New Beginning 997

When the whistle of the 7:16 commuter to Chicago pierces the air, Devin stirs beside me. It wakes him every morning. I hate that train.

“Happy birthday, April,” he whispers in my ear, curling me close, stroking my shoulders and back. I still tremble when he touches me tender and soft as if I am someone he loves.

If Devin were a song, he’d be Stand by Me, by Ben E. King. I have long since given up wishing he was Moondance, by Van Morrison. Still, I savor the moment, inhaling him, his sweet-and-salty mix of yesterday’s chlorine and coconut sunscreen and sweat. In my head Fergie sings, ‘the scent of your skin lingers on me now,’ and it’s true. When Devin sleeps with me, it’s like I absorb him into my skin. It’s the closest I’ll ever be to him.

I’ve known Devin Trammel since I was five. He lives next-door and is best friends with Jake and Charlie. Devin’s eighteen, like them.

Everybody has secrets. Big ones, little ones, dirty ones. Devin is my dirty little secret, not because he sleeps in my bed, but because he actually sleeps in my bed. Several nights a week.


* * *

The fucking 7:16 transit screams outside the window jarring me awake. April's pushed up right against me and the thought of that train dipping into the tunnel doesn't help my case of blue balls. She shifts as she starts to wake and rubs against me. It's too much, I can't help it, I let it go. "Happy birthday, April," I say, and hold back a snicker.

Hoping she won't notice the mess, I rub it into her shoulders and back. Only someone as naive as her wouldn't recognize the smell, like sweet and salty coconuts and bleach. If April were a song she'd be "Come a Little Bit Closer," by Jay and the Americans. I've given up wishing she was "Come Together" by the Beatles.

Her friends keep asking her what makes her skin so smooth. She says it's nature. The truth? That's my dirty little secret...


Opening: Veronica Rundell.....Continuation: Anon.