I didn't have much interest in freezing my feet off watching brats grill and guys drink, so I hung around in the living room with some other guys and their parents until Beaner's little sister Abby and her buddy Gabby dragged me away. Abby's actually Beaner's half sister, nine years old and just as skinny and bouncy as he is, and she and Gabby took me up to her bedroom and sat me down in a corner and started playing with my hair even though it's only five inches long, and basically treated me like I was some kind of princess if princesses are six feet tall and all spent from a hoops game.
At one point they started giggling extra crazy, and whispering like they had the world's biggest secret, and finally Abby put her arms around my neck and whispered in my ear with her hot tickly breath, "Beaner likes you!" Then they collapsed on each other.
I blushed, although the room was pretty dark, thank God. "Yeah, he's a good friend."
"He's not a friend," Abby said, "He's your boyfriend."
"No, he's not. Did, um, did he tell you this?"
Which made the two girls almost die, they were giggling so hard. "No!" Abby said. "He just asked me what he should wear tonight" (I guess it's never too early to start going to girls—some girls, anyway—for fashion advice) "and he showed me your picture and asked what I thought."
Here's what's scary: this kid was only nine and already she knew more about guys and dating than I did. "So what'd you say?"
"I said..." Abby frowned. "I said you were a real girl, not like some girls" (see what I mean about scary? Also, what does that even mean?) "and he needed to be really nice to you."
"And kiss you," Gabby broke in. Which sent them back into giggle land.
And of course right at that moment Beaner popped in looking for me, which sent all three of us into giggles. I couldn't help it—I mean, I'm not a giggler normally, but you can understand.
"Whassup?" he asked, looking at us like we were crazy, which he had every right to do.
"Nothing," I managed to say, which sent us off again. And then when Beaner pulled me up—actually touching my hand!—the girls almost passed out.
"Your sister's really cute," I said as we walked off, trying to ignore the racket behind us.
"She's a total pain in the butt." Beaner grinned, and shot me a look like maybe he knew what we'd been talking about, but right away I asked about his game to change the subject. Although I guess the subject didn't get changed all that much because we ended up in his bedroom somehow, and there was this little pause, and he leaned toward me and I leaned toward him...
Grandpa Warren—Dad's dad, who Win was named after—he had some pretty strange tastes in food. It's a wonder we like anything normal considering how much he loved pigs' feet and blood sausage and head cheese, all these strange meats that you eat when it's your own animals and you can't waste one little bit. And even though by the time I was born we weren't slaughtering anymore, Grandpa Warren still liked that sort of stuff, yuck, and a couple times a year Mom would buy him a beef tongue. Seriously. Because he liked them so much. She'd go to a special butcher because it's not like the Super Saver carries them, and bring home this huge gray tongue all wrapped in paper, and spend a couple days slicing it up on bread with lots of mustard while Grandpa Warren told her how great it was and us kids stood around trying not to barf. Well, the older kids did. Curtis was probably into it, he's such a freak.
Anyway, I hadn't thought of Grandpa Warren's tongue sandwiches in years, but I couldn't help it while I was making out with Beaner. Brian—why did he keep coming up all the time? I wasn't supposed to think about him anymore, ever! He was like a cut you think is healed but it keeps reopening. I hated—hated—comparing him to Beaner. But it was so hard not to. Because even though Brian was the only other guy I'd kissed, I'd known right from the beginning that he was pretty good. Not that I'm going into detail, thank you, but he wasn't pushy, unless it was so hot and heavy that you had to be pushy, if you know what I mean. But I guess Beaner had a whole different philosophy. It was okay, don't get me wrong, but I didn't feel on fire like I had with Brian. I mean, I like Beaner, but still. So after a while I asked if we could go back downstairs and get a couple of pops, because that seemed fun too.
And then as I was leaving the party, he walked me out and we kissed again beside the Caravan.
"So," I asked during a breath, "why are we doing this?"
"You're not familiar with this ritual? The whole lip-locking thing?"
"That's not what I meant! Why—why, you know, me?"
Beaner laughed out loud. "You really don't know?"
"Uh, no..." Had someone set him up? Daring him to make out with big dumb D.J.?
"Come on! All those times we hung out together after football games—getting lunch during preseason—why do you think I was there?"
"Um..." I said, wishing I had five hours to remember all the conversations we'd had at Taco Bell. On the field. Had I really not even noticed Beaner was into me?
"Because of you," he put in.
"Great."
"No, really." Beaner pulled me a little closer, and I have to say it felt awfully nice, the way out bodies fit together. Like two puzzle pieces. "Anyway, I was thinking how maybe now that you were free, you know, maybe this could work. Between us. If, you know, you wanted it to."
"Wow," I said, extremely intelligently. "Wow."
"Yeah. Wow." He gave me another kiss. Which would have lasted who knows how long, but luckily my phone started ringing, and I quick wiped off my mouth and grabbed it: Mom.
"Um, I gotta get this."
"That's cool." He shot me a grin—a boyfriend grin. "So ... see you around."
The Off Season Page 21