Eddie looked at her for a long moment and Chrissy stared back breathlessly. She had never felt this bold before, this forward. After a beat, his expression cracked into a grin.

"Getting high?" He looked up towards the tapestry of trees. "Sure, that can get anyone turned on. But that wasn't what I meant."

"What did you mean?"

He threw her another quick look, as though he wasn't sure if she was serious or not. "I meant…it's not hard to turn girls on if you know what you're doing. And when people talk about 'microwaves and crock pots', it just sounds like an excuse for men to be lazy dicks—literally."

She noticed his fingers were trembling a little as he took another puff. He refused to pass it to her however.

"How do you turn girls on?" Chrissy asked curiously.

Eddie inhaled too hard and started hacking up a lung. She pounded her fist between his shoulder blades helpfully.

"Why are you asking me that?" He dug into his metal lunchbox and pulled out a warm can of beer. He cracked it open and took an invigorating sip.

She considered how to answer. "Jocelyn Schnable thinks you're hot."

"Who?"

She smiled at his blank look. "One of my friends from cheer."

"Oh," He took another drink and offered it to her. "Well, Jocelyn Schnable notwithstanding, I'm not exactly most girls' type here. But…some girls are into metalheads. And guitarists."

His band. Of course. He was probably hooking up with girls left and right at the Hideout—older girls, more experienced girls, who weren't afraid to show their belly, who weren't afraid of their moms.

"Oh," Chrissy deflated and accepted the drink. Her abject disappointment made Eddie look at her curiously again.

"It's not like I'm Jon Bon Jovi," He said, raking his fingers through his hair. "Some girls just like musicians so they hit me and my band up after the show. It's not serious. They don't want me, they just want to be with the lead guitarist."

"But you sleep with them," Chrissy's tone was very flat.

"Not all the time. Sometimes I just get them off."

She blinked at him in confusion. "What?"

"I…get them off," He said a little slower. "We don't—go all the way, you know? I just make them come because I like making girls come."

Chrissy was mystified. "I don't understand. How can they be—you know—if you're not having sex?"

Eddie just looked at her. "What exactly do you and Jason do together?"

She flushed hot. "That's none of your business!"

"Fair enough, but you were just asking me about my sex life. Turnabouts fair play."

He had a point. Chrissy sighed. "We don't have sex. But he…gets me to touch him and stuff. And he'll put—put his fingers inside—"

"Okay," Eddie rested his cheek against his palm. "So you do get each other off."

She looked blankly at him. "No…I mean, sometimes Jason will, but I'm not because we're not having—"

Something clicked in Eddie's gaze. "Wait, wait—do you think the only way for you to come is just through him putting his dick in you?"

Chrissy turned red at the crude turn of phrase. But she wasn't offended. The truth was, no one had ever talked to her this frankly about sex. Sure, her youth pastors and teachers would do so in an abstract way, but her parents certainly never sat her down for a discussion. (She was partly grateful for that, she could only imagine how that interaction with her mother would go.) Perhaps Eddie thought her a complete idiot for thinking she'd automatically orgasm during sex. But it wasn't like Jason's fingers did anything for her…

She stared at her knees and tried not to cry. But Eddie noticed immediately.

"Ah, fuck," He wrapped an arm around her and hugged her. "I didn't mean to—it's not your fault. But that's not—most girls can't come that way, okay? That's what I meant in the beginning, about getting your girl hot…using your fingers, your mouth…"

Chrissy shook her head. "I hate when Jason uses his fingers," She said fiercely. "It hurts."

"Then he's doing a shitty job at it," Eddie's gaze flickered into that dangerous anger she'd seen before. "And if you don't want him to do that, you should break his fucking fingers."

She barked out a laugh. "I don't know how to do that."

"I'll show you. Gimme your fingers."

Cautiously, she handed her palm over and he very gently bent her index finger backwards. "Tap when it hurts."

It didn't take long for Chrissy to tap. He then gave her his own hand.

"Now try mine. And when you do it, I want you to imagine snapping a pencil, okay?"

She hesitated. "Won't it hurt?"

"It will, that's the point," He grinned at her. "But I'm a tough guy. Go ahead. Snap a pencil. I'll tap when I can't take it anymore."

She experimentally bent his fingers backwards, picturing a pencil. He grimaced a bit but held firm. She did it harder and he finally tapped her thigh.

"Good job," Eddie flexed his fingers. "Remember that if Jason gets handsy. Should teach him a lesson if he wants to continue throwing balls in laundry baskets."

Chrissy tilted her head towards him. "And you're…good with your fingers?"

Her breath caught for a moment as he pulled open his jacket currently wrapped about her shoulders. But all he did was pluck a cigarette from one of the inner pockets.

"I haven't had any complaints," He said finally, lighting it up.

"How do you do it?"

He gave her a half-smile. "I'm not giving away my trade secrets, Cunningham."

"Well, you could always show me."

A silence fell over them and the only thing Chrissy could hear was the blood rushing in her ears and the squawk of the birds. She was shocked and thrilled at herself. The joint was perhaps working too well, helping her verbalize all of the intoxicating thoughts she'd had since Eddie had swallowed her gum.

Meanwhile, Eddie was puffing hard on his cigarette, like it was his only way to breathe. The distant sound of the school bell broke the pregnant pause and he suddenly stood up from the picnic table.

"Think we should get back."

Chrissy was crestfallen. She hugged his jacket around her a little more tightly. "Why?"

"Because," He said in a slightly frustrated tone, offering his hand. "Because, you are high out of your mind and I can't tell if you're asking me because you really mean it or it's just the weed. But temptation is not my strong suit and I swear to God, Cunningham, if you ask me any more of this shit while looking like a frosted cupcake, I am going to eat you alive."

He was attracted to her. Chrissy felt like singing. She smiled and took his hand as he helped her off the picnic table. She returned his jacket and he kept his distance from her, walking a few paces forward.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Eddie cleared his throat. "With your stuff. After school, right here."

He walked away from her and she watched, her heart beating fast.

Thursday afternoon, Chrissy winced as lightning lanced the sky, followed by a dangerous rumble of thunder. School had been out for fifteen minutes and she was still standing in the lobby, trying to figure out if she should still venture out to the clearing. Was Eddie waiting for her there, soaked to the bone? Or would he assume that she wouldn't brave the sudden spring thunderstorm and deliver her goods a different day?

She tightened her cardigan over her cheer uniform and took a deep breath. She couldn't stay in the lobby forever. Cheer was cancelled because their coach had the flu, but basketball was still going on and she didn't want to risk running into Jason. She'd successfully avoided him all day and she really didn't want to ruin her streak.

Chrissy opened the doors and bravely marched forward. It didn't take long until she was immediately drenched. She could hardly see in front of her and worried she'd get lost on the footpath. Gritting her teeth, she started to make her way towards the woods, mud splattering up her shins.

A van suddenly honked to her right. She shaded her eyes and realized it was Eddie Munson's van.

The van doors opened and Chrissy didn't think twice. She ran for it, the rain pounding even harder, as though sensing her desperation. She shoved herself in and slammed the doors shut.

Eddie was in the back and he whistled as he took in her bedraggled appearance. "Shit. I am so sorry. I should've caught you before school let out."

"It's okay," Her teeth chattered a bit.

"No, it's—hang on," He stretched himself out towards the driver's seat and turned the ignition. He turned the heat up and removed his own jacket.

"Thank you," Chrissy said gratefully.

"No big deal. God, you're gonna get pneumonia," He eyed her worriedly. "I think…give me a second."

He crawled towards the back of the van and rifled through a cardboard box. Triumphantly, he withdrew a pile of band T-shirts that read, CORRODED COFFIN.

"Here, use these to dry off," Eddie gave them to her.

"But aren't you selling them?" Chrissy asked worriedly. "I don't want to ruin your product."

He rolled his eyes and grinned at her. "They're not exactly high market value items. Yet. Go ahead, before you catch a cold. And I have your stuff, so gimme just a second."

He returned to the driver's seat and opened his glove compartment. Chrissy toweled her hair off, watching as he withdrew a small paper sack.

"Here we go," He tossed her the sack. "Six months worth supply. Take a pill every day. If you miss one day, take two the next day. You'll wanna be on these for a week before you do anything."

Chrissy held the paper sack close to her chest. "Thank you, Eddie."

"No problem," His eyes flickered over her. "Do you wanna change into one of the shirts? You can't be comfortable."

"I am totally soaked," She confessed. She removed her cardigan and Eddie averted his gaze as she pulled off her uniform top. She slipped on the XL Corroded Coffin T-shirt. It was surprisingly soft.

Eddie was still facing forward. She watched his profile, the way his fingers tapped against the steering wheel to an unknown beat. She licked her lips and with sudden decision, removed her cheer skirt.

The shirt was long enough to hit her thighs, so she didn't think it was that provocative. But still, she leaned up towards Eddie and tapped his shoulder.

"Could you put these on your dash?" She requested. "To dry faster?"

He examined her, clad in nothing but one of his band T-shirts. He slowly took the cheer uniform and placed it gently on the dash.

Thunder boomed outside and she sat back in the van, suddenly feeling shy. "Um, is it all right if I stay in here for a bit? Just till the storm passes?"

Eddie looked at her quizzically, his gaze dropping to her bare thighs. "Sure."

"What?" She tilted her head towards him.

"Not a thing," He smiled. "You look good in my shirt."

"I like it," Chrissy readjusted herself. "I'll buy this one. Wear it to your next show at the Hideout."

He laughed. "You can just have it. We need all the fans we can get."

She opened the paper sack and found six plastic containers, each numbered 1-30. She also noticed a few condoms at the bottom. She fished one out and looked towards Eddie curiously.

He shrugged. "I thought I'd throw them in there anyway. Can't have too many. Two forms of birth control are better than one."

She sighed. "He won't wear them." Not only that, he'd refuse to acknowledge that he wanted to have sex with her. He would continually insist that he wanted to wait till marriage and if she brought up using birth control or condoms, he'd probably rat her out to his pastor father or her parents.

"Do you even want to be with him?"

Chrissy glanced up, surprised. Eddie stared at her seriously, his large brown eyes fixed on her blue.

"I—of course—" She mumbled.

"It really doesn't sound like it," Eddie pointed out. He escaped from the driver's seat and joined her in the back, leaning across from her. "Not from the stuff you told me yesterday."

Her face heated up. "I—I was—"

"Totally baked, I know you were," He acknowledged. "But it didn't seem like you were happy with Carver. It doesn't even seem like you want to wait for marriage or even that you've asked yourself what you do want."

She twisted a strand of damp hair around her index finger. "I used to like the idea. I thought it was romantic, saving yourself for one person. But it got all twisted the more everyone talked about it, saying that it was a precious gift that once it's opened, it can't be rewrapped or—or—like tape has lost its stickiness."

Chrissy met Eddie's gaze. "It stopped being about something special you could do for someone you loved and became all about our self-worth. It became the only important thing. Jason is obsessive about it, he always says he would never date any girl who wasn't a virgin or who wasn't planning on saving herself…"

Eddie's snort was derisive.

"And sometimes I just feel so disconnected from it all. We're taught not to do it, not to even think about it and then—then what? What are we supposed to do on the wedding night?" Her voice rose in pitch. "Do they really think it's like a light switch, that after all these years about how our only worth is in our purity that we can just turn that all off once we sign a marriage certificate?"

She rested her head against the side of the van. "Vanessa Kirby was the head cheerleader before me. She graduated a few years ago, but she was active in Teens for Life, in Youth Group, she led Bible studies—she married her high school boyfriend and she went on and on about how it was worth it, how she was so glad she waited and it made her marriage perfect…"

"It wasn't perfect, was it?" Eddie guessed.

Chrissy swallowed. "Her husband was a middle school teacher. We found out later he was sleeping with an eighth grader. He got arrested."

Eddie swore violently. "Fucking pervert."

She nodded in agreement. "Pastor Carver did a whole sermon about how it—it was probably Vanessa's fault. She probably hadn't kept herself pure during their 'courtship' or kept up with herself after marriage. He never actually said her name…but we all knew it was about her."

Chrissy's eyes filled with tears. "Even if we do everything right—it's still somehow our fault? Jesus didn't say anything about 'saving yourself' or making sure your skirt doesn't tempt men astray. He told men that if they looked at a woman the wrong way, to pluck their own eyeballs out!"

"Metal," Eddie remarked, faintly impressed.

She wiped her eyes briskly. "And I just hate it. I hate being reduced to my—my—"

"Pussy?"

She blushed. "Yes."

"I get it," He smiled at her comfortingly. "It's fucked up. Everything you just told me is fucked up. And I'm sorry."

Chrissy sighed. "I feel like—no one sees me. Jason just sees me as his future helpmeet. He feels safe mauling me in private because 'oh, we'll get married after high school, so it's fine'. My friends just see me as the good girl, the one who always gets straight A's, the one who's always sweet and kind. My parents—my mom—she just sees me as a puppet for her to control. No one sees me!"

She buried her face in her hands to keep from sobbing. Thunder still crashed outside the van and her heart leapt when a flash of lightning illuminated the parking lot.

"I see you."

Lightning flashed again and she could see his expression, beautifully serious and vulnerable.

"What do you see?" She whispered.

"Well," Eddie rested his chin on his ringed fist. "I see someone who is desperate to break free."

Chrissy stared at him.

"I see someone…who is good, who is kind—but you're not a cookie cutter. You've got depth, Cunningham. You've got kind of a mischievous side, you know."

She blushed. "I don't know about that."

"I mean, you're wearing nothing but one of my band shirts and you were coming on to me pretty hard yesterday, but maybe I'm biased," He winked at her and she threw an empty CD case at him.

"I think you're more adventurous than you know," Eddie told her seriously. "I think you're dying to get out there. And…despite what your pastors and parents think…I kinda think you want to explore yourself a little bit. Connect with your body, find out what it wants."

Her eyes widened at this.

"Not necessarily with me," He added hastily. "But you should be able to be with whoever you want without feeling guilty or whatever."

The rain pounded harder against the roof of the van and Eddie glanced up, murmuring something about possibly dropping her off at home. But before he could make his way back to the driver's seat, Chrissy crawled over to him.

"What if I did want it to be with you?" She asked him.

His breath hitched a little. "Then," He said slowly. "That could be arranged."

She knew it was wrong. But wrong and right had gotten so twisted in her life she didn't care anymore. She was listening to her body and right now, it was screaming for her to kiss Eddie Munson.

So she obeyed and pressed her lips to his.