by DL White
"Because that isn't what Morgan wants. Because they are white Wonder bread people who will regret not making this memorable and special. I want Morgan to have what she wants. Don't you want Nate to have what he wants?"
“I don’t think Nate gives a shit," Preston mumbles.
He opens the refrigerator, pulls out a Purple Haze, offering it to me. I shake my head. He pops the top off with his bare hands. He gulps down a few swallows, belches, and leans against the counter again.
“What I can't handle, though? Those sad eyes and that pout every time I see her, knowing I ruined her big day."
“Same. And I don't want to hear, for the rest of my life, how we could have been involved, but we couldn't get along. It's both of us or neither of us."
Preston is quiet for a moment. Contemplative. He inhales, then slowly, evenly blows the breath out. “You know what they’re doing? What all this is about?”
"Since the night they brought it up." Preston’s knowing smile makes me smile despite him. “If they think that planning this wedding is going to get us back together, they are shit out of luck."
Preston nods, taking a few swallows from the bottle and sets it down on the counter. “Up to you, Angie. What do you want to do?"
I close my eyes, hunching my shoulders in preparation to grovel. For Morgan.
“I want to see my best friends get married. I want Morgan to have her special day. I want to be in the pictures, even if I have to stand next to you and paint on a fake smile. I want to see the sunset from a beach on St. Lucia, on Dr. Nate’s dime.”
Preston’s brows rise at that, as I knew they would. But I finish with a flourish.
“And I want neither of us to have to suffer the cunty, dramatic guilt campaign that we both know Morgan will mount. Today was child’s play. Let's call a truce and be civil."
I tip my head up to look into his face. "On the condition that when this is over, you and I part ways and have nothing else to do with each other."
His eyes pop open wide. "Seriously, Angie?”
“What do you mean, seriously, Preston? Nate and Morgan are trying to force us back together. Maybe if we get some space from each other, we could get along without having to agree to get along."
I offer my hand, ready to shake on it. "I'm told I treat you like shit. So, until this wedding is over, I promise to try to be nice if you do the same. Deal?"
Preston doesn't move for a while. He stands in his kitchen, hands on his hips, his eyes on me. Not glaring, not sneering, just looking. I feel stupid with my hand in the air between us, but I can’t give in. It’s for Morgan.
“We plan this wedding. And then it's over, and we don't know each other anymore. That's what you want?"
"That's what I want," I say and extend my hand further.
Preston finally reaches for my hand. We agree with a shake and a nod. "We're still on to talk to the resort on Wednesday.”
"Yes, we are,” I push out through my sigh of relief. “I'll show up early for the conference with your client."
Preston nods, but he’s subdued. He’s not going to rope me into his melancholy this time. The wedding is back on, and that’s all I care about.
“I’ll let you get back to your uhm… playdate.” I wave in the direction of the patio. “Or whatever this is.”
He glares. "That didn't last long."
I laugh, heading toward the front door. "Wear a condom.”
There are good and bad sides to dating someone you've known your whole life. There's virtually no fear. I had that with Preston, and I loved spending my formative years exploring with him. There was no safer place.
He'll always be in my life, wrapped around it, intertwining with the people I love. He is a part of my past, and I know I can't ever eliminate him, but I can do a hell of a lot to get away from him.
I need to make significant changes, the first of which is not being reminded, every day of my life, of the biggest mistake I've ever made.
8
When he turned sixteen, Preston got a Jeep. Thomas, Preston’s dad, thought it would come in handy for carting us kids back and forth to school, games, and dances, and weekend and summer activities. He had to work for gas money, though, so he got a job working alongside his dad at an electronics store on Saturdays and a few weeknights.
One afternoon, we headed out to Lake Conway, as was our weekend habit. It was just the two of us and the flicker from a fire Preston made for the romantic light. He always kept a blanket in the Jeep. When the sun dipped below the horizon, we crawled into the backseat.
The air was fragrant, the lake lapped at the rocks on the shore mere feet from us, and there were no noises except the bleating of frogs mixing with the crackle of the radio. We laid next to each other, talking and touching, taking our time. Preston sat up and turned on the overhead interior light.
"What? What's wrong?" I grabbed a corner of the blanket and folded it over most of my body since I was naked. "Do we need to leave?"
"Nothing's wrong." He grabbed the blanket and gently pulled at it, revealing my body again. He smiled and reached out to touch me. The tip of his finger dragged across my skin, leaving fire in its wake. My nipples stood on end; goosebumps rose, my breath quickened.
"I like looking at you," he said, his finger traveling south. "I like touching you."
"I... me too," I stuttered, though made quite speechless by the sensation of his finger stroking, circling, applying pressure. I opened my legs wider to give him more room, more access. He bent to kiss me, moving down my body. Then his mouth took over and…
“Fuck, please don't stop."
The steady flick of his tongue made my hips roll so violently, he had to wrap his hands around my thighs. I tried to be quiet, but then I realized we were in the middle of a forest so I could be loud if I wanted to. And I wanted to.
Preston laughed and laid next to me, pulling me toward him and wrapped me in his arms until I stopped shaking and my breathing returned to normal, and I could stop saying, “oh my God," over and over.
“You liked that?"
I didn't mean to laugh in his face, but it was a stupid question. "Did you hear me?"
"Yeah. I heard you," he said. "I wanted to hear you say it was good."
I was lightheaded, so I'm sure I sounded all dreamy when I assured him. "It was good, baby. So good."
"That’s what I want to hear,” he said softly, stroking my cheek. "I have something to tell you."
"What?"
“Well, we’ve been together a while, but I've known this for a long time. I— I love you. And I don’t know if you feel the same, but—”
I stopped his ridiculous ramble with a kiss. "If you don't know by now that I love you, then you are really dense."
He laughed that hearty laugh that warmed my belly every time I heard it. "I had an idea..."
“But you wanted to hear me say it?"
"Yeah."
"I love you. More than anything." I pulled him toward me, and he closed his arms around me again. "I never want to love anyone else. You’re the only person I want to do this with. Is that crazy? Am I scaring you?"
Preston hesitated to answer, but then shrugged. "Nah. I'm not scared.”
The next night, I arrived home to find both of my parents sitting at our kitchen table. My dad pointed to a chair and said, “Sit."
I dropped my book bag and obeyed.
“Want to tell me about this?” My dad dumped gallon-sized Ziplock bag onto the table. My eyes slammed shut and then automatically reopened. "You're doing the city, or you're supplying the city. Either way, we need to talk."
Condoms were more important to me than to Preston, so I always made sure to get them. Morgan taught me that we could get condoms from clinics, no questions asked. I had the nurses convinced I was handing them out at school. Maybe I got a little carried away with collecting them, but we were always protected.
“Angie? Are you and Preston having sex?" Mom’s voice trembled.
"We're
careful," I answered, without answering, nodding toward the bag. "How did you find that? Were you in my room?"
“In the back of Preston's Jeep," said Dad. "Thomas brought it to the dealership for maintenance. We opened the rear door, and it was a sex den back there.”
I laughed without meaning to. It was never a sex den in the back of the Jeep. We were always careful to put the seat back up, fold the blanket, and pick up any wrappers. We couldn't risk our parents finding out what we were doing when they weren’t home.
"Eric." Mom cut her eyes at my dad. "Thomas said that he found a condom wrapper stuck to the blanket under the seat. Then he found the bag. He let us know because... well, you two are very young to be doing adult things."
"We're careful. Always."
"I don't want you spending time with that Reid kid anymore–"
"Dad, I’m sorry, but no.” I'd never interrupted him before, but I couldn't even let him finish that sentence. "Preston and I love each other. We aren't going to stop seeing each other. Yes, we have sex. We are careful. Obviously."
My hand flopped onto the table near the bag of condoms. "We aren't going to stop having sex because you're mad about it. I hope the Reid’s know that too. Please don't make us sneak around to see each other."
Dad fumed. He was angry but cornered. He wanted to lay down the law, but I made a good point. If we had to sneak around, we would.
"I love you guys. I love that you're concerned about us, but we're doing everything right."
The chair scraped across the floor as my dad pushed back from the table. He stood, stomped away, then came back. "I want her on the pill. Yesterday!" He stomped back out again, leaving my mom and me to stare at each other at the kitchen table, the bag of condoms as a centerpiece.
"My mom is pissed," Preston said, as soon as I climbed into the Jeep the next morning.
I laughed. “Cause we're fucking in the Jeep they bought you?"
"It's not funny, Angie."
"Okay, sorry. So are you grounded?"
"No. My dad talked forever about birth control and STD's and shit. Like you're the kind of girl to have STD's."
I frown, scrunching my nose and groaning. “I'm not Stacey Fulmar. No telling what she has. She'll fuck anybody."
Preston didn’t respond. He stared at the road ahead and chewed on the inside of his cheek.
"I have to get on the pill," I confessed.
"Yeah?" He glanced at me, and I nodded. "Do you want to?"
I shrugged. "I was going to ask about it anyway.”
"Does that mean we can stop using condoms?"
"We should maybe keep using them, in case the pill doesn't work."
"Yeah. No accidental babies.” Preston nodded but sounded slightly disappointed. “We got off easy."
Our post high school plans had already been discussed, ad nauseam. We’d all stay in town and go to the University of Central Florida. We would still be doors away from each other, and we could ride to classes together. Eventually, we would get jobs and an apartment near our folks. We talked about the future nonstop.
The only thing standing in our way was senior year.
Homecoming was a massive event at Clark High School. Spirits were high for the game and the dance, held at the Orange County Country Club, an upper-class establishment. Nate's dad had a membership, so we went over in the summer to swim and play tennis. I pretended there was a distinct possibility that I could ever belong there.
Our moms must have taken an entire roll of photos before we headed toward the Club. The parking lot was already crawling with cars, girls tiptoeing across the pavement in long flowing dresses and guys strutting proudly, yelling jokes and names at each other. Bass thumped from every crevice. The beat matched the thud of my heart as we made our way inside.
A disco ball spun in the center of the room, shooting out sparks of light. Couples were already mid-floor, dancing, laughing, and talking. A few people were gathered around the punch bowl, waiting for a cup. There were rumors that someone planned to spike the punch, so the bowl was being guarded by the Guidance Counselor.
We met up with Morgan and Nate and danced our hearts out. Preston sweated through his shirt, having shed his jacket early on. Morgan and I headed to the ladies’ room to freshen up.
“What are you guys doing after?” Morgan asked.
"Preston has to work tomorrow,” I said, frowning into the mirror. I dabbed a little powder on my shiny nose and pulled out a tube of lipstick. “Not until late, though, so I might talk him into going up to the lake for a little bit."
“Do you guys fuck anywhere else?” Morgan teased, snagging my lipstick before I could apply it to my lips. “I love this shade! It’s so pretty, it looks good against your skin. Is it Bobbi Brown?”
I sucked my teeth and snatched it back. “Girl, this is Wet & Wild.”
Her giggle was interrupted by the slam of a door behind us. We both turned to see who had made so much noise. Stacey Fulmar stepped out of the stall.
She moved around us to pump soap into her hands. Morgan and I ignored her, chatting away and fixing our makeup. I applied a thick coat of lipstick, then blotted it with a paper towel.
I snapped my clutch closed. Morgan tossed her paper towel in the garbage, narrowly passing Stacey on the way out.
"Hey, Angie.”
Against my better judgment, I stopped and turned around. "Yes, Stacey?"
She wore a lace dress that was nearly see-thru and barely covered her behind. "How do you like my handiwork?" She asked, ripping a towel from the machine and rubbing her hands dry.
I stared at her, confused. "I don't follow. What are you talking about?"
"Your boyfriend.”
This bitch was not still hung up on Preston. “What about him?"
She sighed, tossed the towel into the garbage, and teetered her way over to me in four-inch stilettos. "I heard you bragging about going up to the lake tonight. Probably to fuck. I mean, that's why he and I used to go there."
"Excuse me?" Morgan clutched my arm.
“Oh.” Her lips, shellacked in pink, had the nerve to pout in a downturn. “Preston didn't tell you how he heard about that place? Didn't tell you who took him there first? Who taught him all the dirty shit he knows how to do?"
I shook my head. "You're a pathetic, fucking liar. He's only ever been with me."
She laughed, her lip curled in an angry sneer. “I don't have to lie, sweetheart. I fucked Preston. We did everything. And I mean… everything.” She paused to flick her tongue in a salacious gesture. “If you like what you're getting, you owe me a huge thanks for teaching him everything he knows.”
I wanted to vomit at the idea of Preston's mouth being anywhere near Stacey's body. And then my mouth.
I began to back away before I slapped her. Girls filtered in and out around us, albeit slowly so they could eavesdrop. Stacey had a big mouth, so she may as well have been telling the entire school that she fucked my boyfriend.
Before me.
I left her behind and walked right into Preston, who was standing outside the restroom. "Hey, I heard something was going on over here. You okay?"
Stacey came barreling after me, yelling something that I didn't catch. I wound my fingers between Preston's and turned around to face her. "Ask him. He'll tell you. He's only ever been with me."
I could only liken the smile that crossed her face to the grin on that evil green monster, The Grinch That Stole Christmas.
"Stacey, please don't," said Preston.
She tossed her head back and laughed. “Oh, Angie! You naive little cunt! You think you won something. Well, surprise. If he told you that you were his first, he lied. If he said you were his only, he lied. You should tell her the truth, Preston."
I rolled my eyes at her and glanced at Preston, but instead of seeing indignant anger in his face, I saw something else.
“Preston? She’s… lying, right?”
He licked his lips and tightened his fingers around mine. He looked sc
ared. “The thing is, Angie…I never actually said that you were the first—”
I sucked in a lungful of air in complete shock and pulled from his grasp. I had distinct memories of the exact opposite. Didn’t I? "The fuck you didn't!"
He grabbed my arm and tried pulling me away from the growing number of people standing around. "Let's go talk. I'll explain."
I yanked my arm out of his grip and stared at him. Hard. I wanted him to feel every ounce of fury that coursed through my veins. He looked so uncomfortable. I didn't care.
"Are you saying that I wasn't your first? For anything? Everything we did together, you did with her first?"
I will never forget his face. Helpless. Near tears. Desperate. He shook his head slowly, reaching for me. "Angie... baby, please.”
“Nah uh! Don’t baby, please to me. Not now.”
I couldn't get away from him fast enough. I backed up until I hit the wall and couldn't go any further. And then I began to sink to the floor. Preston kneeled to try to help me up, but I didn't even want him touching me. I smacked his hands away.
Stacey swished by, hips swaying and heels clicking, her dress inching up her thighs. "I win," she said, as she pranced past us—me on the floor, Preston on his knees. "How’s it feel to be sloppy seconds, Angie?"
I wanted to throw up. It shouldn't have been such a huge deal, except that it was. It meant everything to me to be Preston's first. It killed me to know that I was wrong. About so many things, I was wrong. Namely, about this man... this boy I was in love with.
Thought I was in love with.
On top of everything, I came in second to Stacey. A battle I thought I won had been quietly raging. My stomach churned so violently; I had to get up and run back into the bathroom.
In the days that followed, Preston called, dropped notes, left flowers, and candy at our doorstep. Every day, something new showed up. I threw them away, but Mom got mad, saying he was spending good money on me. The least I could do was talk to him.
He was the last person I wanted to see, but getting my mom off my back was essential, so I told Preston to come over. I sat across from him at our kitchen table and stared at the wood grain, waiting for him to say something.