by Claire Adams
His grin widened, and he rubbed his palms together. “You know, I’m hoping the Pats make it to the playoffs this year. I think that’s what I’d really like to go see.”
Chapter Nine
Allie
The last of the kids had just been picked up for the day, and I was in the back office, getting my purse. “Hey,” Amy said. “A couple of my girlfriends and I are going to go out after work tonight—do you want to come with us? I’ve been telling them about you, and they’d really like to meet you!”
I smiled, feeling touched. “Thanks,” I said. “I’d love to, it’s just that tonight I have plans.” I paused, not sure if I should elaborate on just what those plans were. But I could tell there was a part of Amy that thought I was just making an excuse not to hang out with her, and I didn’t want her to think that at all.
“Cole actually asked me to hang out,” I said. I had run into him that morning on my way to work and instead of just saying hello, as I’d expected, he asked if I had any plans later.
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, shut up. Really? That’s crazy! Wow! What are you guys going to do?”
“I don’t know, nothing too fancy or anything. Declan will be there too; we’ll probably just go get something to eat.”
Amy grinned. “You’ll have to let me know how it goes,” she said.
Cole’s car wasn’t in the driveway when I got home. I went inside and changed, then went and worked in the garden some more. Progress was slow, and the area I had weeded before I’d hung out with Ben that night appeared to have been overtaken by new weeds. There was something calming about being outside, working in the garden, and I resolved that I would keep with it. Even if it ended up being August by the time it was finally ready, I’d still plant something.
I went inside to change after I got a blister on my palm. I wore a similar outfit to the one I’d worn with Ben—denim cut-offs this time, though, and a black T-shirt.
I heard a knock at the door and then Cole’s voice calling into the house. “Anybody home?”
I came out of the bedroom, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. “Hey,” I said. “Come on in.”
He stepped inside, letting the screen door close behind him. “Hey,” he said with a smile.
“Where’s Declan?”
“He’s spending the weekend at my parents’ house.”
“Oh,” I said.
“You sound surprised.”
“No, I just thought that he was going to be here, too.”
“I figured maybe it’d be better if we didn’t have a chaperone this time around. You hungry?”
“Yeah, I could go for something. Maybe not fried food, though.”
“I know a good place.”
The place ended up being a little place called the Blackbird Tavern. It was rustic and comfortable. I got a chef’s salad, and we shared an order of mozzarella sticks. Our conversation ranged from bikes, to how I was liking Chapin so far, to Declan. First, what a good kid he was and how much I was enjoying getting to see him at school. When there was a pause, though, I felt comfortable enough to ask Cole about Declan’s mother.
“So,” I said, “you don’t have to get into the details if you don’t want to, but is Declan’s mother in the picture at all?”
It was hard to read the expression on his face. He set his fork down and took a sip of his water.
“She’s not,” he said finally. “It’s not really something that I talk about.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You don’t have to get into it. I shouldn’t be prying like that.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mean it like that. It’s just... things didn’t work out the way anyone thought they were going to.” He seemed like he was about to say something else, but then stopped.
“That’s true,” I said. “So much so that it almost makes me not want to make plans, like ever, because it seems like it’s just going to get completely messed up if you do. My dad took off when I was little.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I was young enough that I don’t even remember him, and my mother doesn’t have any pictures. She was pretty young when she had me, still a teenager, so it was definitely hard on her when he left. Not that it wouldn’t be hard on anyone, at any age,” I added quickly, not wanting him to think that just because he wasn’t a teenager when Declan’s mother had left him that things wouldn’t be difficult. “I know that things must’ve been hard for you, too. Declan’s doing great, though. He really is such an awesome kid.”
Cole smiled. “He is, isn’t he? It’s such a cliché to say that kids are resilient, but they really are.”
We were both stuffed when we finally finished eating, and I stretched as we walked out into the parking lot.
“That was really good,” I said.
“This is one of my favorite places.” He looked up at the sky. “The moon’s really full,” he said. “Want to go for a walk?”
“Uh, sure,” I said. I couldn’t remember ever being out at night and walking in the woods before, which was completely different than walking around a city at night.
“I love going out at night like this,” he said. “Walking, riding my bike, whatever. I don’t get to do that too much since Declan’s been around, but on the rare occasion that I get the chance, I try not to miss it. There’s just sort of something magical about it. I know a good trail we can go to. It overlooks the lake.”
It was about a 15-minute drive from the restaurant. Cole was right; there was something magical about being out here at night, the moonlight spilling through the treetops, dappling the ground in a milky glow, casting cool, silver shadows. I was surprised how well I could see, and how, when I looked up at the dark velvet sky, I could see so many stars. That was one thing I didn’t think that I’d ever get tired of looking at, the way you could see so many more stars when you were far enough away from the city.
And the air smelled different at night, too. The pine scent was more fragrant or something, and there was also a coolness there that wasn’t present during the day, when the sun was out. It almost felt like we were on a different planet.
We hiked on a narrow footpath winding through the pine trees. I followed behind Cole, and we didn’t say anything, just walked quietly, until we came to a hill and a clearing.
We sat there on the bluff, overlooking the pond, the water still, smooth, flat and unbroken as glass. I was aware of his body next to mine, the tops of our legs touching. He shifted, and his shoulder brushed against my shoulder, and then he was turning toward me a little, bringing his hand up to gently cup my chin.
I let him.
And when he leaned his head toward mine, and I felt his lips brush my own, I let that happen, too, even though I hadn’t been planning on that. I had planned to give him the same treatment I had given Ben, but there was something magnetic about Cole, something that made me want to let him kiss me.
So I did.
He was gentle at first, his mouth barely exerting any pressure, his fingers still gripping my chin, but then I felt him open his mouth a little wider, and the kiss became a little stronger, so I responded by pushing back against him, kissing him a little harder. His tongue slipped into my mouth, and without thinking, I bit down on it. Just a little bit, at first, but there was something so inviting—and rather exciting, too—about doing that, that I bit down even harder, and he let out a strangled sort of yelp sound and pulled back.
I could taste a little blood in my mouth.
“Jesus!” he was saying.
“Shit I’m sorry. I didn’t... I didn’t mean to do that. I get a little carried away sometimes.”
“I’ll say.” He brought his hand up to his mouth, stuck his tongue out a little, dabbed at it with the tips of his fingers. “I think I’m bleeding.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
He gave me a wary look, but he was only able to do so for a few seconds before he started smiling. “You’re a wild woman.”
“I real
ly didn’t mean to do that.” I felt bad, because that was probably the last thing he was expecting. “It’s not so much I’m a wild woman, it’s more like I’m...inexperienced. You’re only the second guy I’ve ever kissed.”
He stared at me. “Yeah, right.”
“No, you are. And the first guy almost doesn’t count because he was gay.”
Cole laughed. “What?”
“Yeah, this guy that I went high school with. Jordan. It was my freshman year, and we were at the homecoming dance, and a slow song came on, and I wasn’t going to dance with anyone, but then Jordan wanted to—he was depressed because the guy that he liked, who was most definitely not gay, was dancing with this other girl, so I said yes, and then he tried kissing me, and there was tongue involved, but it wasn’t that great.”
“And that was the last time you kissed a guy?”
He was looking at me as though he couldn’t believe it. Was it that weird? My mother was always giving me shit about it, but that had kind of made me think that it wasn’t so weird.
“That was the last time,” I said. “So I guess the first and last time.”
He was quiet for a minute. Then he looked at me again. “Wait a second,” he said. “So if that was the first—and last—time that you were ever kissed by a guy, until now, are you telling me that you’ve never slept with anyone before, either?”
That coming out hadn’t really been part of my plan, either. “Um, yes,” I said. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
“Wow,” he said. “Wow.”
“So have you never met a virgin before or something?” I asked. “You’re acting like this is earth-shattering news.”
“Well, it kind of is. I mean...you’re gorgeous.” I blushed, but I didn’t think he’d be able to tell in the moonlight. “Someone as gorgeous as you usually isn’t a virgin... I mean, I guess it’s possible, but...” His voice trailed off. I could hear the genuine confusion in his voice, as this new revelation had really thrown him for a loop. “I just wasn’t expecting that at all,” he finally said.
“Which makes it sound like you think I’m some sort of slut,” I replied, kind of joking but also sort of not. “Though I heard that you’re the one with herpes.”
“Yeah, that’s completely not true,” he said. “So, I can take a few guesses as to where you heard that—actually, I know exactly where you heard that from—and it’s entirely false.”
“You’re not a virgin, though.”
“No, I’m not. I’m also a 31-year-old man, so that shouldn’t be too surprising.”
“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
“Fourteen.”
“Fourteen? Really? That’s so young.”
“She was 16. And definitely not a virgin.”
We sat there quietly for several moments, and I tried to replay the past couple minutes in my head. How did we end up on this topic, anyway? Oh yeah—I had bit him. “How’s your tongue?”
“My tongue? Oh, it’s fine. I completely forgot about that, actually.”
“I guess that’s one way to make someone forget about an injury.”
“It’s not that bad.” He regarded me again, squinting. “You’re really a virgin?”
“Maybe we should talk about something else.”
“Sure,” he said. “Sure, that’s fine.”
But there was a long silence after that, and I tried to think of something to say, but everything that crossed my mind just sounded sort of dumb.
Something out in the middle of the pond splashed, breaking the smooth surface of the water, sending ripples reverberating outward.
“What was that?” I asked.
“A fish,” he said. “Trout, maybe.” I waited for him to say anything else, but he didn’t. He didn’t make a move to try and kiss me again, either. Finally, he pushed himself up, then held his hand out to help me up.
“We should probably get going,” he said.
We eventually found our way back to the car. I couldn’t figure out if I was imagining it or not—was there some sort of awkwardness in the air now? There seemed to be, or things weren’t flowing as they had before we’d gone up on that bluff and started to kiss.
When we got back to the neighborhood, instead of just pulling into his driveway, he stopped in front of my house, put the car in park.
“I’ll just let you out here,” he said. “Thanks for hanging out tonight.”
“I’m sorry I bit you.”
“That’s all right. Tongues heal fast.”
I unbuckled my seat belt but hesitated before getting out, waiting to see if he was going to try and kiss me or not. He made no move to.
“All right,” I said. “Well. Have a good night.”
“I will, Allie. You too.”
I walked inside, feeling a little strange, almost as if I’d been rejected, which I hadn’t, and even if I had, it shouldn’t matter because it wasn’t as though I actually cared what he thought. I was doing this to fuck with him, the two of them, and the outcome wasn’t supposed to matter to me. Yet I couldn’t ignore how I felt, like something had definitely gone wrong here.
I changed into my pajamas and was getting a drink of water when something outside caught my eye. I stood there in the dark, watching. It was Cole. He was coming out of his garage, pushing his bike. He buckled his helmet and then hopped on and rode off, at breakneck speed.
Chapter Ten
Cole
I wasn’t sure what to do with my newfound information.
Allie was a virgin? What? I almost didn’t believe it, except I didn’t think that she would lie to me about something like that. And now, of course, I found myself feeling bad about this whole bet, doubting myself as to whether or not we should even continue on with it. That would be a pretty shitty thing to do, right?
Obviously, she had her reasons for not sleeping with anyone. Not even hooking up with anyone! She was attractive—more than just attractive—and she lived in the city, where there was no shortage of guys. There would have been plenty of opportunities for her to hook up with someone, or several someones, and she just hadn’t. That told me that it had been a conscious choice, and now here Ben and I were, trying to fuck that up.
Maybe Ben would be understanding of the whole thing, though I doubted it. First, he would probably think I was bullshitting him. Then, once he got past that, he’d see no problem in just keeping things exactly how they were.
I felt a little weird telling him, almost like I was gossiping or some shit, but seeing as what I now knew was affecting how I felt about going forward with this bet, I figured he needed to know.
“She’s a virgin,” I said. It was Sunday night, and we were sitting out on the deck, drinking beer.
Ben guffawed. “Yeah right.”
“That’s what she told me. Why would she lie about that?”
“I don’t know, probably to make herself seem pure or some shit. Can’t you check her for that thing? Just tell her you’re a doctor and you’ll give her a free exam, and then see if she’s got that thing, what’s it called? The uh... the...” He frowned.
“Hymen?” I said.
He snapped his fingers together. “Yeah! That’s it. If she’s allegedly a virgin, she should still have that, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “No,” I said. “That is a complete urban legend.”
“That girls have them?”
“No, they have them, but most wear away by the time they’re teenagers.”
Ben made a face. “Wear away?” He gave me a skeptical look. “I don’t know, man, are you sure about that? Maybe you should examine her just to be sure.”
There was no way in hell I was going to tell him that I had already done that, so I just shook my head.
“So does this change anything?” Ben mused. “With the bet? I don’t think it should. Unless you feel as though deflowering a girl is not within your skill set.”
“I’ve definitely slept with more virgins than you have.”
&nb
sp; “Oh, yeah? Like who?”
“I’m not naming names.”
“Names, or it never happened. I don’t think we should change a single thing about this. If anything, you just have the added glory of taking someone’s virginity. And she’s 24; I’d say that’s even more impressive than a 16-year-old or something.”
“I’m not going to sleep with a 16-year-old, for fuck’s sake.”
“Yeah, I know you’re not; that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying bagging Allie would be better than bagging some 16-year-old.” He laughed. “Shit, we’re getting old. I still feel like I’m 17, though.”
“I do too, sometimes. But we’re not teenagers. Maybe though... maybe it would be better if we just called the whole thing off.”
“What? Why? You really don’t think you can pull it off, do you?”
“That’s not it at all. It’s just... it’s a little fucked, isn’t it? This whole thing? For her to lose her virginity because of some bet? That seems like something we would’ve done when we’re teenagers, and, since we’re not, maybe we should just call the whole thing off.”
“You’re just trying to get out of it,” Ben said. “You, who supposedly loves a good bet and doesn’t think he can lose, you are just looking for a way to get out of this because you know deep down that you can’t do it. Ha!”
“That’s not it, you fuckwad,” I said. “It just seems that someone who has managed to hold onto her virginity for this long should maybe not lose it just based on a stupid bet.”
“What are you talking about? There are plenty of girls walking around who are Allie’s age—and older—that are still virgins. I just saw one at the store the other day. She was about 40 pounds overweight and had a serious moustache.”
“Stop,” I said.
“I’m serious. And not only that, she also had—”
“I believe you,” I said, “I just don’t need you to elaborate about it anymore. What if we call it off, but I’ll still take you to whatever fucking game it is you want? How does that sound?”
“That sounds great, but it also sounds like you know that you’re just not going to be able to pull it off.”