We invoked Jo’s firstborn twin privileges to cut Eric in the lunch line and joked around with him about the “special sauce” for the meatloaf none of us would be eating, though most likely no actual meat was involved. Once we had our food, Eric went off to sit with his soccer friends while Jo and I snagged end seats at a table with some girls we’d been friendly-but-never-quite-friends with since early sophomore year. They wanted details on Aiden and me, and when Eleanor asked Jo if she’d met him yet, Jo said “of course” and launched into a raunchy description of his physical attributes in an attempt to make me blush. It worked.
I sculpted the glob of mashed potatoes on my tray into a heart and imagined how I would describe it all to Aiden later on: The straight-faced, confiding way Jo said the words “love sausage.” Eleanor’s widening blue eyes, which matched the elastics on her second round of braces. Krystal’s high-pitched, rapid-fire laugh that always took me by surprise.
A roar went up from across the room and I swiveled just in time to see a tower of milk cartons that had been balancing on top of Tyson’s head topple to the floor, exploding at the feet of three other guys on the debate team. Tyson whooped. “New record!” he shouted, and I flashed on the time he’d laid his head on my lap, emitted a loud fake snore, and interrupted what I was saying with a cutting “Good news, you’ve cured my insomnia.” Hilarious.
I turned back to my table. “So spontaneous,” Jo said.
“You’ve definitely traded up,” Krystal told me.
I agreed, but Ty was irrelevant. His jokey insults would never slice through me again. And Aiden wouldn’t dream of disrespecting me that way. As I half listened to a story about something Eleanor had heard about or maybe seen happen in the locker room but Krystal was certain wasn’t true, I glanced around the cafeteria, viewing it all through the Lens of Him. The Aiden voice in my head said, It’s so high school, and we shared a secret smile. This was no longer my world. He was.
But I didn’t tell Aiden about any of it when we were finally together, sitting on his bed, arms and legs entwined. All the tidbits and minutiae I’d been collecting for him throughout the day scattered from my thoughts as Aiden kissed me slowly, sweetly, with a gentleness that made me fierce with want. I kept it contained but it was hard not to devour him.
He slid his hands up my arms, along my shoulders, down the length of my sides and around my hips, and finally just under the hem of my shirt. “Is this okay?” he said, his touch light against the skin of my back.
“Yes.” I pulled my shirt off over my head. “Is this okay?” I asked.
Aiden drew a sharp breath and pulled me closer. He kissed a line across my collarbone and slid the bra straps off my shoulders. I shivered and tugged at his T-shirt. “It’s only fair if we match,” I said. He smiled, and in an instant his shirt was on the floor on top of mine. He leaned back against the pillows, pulling me down with him, and I leaned into the niceness of skin on skin, warm and soft and wonderful. I ran my fingers up his stomach and through his surprise patch of chest hair—Tyson hadn’t had any. I liked it. I liked everything about him.
Jo was so wrong.
I channeled all my courage and asked without preamble, “How many people have you slept with?”
He kissed my nose. “Zero.”
I pulled back to see if he was teasing. Of all the answers I had been steeling myself for, that one hadn’t occurred to me as a possibility. “Really?”
“Really. Why, how many people have you slept with?” he asked, sitting up a bit.
“Zero,” I said.
“Cool.”
I tried to keep my voice steady. “I want you to be my first.”
He tucked my hair behind my ear and cupped his hand behind my neck. “I want you to be my only.”
Fifteen
WE DIDN’T DO IT RIGHT AWAY. HE DIDN’T HAVE ANY condoms and I didn’t want it to feel rushed, so we decided we’d wait until Friday, when we could take our time and “do it properly,” as Aiden said, his face serious, though I couldn’t stop my own grin. Still, there was plenty we could do without condoms involved, and soon the grin was all I was wearing.
All week I was buzzing with it: anticipation mixed with curiosity, adrenaline, and nerves. We were going to do it. We were going to have sex. And from that moment on, there would be no turning back. Whether or not we were each other’s forever, we would always be each other’s first—permanently linked in this impalpable way, no matter what came next. It was a bond and a promise I couldn’t wait to make.
I went through the motions of my week—homework; Sugar Shack; walking Rufus in the rain, walking Rufus in the snow, walking Rufus through the slushy, frozen mix; setting the table, washing dishes, getting through dinner with my parents; talking with Jo, joking with Eric, avoiding Cicily’s probing and OJ’s wrath—all of it a haze except in those sharp moments when Aiden texted and suddenly I felt present and alive.
If Jo noticed anything was up, she didn’t comment, and I didn’t tell her what Aiden and I were planning. I didn’t tell her much about him at all. It was weird how almost not-weird it was to block her out of this huge decision, but I didn’t want to hear any more of her opinions about him, and really, it was none of her business. Besides, she was plenty wrapped up in her own concerns.
Friday morning, she threw herself against OJ’s locker and heaved a dramatic sigh. I selected a green pen from my pencil case. “What’s wrong, pumpkin?” I asked.
Jo groaned. “Yesterday Sydney and I got in this adorable fight about which is the better ingredient, garlic or ginger. Which, ginger, obviously.”
I nodded. “Obviously.”
“So last night I baked these triple-ginger biscotti to help prove my point and I was going to give them to her at break with a cup of Darjeeling but now look at my face.”
I looked at it. “What?”
“My nose! It’s all dried out and irritated from stupid fucking winter and it feels like a giant zit is about to erupt out my nostril and take over my face. I look disgusting.”
“Move your hand,” I said. “Hold still, let me see.”
Jo tipped her head back. I inspected her nostrils. They were a little bit red, but only from nose-blowing. “It’s fine. You’re totally fine.”
“It’s not fine. It’s red and puffy and flaky and gross and she’s going to think I have nasal herpes.”
“Okay, that’s gross.”
She moaned and hid her face in my shoulder. “No one will ever want to make out with me again.”
“I always want to make out with you.” I pushed her away so I could close my locker door. “But we probably shouldn’t share tissues for a while, in case you do have nasal herpes. You’ll have to blow your nose on my sleeve instead.” I held out my arm.
Her face scrunched up. “Is that even a thing? I mean, I made it up, but what if it’s a real thing?”
“Nasal herpes? I don’t even want to know,” I said, trying not to picture it.
Jo shuddered. “Let’s swear we’ll never google it.”
“We do not need those images in our pretty little heads.” If there was one thing we had learned in our eighth-grade health class, it was Never Ask the Internet Anything.
I had never seen Jo so worked up about a crush. The chances of anything actually happening still seemed slim—I’d had at least two more Syd-and-Benji sightings that week and there had been plenty of face-sucking involved—but of course I was rooting for it. And if Jo fell in love too, maybe she would understand about Aiden.
Then again, maybe not. What Aiden and I had felt so much bigger than any high school relationship, and not just because he was older. I felt almost sorry for Jo that she couldn’t possibly fathom the difference. I couldn’t have either, before I’d fallen deep into it.
After a lifetime of playing Jo’s sidekick, it was strange to suddenly feel leagues ahead of her. This was new territory for us. Ever since the third day of the third week of second grade, that was who I’d been: Jo’s best friend. But
now I was something different. Now I was Aiden’s.
It was sad, in a way, how quickly things were changing, but maybe it was the natural course of things. Despite my apprehension about being apart from Jo, I was excited about SUNY Geneseo—excited for in-state tuition and choosing a major and moving into a residence hall a full, glorious hour and twenty minutes outside my parents’ reach, but luckily not all that far, really, from Aiden. It would be easy for him to come out on weekends and stuff if he changed up his shifts at the garage. In a few weeks Jo would get her acceptances from Brown and Swarthmore and probably everywhere else far away she’d applied, and before we knew it, we would be starting down our separate paths and the space between us would be measured in miles instead of moments. I’d simply started down my path a little early.
We walked toward homeroom. “So my parents are meeting Aiden tonight.”
Jo’s eyes went wide. “What did you tell them?”
“That I met him through Lexa and this is our first date.” It was true enough. That day at the Sugar Shack, he’d been talking to her first.
“Are you nervous?”
Yes, but not about that. “No. They liked Tyson just fine and he’s a dick.”
“Fair point. And I guess you won’t be mentioning he’s a dropout who rides a motorcycle,” she said. My face flashed hot with annoyance, but she was right—instead I’d told them he was out of high school and “taking a gap year.” Still, it didn’t even seem to occur to her I might find her comment insulting. She kept talking right past it. “You guys should come over and watch a movie. I’ll make peanut-butter popcorn.”
“I think Aiden has something planned,” I said. I tried to look sorry.
Jo tried not to look hurt. “You’re still coming over tomorrow, though, right?”
“Yup, after my shift.”
“Cool.” We stopped outside my classroom. I suddenly felt very tired. “Hey, Betts?”
“Yeah?”
“I really am glad for you. About Aiden. And I want a chance to get to know him, okay? You’re my best friend. I want to be part of your life.”
“I know.” I did not want to have this conversation in the hallway, eight seconds before class. I didn’t want to have this conversation at all. Jo and I never fought, not about important things. We’d always been on the same page, the same team. It was exhausting to feel so very differently about this. I didn’t know how to tell her that what she thought of him didn’t matter, that this part of my life didn’t involve her. Everything between Aiden and me was wrapped up in its own cocoon. The Cocoon of Us held something infinite, but it didn’t have space for anyone else. Everything I needed was inside.
I changed the subject. “You should give her the biscotti. She’ll love it. I gotta go.”
Confusion flashed across Jo’s face as I backed toward the door. “What? Oh. Thanks. Okay.”
We both turned away.
Sixteen
IT WAS A SURREAL MOMENT, CHOOSING WHAT OUTFIT to put on for my last few hours as a virgin. My underwear collection was not exactly curated for these purposes, I realized as I stood in my towel, poking through the drawer of value-pack cotton, thirty-eight minutes before Aiden was supposed to arrive. Perhaps I should have shopped for the occasion.
I pulled out my nicest bra (black, a little lacy), gave it the sniff test (deodorant-y but fine), and paired it with red cotton underpants. My brain flashed on Jo and Eric in their kitchen last fall, saying the word “panties” back and forth in snooty British accents à la Alan Rickman as Snape, while their mother laughed and their father shook his head and grinned into his coffee. Not how my parents would have reacted, at all. My mom would have shut that joke down with one look, before it started. Her presence did not inspire fun.
I hoped she would be chill in front of Aiden tonight and not launch into one of her lectures or interrogations. If I could get him out of the house before that happened, the encounter would be a win.
It would be fine either way, though. Aiden could hold his own in whatever conversation might come up, and he’d said he didn’t mind that my parents were protective and I wasn’t allowed to date him until they’d met him. Once we’d made it through those first few minutes of parental scrutiny, we would escape into our perfect evening. And after tonight I could stop hiding his existence—though of course we would still have to keep the motorcycle under wraps.
In the shower I’d been envisioning an outfit involving my jean skirt, patterned tights, and the purple lace-up boots Jo had talked me into buying on super sale last summer (they were perfect for her but only came in my size), but as I pictured Aiden undressing me later (distracting, delicious thought), I realized tights might not be the best choice. Scrunching them off in front of him seemed awkward at best, and if he tugged them off for me I would be worried they might rip. Better to go with jeans for easier removal.
I chose a fitted black tank and a soft gray sweater and pulled them on, thrilling at the knowledge that when I did so again a few hours later, I would be irreversibly different. Not that I bought into any of that societal crap about virginity or purity—one more way the world tries to police women’s bodies—but I did believe in the power of experiences, and tonight Aiden and I would be experiencing something incredibly important, for the first time, together. That meant something. It was kind of a huge freaking deal.
I checked my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. I felt proud and excited about this choice I was making. I felt powerful, responsible, and ready.
I had a sudden urge to call Jo and tell her what I was planning. But just as quickly, the inclination passed. She was probably busy making dinner with her dad, and there were only a few minutes before Aiden would get here. And in truth I was still smarting from that thing she’d said earlier. Besides, I already had someone to share this experience with: him.
Rufus barked, and seconds later the doorbell rang. My heart jumped as I lunged for my socks, glancing at the clock. He was seven minutes early.
“I’ll get it!” I yelled, shoving my feet into the nearest pair of shoes and rushing out into the hallway. Aiden shouldn’t have to face my parents for the first time alone. But as I reached the top of the stairs, I saw my father already holding open the door and Aiden shaking his hand as he stepped through it, saying, “Nice to meet you, sir.” Rufus sniffed at his legs, tail wagging, as Aiden looked up and his eyes locked on mine. I started down the stairs and watched the slow, sexy smile spread across his face. He looked amazing.
“Hello, Aiden,” my mother called. She emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel, and Aiden turned her way.
I felt a thousand rapid-fire heartbeats in the length of their pause.
Mom pulled back her shoulders. “Oh. What a surprise.”
“Nice to see you again, Ms. Jensen.”
I hurried down the last few steps on high alert. Jensen was Mom’s maiden name, which she still used professionally to “maintain privacy” at school. I stood next to Aiden. “You guys have met?”
He kept his eyes on my mother. Neither of them blinked. “We have,” she said.
My father cleared his throat. He looked as clueless as I felt. “Well,” he said, gesturing toward the living room. Nobody moved.
“What have you been doing with yourself these past few years, Aiden?” my mother asked.
Aiden lifted his chin. “Working hard and staying out of trouble,” he said. “I’m fixing cars at Percy’s Garage over on South Park Ave, learning a ton from Percy and the guys. I earned my GED last summer and I’m thinking of applying for community college this fall.” He was? That was news to me. I looked back and forth between them. Aiden’s face was earnest and open. My mother’s face was stone. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with my little brother and sister, too. Helping my dad where I can. Family is very important to me,” he added.
“Helping is good,” my father said. They ignored him.
Mom stared Aiden down like he was a stain on her favorite blous
e. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she seemed to reach a decision. We all waited to hear it.
She looked at me. “You have your phone charged?” I nodded. “And enough money for a cab ride home if you need it?” I nodded again. “Good.” She didn’t smile. “I want you home before ten.”
I started to protest—my normal Friday night curfew was eleven—but Aiden cut me off with a firm “No problem.”
“Where are you kids off to?” Dad said.
His place, I thought, and almost wished I could say it. Despite this charade, my parents did not own me.
“I thought we might try the rink at Canalside, maybe get a bite to eat someplace nearby,” Aiden said so smoothly it sounded true. He looked at me. “Do you skate?”
“I skate. And I definitely eat.” I grabbed my coat off its hook and reached for the doorknob. “Let’s go.” Before my mother changes her mind.
“Have fun,” Dad said. “Be safe.”
I thought of the condoms tucked away in my bag. Safe. That was the plan. “We will,” I said as I pushed Aiden out the door. I pulled it shut behind us, closed my eyes, and exhaled long and hard as my brain followed the strings and connected the dots, producing one tangled mess also known as my life.
Aiden’s footsteps crunched in the driveway. He unlocked the passenger-side door and held it open, waiting for me to get inside. I almost hoped my parents were watching.
“Thanks,” I said, trying to read his flat expression as I sank down into the seat. The door smacked shut, jolting my heart on impact.
Aiden started the car without a word, backed out of the driveway, and stared straight ahead as he drove. The tension in his jawline matched the tightness in my chest and his white-knuckled grip on the wheel. I felt like I should apologize, but for what? This wasn’t something I had done. It was a pathetic impulse, always jumping to apply an “I’m sorry” to things, but helpless and pathetic was how I felt when he iced me out like this.
Aiden slowed for the stop sign at the end of my street, signaled, and turned right. I put my hand on his leg and felt his thigh muscles tense then relax beneath my touch. He dropped one hand off the wheel and covered mine, squeezing it gently. Relief coursed through me. We were still an us.
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