One of the best features of the Cadillac were the long, smooth, connected bench seats. Lexi found great pleasure in laying long ways on the seat, leaning her head on his thigh while he drove them around. While she made a few jokes over the years about road head, it never actually happened. He'd reach around her, resting his forearm and elbow on her collarbone, hand on the gearshift. It was a brand of intimacy that gave her 16-year-old heart palpitations. When they got up speed, and he could stay in one gear for a while, he would reach down and twirl her hair.
They'd chat like that, like it was the most natural thing in the world. She got used to the view, memorizing the patterns of freckles on the underside of his chin, leading up his neck, disappearing under his shirt to his shoulders. The sound system on the Caddy was AM/FM only, so there was a little Bluetooth speaker he kept below the seat, and they'd trade off, listening to music each of them picked.
Early on, they spent a lot of their time in groups, with Rue and Jules, sometimes Cassie, Ash was a constant in the car as well. Their conversations and quick flirtations were exchanged in between the chatter of their friends, their lingering glances hardly noticed by the chaos of the people they ran with. If anyone did notice, it was laughed about, never really taken seriously. But there was a magic of feeling like she was the only one he really looked at. That his eyes pierced through her surface and down to her gooey center.
Later, as things progressed, they'd end up alone most of the time. As the days, months, semesters all ticked past, it became the usual. Cassie teased her relentlessly about it, but not in an unloving way.
And the thing was, it never moved past sweet, gentle, cautious moments of intimacy. If things ever escalated, it was Lexi pushing for it, and he'd usually stop her. He never tried to hook up with her, it was like there was value in the simple time being spent. Where the cultural norm was fuck frequently and constantly, she couldn't even convince him past third base. He was much better contented to hold onto her while they drove, or hold her while they laid on the couch. She was slightly frustrated by it all, by someone who constantly was touching her, would never really fully touch touch her.
It's like he wouldn't allow it, like he wouldn't give in. He was so controlled, Fez, like nearly militant sometimes. But at the same time, they both had a sense of while everyone around them were cartoonishly fucking one another, they had the true sense of romance, and connection. She never had a moment of doubt when it came to his feelings for her, while girls like Maddy and Cassie were in turmoil about boys true intentions.
One slow summer evening, her head in his lap as they drove around aimlessly, the pair of them idled at a stoplight. Fez was looking down at her, as she was explaining to him the intricacies of Shakespeare's Hamlet. Movement caught the corner of her eye, and she gasped.
A figure had appeared at the window, and the first thing she'd seen were the whites of the eyes. Like a ghost, wide and rolling. Then, the rest of the features followed, a man with black hair, gaunt cheeks, tapping on the window with urgency.
Fez quickly and carefully slid his arm beneath her, pushing her upright, throwing the car into park. He moved gracefully, opening the car door fast and hard, so the man was pushed back by it.
"Yo, what the fuck Mickey?" he shouted. "I know you're not gonna slide up on me like that at a goddamn stoplight."
Lexi watched with wide eyes, blinking, stupefied. She felt her heart catch in her throat, and she recognized the empty way the man moved. Like her dad.
"I been trying to get ahold of you for weeks man I just need a little something from you" the man stammered
"Get the fuck over on the sidewalk, I'm not having this conversation with you." Fez said firmly. Lexi glanced around, the intersection was mostly empty, but she noticed a minivan across the way where a older man watched the scene with keen interest.
"No, please, sincerely Fez, I just need your help for a cool minute, brother, you know me, you know I'm good for it, I just need a quick."
The light turned. Lexi's pace quickened.
"Don't embarrass me like this, Mickey, we've got to have respect, you know that." The anger was creeping up into his voice.
Mickey leaned around Fez, trying to meet Lexi's gaze. "Please, miss, can you try and convince him to help a brother out?"
Fez finally grabbed the collar of the man's shirt, and like an impatient parent, pulled him roughly across the street. He pushed him onto a bus stop bench as hard as he could, and Lexi could see the man's figure shudder with the impact. She looked down at her feet. Fez said something else to him, low and dangerous, but she couldn't hear over the rumble of the engine.
He was back in the car, swearing, slamming the door closed, hurrying to throw the car back into gear.
"Un-fucking-believeable." He grumbled. "What a fucking bum, I am so sorry. Hang on," he guided the car down a couple blocks, Lexi silently waiting for him to speak. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and the muscle in his cheek was clenched. He pulled the car over in front of a car dealership, parking it again. He sighed, catching his breath.
"I am so fucking sorry, Lex, are you alright?" he finally asked her.
"Yeah, of course. It's okay, really, are you though?"
"I don't like being startled." He shook his head. "Come here." He reached out for her, and she slid back beside him. He threw his arm around her shoulders, pressing his face into the top of her head.
"It's seriously okay. I know you're apologizing, but I'm fine." She insisted.
"'Course you are." He said, squeezing her slightly. "You know, just don't like mixing business with pleasure. Addicts don't know how to act. Shit. I'm sorry."
She looked up at him, giving him a withering look.
"I'll stop apologizing." He sighed.
She settled down into him, melting into his familiar form. The warmth of her body against his made the adrenaline spike rushing through his veins simmer down. She rolled slightly, so she could reach for his stomach, touching it gently. Their little nonverbal reminder to breathe. She felt him chuckle. Moments like these she was reminded of who else he was, an entire life and self she didn't get to encounter. The power in his movements, the way his voice hardened, all of it made her skin hot, in a way she didn't fully understand.
His bedroom was like the rest of the house, modern, clean, without being over the top. It was simple, nothing on the walls except the same LED lights that were in the living room. Bed with a glossy black headboard, low to the ground, made up with navy bedding. Dresser, squat and long, with another TV on it, facing the bed. Big speakers beside it. There was some laundry on the floor, spilling out from the hamper in the corner. Only one bedside table. The bathroom door connected was ajar, and she could see it was also comfortably lived in-type-messy. Towels on the floor, toilet seat up.
She lingered in the doorway, taking it in. She felt him behind her, touching her waist as he slid past her, going to the dresser.
"You want something to wear?" he offered, opening a drawer. "I can't imagine those things are too comfortable to sleep in." he indicated her tights.
"Yeah, actually, that would be great." She smiled, leaning against the door frame, watching him rummage. He found a tshirt, and a pair of checkered boxers, handing them to her. She slid into the room, into the bathroom, closing it behind her.
As soon as she was alone her thoughts erupted back into their constant spinning. Questions flooded her mind. Her heartbeat was quickening, and she didn't feel tired anymore. She looked at the clothes he'd handed her, a simple soft black cotton tee, clean shorts. She looked around the bathroom, absorbing her surroundings, trying to ground herself. She turned on the faucet, letting the water warm, and slipped her dress off. She re-tied her hair back, as it had loosened, and tried to wash her face. She was having a hard time breathing, she realized, like the moment she was unattached from him the anxieties about being home, about being here, it all came flooding back.
She tapped her phone, and realized she'd had a couple texts and a couple missed calls. One from Cassie:
"CALL ME IF YOU NEED ME. Love you xx"
The missed calls were from Levi, and the mounting anxieties boiled over. She thought about her life she'd been building in Massachusetts, and she whimpered, closing the toilet lid quickly and sitting on top of it. She was still in her tights and bra, limply staring at the glowing screen. She padded out a response to him quickly, so he wouldn't worry, but the guilt began to creep in. She did the math, it was almost 5am there.
"Sorry, went out with Cassie, didn't check my phone! I'm safe, I'll talk to you tomorrow!"
The walls felt like they were closing in on her, it felt like two planets colliding inside her chest. The weed was feeling less sweet and sleepy and a little bit more paranoid. She set her phone on the counter, and it lit up. She leaned over, peeking at it.
"Was just worried, glad you're safe, love u"
"Shit." She whispered. Her chin trembled. She tried to figure out what would calm her, she looked at the shower, encased in glass, tiled handsomely with tiny seafoam squares.
"Hey do you mind if I shower really quick?" she yelled, paused, waited.
"Of course not, Lex, you don't gotta ask. The towels hanging are clean." His voice said from the other side of the door. Even the sound of his voice steadied her for a moment. She heard the stereo switch on, and low music and base crept through the walls.
She switched on the shower, dipping her hand in as it warmed. She knotted her hair into a bun, just intending to rinse off. The warmth of the water calmed her immediately, forcing her body to become aware of itself. She didn't stay in long, just long enough to feel like she wasn't going to burst into tears. She dried off, and pulled on the clean clothes, she turned, looking at her ass in the boxers, then feeling silly for checking out her ass in the first place. There was only one toothbrush, but she snagged the bottle of mouth wash, rinsing her mouth out thoroughly. Without the makeup on her face, she was aware of how young she still looked. Her cheeks rounder, pink from the heat of the steam. She let her hair down, trying to fingercomb as best she could.
His eyes had to adjust when she came back into the room, her figure was illuminated from behind, so he couldn't see her face right away, and then she switched the light off. The LED lights were transitioning, switching from red to purple to green, cycling the rainbow slowly, peacefully. He'd lit up again, trying to get his head straight, and cracked the window beside the bed. Her face came into view as she crossed the room, and he felt struck by her beauty, all the makeup gone, just her familiar sweet face, dewy from the shower. Her energy had shifted slightly, he could feel it, her nerves were back up, she carried them in the way she moved, her could see the muscles tense with thought. She climbed into the bed, on top of the bedding for a moment, sitting straight up, staring ahead for a moment.
"What got into your head?" he asked gently. She shut her eyes, leaning back into the pillows.
"Keep talking, I want to hear your voice." She said, by way of answering.
"You know when you put me on the spot like that it makes it harder to think of things to say." He said, low and slow. "You want me to get a dictionary or something, I could read from the start? Ant, and, apple, ask…angelic. Addition. Addict. Uhhh, adequate?"
He watched the smile curve across her lips, her eyes still closed.
"Big vocabulary over there." She sighed.
"Well, y'know me."
She opened her eyes, looking over at him. He'd taken off his jacket, and she could see his tattoos more clearly. He'd changed into sweats, Nikes, black like the shirt he wore. She reached for one of his arms, pulling it to her. She traced the ink lightly, there was a rosary wrapped around his wrist, transitioning into barbed wire. A traditional-style snake held a knife in it's teeth, on his bicep was a heavily scripted bible quote.
"And the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it." She read.
"Amen." He said softly. "How you feelin'?"
"A little strung out, I'm not going to lie." She said. "Uh, but it's not you. It's just…I've just been amped up since I landed, being home is a lot to cope with I guess. Feels like a revisiting of an unwelcome reality."
She looked up at his face, which held her in patient reverence. She wanted to pause this moment forever, this stillness, this familiar and intoxicating person watching her watch him.
"I'm really glad I ran into you." She said. "You had this affect on me, when I was younger, and you still do, I guess. I just wish I could keep you in my pocket all the time, or something."
"C'mon now don't tease me about my height, Lex." He smiled, and she laughed.
"Shut the fuck up." She shook her head. "You just are solid, and you make the world still."
"How long are you in town?"
"Too long." She sighed.
"Nah, nah, I wanna be selfish for a minute. How long are you here for?"
"End of the year." she groaned.
"You wanna stay here? Would that make it easier?" he offered. He held his hand up momentarily, defensively. "Not trying to be pushy about it, I just feel like you can relax here."
"Yeah, you're right." She said. "Maybe after Cassie goes back home?"
Something lit up inside his chest, joy, exuberant joy. Not that you could tell from his face, but he was overcome with relief, with tangible glee, that he could maybe hold onto her again, after all this time. Just for a bit. It's all he needed.
"Cool." He said. "It's just an option, Lex. You know, I never really had a space for you before, so, like, least I could do."
"You always had space for me." She said. "The space beside you was all that I needed. You carry your own space, you know that?"
"What you mean?"
"I mean like, you have a gravitational pull, or something. Everything else always goes quiet." She admitted, and then realized how vulnerable she sounded. Admitting to all the chatter seemed weak. She was so incredibly privileged compared to him, and his life, she was a spoiled rich girl who was going to Smith for fucks sake, and everything he'd had he'd had to build for himself.
"So you're saying like a resource for you?" he asked.
"I don't like that term." She said. "I don't want it to seem like I'm using you. I don't want to be here if you don't also want me here."
"Don't be dumb." He said, a bit firm. "I always wanted you here. Didn't mean it was what you needed."
She sat, silently, waiting for him to continue.
"But now, now I can provide something you need, maybe. And that makes me feel like I'm bringing value to your life, and that's important to me."
She looked down at her knees, pulling them up to her chest. The sleepiness was returning, she hated to admit it. Her hair fell around her face, a curtain of warm buttery brown layers, and he reached over, pushing some of it aside.
"You understand me?" he asked. She smiled, shyly.
"Yeah."
"Good. Get under those covers, sleepy girl."
She did as she was told, slipping between the sheets, settling in, surprised at the softness of the bedding.
"I gotta say, Fez, this bed is mad luxurious." She said, and he laughed, pulling the blanket aside for himself.
"That's what I like to hear." He said. "Do the lights bug you?"
He watched her face in the darkness as the colors transitioned. Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at them, chewing on her lip.
"Not at all, I hate the dark."
"Yeah, me too." He said softly.