The air was tolerable. A purposeful breeze sailed through the confines of Russell’s backyard. It was an acceptable arrangement of second hand furniture and empty beer bottles. Rebecca preferred the two seat couch. It provided a panoramic view of the yard and it was closest to the door. Russell was prone to fits of douchery.

“Come on,” Russell moaned.

“No,” she replied.

“Why not?”

“Just no…”

He was next to her. He fingered pockets of air between her legs. He dare not touch, not yet. She straightened a bit, closing her legs.

“Stop,” she said calmly.

He did not. He moved closer. The tolerable breeze carried his stench, chocking her.

“I want you,” he tried whispering. His intoxication made speech difficult.

“I know, but it’s not going to happen.” She pushed him away gently. He slunk towards the floor. The ferocity of his condition did not warrant her kindness. He was not too drunk to try anything with her. His douchery had begun.

“What’s your problem?” he enquired.

“Two beers and a joint,” she replied.

“What?”

“I gave you two opportunities to chise me.”

“Huh?”

“During your first beer, I looked into your eyes. You didn’t do anything. While we were smoking the joint, I leaned over you to get water. Again, you did nothing. I gave up when you got the second beer.”

“Are you vanging tokkies?”

“No. I’m just explaining my problem.”

Russell expertly rose from the floor and stared into Rebecca’s eyes. He grabbed her arms and moved closer. His movements were graceful, almost sober. He puckered his lips, swallowing saliva in the process. Rebecca’s disgusted expression intensified as he pushed out his tongue before he was within licking distance. He closed his eyes and his tongue met skin. The palm of Rebecca’s hand, instantly lubricated, pushed Russell with enough force to relegate him to his previous position.

She stood up and stepped over him. “Douchebag.”

Rebecca stood against the tree. A slight breeze tickled her ankles. She was meeting him here. Her dress hiked up a bit as the wind picked up. Clouds were forming on the horizon. She pats it down and checks her phone. No messages. The “Please Call Park” message was the last time she heard from him. She was worried.

The sex was okay. She could tell that he did not do it often. It did not bother her. She loved being close to him, feeling him for the first time. He was sweet. She liked sweet. Her phone vibrated.

“Where are you? I miss you.” It was Russell. He was becoming an irritation.

Rebecca locked her phone and sat at the base of the tree. She was tired. She was not looking forward to the party. Hormones, selfies and alcohol were not attractive to her today.

The boy feels naked. His computer gives him little comfort. The World Wide Web is a sticky mess of attention whores and misinformation. He has no contact with Rebecca. It bothers him. His phone is locked up somewhere. He will not share a similar fate. He steals his mother’s phone and sends a Please Call Me. He trusts that Rebecca understands the message. He sneaks out, not to avoid being punished, but to avoid a lecture from the asshole.

It is the party tonight. He pictures dim lights, drugs and selfies. He is not excited. He reaches the park. Rebecca is seated at the base of the tree.

“Took you long enough.” Rebecca said as she rose to greet the boy. He hugged her. She pulled away quickly. “Why did you want to meet me here? Aren’t you going to the party tonight?”

The boy shook his head and lit a cigarette. She stood staring at him. His posture was pathetic. The wind was beating at his back. He looked awful.

“I’m going,” she smiled at him. He continued smoking, inhaling, exhaling. “Talk to me.” Rebecca pleaded playfully.

She grabbed his free hand and brought it to her lips. “Why are we here?” She stepped closer to him. He flicked the cigarette away and looked into her eyes.

“I love you,” he said.

Rebecca grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him.

***

Tell us what you think: Do you think the boy loves Rebecca? How do you think she feels about him?