Ally Hughes Has Sex Sometimes Read Online Free Page A

transistor radio by his side. The Sox were playing, and, sadly for Jake, the Mariners won.
    Ally found pizza dough in the freezer. She should have been grading and not in the kitchen puttering around, assembling snacks and a pizza for Jake. But she was on edge, unnerved by his presence, all of his sounds: The radio chatter and near distant whir of his heavy black drill. His footsteps across her hardwood floors . . .
    When Ally needed to calm down, she cooked. She cooked or baked, or cooked and baked at the same time, a habit that started when she was just six, about to turn seven.
    â€œI want to show you something,” he said, stepping in and startling her. She was pulling the pizza out of the oven. She placed it on the counter as Jake walked out, and this time it was Ally who followed.
    â€œI want to show you how to do this.”
    The second floor was dark. At the top of the stairs, Ally turned on a lamp.
    â€œDo this now, for next time,” he said. Reaching down, he took Ally’s hand and placed it around a can of oil.
    Ally looked at him. What was he doing?
    â€œLubricating oil. Aerosol. Don’t spray it into your pretty eyes.”
    Ally grimaced. Please. Come on. Her pretty eyes?
    But Jake was focused. “Here’s how.” He stepped around Ally, behind her back, but kept his right hand wrapped around hers, around the can.
    â€œJake, please,” Ally said, spinning to face him. “I know how to spray a . . .” She laughed but then froze as Jake placed his left hand on her waist and turned her around, commanding her to do what he wanted her to do. With his right, he held her hand, and the can, over the hinge.
    â€œYou have to spray down,” he instructed kindly. “You have to be on top. So the oil moves down and into the grooves. When the metal pieces slide over each other, they vibrate, and the door acts like a soundboard.”
    Ally stood on her toes as she reached, and Jake closed in from behind to help. Quickly, she realized she was too short. “Okay,” she said. “I see—I see what you’re doing—but I need a chair or a stool or something.”
    â€œNo, you don’t. I’ll do it this time.” He turned her around with his left hand again, took the can from her, and did it himself.
    Ally stepped aside and gazed down the steps. “Spray down. Got it. Thank you,” she said, feeling the print of his hand on her waist.
    â€œYou’re welcome,” he said, moving the door back and forth. It was silent.
    â€œOkay,” said Ally, sounding as businesslike as she could. “Wow. I don’t know how to thank you. I made you a pizza. Eat it here, take it back to the dorm.”
    â€œI’m not going back,” he said, turning to her. “Remember? I quit. The semester’s over?”
    Ally paused and looked at him. “And you prefer cash? So, eight hours . . .”
    Jake shook his head. He turned and placed the spray can down. Then he turned back and took her by the elbow as if he had done so a hundred times. “Let’s stop,” he said, gently pulling her toward him. He released her elbow, then cupped her face and kissed her firmly on the corner of her mouth.
    He didn’t find her lips. He didn’t find her cheek. But firmly and in complete control, he planted his lips on the corner of her mouth as if to ask her permission first.
    Ally drew a breath of surprise. She was startled by the motion, the timing, the nerve.
    Startled a little, but not entirely, completely surprised.
    The afternoon had been charged, for sure. She, of course, was attracted to Jake. But who wasn’t? Any living, breathing woman, fifteen years old or five hundred . . . And Ally had put on a game face, she thought. Nothing would happen. Surely he wasn’t attracted to her. And if he were, by any chance, Jake would have to be so sure, so assured and confident, to make a move on his