Read Junk Miles for Free Online Page B

down his back and along the muscles of his shoulders and arms. He pulled a long piece of my hair and brought it to his nose.
    “ Your hair smells like cinnamon.” He breathed it in and hummed with contentment low in his throat.
    “ It’s my holiday shampoo,” I whispered.
    He laughed quietly. “Holiday shampoo. You’re a weird girl.”
    “ Just because you don’t celebrate at all doesn’t mean that I never want to.” I poked him in the ribs under the blankets.
    “ I’m sorry.” He brushed his fingertips over my face. “Next year I’ll get candy cane deodorant and mistletoe aftershave.”
    “ I think mistletoe is poisonous.” I giggled.
    “ I’m willing to sacrifice to get into the holiday spirit. I want to be a hardcore Christmaser like you.” He kissed me softly. “Maybe you can snag me one of the pictures Thorsten took of you today.”
    “ It was a great dress, wasn’t it?” I sighed.
    “ I guess.” He kissed me again. “I just think you looked amazing. I don’t know if you realize how pretty you are.”
    “ Oh, I do.” I put my hands on either side of his face. “I totally use it against you. Bat an eyelash, get you to carry my lunch tray. Toss my hair, you run over to my house and jump in my window.”
    He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m just your little monkey on a string.”
    “ You’ve got that right,” I said.
    And then we were kissing again, and then the kisses got deeper and Jake’s hands were all over me. I relaxed back into the mattress and closed my eyes in the dark. I loved the cool, scratchy feel of his skin on mine. He touched me where I was softest and where I was most sensitive, and I loved it. It was like he had an instinct about how to make me feel incredible. I touched back, and soon the world had narrowed in exactly the way I loved it to. It was just me and Jake in my bed, all roving hands and kisses.
    And then, in the middle of it all, I heard someone in the kitchen.
    Jake snatched back from me like I’d burned him. I righted my pajamas and pushed at him.
    “ Under the bed,” I whispered.
    He was off the bed and scurried under in a few silent seconds. I could hear him breathing, and I was positive it was the loudest sound in the world, but I couldn’t tell him to stop.
    My heart hammered, and I tried to relax my own breathing, but, in the midst of pure, palpitating panic, I couldn’t remember how people breathed when they slept. Trying to breath too slow made me need to gulp bigger breaths. I suddenly had an itch on my nose that I didn’t want to scratch, but I realized I must scratch my nose in my sleep sometimes. I felt like the seconds stretched out forever, as I lay on my bed, breathing erratically and trying not to scratch what had become the most unbearably itchy nostril in the world.
    I imagined getting caught. I imagined my mother’s extreme disappointment. I imagined what it would be like if she made me dump Jake. How the house would light up on this otherwise peaceful night and be full of arguments and accusations, disappointment and crushed trust. My stomach clenched, and I felt sweat break out under my armpits. I bit the inside of my lip and willed this whole thing to be over.
    Minutes of shuffling later, and my door cracked open. I relaxed my muscles and kept my eyes closed.
    My mother’s bare feet padded across the room, and stopped inches away from where Jake lay under my bed. I couldn’t hear a sound from him, but I was nervous he was holding his breath. What if he let it out in one long rush and my mother heard?
    The mattress creaked under her weight as she sat on the side of it. It was pure, agonizing torture to keep my eyes closed and not sit up and just confess to end all of the nervous anxiety of the moment. I felt Mom’s hand smoothing my hair, then she leaned over and kissed my forehead.
    She stayed less than a minute, then stood up and headed back out of my room, closing the door behind her quietly.
    Jake stayed under the bed for a long time.