Promises

"I think you're exaggerating a bit there."

His eyes were on me, the full force of their green unleashed. Yet they were still gentle and un-accusing. "I think you are underestimating how amazing you look." My heart stopped as I struggled to remember how to breathe. The sincerity of his words raised goose bumps along my spine. His whole face lightened then and fell back into the fun smile I was more accustomed to.

Gently, he lifted a hand from my waist and twirled my hair between his fingers, looking at me thoughtfully. "You really do look incredible, tonight. You picked the perfect dress for you. Everything about you tonight is breath taking. But I think you may have just caused them to realize that you're not that little girl who used to tag along behind us anymore. You've grown up."

All at once, I was aware of how close our bodies were, of his hand on my waist and on my face and my own hands touching the skin of his neck. I found myself studying his face, no longer overtaken by baby fat, but well chiseled and defined, though some of the boyish charm remained. "I'm really glad I asked you to come. I never could have had this much fun with anyone else."

Before I could respond, Tim came up behind Rory. "Beach bonfire right after this. Rich said she could come," he nodded toward me, "but he wants to drink some, so..." Translation: Riley had to stay sober or I had to go home.

"Its fine, you guys can drop me off beforehand."

"It's alright, I won't be drinking anyway." Our responses overlapped, and he turned his attention to me softly. "When have you ever seen me drink, Vik?"

Honestly, I never had, nor had I ever heard him talk about drinking. Rich didn't do it much, but I at least knew that he did on occasion. "I figured you just didn't when I was around. I mean, someone had to hold back if I was there."

"Well, I mean, yeah, I wouldn't think of drinking in front of you if I did drink, but it's not really my thing, so don't worry about it. Come to the beach, you know you want to."

I needed no further convincing.

"Hey Rory?" As we were walking out of the hotel where I prom was held, the only one to speak of in our small town, I pulled on his arm to slow him down. He looked down at me, confusion across his features. "Who is that?" Rory followed my gaze across the dark parking lot to a dark skin boy who stood next to a restored classic car. The boy was looking at me, without hesitation, and it was not the first time that night I had noticed him doing so.

"Devon." Rory's voice was flat as he answered my question, showing an obvious dislike that was uncharacteristic of him. "He's a junior. Asshole, trouble maker, always has been."

"He's been staring all night?"

"I don't know, but I don't like it. Let's go." The harshness eased a bit as he urged me toward his car, but I couldn't help glancing back at the dark eyes that followed me across the lot.

"WOOO! We're done, boys!" All the dates, likely to their dismay, had already been dropped off, and the rest of us lounged in our formal-wear in the sand of the beach. Again, I was the lone girl, though I did not let this bother me as I hopped around barefoot, mushing my toes into the sand.

"We still have finals, dumbass." Rich laughed in response as he took another sip from his beer. True to his word, Rory had nothing more than water, though the liquor was flowing freely among the others.

"Victoria. Vikki, Vikki, Vikki." Tim slung his arm around my shoulder and leaned down close to me. "Have I told you yet how utterly stunning you look tonight?" His fingers toyed with my hair, though in a playful rather than creepy way. The words were all too familiarly slurred.

"I think you've had a few too many, Tim."

"No seriously. You are... wow... you're not twelve years old anymore."

"Hey, man, don't monopolize the only girl here. Selfish much." Another of Rich's friends sauntered over putting an arm around my shoulder from the other direction. "She needs to know that she has options."

"In case you two have forgotten," Rory managed to wiggle me out from between both of them with a single movement, "she is still my date. If anyone is going to monopolize her, I technically have dibs." Drunkenly rolling their eyes, they stepped away and went for more to drink.

"Thanks, Rory." Rubbing his hands up and down my arms, he smiled, telling me wordlessly that it was nothing.

"Wow, you're arms are freezing, Vik. Come over by the fire." His fingers slipped in between mine as he took my hand and led me over to the small fire (only referred to as a bonfire for the sake of tradition) in the center of the sand. The act was simple, merely grabbing my hand in order to lead me over, but all the nerves in my hand seemed to ignite at once. Not only was my hand in his, but he had intertwined his fingers with mine. Something in the action excited me.

"Come here." He sat and pulled me with him, directing my body between his legs. For a moment, I sat stiffly, not sure how to react to the intimacy of the position. 'Best friend's little sister', that was how he always referred to me. That was how he thought of me.

"I'd offer you my jacket, but I know you'd refuse."

"Then you'd just be cold." We said together, his in a mocking tone, and the harmony of our laughter relaxed me a bit. "How about a compromise?" Removing his arms from the sleeves of his coat, he wrapped them around my middle and pulled me closer. My heart stopped in my chest at his touch, gentle and warm, yet firm. "Pull it closed," he whispered against my ear, momentarily leaving me almost completely unable to translate his speech to thought.

Luckily, my hands moved by themselves and reached to wrap the front of his coat around my own body. Already I felt warmer, though I wasn't sure much of the blame for that was lying with the fire or as a direct result of his coat. Though, the heat of the fire on my face did begin to make me sleepy. Slowly, I allowed my body to relax until my full weight was against his firm body.

"You really did look amazing tonight, Vik. You still do." The whispered words were just for me, again spoken right into my ear. He moved his knees in closer, and I was wrapped in his body even more. I couldn't remember ever having felt so comfortable before. I thought of all the nights that Rory had saved me from my miserable, arguing parents. How many nights I ended up in his arms? I thought of how safe I felt wrapped up in him.

Even as my heart raced, my eyes grew heavier and heavier. My body was slumping further against his. One Rory's hands came up and ran through the hair that fell across my face. "You must be really tired. It's almost three in the morning."

"I'm ok." I mumbled, none too convincingly.

"It's okay to go to sleep." I didn't want to. I wanted to stay awake and make the night last forever. I wanted to be able to remind myself that it wasn't a dream. But it was getting harder and harder to resist the pull against my eyes and the fuzzy stage my thoughts floated toward. His arms wrapped tighter. "Go to sleep, Vik. I'll hold you I promise." *** "Don't be mad, okay?"

"Vikki. No. Tell me you didn't."

"He asked me out, what was I supposed to say?"

"How about 'no' for starters?"

"Rory, I'm eighteen. Don't you think I'm old enough to go on a real date?"

"A real date, yes. With him? No. Absolutely not, and your brother would more than agree with me." We sat next to the fire in the same place on the beach. The boys once again were enjoying some drinks legally this time. Rory and I sat a bit away from them, enjoying our sobriety. They ran around, jumping in and out of the water and being unnecessarily, yet joyfully loud.

Rory and I stayed by the fire, somewhat secluded from the rest, as was not unnatural during nights like this. We romped around and played, swimming throughout the day -- I had long since surpassed the shallow parts of the lake -- until the alcohol really started taking hold, then we would retreat and turn our energy to conversation: philosophical, shallow, meaningless, deep, ill-witted, pointed, charged it didn't matter we enjoyed them to their fullest.

It seemed, however, that the enjoyment was slowly dying as Rory's eyes turned almost harsh at my news. "I told you when you first asked about him that Devon was bad news. You really think that that's changed much in the past couple years?"

I hated the thought of Rory being upset with or disappointed in me. I hated that look in his eye. "It's just a date, Rory. One date." He sighed heavily, showing his obvious disapproval. "If he tries getting fresh, you'll be the first to know, and I will do nothing but cheer you on while you beat him up. You can even have the other boys join you and just demolish him if you want. I'll carry mace with me."

"What has Rich said about this?"

"I haven't mentioned it to him, yet. I figured if I had your approval first, it'd be a bit easier to get his. I technically don't need either." I felt guilty throwing the last bit in, and immediately regretted it, wishing I could pull the words back into my mouth. The pained expression that briefly flashed across his face only made me feel worse.

Yes, the statement had been true, and technically would work in my favor as Rory wouldn't want me to stop telling him things, but he was not someone I wanted to manipulate. I needed him and wanted him on my side.

"Why is this so important to you?" Somewhere during our bickering, he had moved a bit away from me, but he drew closer again as he asked his question.

Wanting to give him a complete honest answer, I took a moment to think. "I hang out with guys all the time Rory. I'm surrounded, constantly, by you and Rich and all your friends. But I'm not one of those pretty girls," he looks as though he's about to interrupt, but I press forward before he can, "you know like from the movies or something, the one that all the guys are actually secretly in love with. I don't wear makeup, or know how to do my hair. I don't really have a lot of friends of my own."

This time, he succeeds in interrupting. "I'm your friend."

"But you're Rich's friend first." The words come out pointed, almost as if I'm accusing him or some kind of offense, though I don't mean them to. "I don't get asked out, ever, and I don't know if it's the intimidating band of guys I'm always in the middle of or if it's just me. Regardless, Devon asked me to go out with him, and it made me really feel wanted."

He shook his head, still looking distressed and determined. "I realize prom was a while ago, Vik, but don't tell me you already forgot all of Rich's friends trying to get a shot with you."

I quickly put this thought down. "They were drunk."

"No, Vik, before that. They all wanted to dance with you. They saw how gorgeous you looked and how grown up you've become. They knew how awesome of a person you were, and still are. They definitely started to desire you then, and not in a creepy sense of course, but just truly want you." His words sunk into me, but I couldn't help wanting to brush them off as soon as they did. The thought of any of Rich's friends thinking of me in that way was ridiculous. "And it's not as ridiculous as you're currently thinking it is." The knowing and accusing look in his eye made me laugh, and I bumped my shoulder against him to show that he had managed to lighten my mood.

He bumped back, making me laugh even more as I was thrown off balance, falling sideways into the sand. "Stop!" I sent my weight back into him, making him wobble a bit, though nothing more. Playfully, I scowled at him and tried pushing once more.

This time, he moved himself out of the way, throwing me off balance again, leaving me to fall across his lap. With my chest against his knees and my face almost to the sand, he took advantage of the moment and dug his fingers into my ribs. "Wait! Not fair! Not fair!" This was his weapon of choice; when in doubt, tickle me. Luckily, he didn't drag it out for too long before helping me roll onto my back to get my face away from the sand.

My head now rest in his lap as I lay sideways to him. He was looking down at me, and the fire danced across his features. In the past year, he had stopped going for the clean shaven look, allowing a well groomed trace of stubble to cover his strong jaw line, meeting over his chin and above his lip. When he smiled, it was always just slightly crooked -- so slight I often wondered if anyone noticed it but me -- and he showed all of his perfect white teeth. Many times, it was still very much a boyish grin that lit up his green eyes. He wore his hair a bit shorter now, three or four inches off his head, though when he wasn't working it had a playful, tousled look.

Since we had been swimming earlier, he simply wore his trunks and an open button down shirt, showing off the fact that his jaw was not the only thing that had become chiseled.

Needing to look away from him, I looked past him to the sky. "The moon looks so close."

He leaned back on his right arm, following my eyes upward. After a moment, his other hand came up and began playing with my hair, almost absentmindedly. "It's one of the things I love about being out here all the stars and the moon. So out of reach." His gaze dropped to me, and I could see the simple smile that upturned one side of his mouth. "I still don't like it, Vikki." With that, he brought the conversation back to where it started. His fingers continued to move gently through my hair as he spoke. "He's a mistake."

The look in his eyes told me how deeply he believed what he was saying to be true, and it hurt me to see that I made me feel that way. Even so, I pushed on. "If I'm making a mistake, you've got to let me make it. And I might be, I admit it, but how else will I learn, right? You and Rich, and even some of the other guys sometimes, are always there to tell me what I should do, and you guys were always there to catch me before I do something totally reckless this time won't be any different. But I've never been allowed to just completely do what I wanted. I need to at least once. But, Rory, I'll never feel brave enough to risk failing unless I know that you'll be there for me."

"Me and Rich?" He clarified, his face now extremely gentle and thoughtful, yet almost pained.

"You. I love Rich, and I know he loves me and looks out for me a lot better than most guys do their little sisters, and he listens and helps me and does anything he can for me, but not the same way you do. Rich would go to the end of the earth for me; you would sling me on your back and take me with." The words kept coming out, yet nothing truly felt enough. I couldn't explain what I meant well enough to make him understand how deeply I meant it.

I tried one more. "Rory, you understand me the way no one else in the world ever could, better than I understand myself, sometimes. That is why I need you to be ok with this. And just in case be there to help me put myself back together, even when I'm a total wreck."

With a sigh, he lowered himself backwards against the sand, "come up here." Crawling upward, I set my head against his bare chest, still lying sideways from him. He put his arms around me. "I'm never going to like it, Vik. I trust you, but I don't trust him. Regardless, you're right. If you want to go out with him, go and I'll try to keep my negative feelings at bay as long as you promise to be honest with me about everything that does or doesn't go on."

"Of course."

"And know that..." He hesitated in that moment, as if not sure how to shape his words in the way he needed to. "Know that I will always be here for you, no matter what. I promised you that I would always be here to hold you."

Just like after prom, his words filled me with more warmth than the fire could. I wondered briefly, where I would be if it weren't for having Rory in my life. How many nights I would have spent alone in my room, my parents fighting so loudly that no music could shut it out? How many times I got myself lost and needed a ride or got ditched by Rich and had Rory step in without question. I thought about Stacy, his last serious relationship that ended just before prom. The one that I still couldn't help but feel had put me down on the list of reasons why they should break up: the nagging girl who always stole Rory's attention by calling him crying.

"I am giving you a can of mace." His words broke into my thoughts, but they also told me that he had reached a point of acceptance. He did not approve, but he accepted, and that was what I needed. I couldn't help but smile up at him, and he smiled in return, pulling me closer. "I just don't want you giving yourself to him in a way he doesn't deserve."

"I won't. I promise." ***

"Devon, I'm not ready for this."

"Christ. It's been sixth months! How much more time are you going to need?" We were in the backseat of his car, parked near some abandoned playground I hadn't even remembered existed until he brought me there. Devon was on top of me, his body positioned between my legs and most of his weight on my chest, keeping me in place. I didn't like it back there, cramped and impersonal, but it seemed he pulled us to the backseat more and more often.

He had his own apartment, somewhere on the far side of town, but he never seemed to want to bring me there, as if I hadn't quite earned that yet. So that backseat it was, almost every time he took me out. He'd pushed and pressured from the beginning, but I maintained that I wasn't ready, the timing wasn't right, and every other reason I could muster. He got angry, he complained, but had yet to push it past the point of no return. This night, however, he seemed even more determined than usual.

His shirt was off and his jeans undone. My own shirt was pushed up crudely, and my skirt no longer falling past my hips. The funny thing was, other than the thin, cotton, pool-side dresses I would sometimes pull on after swimming at the beach, I never would have imagined myself in a skirt. Devon liked them though, I was beginning to understand why and often asked -- or more told -- me to wear them.

"Come on, it's no big deal. Let's just have some fun." One of his hands was poised around my neck; a way he liked to hold me, always staying in control, the other hand fondling my underwear in a crude manner that I understood it was more for his pleasure than my own. He smashed his lips hard against my own and began pulling my panties down.

I was filled with more reluctance than I knew possible. "Devon, wait"

"Victoria!" His voice was harsh as he said my name mere inches from my face. He didn't stop moving my panties off of me. "I'm not going to wait any longer. We've been going out for six months. Nobody waits that long. I thought you loved me."

I had never said those words to him in my life. "I do." I couldn't even say them, and even agreeing to it, I wasn't sure that I meant it. I wasn't even sure what the word 'love' meant. My parents made sure of that.

"Then prove it." Looking back, I would realize that he didn't even attempt to make his voice kind or soothing. Every word held the edge of demanding.

I felt him move as he pushed his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, keeping himself between my legs as if afraid I would snap them shut at the first available opportunity. "Condom." Was all I could manage to say, accepting that he wouldn't take 'no' any longer? An accomplished grin played across his mouth as he pulled the condom out of the pocket of his jeans and rolled it on.

"Don't worry. It'll be great." His words did nothing to reassure me. Pushing at his chest I told him to sit up. "What?"

"Sit up. I told you I'm not ready yet but I can at least give you a blow job. You just have to tell me how." Without further warning, he grabbed the back of my neck bitching about never getting a blow job with a condom on. He kissed me hard and began to lower my head into his lap.