I tried to hide my surprise. “Waiting for what?”
She blushed. “Waiting for him to be more sure about me, I guess. I don’t know. He says he isn’t ready yet.”
My jaw dropped to the floor. “Eric’s a virgin?”
She busied herself with the retro candy bars, which did not need straightening. This conversation was unbelievable. I wished I had a witness. “I shouldn’t have told you. Please don’t tell Jo.” But Jo probably already knew. “I just feel like he’s been acting extra distant these days and I thought maybe you might know what was up.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t.” A group of customers came in and Lexa gave them her sunniest smile. As I helped one person and the next, her observations about Aiden and me ping-ponged through my brain, ricocheting off my anger at my parents and my half-buried irritation with Jo. The fact that Lexa could see what was special about Aiden, while for some reason Jo refused, only added to the burn.
Antsyness skittered through me so I turned away from the couple that was entering and went to get my spray bottle and rag. I needed to clean. As the shift ticked by, my impatience with everything—Jo’s distance, my parents’ bullshit, this job, the world . . . everything that wasn’t Aiden—multiplied until I was so worked up I could barely count change without seething.
There was only one solution: I needed to see him. Only being in his arms could make things seem right again.
I texted Jo, Gotta stop by Aiden’s first, and powered off the phone as her Uh . . . okay flashed across the screen. I didn’t need her judgments. Fifteen minutes later I was buzzing his doorbell, kissing the surprised smile off his lips, and letting him lead me by the hand, up the stairs, into his bed, where the rest of the universe melted away.
Nineteen
SEX WAS BOTH EVERYTHING AND NOTHING LIKE WHAT I expected.
In the movies, it seemed pretty straightforward and obvious: The guy lies on top of the lady, thrusts his hips, and ta-da! They’re fucking. But it turns out the parts don’t just slide together on their own. The guy has to be kind of . . . positioned for entrance, and it took us a few tries to get it in right.
Once he was inside me, we were all systems go, though it slipped out a couple times and had to be put back in. I am having sex, I thought. There is a penis inside me. It was such a strange and surreal thing to be happening, I couldn’t help grinning. The longer we kept at it, the more hilarious it seemed, and soon I was full-on giggling.
Aiden paused. “Is this okay?” he asked.
His expression was so serious, it made the giggles come harder. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s just, don’t you think it’s funny? I mean, a funny thing to be doing?”
He frowned. “It doesn’t hurt?”
I shook my head. Not exactly. It was strange and a little uncomfortable, but not painful. It had pinched at first, but then it felt good and kind of hilariously awkward, like some goofy but awesome new dance we were learning together.
But Aiden was not grinning or laughing. He propped himself up on his elbows and stared into my eyes and kind of stroked my face and hair while moving slowly in and out of me, until I giggle-snorted and he turned his head away. A few more thrusts and he laid his full weight on top of me and said, “Okay, I’m done.” I stopped laughing.
I traced my fingers over his back and wondered if he’d come. Or had he given up or gone soft because I was laughing too much? I couldn’t tell. I hoped I hadn’t embarrassed him. He held on to the base of the condom and pulled out, rolling over to face the wall. I curled myself around him with one hand against his heart, and waited. Nothing.
I kissed the back of his neck. “Are you mad at me?”
He didn’t move. “Why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know. Because I was laughing and I thought maybe . . . Hey. I love you.”
He nodded but didn’t say it back. My stomach wobbled.
Just when I thought I might explode with confusion, he rolled over and covered my mouth with his. I kissed back, greedy for affirmation, and as we kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed, I felt him harden against my leg. He pulled off the old condom, flung it onto the floor, and, still kissing me, rolled on a new one.
He yanked my hips toward him and this time had no trouble getting himself inside. He pinned both my wrists and moved against me, much less gently than before. After a few seconds of pain, it felt good, physically. But it also felt like I was being punished.
He grunted and let out his breath with a full grimace, then collapsed onto the bed, spooning me close. He kissed my neck and squeezed my breasts and cuddled against me, all sweetness, and I wondered if I had imagined his anger.
“I love you,” he said into my ear before kissing it, and whatever I might have done wrong, I felt forgiven.
Twenty
WHEN I OPENED MY EYES, THE WORLD WAS PERFECT. I was lying on my side in Aiden’s warm bed with his arm tucked around me, his body curled against mine. I felt the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling and, without a thought, matched my breathing to his. My eyelids fell shut as we inhaled and exhaled together in sync, like two parts of one whole. I had never felt more complete.
We might not have been great at sleeping together yet—whatever, we would practice; it would be fun—but sleeping together was amazing. I was so glad I’d come here instead of going to Jo’s. I never wanted to leave this moment.
My eyes flew back open. Oh shit. Jo.
I peeked at the clock on Aiden’s dresser: 6:55 a.m. Too early to call her. Aiden had to be at work by eight, so his alarm would probably go off soon. Much as I wanted to stay nestled in his arms forever, I was suddenly all too aware I hadn’t showered in two days or brushed my teeth since yesterday morning. Aiden might, as he’d said, want to know every piece of me, but I wasn’t quite ready to inflict my morning breath on him. I slipped out from under his arm, hoping I wouldn’t wake him, and walked quietly to the bathroom. My stomach grumbled a reminder that I hadn’t fed it dinner.
I hadn’t meant to fall asleep in Aiden’s bed and stay the night, skipping dinner, bailing on Jo—but I also hadn’t not meant to. Jo was probably livid. I didn’t even want to turn on my phone and find out how pissed.
After we’d had sex that second time, Aiden had collapsed into sleep as I lay beside him, poking at the knot of my emotions. He’d snorted a few little piglet-like snores he probably would be embarrassed to know I’d heard, and I had turned my head to watch him sleeping. With his lips slightly open and his face relaxed in a dream, all his sweetness and vulnerability were right there on the surface. My heart surged with love as I thought of all he had trusted me with, and all I’d trusted of myself with him. I had tucked myself around him and vowed to never let go.
Jo would forgive me. Unlike me, she never stayed mad for long. And besides, she still owed me from the summer before fifth grade, when she forgot she’d invited me to go with her and Eric to the Erie County Fair, and I’d waited and waited for them to come pick me up and then cried all day while they ate cotton candy, caramel apples, frozen lemonade, and fried dough, and Eric threw it all up over the side of the Scrambler. I was still a little sad I’d missed that.
I brushed my teeth with my finger and swished the toothpaste around in my mouth, hoping it would cut through the scuzz on my tongue. I spit and rinsed and left the water on while peeing, to cover up the sound in case Aiden was awake. Not that he didn’t know girls peed—but that didn’t mean I wanted him to hear me doing it.
There were a few streaks of blood on the toilet paper when I wiped, and a slight soreness inside me that almost felt good, like I’d earned it. I knew having sex wasn’t an achievement, but I couldn’t help it—I felt proud, like I’d won a 5K or done a hundred pull-ups or something. Our first time may not have been fairy-tale perfect, but it was fun and real and romantic and ours. I wouldn’t change a thing . . . except that one moment when Aiden had gotten distant, like he was angry at me or maybe just expecting more. I hoped I hadn’t disappointed him. It was confusing how
quickly his mood sometimes turned.
When I emerged from the bathroom, clean and wrapped in Aiden’s red towel, the room smelled like coffee. Aiden stood in the kitchen in his underwear, hair messy and adorable with bedhead, pouring himself a cup. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” I felt oddly shy, given the things we had done to each other. But also, I wanted to do them again.
“Are you sure you have to go?” he asked. “You can’t stay and be here waiting for me when I get back from work?” He was teasing but I was tempted. I loved that after a whole night together he still wanted me around. Even if we didn’t talk or touch, just sat and stared into each other’s eyes for hours or days at a time, I didn’t think I could ever get sick of him.
He took a sip of coffee and held the mug out to me. I accepted it and he smiled and I knew that whatever came next—no matter how grouchy Jo was, or how annoying it would be having to hide him from my parents until I moved out for college and was finally free—it was worth the price for this happiness.
I blasted the radio all the way to Jo’s place and let myself in using the hidden key. The house was quiet and still—only Stella seemed to be awake. She watched me coolly from her perch on the staircase and flicked her tail with judgment.
I removed my shoes, crept past her up to Jo’s room, and shut the door gently behind myself. Jo was asleep, or pretending to be. I slid open a dresser drawer and helped myself to pajamas—the blue ones with yellow duckies. They reminded me of a game Kyle and I used to play when we were still young enough to take our baths together, a rubber-ducky adventure he’d inexplicably dubbed the Bubble-Pony Bing Bang. I’d loved that game. I wished I still remembered how to play it.
Pajamas on, I used Jo’s lip balm to moisten my kiss-chapped lips, climbed under the covers, and slid into a dream of everything and nothing and him.
Twenty-One
I SENSED JO’S DISPLEASURE BEFORE I SAW IT. IT WAS cast over me like a heavy woolen blanket, prickly on the skin, stiflingly thick, and scented with the tang of mothballs and irritation. I peeked at my best friend. She sat cross-legged on her side of the bed, watching me with a gaze like Stella’s.
“Your mom called.”
That woke me up. “When?”
“Last night. Around nine. She couldn’t get through on your phone so she tried mine.”
I waited, heart pounding. I’d never before been unsure whether Jo would betray me.
“I told her you’d passed out while we were watching a movie and did she want me to wake you up.” Jo paused ominously and the air in my chest transformed to cement. “Lucky for you, she said no.”
The cement crumbled. I resumed breathing. “What did she want?”
“She said she’d text but you’re on your own for dinner tonight because they’re going out with one of your dad’s coworkers, so to please be home on time to walk Rufus and do your homework and lock yourself up in your cell like usual.”
I met her eyes. There was no give in them. “Thank you.”
She regarded me steadily. “You’re welcome.”
I sighed, wishing I could fast-forward through this part. We both knew how it would end. “Jo, I’m sorry, I fell asleep and—”
“And you didn’t care that we had plans or that I was sitting around waiting for you all night, half wondering if you were dead, half furious that you weren’t, because all you could think about was Aiden and you knew I’d get over it, so why even bother texting back to say you were standing me up?”
I swallowed. She was more pissed than I’d thought. And, snide comment about Aiden aside, she wasn’t wrong. I should have texted her. “My phone’s been off.”
“Right. How convenient. An insurmountable obstacle.”
I groaned and threw myself across her knee. “Please don’t be mad. I’m the worst. I know I don’t deserve you. Just . . . give me fifty lashes. With a noodle. Not a wet one. Beat me with a jagged, uncooked noodle until both I and the noodle doth break. Use two noodles. I beg you, show no mercy. Allow me to earn back my good name and your forgiveness.”
I cast a hand across my forehead in my most beseeching swoon, and watched as she struggled to hold on to her anger. I could tell it was loosening, but the anger still won. “Betts. Just because you’re in love doesn’t mean you can be a total dick. I’m not your cover, I’m your best friend. Everything about last night sucked.”
I felt a wash of shame. She was right.
“I mean you’ve known this guy for what, two weeks? And already he’s more important to you than anything or anyone else? I get that he’s hot but is it worth all this?”
I sat up. “All what,” I said.
Jo gestured as if the what were in the air all around us. “Lying to your parents. Lying to me. Cutting work and ditching friends and giving zero shits about anything that isn’t him. Dropping everything and everyone else to run to his side the minute he snaps his fingers and says come. Changing who you are just to fit some vision of what he wants you to be.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve changed, Bee. I feel like you’re slipping away from me and you don’t even care.” Before I could protest, she charged forward. “You have. The Betts I know wouldn’t treat me like that. She wouldn’t ditch me for some guy and force me to cover for her with everyone and make me stay up half the night wondering if she’s ever going to bother to show. The Betts I know doesn’t drink black coffee and only talk about her boyfriend and not give a shit when her best friend has something to tell her because all she thinks about is him.”
I stared at a smudge on the wall by Jo’s head and wished I could scrub it off. “I talk about things other than Aiden,” I said.
Jo’s eyebrow game was high. “Have you listened to us lately? We are failing the Bechdel-Wallace Test. All we talk about now is boys.”
“We also talk about Sydney.”
She didn’t smile. “You are not helping your case.”
I shrugged. If this was the way Jo felt—like Aiden was some guy and I was an awful friend because of one emergency mess-up and she couldn’t support my falling in love because I wasn’t going to be, as Tyson once put it, “Jo’s little lapdog” anymore—then I shouldn’t have bothered to come here. Considering my parents had just forbidden me from seeing the love of my life, my best friend could maybe be a little more understanding. I didn’t need her to pile on about Aiden too.
“I’m sorry that my falling in love isn’t intellectually stimulating enough for you. I’m sorry that the major thing going on in my life right now, the amazing and wonderful thing I want to be able to tell my best friend about, doesn’t pass your big feminist test.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? Fucking Lexa is being a more supportive friend than you right now.”
I expected her to fire back but instead her face got sad. “I just think that Aiden—”
“Stop,” I cut her off. “You don’t want us to talk about him anymore and I don’t want to hear it.” She looked away.
I picked some fuzz off my pajama top and studied the familiar pattern of Jo’s comforter as we sat there in silence. I had already apologized for standing her up. I would not apologize for falling in love. If Jo couldn’t accept that, there was nothing else I could do. Trying to force me to choose between them was not going to end the way she wanted.
After an eternity, Jo finally spoke. “Hey.” Her voice cracked. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying,” I snapped, refusing to play into the joke. But when I looked at her face it was streaked with tears.
My anger broke. I lunged into the hug.
Twenty-Two
I STOOD BENEATH THE CASCADE OF MY SECOND shower of the day, letting my emotions unclench as the steam filled my lungs and the water hammered my back. Like everything else in Jo and Eric’s house, the water pressure in their shower was perfect. I loved knowing I could stand there until every inch of my skin was puckered and prune-y, and still no one would bang on the door, reminding
me not to waste water and that other people needed to be able to use the bathroom too, please. My mother enforced the five-minute shower rule as if the future of the planet depended on it. The Metmowlee-Rubens had three showers and no rules about any of them.
On the other side of the curtain, Jo tapped her toothbrush twice against the sink, a post-brushing tic I knew drove Eric nuts. “So do you want to hear the exciting thing that happened to me yesterday morning?”
The memory of her texts floated back to me through the steam. Whoops. I should have remembered to ask about that. “Of course,” I said. “Tell me.”
“Well. I was experimenting with glazes on a batch of cinnamon rolls—”
“Yum.” Aside from the coffee I’d had at Aiden’s, my stomach was still empty. I would have eaten six cinnamon rolls right there in the shower if only they were within reaching distance.
“Sorry,” Jo said. “All gone. And, raisins.”
“Oh.” So she had already been mad at me, even before last night. Or maybe that was just what the recipe had called for. I reminded myself this wasn’t about me. “Continue.”
“So I took a few photos of how the glazes were turning out, and right after I post them, I get a message from Sydney saying, ‘Those look delicious.’”
“A text?”
“A comment on my post.”
“Okay.” I tried to keep my voice encouraging but so far this story did not qualify as “exciting.”
“So I was like, ‘Come over and you can try some,’ and she was like, ‘Seriously?’ and I said, ‘I could actually really use a guinea pig,’ and twenty minutes later she was sitting on a stool in my kitchen, being my pig.”
“Wow,” I said. Maybe I hadn’t been giving Jo enough credit.
“I know. She stayed for, like, three hours, just chilling and talking and stuff. Betts, she is so amazing.”
I could hear the big, dopey grin on Jo’s face, even without seeing it. A snake of jealousy slid through me, the same hiss and tingle I used to feel if Jo got paired with someone else for an elementary-school art project or played too long with another kid on the swing set. I smiled it off. That was ridiculous. Sydney wasn’t going to become Jo’s new best friend. That wasn’t the role Jo was going for.
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