I Never

by Laura Hopper

  He guides me into the steamy water of the hot tub. He sits on the bench in the water and pulls me onto his lap, facing him. I feel his hardness between my legs. His hands are wrapped around my back, and mine are around his neck. He kisses me more deeply and passionately than ever before, if that’s even possible. His hands move down my back and explore my butt and my waist as he pulls me closer to him, pushing me against him. The kissing is constant, while I drop my hands to feel him. It’s smooth and the skin is soft, but the whole thing is so incredibly hard, much harder than I would have thought possible. It turns me on even more to touch it, and the worry that I wouldn’t know what to do with it immediately vanishes. It’s instinctual to stroke it and feel it and explore it. His breathing gets heavier, which tells me that I’m probably doing it right. He stops kissing me and leans his head back against the brick in a clear display of rapture. I love knowing I’m making him feel good.

  He shifts my body up a bit so that he is poking me, a gentle knock on a door, hoping to be let in. My heart stops. I feel panic. I’m scared. Every inch of my body freezes. I’m not ready. Something must have changed in my rhythm, because he opens his eyes to look at me.

  “You okay?” he asks breathlessly.

  “I’m not ready,” I blurt. The words reverberate in my head and I’m worried that I sound like a little girl who’s not ready to have her first sleepover or go on her first roller coaster.

  “That’s okay,” he says sweetly, kissing me on the lips. Once. Twice. Three times.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “You don’t have to be sorry,” he says. “I’m a very patient person.” I am mortified. I feel small and immature. I should have thought this through. Is this what boys call being a tease? I’m such an idiot. I think he can tell that I feel awful. “Hey,” he says, grabbing my hand under the water. “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

  “Really?” I ask. “You sure?”

  “Yes, it’s okay. I’m not in a hurry.”

  “I don’t want to disappoint you,” I say.

  “You’re far from a disappointment,” he says. “You’re the best. I really like you.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course I do. I like you so much. This is not about how quickly I can have sex with you.”

  “Okay,” I say. “But I still feel bad.”

  “Don’t,” he says. “I’m really happy with everything that is happening right now.” He kisses me on the lips as if to accentuate his point. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  “Starving,” I concur.

  “I’ll grab us some towels,” Luke says. He jumps out of the hot tub and goes to the lounge, where two fluffy gray towels are folded into neat squares. His wet, muscular body glimmers in the moonlight. He twists one towel around his waist and brings a second one over to the hot tub and holds it out for me. I step out of the water and he wraps me up in the towel with a warm squeeze.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m wearing a pair of Luke’s La Jolla High Track sweatpants and a Boston College sweatshirt. We’re sitting on the floor in his den eating Thai takeout from the boxes and talking about our favorite music. Luke is into classic rock: U2, Springsteen, The Who, Led Zeppelin, and other bands my dad always listens to. Somehow that music seems infinitely cooler now that I know Luke likes it. I guess I owe my dad an apology for all the eye rolling I’ve given him for his love of music from the seventies and eighties. With embarrassment, I admit to Luke that I still know all the words to the songs from the High School Musical movies. He doesn’t seem to hold it against me.

  After dinner, we head into the kitchen to throw the food cartons away and put the forks in the dishwasher. I take the cover off of one of the trays of cupcakes.

  “I need another one,” he says, picking up a cupcake. “I’ll probably end up eating all of these.”

  “You’re supposed to,” I say. “They’re your Valentine’s Day present.”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” he says. “Be right back.”

  Luke leaves the kitchen and returns momentarily with a little black box in one hand and a card in the other. It makes me nervous. I feel like I don’t deserve whatever is in that little black box.

  I fetch the card I have for him from my purse. It never took me so long to choose a card as it took to choose this one. I stood in the aisle at the Hallmark store for forty-five minutes, looking at every option and then going back to reread ones I’d already discounted. I didn’t know how serious or sentimental to be. I found a simple red card with one pink heart on the front. The print on the inside reads Be Mine. Underneath the print, I wrote: Dear Luke, Thank you for making this the best Valentine’s Day ever. I’m having a great time hanging out with you. I hope you enjoy the cupcakes. xoxo Janey. The wording took me even longer than the card selection. We have never used the word love, so I don’t want to be the first to throw it out there. I couldn’t even bring myself to write I love hanging out with you. Sloan and Danielle confirmed that I was taking the right approach. I felt good about what I wrote. Until now.

  He hands me his card along with the box and I give him my card. We open our cards simultaneously. The front of the card he chose has a picture of two puppies with their noses pressed together. The preprinted part inside reads: Every day is Valentine’s Day when I’m with you. In his boyish scrawl he wrote: It’s very true. Love, Luke. He wasn’t afraid to use the word love. Is the boy supposed to say it first?

  “Open your present,” he says, taking a big bite of a cupcake. I take the red ribbon off the box and lift the lid. Inside is a delicate gold bracelet with a tiny gold heart. It’s gorgeous and I love it more than anything else I have ever owned.

  “This is beautiful. Wow, Luke, I don’t know what to say.” I’ve never gotten jewelry from a boy before, and I can’t find the right words to string together.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  I take it out of the box and put it on my wrist. The shiny gold heart rests against my skin and glints in the light of the overhead lamp. “I love it.”

  “Good,” he says and gives me a kiss. He pulls away after a quick little peck, but I grab him and pull him in for a longer, more passionate kiss.

  I have put the responsibility of every step of this romance in Luke’s hands. He has initiated every plan and every kiss, and he wrote love on his card when I was too chicken. It’s time I show him that I can jump in with both feet.

  “I love the bracelet,” I say softly. My heart races. I’m terrified, but I’m determined to say it. “And I love you.”

  He looks at me as though I’ve taken him by complete surprise. “You do?” he asks.

  “Yep,” I say, trying to sound more self-possessed than I feel.

  “Good.”

  “Good?” I ask. Is that the appropriate response here? “That’s all you have to say?”

  “Very good,” he says, a tiny smirk creeping across his lips. Is he toying with me?

  “Very good,” I repeat in near disbelief.

  “Yes, Janey, that’s very good news. Because I love you too.”

  “You do?” I ask.

  “Yep,” he says. Our conversation is now repeating itself in reverse.

  “Good,” I tease.

  “Good? That’s all you have to say?” he asks in mock surprise.

  “Very good,” I say, smiling.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  There’s a preseason track meet at Escondido High School, and Coach Chow is acting like it’s the Olympic trials. Luke and I are sitting toward the back of the bus. Luke brought an extra pair of earbuds and a splitter so he can educate me about the art of letting Bono and The Edge get me amped for the meet. We sit close, holding hands, our heads tilted toward each other. I think the other people on the track team are now used to seeing us together, so we no longer get curious stares or chuckles, like we’re being caught in the act. Every once in a while, though, I notice a longing glance from another girl on the team that seems to translate to: Aw, you guys are so
oooo cute.

  This is the first track meet that will not be attended by at least one of my parents. Typically, they show up at everything. Long after other high school kids’ parents stopped dragging themselves to debates, mine would be there. I had to beg them to stop coming with the promise that I would share all the details upon my return. I’m only a little surprised they don’t have me wired so they can play back every round. Same thing for track meets. They’ve always come to all my meets, including preseason matchups that mean nothing. I downplayed this one in an effort to keep them away. I didn’t even call it a meet. I just said we were going to have a scrimmage-type workout against another high school. They bought it. Maybe they’re starting to get the picture. It’s my first meet since I’ve started dating Luke, and I want to do especially well, not only to impress him, but to show myself that I am not distracted by my boyfriend. I want the peace of mind of knowing that being in a relationship is not getting in the way of my success.

  The meet is awesome. I am focused, fast, and light on my feet. Maybe it’s the extra time I’ve put in at optional workouts. Maybe it’s all the stretching I’ve done in the last couple of weeks with the sole intent of lingering, waiting for Luke to finish his high jumps. Maybe it’s the brilliant lyrics of U2 still ringing in my ears: What you don’t have you don’t need it now. What you don’t know you can feel it somehow. I end up taking first place in the mile and the 300-meter low hurdles. Both times, I can hear Luke cheering me on. My relay team takes second place, which is a huge accomplishment since it’s a new team, only recently assembled by Coach Chow. This is the first time the four of us have run together, which means when we get used to one another’s rhythms, we’ll be unstoppable.

  I watch Luke’s high jump, long jump, and 100-yard dash. I love watching him race. He is a fierce competitor, like he is going into battle every time he hears the gun. And every time, he absolutely eviscerates the enemy.

  Our team does very well, and I even catch Coach Chow cracking a smile or two. The regular season looks promising.

  At the end of the meet, everyone is packing up their belongings, changing their shoes, and saying goodbye to friends and acquaintances from other schools. I know my parents are curious to hear how it went, so I take my phone from my bag and see that, indeed, they texted me several times asking for updates. I sit on a bench and respond to them with a few highlights. When I look up from my phone I see a gorgeous, statuesque girl wearing an Escondido High School track uniform talking to Luke. Her long blond ponytail sways over her shoulders as she laughs animatedly about something apparently hilarious that Luke has just said. My stomach lurches like I just swallowed a live frog. I can’t tear my eyes away from the blatant flirting even though it causes me physical pain.

  I watch the stunning girl effortlessly execute the world’s most subtle, elegant seduction. She has assets at her disposal, and she knows exactly how to use them: her bright sparkly teeth flashing a winning smile; her hand grazing his elbow with each of his witty remarks; her practiced posture—​boobs forward, one long shapely leg bent like she’s posing on the red carpet. If it weren’t my boyfriend at stake, I’d actually be impressed, and even take mental notes in the hope that I could one day have the confidence to pull it off. Everything about her and the spectacle of their conversation brings out all of my insecurities. All the worries that once consumed me about dating Luke are again rising to the surface. I am feeling young and inexperienced and supremely unsexy. I wasn’t ready to have sex with Luke, but clearly there is no shortage of girls who are. Is he open to this blatant come-on because I am too inexperienced and immature? Does a girl who knows what she’s doing look really good to him ever since I put on the brakes in the hot tub?

  Marley and Cate, two girls on my relay team, walk over to the bench to grab their bags. Cate turns to see what I’m staring at.

  “Who’s that?” she asks, obviously referring to the blonde.

  “I have no idea,” I say.

  Marley checks out the girl. “She won the sprint medley.”

  “I don’t think that’s the issue,” Cate says.

  “Oh, right,” says Marley. “You and Luke are together, right?”

  I don’t have an answer.

  “Were you guys exclusive?” Cate asks. The past tense of her question feels like a slap.

  Chow is in the distance, wrangling the team onto the bus back to school. Cate and Marley walk off, and I hurry to catch up with them in order to avoid contact with Luke. I am full of fury, embarrassment, and jealousy—​three terrible sensations wreaking havoc in my body. I don’t want to look at Luke, much less talk to him. I need to calm down and let time pass so I don’t sound like a possessive lunatic when I finally confront him. And what do I even have to confront him with? He had a conversation with a pretty girl? He permitted another female, one with splendor oozing out of her pores, to flirt with him? Just thinking about it makes me feel foolish, but I can’t help it. He looked at her with those glistening eyes and that warm smile, the same smile that makes me feel special. Now I just feel stupid.

  I grab a seat toward the back of the bus with Marley and Cate, who gladly share their Corn Nuts and trail mix with me. Luke boards the bus and takes a glance around. I try not to look at him, but I do catch his eye, and he gives me a confused look as if to ask, WTF? I just turn away and grab another handful of trail mix. He sits down at the front and gives me the space he can tell I need.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The next day after school there is no track workout, and I meet Brett at Starbucks for coffee and homework. Things have been a little different between Brett and me. He still drives me to school most mornings, and we work well together on debate. But I’m less available on the weekends for movie nights or impromptu frozen yogurt runs. I’ve missed him, and I think that he misses me, too, but he hasn’t given me a hard time about it. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s got some very strong opinions on the matter. I am grateful that he’s kept those thoughts to himself.

  When I texted him last night, asking, HW session tomorrow? he responded right away with: Starbucks @ 3:15?

  “Where’s the big man?” he wants to know right off the bat.

  “I’m not his keeper,” I say with an undeniable edge to my voice. I should have just said that I didn’t know and that just because I have a boyfriend doesn’t mean I can’t hang out with my friend. But calling Luke my boyfriend right now feels a little silly and wrong. After the track meet, Luke got off the bus back at school, got right into his Jeep, and left. We didn’t text or FaceTime last night. As mad as I was, I was hoping to connect with him and make everything better. But instead, I clung tightly to my silent phone, doing my homework and hoping to hear from him.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Brett asks with a smirk.

  “Sort of.”

  I tell Brett the annoying and embarrassing story about the meet and the blonde and my jealousy. I expect him to tell me I’m being paranoid, but instead he says that guys like Luke are weak and if a pretty girl is willing to make herself available, you can’t expect him to ignore it. This only deepens my insecurities. As long as I have crushes and boyfriends and relationships, I have a lifetime of jealousy in my future. I put my head on the table in mock drama and Brett pats me on the back.

  “Janey, come on, what did you expect to happen?” he asks.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “I mean, Luke and his friends think they’re kings. They’re not exactly boyfriend material.”

  I lift my head off the table and look him in the eye. “You don’t know him,” I say.

  “Do you?” Brett asks, genuinely curious.

  “Yes, I do. He’s not like that. He loves me,” I say.

  “Be careful, Janey,” Brett says. “I’m sure Luke says everything right to get what he wants.”

  “That’s really not how it is,” I say, but I’m starting to question my conviction.

  “He’s an expert,” Brett warns. “Don’t be a fool.
I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “That makes two of us,” I say.

  “What’s going to happen after graduation?” Brett asks.

  “He’s leaving for Boston,” I say. “And never coming back.”

  “Never?” he asks.

  “Well, his parents are moving there and selling their house here. So, yeah, never might be kind of accurate,” I say.

  Brett takes a big gulp of his coffee. “Then you need to be even more careful.”

  “Why is that?” I ask.

  “Because he’s not going to do the long-distance-romance thing. He’s going to leave for college and leave you behind. Trust me, that kind of player does not wait around for his high school girlfriend.”

  “How are you so sure?” I ask.

  “Because I know guys like that,” he says.

  It’s time to call Brett on his shit. “Brett, you think you know guys like Luke, but aren’t they just stereotypes that you’ve built up in your head? Have you ever really gotten to know a guy like Luke?”

  “I don’t need to,” he says. “And I’m not sure I want to.”

  “You’re one of my best friends, and he’s my boyfriend. It would be nice if you gave him a chance,” I say.

  “I’ll give him a chance when I’m sure he’s treating you the way you deserve to be treated. And after what happened yesterday, I’m not so sure.”

  I can’t argue with him on that. Damn Brett and his excellent debate skills.

  “Well, I think this is my cue to exit,” Brett says with his eye on the door. I look up and see Luke and a bunch of other senior guys walk up to the counter. “Keep me posted. If he makes things right, I’ll be more open-minded about him. But I need to know that he’s worthy of you.” Brett puts his backpack over his shoulder and takes his keys out of his pocket. He gives me a hug and leaves.