I sighed and whispered, “Yes.”
Our first kiss did it. It was far more intense than a first kiss should be. We broke away from each other as if we were scared virgins. The intensity sent a shiver through me. Kara was the aggressor. She pushed me back onto the couch and crawled up my body. This reminded me of my first time. She let her hair fall on my face to tickle me. Her eyes held mine to let me know that she intended to own me. She squirmed and rubbed her body against me. I about went insane with lust.
She straddled my waist and she found my arousal. I grabbed her hips to guide her movements. I felt that familiar buildup and worried it would all be over way too soon. I initiated a kiss, which stopped her grinding motion and saved me from embarrassing myself. She bit my lip. The sudden pain helped me focus for a moment. I sat up with her draped over me. I pulled my lips from hers and my emotions took over. I whimpered as tears welled up in my eyes, and I took a ragged breath to try not to cry.
She stroked my face.
“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“It’s too much. I’m an emotional mess right now. I’ve been trying to hold down my feelings. Every girl I’ve been with in the past few weeks has hurt me in some way. I’m avoiding dealing with my emotions because I’m in the middle of football season. I’m scared if I break down, I’ll fall into a deep depression. In the last few days, I’ve seen signs that I’m breaking.”
“It sounds like you need something positive in your life right now. Let me help you. Let me into your life, David Dawson. From our first kiss, I knew you were the one I’ve been looking for. I want to smell you, taste you, touch you, hear you. I want you, I need you.”
With her last words, she grasped me through my shorts. I stiffened and let my head fall back as my eyes closed. I caught my breath and then looked at the lust in her face.
“God, Kara, please stop. I don’t trust myself right now. You have to be strong for both of us. Please,” I begged.
She let me up, and I went to my bed and lay down facing the wall. I heard her go through my dresser. She made a quick call.
“Hey, I’m at David’s,” she said. “Yes, you were right; he is special. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The lights went out, and she crawled into bed with me. I felt her spoon me and wrap her arms around my middle. She lightly kissed the back of my neck. I drifted off to sleep as I felt her warm body pressed to mine.
I WOKE WITH A START and just stared at the ceiling. Had I made a mistake in not going all the way with Kara? I didn’t know any guys my age who would’ve turned her down. Why had I? Was I really a ‘stupid boy’? There was such a thing as a one-night stand, and people seemed to be fine with them.
I looked over at her sleeping face and sighed. I’d made the right call. I wanted Kara to be more than just a meaningless tryst. I felt a real connection there and someday there might be more. I’d give up instant gratification to hopefully develop something more meaningful, even if it turned out we would just be friends.
Maybe that was a sign of growing up. The last few months had been interesting, and I felt I was starting to get my feet under me. I just hoped that the next few months would be even better. I looked at Kara and smiled. If someone like this was in my life, I knew it would be.
Freshman Year: Fall
DESCRIPTION: Second book of A Stupid Boy Story series.
David Dawson went from being a middle school nerd to being a high school freshman, preoccupied with the concerns of any teenage boy. Then his uncle signed him up to play football. No one ever said life was easy. David is suddenly the wonder boy who is forced to step in and play when the team’s quarterback is injured. The whole community has its hopes and dreams riding on how he performs.
If that pressure weren’t enough, he has to navigate his newfound popularity and girls. Thankfully, he has an older brother that’s willing to help him. That doesn’t mean he won’t make mistakes. David manages to survive life’s complications with the help of his sense of humor, his football buddies, and the girls in his life. He has to figure out how to hold on to what’s important, even when everything seems to be falling apart.
Interlude
Kara Tasman
When I was eight, one of my friends had a birthday outing to Disneyland, which had a store called Studio 365 that does hair and heavy makeup for little girls to look like princesses. One of the people at the store made a big deal about how I looked and suggested that I consider being in a beauty pageant.
When I got home, my parents were not supportive at all. My dad said I was too young and that all these pageants did was sexualize young girls. I thought he was crazy, but he put his foot down. I think he thought I would forget all about it. When I turned thirteen, I told him I wanted to be in the local Little Miss pageant for girls twelve to sixteen.
Looking back on it, it was both the worst and best decision I ever made. It was the worst because pageant contestants, their parents and the hangers-on were vile people, or at least that was my experience. I’m sure that there are nice people involved, but one of the older brothers molested two of the girls and tried to get me cornered on more than one occasion. I told my dad and that caused serious problems. They all wanted to act like nothing had happened, and the two girls were scared to disappoint their parents and admit that he’d touched them.
It became a real mess when the police got involved. The press had a field day and pointed out how it was bad for young girls because it made them grow up too fast. I vowed I would never do another pageant again, even though I was second runner-up.
The good that came from it was I met Tony Grant who was the photographer for the event. He came to our home and had a long talk with my parents. Mr. Grant was just out of college and could already see he didn’t want to do portraits and weddings the rest of his life. He’d done a few pageants and he told my parents that I had a unique look. He suggested that I could make a living being a model.
My dad liked that idea even less. He’d read about the wild parties, drugs and sex that young models had. His thirteen-year-old daughter was not getting involved in any of that. Mr. Grant said that we should find out if he was right before we worried about me jet-setting around the globe and bad things happening.
He recommended that he take me to his studio and that I get my headshots done, and he would put out feelers to see if there was any interest. I’d just hit my growth spurt, so I was tall and skinny. I actually towered over most of the boys in my middle school.
Both my mom and dad went with me for my pictures. Mr. Grant had a friend of his do my makeup and he had some clothes brought in. To this day, I can point to him as one of the keys to making me a model. He was patient and explained everything he did and why. I was a little sponge and learned everything I could.
When my dad saw the pictures, he wasn’t happy. I looked like I was several years older. I don’t think he wanted to believe I would ever grow up. What jumped off the page were my eyes. I’d somehow gotten steel blue-gray eyes that drew you in. Within a week, I’d booked my first job. Dad insisted that Mr. Grant had to take the pictures.
From there my career somewhat slowly took off. By the time I turned fifteen, my dad had been convinced that I could make a living as a model. Then I was approached by Fashion Modeling and offered a one-year deal. Tony was now trusted by my dad and offered to go with me to make sure I was taken care of. My parents were finally convinced that I should go full-time and make money now while I could as a model.
FASHION MODELING HAD a worldwide reach and I was soon the beneficiary of that. My look was popular in the international market, so I was soon traveling to the Middle East and Europe. From that point my career seemed to take off overnight.