I Never

by Laura Hopper

  “Not much,” Brett answered, visibly unsure of how to talk to Luke. I sensed Brett’s discomfort, but just before I chimed in to ease the tension, Brett beat me to it.

  “Did you watch the Celtics collapse last night?”

  “Yes!” Luke said enthusiastically. “I can’t believe we lost to the freakin’ Trailblazers.”

  “In double OT,” Brett adds.

  “Awful. We would have had that game if we made our free throws.”

  “That’s a bad loss,” Brett said like it pained him.

  I know Brett well enough to say with absolute certainty that he did not watch that game. I also happen to know that he scours news sites in the morning so he’s always up to speed on all current events—​even the NBA, which is of little interest to him. He made an effort to talk to my boyfriend, and I love him for it.

  Now I grab all my stuff and run out the door. I smile at the odd assortment of items I’m secretly toting. I can’t help but think of the worst that could happen: What if the seam of the bag rips, spilling the entire contents in the school hallway for all to see? What if I have the same Nike duffle bag as someone else in the locker room, and that someone else opens it, only to find evidence of my romantic plans?

  At track practice, I can’t stop staring at Luke. He seems to notice that every time he turns around, I’m looking at him. He stares back, as if to say, What’s up with you today, girl? The grueling hour-and-a-half practice takes forever to come to its eventual end. Every stretch, every drill, every sprint seems to be happening in agonizing slow motion. At long last, Chow blows his whistle and says, “Good workout.”

  Luke approaches me as I grab some water from the Gatorade vat. “Chow was insane today,” he says, out of breath.

  “I’m in the mood to go for a little run off campus, how about you?” I say.

  “Are you nuts?” he asks. “I’m totally wiped out.”

  “You’re kind of a lightweight, aren’t you?” I tease.

  “I can’t believe you haven’t had enough,” he says, incredulous.

  “I can’t believe you poop out so easily,” I say, challenging him. I start to jog away, and after a few steps, I turn around and jog backward, looking at him. “What’s it gonna be, Mr. Track Scholarship? A few extra miles more than you can stand? Maybe that’s something the Boston College coach should know.” I keep jogging backward, looking at Luke until he finally gives in, throws his cup in the trash, and runs after me. I turn around and run forward, jogging off the school grounds and into the surrounding neighborhood.

  Luke is now at my side and we run together in a nice easy lope along the suburban streets near La Jolla High. The driveways of the single-story family homes are littered with kids who are visibly joyful that it’s Friday afternoon. Some walk home from school with friends, backpacks light for the weekend. Others ride their skateboards or write on the sidewalk with thick pieces of pastel-colored chalk.

  “You’re funny today,” Luke says.

  “How so?” I know damn well how so, but I’m curious what he’ll say.

  “I’m not sure, but something is different. Like you have something on your mind.”

  “I do,” I admit. We turn a corner and end up on the La Jolla bike path.

  “Want to share?” he asks. “Or do I have to figure it out on my own?”

  “I can tell you, but I’m pretty sure you can figure it out.” I’m getting nervous. In all my calculations and planning, I never realized I’d have to say the words I want to have sex with you. Today.

  “Go ahead and tell me. I can be pretty dense.”

  “Okay,” I say and take a deep breath.

  “Okay?” he asks with curiosity.

  Here goes. Wow. You’d think telling a boy you’re ready to sleep with him would be easy. I mean, what guy doesn’t want to hear that, right? But it’s really scary. Because once I say it, I’ve made the commitment to do it and, even though I feel certain about my readiness to do it, it’s always nice to have the option of chickening out. Another deep breath.

  “Will you have sex with me? Today?” There. I did it.

  Luke runs right off the path onto the adjacent grass and does a dramatic tumble, ending up lying on his back, hands over his heart. I stop running, walk over to where he lies, and stand over him.

  “You all right?” I ask.

  He grabs my hand and pulls me onto him. Now I am lying on top of him, in the grass in broad daylight, his arms wrapped tightly around me. My face hovers over his face, our noses almost touching.

  “I would love to make love to you,” he says.

  “Good. Because I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I’m ready,” I say.

  “You’re absolutely sure?” he asks.

  “I’m absolutely sure,” I confirm. “Although . . .”

  “What?” he asks with concern.

  “Please don’t say make love,” I say with a little cringe.

  “Too mushy?” he asks.

  “It just kinda creeps me out,” I say.

  He laughs that adorable laugh with his tongue ever so slightly sticking out. “Guess what?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “I’m going to make love to you.” He smiles.

  “Fine,” I say. “Make sweet love to me, Luke Hallstrom.”

  We run back to school, and for a guy who was thoroughly exhausted ten minutes ago, he has sure found some energy. I’ve never seen Luke run so fast. At school, we gather our things and then meet back at his Jeep.

  “Any suggestions of a location?” Luke asks.

  I pull out the keys to my dad’s place. “Head north on La Jolla Boulevard toward Torrey Pines,” I say. I’ve never been so nervous in my life. Every step with Luke brings a new height of nerves. Before our smoothie date, I would have said that I had experienced nervousness in anticipation of a debate or a track meet or a big test. However, now I know what real nerves feel like: heart beating out of my chest, stomach flipping in somersaults, and thoughts racing.

  I give Luke directions to my dad’s place, but all I can think of is that I can’t believe I’m about to have sex. I can’t believe Luke is going to be inside me. Will it hurt as much as Danielle said it would? Will I do it right? If I change my mind, will he hate me? Are blue balls a real thing?

  “I need to stop,” Luke says.

  I’m not sure I heard him correctly because the thoughts in my head are so loud.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I need to make a quick stop to pick something up.” It takes me a minute, but then I figure out that he’s probably talking about condoms.

  “I’ve got them,” I say.

  “You do?” he asks.

  I reach into my bag and feel around in the tissue to dig out a couple of the condoms. “Are these fine?”

  He takes a look at the foil-wrapped rubbers in my hand. “Wow. Yeah. Those will work.” He sort of chuckles and shakes his head.

  “What?” I ask, wondering if I’ve done something wrong.

  “When you say you’re ready, you really mean it,” he says.

  “Is that good?”

  “Are you kidding?” he asks. “It’s great. It’s a first for me.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah. Very cool, Janey.” For some reason, I am elated by this revelation. Everything with Luke—​the physical as well as the emotional stuff—​has been new for me, but not for him. He, the seasoned veteran, has guided me with his expertise. I have just provided a first for him. I am the first girl to bring condoms to the party. Note to self: Be sure to thank Danielle for the excellent advice.

  We stop at a red light, and Luke leans over the gearshift to kiss me. I kiss him back with all the excitement and heat that have riddled my body all day long. The driver behind us honks, letting us know the light has turned green. Luke holds tightly to my hand for the rest of the drive.

  We park outside and walk through the lobby of my dad’s building. As soon as the elevator doors close, we start to kiss. I back up against
the wall of the elevator as our hands and tongues explore with a newfound fervor. The heat that always exists when we make out is intensified considerably by all the anticipation.

  We enter my dad’s apartment and are welcomed by the afternoon sun lighting up the living room. The blue-green of the Pacific Ocean sparkles in the distance.

  “Cool place,” Luke says.

  “Yeah,” I agree. I almost add something about how I wish Dad still lived at home with us, but there’s no reason to put a damper on the afternoon. We drop our bags on the living room floor.

  Luke approaches me, this time with caution and tenderness as opposed to the hot urgency we experienced in the car and in the elevator. He faces me, taking both of my hands in his. He kisses me softly on the lips.

  “Hi,” he says, almost a whisper.

  “Hi,” I whisper back.

  “I love you.” He’s still whispering.

  “I love you too,” I say, echoing his tone.

  He takes hold of my sweatshirt and lifts it over my head.

  “I think I need to shower first,” I say.

  “Can I join you?” he asks.

  “Sure,” I say.

  He follows me into my small bathroom. I turn on the shower and the steam from the hot water begins to fill the room. The new white towels hang on the towel rack. Suave shampoo and Dove body soap are the only items on the shower shelf.

  I take off my sweaty shirt and jog bra, and he removes his shirt. He reaches for the waistband of my shorts and slides them, along with my underpants, over my hips and onto the floor. I let him look at me, stark naked, allowing myself to be admired and wanted. His shorts fall to the bath mat and his impressive erection stands at full attention. I put my hands on him, feeling his hardness, knowing that it will soon be inside me. I slowly move my hands back and forth, more so to feel him than to please him.

  We step into the shower and the hot water bounces between our naked bodies. I stand under the spigot facing Luke, letting my hair and face get drenched. Luke picks up the body soap and squeezes an ample amount into his hands. He moves his soapy hands around my entire body: across my shoulders, over my breasts, around my stomach, and down each arm. He then kneels down to wash my legs, his face right at my crotch. I’m still standing under the beating hot water while he lathers me up, inside and out. It’s by far the best feeling I’ve ever experienced. I feel swollen and tingly throughout my entire body. I look down at him and watch how he watches me, his eyes moving from the work he’s doing down there to my face, gauging my reaction.

  I gently pull him to standing and take the soap from him to return the favor. I pour the milky white liquid soap directly on his chest and then move my hands across his body, covering every inch with the fresh-smelling foam. His shoulders and chest feel strong under my palms. He turns around and I work on his back and let my hands drift to his butt. I rub his ass and the sides of his legs and then, working up the courage, reach around to the front. I move slowly, gently touching and teasing without intense stroking, keeping in mind that I don’t want him to get too close yet.

  He turns around, bringing his lathered-up body next to mine under the stream of hot water. His lips on my lips, his chest on my chest, and his penis up against me.

  “Wanna take this into the other room?” he whispers into my mouth.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  The soap travels down our bodies and circles the drain. I turn off the water and reach for two towels, handing one to Luke and wrapping one under my arms and around my chest. I step out of the shower and Luke, towel around his waist, follows me into the living room.

  The sun is now hanging lower in the sky, giving the whole room an orange hue.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say, and I grab my bag and go into my bedroom. I remove the beautiful nightgown, rip off the tags, and slide it over my head. The smooth fabric feels cool and fresh on my newly washed skin. I take a look in the mirror, and I have to admit, I’m fairly satisfied with how I look. The soft white silk dips down between my breasts, revealing what little cleavage I actually have, and the little flouncy skirt ends at the very tops of my thighs. I shake out my wet hair and take a step out of the bedroom before I remember that the condoms are still in the bag. What am I supposed to do with them? How does one make an entrance with a handful of condoms and still look totally alluring? Not sure it’s possible. The truth is, though, there’s no way around it. I grab a couple and hide them discreetly behind my back.

  “Wow,” Luke says. “You look so sexy.”

  “Thanks,” I say, hoping he doesn’t notice me tucking the condoms behind a cushion as I pass the sofa. I take the thick brown blanket from the arm of the club chair and spread it on the rug. We sit on the blanket, facing the sliding glass doors and the view of the ocean. Luke’s fingers investigate the edge of my nightgown.

  “This is really pretty.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” I say.

  “Is it new?” he asks.

  “It is.”

  “Did you get it for this occasion?” Luke asks curiously.

  “I did,” I say, returning his smile. I figure the detail about my best friends buying it for me for precisely this occasion is probably more information than he needs.

  He slips his arm around my back and into my sopping wet hair, turning my face toward his. I look at him, taking inventory of his brown eyes, his thick black eyelashes, and his honey-colored skin with a smattering of freckles on his nose. I memorize his pink lips, which turn up at the corners even when he isn’t smiling. He lets me stare at him, waiting for me, as though I’m rereading the last chapter of my favorite book and he’s allowing me to enjoy those final precious words.

  When I’ve fully taken him in, I lean forward to kiss him. He kisses me back with several tiny kisses. I lie back on the blanket, pulling him on top of me, opening my mouth as though I’m inviting his tongue in to play. The kissing becomes deeper, more intense, hungrier. He reaches between us to remove the towel that is awkwardly tangled in our legs. Once the towel has been cast aside, we lie there, two warm clean bodies fused together, legs and tongues intertwined, skin welcoming as much contact as possible. The only barrier between us is the thin lacy silk of my lingerie. Luke moves in a gentle rocking motion and my body responds like he’s leading me in a simple, rhythmic dance. I feel him get harder and harder. He shifts himself so he’s lying next to me, giving him room to explore my body. With one hand propping up his head, his other hand starts at my neck and works its way down.

  He pulls my straps down over my shoulders so that the nightgown is now bunched around my waist. He spends sufficient time tickling and rubbing my boobs, moving his hand from one to the other, circling each nipple with care. As his hand moves down my torso, he lets his mouth take over where his hand left off, sucking on my breasts and flicking his tongue against my nipples. My nipples harden, my breathing quickens, and I feel moisture accumulating between my legs. The feelings are wildly intense. I am on fire, wanting him, craving him.

  His hand now moves lower and his fingers gently touch me, making their way inside. Not too deep, just exploring the parts, feeling the wetness. My hips writhe in response, the tickling becoming almost unbearable. Now I have a deep need to have him inside me. I want him to fill me up and reach the depths of me.

  “Does that feel good?” he whispers in my ear.

  “Better than anything,” I say through almost-gasps.

  I suddenly become aware that he’s doing all the work. I am lying on my back, one hand behind my head, the other in Luke’s thick, soft hair. He is touching me, making me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I am not reciprocating at all. How is this supposed to work? Do we take turns or do it simultaneously?

  I reach over and grab hold of him. He is hard and hot and poking straight up at me. My hands instinctively know what to do. I wrap one hand firmly around the base and use the other to tickle the rest. I keep both hands moving, working in a rhythm. He moans in my ear, which turns me on eve
n more. He doesn’t stop touching me while I work on him. Our lips and tongues are fully enmeshed as we touch each other all over.

  “I think it’s time,” he says.

  “Me too.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve never been more sure about anything,” I say.

  “Are they in the pink bag?”

  “Not anymore,” I say. I stand up and the nightgown falls to the floor at my feet. I step over it and reach behind the sofa cushion for the condoms.

  “Very sly,” Luke says.

  I bring both packages over to the blanket. “Do you have a preference?”

  Luke grabs one without much scrutiny and tears the wrapper open.

  “Wanna help?” he asks.

  “I don’t know how,” I say.

  “I’ll show you,” he says as he places the rubber disc at the top of his penis. “Now just unroll it.”

  I put my hands on the condom and stretch it down over him. Luke wraps his arms around me and eases me onto my back, his legs gently pushing mine apart. I feel the tip of him poking at me. I open my legs farther as Luke rocks slowly back and forth, reaching a little deeper with each gentle thrust. The moisture between my legs gets more obvious, allowing him to enter me push by push, millimeter by millimeter.

  It does hurt, but at the same time, it’s exhilarating. With each push, I feel increased pressure, but I don’t want him to stop. As he gets deeper inside me, both the pleasure and the pain build. I am determined to focus on the pleasure.

  He is rubbing me in all the right places. I know he’s not all the way in yet. I can tell that he’s being ever so careful to enter me incrementally. I open up for him, slowly allowing him to push right through me. I’m so turned on that the wetness allows him to glide in. Now we are pressed against each other, and our bodies fit together like the only pieces in a two-part puzzle.

  He starts to thrust with more force, his hips moving back and forth as he props himself up on his elbows, his mouth never leaving mine. My hands explore his back and I can feel his muscles tensing as he pushes. He pulls his face an inch away from mine and opens his eyes to check on me.

  “You okay?” he asks.