesse drags his fingers through the sugar and smears it across her face. She probably looks like Tony Montana, and she tries to clean herself up until Jesse tips her head back, starting to clear away the powder with the tip of his tongue.
He gets pretty close to the left crease of her lips, and she closes her eyes, opening her mouth more, silently asking for him to slip right in, because she's just now realizing she hasn't kissed him since she was delightfully jammed between him and the headboard this morning. And, that was way too long ago.
But, he stops all of a sudden, saying some shit about a couple of kids and their dad eying them the wrong way. It's whatever, because she totally passes him like three times on the go-karts, and she feels very accomplished.
At around four or so in the afternoon, it's too hot to be outside anymore, and they're kind of over the beach. They go to one of the arcades, and she can practically hear her mom scolding her for playing video games when it's so nice out. Apparently, some people actually listen to junk their moms say, because the purple-dark, glowing building is empty other than a guy with a collared shirt and a ponytail half-asleep behind the prize booth.
She gets tokens from one of the front dispensers, and picks an old-school pinball machine covered in what look like poorly-drawn, knock-off Lisa Frank cartoons. Leaning against the chilled glass shoots a cool tingle up her midriff, because she's not wearing much. Once her bikini air-dried, she just pulled back on her denim cut-offs and lime green Tom's. Adding a shirt seemed lame and a waste of time.
She pulls the lever back, and watches the ball shoot up. It clanks around a whirly doohickey. "Want to go for highest score?"
"Yeah, whatever," Jesse says.
Alex ranks up about 800 points, which she guesses is alright for a first try since she still has three balls left for her turn. Jesse isn't saying anything sarcastic or rambling or anything, and it's weirding her out. She stars another round anyway, spinning the head of a flamingo sipping a tropical drink all the way around, and she even cheers herself on.
"Oh, yeah! Who is having a beast of a day? I am!" It's a little immature, but she's trying to provoke him into some sort of response.
He's still being mime-level silent, so she glances at him to make sure he's still breathing and conscious.
Jesse's staring back at her, expression kind of hard to read, but there's definitely a strange softness there she hasn't seen much of before: a sweet, little smile on his face.
"Yo, I…uh, I just like wanted you to know that today was really awesome. Like it's nice to be able to have a good time, just goof off and shit. It's been like a long time for me, and like I appreciate it. And, I know you already said you didn't want to talk about it, but I'd be a dick if I didn't say this."
He rubs at the back of his neck. "No one's ever defended me like that before, without any like benefit for themselves, 'cause you know Mr. White says shit like he needs me alive, but then he's all up my ass and fucking calling me a worthless junkie, and he like has to have me alive to help him cook. For what I can tell, my being here is just getting you in trouble and letting assholes like T.J. take shit from you. And, you know, I'm like super grateful for you standing up for me. It's a good feeling having someone do that for you."
His words hit her like a spring-loaded pinball, and she's not paying attention to the game anymore. It actually makes her kind of sad to think she's the first person to truly stick up for him at all.
Jesse eyes dart off to the side. "Didn't you say you like summoned me here by accident? Like what spell were you trying to do?"
"I was trying to watch what happens next in the show or whatever, like a super sneak peek," she says. She pulls back the knob of the machine, not wanting to look right at him. "But, if I could go back and give myself the right spell, I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't change anything if it meant I wouldn't have been able to meet you."
Alex lets that loaded sentiment hang there like a weighed-down cheese fry. She smells smoke. The ball drops right past the flippers because she jerks around to look at him. Sure enough, a nicotine-laced cloud is streaming out of his mouth.
She rolls her eyes, and gets the next ball in position. "Hey, old-timey airplane businessman, we're like indoors. Shouldn't you put that out?"
Jesse gestures to the prize-booth dude, listlessly puffing on his own cigarette, and the two of them exchange kind of bro-like, 'sup nods.
"It's cool," he says. He braces his elbows on the side of the game right above what's either a very overweight Day-Glo orange dog or a bear with freakishly long ears.
Even from the corner of her eye, she can tell he's trembling a little, like this cigarette is calming him or something. Maybe she got too serious and freaked him out; wonderful.
A couple of seconds pass, and she turns her head just a tiny bit to see Jesse's grinning, teeth about as translucently white as his skull t-shirt under the black lights. "Yo, unless you think it's gonna get you all horned-up again."
"Pssh, yeah, right." She jabs the button for the left toggle and the ball levels a flap with an alligator and a shark skipping rope for no reason; 150 points. "Like you'd need a cigarette for that. I watched you chew your thumb nail while we were waiting in line for the Electro Spin, and I'm still rocking a ladyboner."
He coughs hard enough to rattle the machine, and the dumbass silver devil jumps completely over the toggles like a crack-head subway turnstile hopper.
She dramatically slumps her head to the side. "Aww, I was so about to take down that tiger luau-themed hula-hoop party."
Before she can even flip open her cross-body purse for another coin, since that shouldn't count as her full turn, he holds onto her elbow.
"This game's whack. If you're gonna horde all the tokens, at least let me pick what I'm watching. Play that one."
He jerks his chin to one of those boxy simulator racing games that have rubber flaps on either side to keep the glare out. Those are usually pretty sweet, except this one is nauseatingly pink and playing upbeat meowing carnival music.
"Seriously? Hello Kitty Hot Rods? Dude, I know I'm younger than you and everything. But, I'm sixteen, not six. Otherwise, you know, last night and this morning would have been a little bit different."
He tugs on her arm. "Come on, it's like Need for Speed, but you can like smash your car into innocent driving cats. You love that kind of fucked-up shit."
"True," she says.
There's something in his posture, eyes shifting everywhere, chest tight, like this jittery jumpiness that reminds her of when he's in a jam and lies to Walt. She has no idea what he'd need to cover up now, so she strolls over to the opposite end of the arcade and crawls into this Japanese animated nightmare.
The inside is temporarily dark until she pops in four tokens (such a cash-suck) and then the screen has a surprisingly muted brightness that like doesn't make her want to have a seizure. She randomly picks a raspberry-colored roadster and wonders how exactly he's supposed to watch her play this thing if she can't see him, when he swings in next to her.
"Um, I'm not gonna be able to use the brake pedal with your shoes in the way," she says.
It's only about the size of one of those corny photo-booths for couples that like hold hands in the mall, so they're jammed together.
"Yo, fuck the brake pedal, bitch."
This makes no sense until he grabs her face and covers her mouth with his. He tastes like a combination of spearmint chewing gum and sugar and cigarettes, which she shouldn't like, but she really does.
Both of his hands are on her back until he slides one under her bikini top. His skin feels like it drained the beach to bring it inside, beaming out warmth like he's got sunlight in his pores. She can hear a cheery Asian voice countdown the start of the race when he grazes a finger over her zipper. He repeats the motion along her thighs. So, she spreads them farther apart, because if he's going to tease her, she's going to get all she can.
And, she's positive this is just the PG-13 rated version of the funnel cake incident, until in a lust-filled blur, she's moved to kneel on the bench seat, her shorts roughly pulled down, and her ass is currently naked in an arcade.
She shuts her legs. "What are you doing?"
Jesse drags his tongue across his lip. He's so close she can feel it flick hers too. "Helping you out."
"By pantsing me in public?"
"This ain't public. No one's here," he says. "And, I'm not gonna be an asshole and let you walk around with whatever the chick equivalent of blue balls is."
"That doesn't exist. I don't even think ladyboner means that. I was joking."
"Yeah?" Jesse tilts his head enticingly. His palm creeps down her ribcage before he braces it hard on her stomach. His lips practically melt to the shell of her ear, gritty voice sandpapering her insides into dust. "You're not like all twisted up in there, aching?"
She quivers. "Yeah, but I ate beach chili. It's my bad."
He's massaging his way up her thigh, and her will is fading and flickering like the graphics to an old PlayStation game. And damn it, he nibbles on his bottom lip. She loosens her hold, exhaling loud enough for Manhattan to hear her consent.
He kisses the purple-ish indentions he left with his teeth on her shoulder and starts working his fingers into her at a slow pace. She bucks into him, glimpsing the screen where her car veers off the road into candy-colored vegetation, and blips back into the borders of the game to do it all over again.
Quietly moaning, she feels him pull away. In the next second, he grips her by her waist and shoves her onto the steering wheel. She kind of slams her head into the ceiling, but she's too far gone to really give a shit. She's not super sure why she's sitting on this thing, thinks about asking him, but he's touching her again.
He gets in a few more strokes before he pulls away. But, he doesn't move her or anything like that. He lifts his hand up suspiciously close to his face and slips his first two fingers in his mouth.
She groans. And, she's pretty sure it's the idea of him tasting her that's turning her on so much. Though, there's a dark, warped place inside of her that likes the way his hand's angled as if it were sticking out between her legs and she's getting a glimpse of what it would be like to have something solid for him to suck on. She almost wants to clamp his arm into place and start thrusting, tell him to open his mouth wider, call him a good boy. But, even she has lines.
One of these is being stepped on as he plants kisses below her belly button. Because, yeah, what they were already doing was one thing, but getting oral inside of a Hello Kitty racing game is pushing it.
He's in the crook where her thigh and area meet when she squirms and awkwardly pats his head. "You don't have to do that. Like we've been outside for a while and I'm not showered and stuff. It's got to be gross down there."
He looks up at her, and those smoky eyes make her pulse, like stop. "Chill out. You're fine. I wanna make you feel good."
That's all he says before he takes his first lick. She'd be insane to argue anything now. Hell, Dean only went down on her twice, and he'd made faces like he was eating insulation or something the whole time.
Jesse's tongue is in all the right places, eagerly lapping, suckling, prodding like he actually wants to do this. He doesn't even pull away when she roughly grinds into his mouth, grabbing his spiky hair until she's falling apart with embarrassingly whiney little huffs.
Once she's reasonably put together and dressed again, she climbs out of the machine with wobbly legs. It doesn't stop her from speed-walking to the door. But, she's still not fast enough to pass by ponytail unnoticed.
The guy looks only somewhat more awake with a just a hint of a smirk. "You guys have a good day."
Jesse starts up a cigarette and waves with his lighter. "You too, man."
Alex can't remember the last time she blushed this hard.