To the Steadfast

by Briana Gaitan

  He doesn’t push me away, but grabs the back of my neck and draws me closer.

  “This is so wrong,” he groans in between kisses. I don’t reply but relish in the way he tastes, the saltiness of his skin, the sweetness of his breath.

  “I want you,” I mumble against his skin. “I want you to be my first.”

  I’m so sick of hoarding this virginity. I just want to get it over with, and I’d always imagined it would be with him.

  He stiffens under my touch. “I can’t.”

  “Please. I want it to be with someone I care about, and I’ve always cared about you. Don’t you care about me?”

  We shuffle over to the bed and he pushes me back. I wrap my legs around his hips as he takes off his shirt. Pressing against the bulge in his jeans, I close my eyes and wait for him. For a moment, he moves away from me. It’s followed by the sound of a zipper and shuffling as he loses the rest of his clothes. I wiggle out of my pants and blouse.

  “Do you have protection?” I ask, opening my eyes and admiring his tanned skin. His muscles flex involuntarily across his smooth chest. Every inch of him is beautiful. Every part of him is perfection.

  “I do.” He fumbles with the pocket of his jeans while I tuck his hair behind his ears. I’m vaguely aware of the next few seconds, but the next thing I know, Mischa is on top of me and we’re at the head of the bed. Sweat trickles down my temple as I try and comprehend everything that’s going on. Fear, anxiety, excitement, lust.

  “Is this okay?” He kisses my collarbone and pushes against my tight entrance.

  “Ow, ow.” I scoot up the bed to stop him, suddenly scared. “Is it supposed to hurt like that?”

  “We can stop. Just say the words.”

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, preparing myself. My muscles are relaxed, but my mind isn’t. “Don’t stop.”

  “Does this feel good?” He follows the question up by leaning down and sucking on my right nipple. My back arches, and I let out a loud moan. His tongue is hot against my skin. It teases and laps against me. I melt against the bed as he lets it pop out of his mouth.

  Using my legs, I pull his hips down against me. I need him, want him inside of me.

  “Not yet, Cody. I’ve been thinking about this moment for so long now. I want to make this last.”

  “Really?” He’s never paid me any special attention before, no more than the other girls.

  “Of course. You’ve always been beautiful.” His hand moves from my hair to my cheekbones. “Every part of you. Inside and out. Kind, caring, and you try so hard to make others happy.”

  His face falls like he’s trying to talk himself out of something. “You’re sure you want to do this? I mean, this is a big step you can’t undo. I can’t promise you anything. I fall as hard as I try.”

  I could drown in the depths of his eyes. “I want this. I want this with you.”

  He shuts me up by pulling me into a long kiss. His hands tangle in my hair as he continues to ravish my mouth with his tongue. Our bodies melt together in an entanglement of hormones. The heat tingles from every part of me like an exchange of kinetic energy between the two of us. His fingers find my bundle of nerves and delicately stroke against me. I do the same to him, wrapping my hand around his hardness and moving at the same rhythm as his fingers. We stay like that for the longest time, relishing in each other’s desire.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  I almost nod, then remember where we are. My parents’ bedroom, the bedroom they never sleep in, the house they hate being at. The daughter they hate for tying them together. He notices my distracted gaze and grabs my chin. He forces me to look at him. I focus on the emeralds in his eyes and forget my parents.

  “Do you want to go to another room?”

  I nod, and he picks me up. I point to my room across the hallway. He sets me down on the bed and covers me with his body.

  And for the first time in months, I let everything else disappear except for me and him.

  “Turn off the alarm,” I say, swiping my hand against Mischa’s chest.

  He groans. “It’s not mine.”

  When the beeping stops, I shoot up in the bed. I know that sound. It’s the gate, someone’s at the gate. No, someone’s turning off the home alarm. Someone’s here. Shit.

  “Get up,” I hiss. I jump out of bed and begin throwing on my clothes. Last night, we stayed up for hours talking about everything. There was a connection there. A feeling that I could tell him anything. Mom and Dad are supposed to be away all weekend, and it’s not like anyone’s going to come into my room. I’m the last person they think about when they walk through the doorway. Still, I don’t want to get caught with a guy in my bed.

  Mischa is up and already has his pants on when there’s a knock on the door.

  My heart is racing as I motion for him to hide under the bed.

  “Who is it?” I call out. My voice takes on a high-pitched squeak as I trip over some dirty clothes on the floor and fall flat on my face.

  “It’s me.”

  My pulse quickens as I hear Violet’s voice on the other side of the door.

  “What are you doing here?” I squeak. I get up off the floor and straighten my clothes.

  “Your housekeeper showed up at the same time I did. She’s downstairs.”

  “I’m not dressed. Can I meet you downstairs?”

  I turn to Mischa, who is throwing the rest of his clothes on.

  “What do we do?” I ask.

  “Don’t tell her anything. She’ll freak out, and she doesn’t need any more stress.”

  Violet pounds on the door again. “Don’t play dumb. Is Mischa in there? Open up!”

  Mischa groans before walking over and throwing the door open. He continues buckling his belt.

  “What?”

  “Are you two sleeping together?” Violet whispers. I can tell nothing else matters right now. She’s in a state of panic. Her hair is pulled back and she isn’t wearing a lick of makeup. Us sleeping together means that everything’s changed.

  “No, I just stayed over.” Mischa finishes pulling his shirt over his head. “Why are you freaking out?”

  “Because she’s my friend, and I don’t want you ruining everything because you can’t keep your pants on.”

  I step forward and put a hand on Violet’s shoulder to calm her. I never thought she’d be this upset. “We’ve all slept in the same bed together before. Nothing happened, Violet. Just sleeping.”

  She gives a heavy sigh. “Promise?”

  “Promise.” My eyes dart to Mischa who nods at me. It’s a nod that says we won’t ever tell her.

  “Good, we gotta get back to Aunt Claire's before she notices you never came home last night.”

  Mischa slips his shoes on. “I’ll meet you out front in a minute.”

  After Violet leaves, he turns to me. I’m not sure what to say. Things have changed for me, but I’m not sure they have for him. Are we still in the friend zone or is this going to lead to something more?

  “We good?” he asks, bending down to kiss my cheek.

  “We’re good.”

  He leaves before I can say anything else. I expected something else, something more, but he just waltzes out that door like everything is normal.

  I walk across the lawn into my next-door neighbor’s yard. Killian Carmike is a college sophomore, and when his parents are away, he invites the kids over to play. He’s been begging me to stop by for a few weekends, but until tonight, I’ve been busy.

  “Cody!” Killian wraps his huge arms around me as I enter the house. His face is covered by a crooked baseball cap. Pieces of his curly brown hair stick out from under it. He shoves a beer in my hand and points to the fifteen or so people crowded around the living room, mainly guys.

  “Hey, guys. This is my neighbor Cody. Cody, these are my friends. Say hi!”

  I give them a small wave and set the half-empty drink down. All the guys look like bodybuilders. One guy is so muscular
he can’t even drop his hands down at his sides.

  “You got any vodka?” I ask.

  Killian shakes his head. “Tonight, all we drink is Killian’s lager.”

  This guy can be so full of himself, making us drink only his beer, but he’s a fun guy. We’ve always lived next door to each other, but since he’s a few years older than me, we never really hung around the same crowd. Until recently, that is.

  He opens a cooler and shoves a fresh bottle of beer, the one he’s named after, in my hand.

  I hate beer, but I know if I drink it quickly enough, the taste will fade away, followed by the emptiness.

  “Shouldn’t you be at home studying or something?” he teases.

  “Who has tests on Mondays? You’re killing my buzz here!”

  He goes back to his friends, and I wander through the living room. I came for the free booze, not to make friends. All the people here are older than me which kind of makes me feel uneasy. Someone comes up behind me and leans in close.

  “When are your parents coming home?” Killian whispers in my ear.

  “Who knows? Who cares? When are yours?” I take a swig of the beer.

  “You wanna get out of here?”

  That’s his version of asking me if I wanna go to the rooftop. It started last summer when he came home from his first year of college. We were both home alone, and he saw me sitting out back by the pool. He asked if I wanted to help him film a video. Of course, I thought it was some porno ploy and started throwing chips at him. He explained it was a video for his YouTube channel and we had a good laugh followed by a trip to the roof of his house to watch a comet with his telescope and after that, it became a weekend habit. When he’s home, we drink on the roof, talking about stupid stuff until we pass out.

  “Sure.”

  He grabs my hand and we leave his friends behind.

  “I think your dad is having an affair with my mom,” I blurt out.

  Killian straightens up. Loose lips involving the affairs of one of the most honorable men in Betty is always a bad idea.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. Hope she doesn’t get too attached. Dad isn’t about to ruin his career with an affair scandal.”

  I was hoping he’d deny it, but when I realize he isn’t, I drop it.

  Once upstairs, we climb from his window and navigate to the middle of the roof. I situate to a place where I’m comfortable and don’t feel like I’m gonna slide off and break my neck. It isn’t slippery up here, but one bad fall would be catastrophic.

  “How’s life?” he asks, raising a bottle to clink against mine.

  “Slow. How’s school?”

  “Awful. Mom won’t let me quit, and I have no idea what I’m even doing. I’m going to be one of those people who never picks a major. I just want to sit at home in my boxers while smoking a joint and playing video games. In my spare time, I’ll make my stupid parody videos. ”

  I roll my eyes. He should tell his parents to go to hell but never does. He continues to be the picture-perfect son they always wanted, just like me. But we both have our secrets. The things we do when our parents aren’t looking.

  “You’re an adult. Your mom doesn’t own you.” I pick some lint off the front of my black blouse and give him a half smile.

  He shrugs and lies back against the hard roof. “I suppose I like their money too much.”

  “How about that girl you were dating?”

  “Oh, the country club girl? She’s just perfect for their image, but a real bore. She’d never drink on the rooftop with me.”

  The cool wind blows, so I smile and scoot closer to him for warmth. “I guess it’s a good thing you have me then.”

  “You are better than her any day.” He pushes the hair off my face and the corners of his eyes crinkle just a bit in pleasure.

  He’s not flirting with me, but instead he is stating the fact that we have a comfortable relationship. Platonic and easy. Nothing sexual.

  “But I bet she has parents that aren’t as shitty as ours.”

  “Does it matter?” He throws his beer off the roof. It bounces off a trashcan by the wooden fence separating our yards and shatters on the ground.

  “Nice shot,” I tease, making fun of the fact that he was point guard for the high school basketball team.

  We sit for a few more minutes, searching the skies for our life changer. Killian is the only one who has ever been able to understand my home life. People think being rich makes you happy, but they’re wrong.

  “They finished that two-story house today.” He points across the highway at the large clearing where a subdivision is being built. They’ve been working on it since last summer. We’ve watched them build and sell a total of five houses so far. It’s amazing how much work is put into building a home, how many people it takes. It’s too bad that same amount of work isn’t put into the family that lives there.

  “You start,” he says. Our game is simple. Sort of an Imagine if game for each new home. I think for a moment and finally come up with the perfect family to live there.

  “A family. Two boys and a single dad. Dad is a high school teacher and drives a minivan. He’s an Eagle Scout leader and on the weekends they camp…for fun.” I squirm as I say the last few words.

  “Sounds idyllic. Wish my dad did things like that with me. As long as I stay out of trouble and pose for his precious pictures, he’s content to let me do as I please.”

  “Ditto. You know what to do,” I tell him. It’s his turn to make the toast, a ritual we do whenever a house is completed. He pauses for a long moment, but eventually lifts his glass to the sky.

  “Here’s to shitty parents.”

  “To shitty parents.” I knock my beer against his and grin. To shitty parents because that’s all we’ll ever have.

  Violet has missed the past week of school. It’s not because she’s afraid of how people at school will look at her—it’s no secret that her dad supplies the town with all types of drugs and even the occasional fake ID—but whatever the reason, I’m not gonna let my parents keep me away from her. She needs me, and they aren’t really around enough to know what I do in my spare time.

  I walk into chemistry class and scan the desks for Mischa. I spot him in the corner with his head down scribbling furiously on a piece of paper. We haven’t talked much since the night at my house. His mom got out of jail last week and they’ve been trying to get the place cleaned up. Nonetheless, I don’t want things to get weird.

  “Hey,” I tell him, sitting down in the seat next to him.

  He doesn’t look up and continues to write. “Hey.”

  “What are you doing?” I look over his shoulder to see that he’s doing last night’s homework, the same formulas that took me almost an hour to finish.

  “Homework,” he mumbles. “Give me just a moment.”

  A few moments later, he looks up. “Okay, what’s up?”

  “Do you do that every day?”

  His brow scrunches up. “Do what? My homework? Yeah, I don’t exactly have time to do it at home.”

  “You’re amazing. I need to get you to study with me sometime.”

  “I don’t study,” he spits out and closes his book.

  “Oh.” His harsh tone catches me off guard so I decide to change the subject. “Is Violet okay? She coming back to school soon?”

  “She’s fine. She had to help mom clean up the house. The police completely trashed it. Plus mom is just on one of her bingers and someone needs to stay at home and take care of her.”

  “Do you think she’d mind if I stopped by?”

  Mischa shrugs. “Do I look like my sister’s keeper?”

  I struggle to swallow, a lump catching in my throat. “Okay, I get it. Sorry I bothered you.”

  One of the girls in our class, Liz, walks up to us, her fingers twirling her hair. She looks me over before deciding I’m not a threat.

  “Mischa, you going to prom?”

  “No,” he says. He looks over to me. “You going
to prom, Cody?

  “Umm…” I’m a little confused as to why he’s asking. He’s a grade older so we each have a different prom to attend. “No.”

  Liz clears her throat like I’m intruding on a personal conversation, even though I was sitting here first.

  “Mischa, I had fun the other night.” She flips her hair over her shoulder.

  “Did you now?” Mischa doesn’t seem too interested, and that disinterest is not what she was expecting.

  What is she talking about? Did they hook up? My stomach churns as I think about it. Jealousy, rage, and curiosity get the best of me. Don’t do this, Cody. He said no promises. You knew what you were getting into. Stop acting like a lovesick puppy. Don’t get clingy.

  Feeling like a third wheel, I stand up and grab my backpack and walk over to my normal seat in the back of the classroom. He obviously wants to act like an asshole after sleeping with me. That’s his problem. I slouch down in my desk and stare holes into the back of his head.

  When he turns around to look at me, I expect to see the same flat, annoyed expression he had earlier, but his mood has changed. His eyes are remorseful as they meet mine.

  “I’m sorry,” he mouths.

  A smile twitches on my face. I don’t want to forgive him that easily, but when he looks at me like that, I can’t stay mad for long.

  After school, I decide to go check on Violet. She can’t be expected to look after her mom forever, and if I know Violet, which I do, she needs out of that house. I put the car in park and gather the courage to knock on her door. I walk through the unkempt lawn, which hasn’t been mowed this year and houses five broken down cars, and step on the porch. A cop car sits a little ways down the road, no doubt running my plates. The door swings open before I even knock and Violet steps out in a pair of oversized sweats. There are bags under her eyes, and her blonde hair is up in a messy ponytail.