Carpe Corpus (16 page)

“Not until you tell me what just happened. Claire, look at me. I don’t understand why you’re upset!”

He really didn’t know. He was all but begging her to tell him. All right, then, fine. “Fine,” she said aloud, in a voice that trembled more than she wanted. “I get it. You don’t want to be with me right now. Maybe not ever. I understand, it’s been a long time, and . . . your dad . . . I just . . . I can’t . . . Oh, just let me
go
!”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” And then he got it. She saw him run it through his head, and his eyes widened. “Oh my God. Claire, you thought I meant I didn’t want—No. God, no. When I said, ‘I don’t want to be here,’ I meant I didn’t want to be
there.
You know, sitting on the cold floor with my ass turning into an ice-berg. I wanted you. I just wanted you somewhere
else.
” He shook his head. “I meant it as a joke. I was going to say, ‘I want to be on the
couch
.’ Okay, it was stupid, I know. Sorry. I never meant you to think—Wait. Why would you think I’m not into you, anyway?”

Because I’m a girl
, Claire thought. She was barely able to contain the relief welling up inside her.
Because we’re all stupid and insecure and think that we’re never, ever good enough.
She didn’t say that, though. Some things it was better for boys not to know. “I just . . . It’s been a tough day.” She was still crying, and she couldn’t seem to stop. “I’m sorry, Shane. I’m sorry your dad—”

“Hey.” He touched her cheek. “It’s bad, but I can deal. I’m more worried about you.”

He always was. “Why?”

He wiped away the tears that trickled down her cheeks. “Because I’m not the one doing the crying, for one thing.”

She nodded, shuddered, and started to gulp back the sobs. He waited, holding her, until she was finally quiet—relaxed in a way she hadn’t been before.

Weirdly happy just to be here, with him, no matter what had happened or would happen.
This moment
, she thought.
This moment is perfect.

“Shane?” she asked. She felt drowsy now, lazy in the warmth of his body.

“Yes?”

“
Do
you have any wild men-behind-bars stories?”

“Not really. Sorry to tease you,” he said, and traced his finger down her cheek and over her lips. Slowly. “You know I spent a lot of time thinking about you, don’t you? About how you look, how you smell, how you taste . . .”

“Creepy stalker boy.”

He kissed her. There was something new in it, something fierce and hot and wild, and she felt needs explode inside her she didn’t even recognize. Her whole body lifted, like she’d become metal to his magnet. Shane groaned and rolled her over on her back, his weight on top of her, and kept on kissing her like it was the most important thing in his world.

His lips left hers gasping for air, and traveled down her neck, around the collar of her T-shirt, and his hand dragged the fabric down to expose more skin to his kisses.

Off,
Claire thought incoherently, and tried to pull the hem of her shirt up.

Shane’s hand stopped hers. She looked up at him.

“Not here,” he said. She waited. He looked wary. “What?”

“I was just waiting for you to say, ‘Not now,’ too
.
You know, like always.”

He smiled, and it was pure Shane—full of edges and yet oddly sweet.“Claire, I just got out of
jail.
Do you honestly think I’m bucking for sainthood or something?”

Her whole body burned with a sudden burst of furious energy.
He just said yes. Oh my God.
All she could think of to say was, “Tell me how much you missed me.”

“Not everything needs a speech.” He was right about that. She could feel the wild energy in him, trembling right under his skin—a match for hers. “But I have to know, do you want to do this? Really?”

She’d been trying not to think about the scary mechanics of the moment. She’d asked Eve once, in that conspiracy-whisper voice girls used when they were embarrassed not to already know, whether or not the first time really hurt. Eve had said, very matter-of-factly, yes, and gone on to tell her all about her horrible first-time guy. So part of Claire’s body was dreading the unknown, and part of it was screaming to jump in, no matter what happened.

“Yes,” she said, and her whole body went quiet, stunned into silence. “Yes, Shane. I want to do this. I want to do it with you.”

He let out his breath in a shaky laugh. “Nobody else? Not even the hot nude guy from that movie? No? Okay. No pressure.” He gave her another kiss, this one fast and warm. “Upstairs?”

They slid off the couch together, hand in hand, and he led her up the stairs, looking back at her in warm glances, stopping every few steps to kiss her. By the time they made it to the top, she was tingling and shaking all over.

Shane pointed questioningly at his own door, but she shook her head. Her room was bigger, and it was at the end of the hall. More private.

He pulled in a quick, shaking breath. “Five minutes,” he said. “I need a shower.”

She nodded, although somehow being parted from him made it feel risky. They could change their minds at any second.

She opened her bedroom door as Shane went into the bathroom.

It hadn’t occurred to Claire, but she supposed that Eve could have turned her former bedroom into anything—a Goth wardrobe warehouse, for instance, filled with skull- themed outfits. Or storage for her growing collection of vampire-slaying implements. Instead, the room was just the way Claire had left it—neat, kind of sterile, no trace of her own stuff left behind. There was a layer of dust on the sparse furniture, and the air felt cold for a few seconds, then began to warm up, as if the house sensed her presence and was eager to make her welcome again.

The big, soft bed still had sheets and layers of blankets and comforters.

She closed and sat down on the bed. Her hands were cold and shaking, and now that Shane wasn’t here, she felt sense trying to knock itself back into her head.

No
, she thought stubbornly.
No, not this time.

It was less than five minutes before he came in, hair damp around his face, beads of water on his skin and dampening his shirt.

He leaned against the door after closing it, watching her.

“So,” he said. “Maybe I should just—”

“Shut up, Shane,” she said, and went to kiss him for a long, warm, lingering moment.

Then she reached behind him and locked the door. Just her and Shane, no friends banging on the door, no family ready to drag them apart. Not even a single vampire hiding in the shadows to spoil things.

For once, nothing to make either of them change their minds.

“Don’t you dare ask me again if I’m sure,” Claire said, and raised the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it off. The cold air glided over her flushed skin and made her shiver. She knew she was blushing, and she couldn’t stop trembling, but that was all right, somehow. As she dropped the shirt to the floor, she thought,
He’s seen me like this before. It’s okay.

Shane sat down on the edge of the bed, watching her with absolute concentration. She toed off her shoes, stripped away her socks, unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped them, and kicked them off into the same pile.

He’s seen me like this before, too.

She reached behind her for the clasp of her bra.
But not like this.

“Wait,” he said, and pulled his own shirt off. Beneath it, his skin was paler than she remembered, his muscles more defined underneath. “I just want to keep it even.”

She swallowed a nervous laugh. “Then you have to get rid of the pants.”

Shane grinned at her and leaned back to work the button and zipper. “Don’t blame me for the underwear,” he said. “It’s prison-issue.”

“I am so glad you didn’t say that before. Oh, and don’t say that to my parents, ever.”

Shane’s pants hit the floor, along with his shoes and socks. Claire’s gaze skimmed over him, and she felt dizzy at the sight of so much exposed skin.

“Come over here,” he said. “It’s cold.”

He folded back the covers and slid in. She followed, feeling awkward and made of angles that didn’t quite seem to know how to fit together.

Lying beside him felt strange and, at the same time, completely right. They lay inches apart, turned toward each other on their sides. Yearning, and not touching.

Shane lost his smile for a second. “You can tell me to stop anytime. Always.”

“I
know.
”

“I won’t be angry about that.”

“Shane—”

“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you something.”

“What?”

He reached out and touched the back of his hand to her face. “I love you.”

Somehow, she managed not to cry, although she knew he’d see the glitter of tears in her eyes. “You said it first this time.”

He looked relieved. “Yeah. Finally, huh?”

“Finally,” she whispered. “I love you, too.”

His arms pulled her against him, and she felt small and breathless and utterly secure. It was just a hug, a hug like all the other hugs . . . but it was different, too.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, and she felt his fingers press on her back. Oh—he was working the hooks on her bra. He’d had practice, some part of her noticed; the rest was too busy screaming in utter joy.

Then she wasn’t able to think about much at all.

It wasn’t like in the movies. In the movies, it was all graceful, pretty people and hot camera angles; in real life, it was a weird mix of tremendously exciting and totally awkward. Shane still had condoms in the wallet that he retrieved from his jeans. That was something they never showed in the movies (at least the ones Claire watched). He was kind of embarrassed about it, too. It made it feel real to her—a lot more real than all her old fantasies.

Shane asked a lot of questions, which felt odd at first, but then she realized that he was nervous, just as nervous as she was, and that was all right. He wanted to make her happy.

He
did
make her happy.

Despite what Eve had told her, the pain still came as a shock, leaping in an electric current through her entire body. If Shane hadn’t held her and helped her through it, Claire didn’t know how she would have felt about it later . . . but he did, and it got better.

And then it was all right.

And then it was
amazing.
She cried a little, and she didn’t even know why, except that the emotions were just too big for her. Too overwhelming.

“It’s different,” Claire whispered to him in the dark, as they lay there wrapped up together, warm and content. “It’s different from what I thought.”

“Different how?” He sounded suddenly worried. Claire kissed him.

“Good different. Different like it means something. Like right now—it doesn’t feel like we’re naked at all, does it?” She didn’t know why she said that, but it was true; she didn’t feel exposed with him. Just . . . accepted. “I’m not afraid with you. You know what I mean?”

He made a lazy
uh-huh
sound that meant he might possibly not be listening. “So it was okay.”

“Okay?” She rose up on one elbow to look down on him. “Is this you fishing for compliments on your hotness?”

“Why? Did I catch one?”

“Idiot.” She flopped back down and cuddled up against him. His hand caressed the small of her back in tiny circles. “I won’t lie to you: that was intense. And it hurt. But . . . yeah. It was . . . amazing.”

“I hate that it hurt,” he said. “Next time—”

“I know. It wasn’t so bad, though. Don’t worry.” The warm cushion of his arm under her head felt like the best pillow in the world. “I feel different. Do I look different?”

Shane brushed hair back from her face. “It’s pretty dark in here, but yeah, I can see it.”

She felt her eyes widen. “You can?”

“Sure.” He traced a finger over her forehead. “Claire is not a virgin. Says so right there.”

She felt her cheeks and forehead heat up, and smacked his arm. “You are
awful.
”

“Ah, the truth comes out.”

“Seriously. I just feel . . . I do feel different. I feel like I’m someone else than I was before. You know?”

“Yeah,” he said somberly. “I know. But I feel like that every day I wake up in Morganville.”

She kissed him, and tasted the sadness in him. His sigh seemed to come all the way from his toes. “God, I needed you,” he murmured. “I can’t even tell you how many times I thought about this. The funny thing is, I don’t need you any less now. I think I need you
more
.”

That, Claire thought, was a pretty good definition of love: needing someone even after you got what you thought you wanted.

After a long moment, he said, “Your dad is going to kill me. And he’s probably got a right to.”

She hadn’t thought about her parents, but now it flooded in with a vengeance. This was going to get messy. And complicated. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered, and spread her hand out over his chest. He put his own hand over hers. “We’ll be okay.”

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, and woke up late in the morning to the sound of birds.

Not grackles.

Songbirds.

8

“You are so busted,” Eve said, as Claire, fresh from a shower, ran down the steps shouldering her book bag.

Eve was sitting at the dining table, sipping a Coke and reading a
Cosmo
article with great concentration. She was wearing pink today—or, as Eve liked to call it, Ironic Pink. Pink shirt with poison skull and bones logo. Matching pink pedal-pushers with skulls embossed at the hems. Little pink skull hair ties on her pigtails, which stood out from her head aggressively, daring someone to mock them.

“Excuse me?” Claire kept moving. Eve barely glanced up from the article.

“Don’t even try,” she said. “I know that look.”

“What look?” Claire shoved open the kitchen door.

“The now-I-am-a-woman look. Oh God, don’t tell me, please, because then I have to feel guilty that you’re seventeen and I should have been more of a den mom, right?” Claire couldn’t think of anything to say. Eve sighed. “He’d better have been a good, sweet boy to you, or I swear, I’ll kick his ass from here to—Hey, is that Shane’s shirt?”