by Andrea Wolfe
"Well," he said softly, "we probably won't get to hang out much if you're going to be there with him. Like with him. It's different from just being friends or whatever. Going with someone to a dance is like a date, right?"
I rubbed his shoulder slowly. "A date? I mean, sort of, but it's not a big deal. Sometimes a 'date' is just, like, drinking coffee together." I shot him a warm smile. "We can all still hang out together the whole night. Don't worry. It's nothing serious, if that's what you're worried about."
"Do you like him or something?" Jesse asked. He was watching the movie, but based on his vacant expression, he didn't look like he was processing anything.
"I think he's cute," I confessed giddily. I felt comfortable discussing the topic with Jesse. We had always shared our deepest secrets. "I've had a little crush on him for a long time. Does he ever talk about me?"
Jesse responded abruptly. "I don't really remember. Maybe." He continued blankly staring at the flashing images of death and despair on the TV.
"Cheer up," I said. "It won't be a big deal, I promise. You're still my best friend. Nothing can change that. It's just one little school dance, that's all."
It didn't matter though, because his exterior had apparently turned to stone. He was just frozen, his posture stiff, his arms crossed over his chest. Nothing was getting through no matter how hard I tried. I didn't understand.
"I'm just worried we're gonna drift apart. He's a really great guy. You'll probably really like him. You won't have any time for me."
"No way," I remarked. "That's not how real friends work. I'm not like that, Jesse. You know that."
He shrugged. "Yeah. I guess."
We dropped the discussion after that, and I did my best to stay focused on the movie.
"Man, that was gross," I said as a guy's head rolled off, blood pooling beneath him.
Jesse unenthusiastically smiled. "Yeah. Sucks for him."
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked. "You usually go crazy about the gory stuff."
"Just tired," he said firmly.
I wanted to believe him, but it seemed like he was probably still thinking about the dance. But maybe he actually was tired. I decided not to push him too hard.
So we finished the movie and we said our goodnights. Everything seemed normal. He seemed tired. No big deal.
Sometimes he could be a little moody. It was nothing. In a couple days, we wouldn't even remember it.
Well, that's what I thought, anyway.
***
The week before the dance went by in a busy blur, so much that Jesse and I barely talked at all. Both Jesse and Mason were on the football team, but Mason was the quarterback. I definitely wasn't going to say it around Jesse—he was the wide receiver—but it was kind of mind-blowing that the quarterback had asked me out.
On Wednesday I called Jesse after school.
"It sucks that we don't have any classes together this semester. We need to hang out. Do you want to go eat somewhere after school tomorrow?" I asked, trying to keep things light. "Do something fun?"
"I've got too much going on, Naomi," he said stiffly. "Y'know, football practice and homework."
"We could eat after practice," I suggested. "I want to try that new pizza place. People are saying it's really good."
"I'm trying not to eat junk food before the game," he said. "And I seriously have a ton of homework."
He kept shooting me down, no matter what I proposed. It made me think about Saturday night, about our conversation.
"Did you ask anyone to the dance yet, Jesse?" I asked.
"Haven't had a chance to," he said.
Something was definitely off. He was keeping something from me.
"Are you okay?" I asked. Jesse wasn't known to make excuses, at least not with me. I decided to be more direct. "Is this about the dance? About Mason? Because I can totally—"
"No! It's not." The volume of his voice rose and fell abruptly and it startled me into silence. "Nothing is wrong. I'm just... just stressed. Don't change your plans for me."
I sighed. "Okay, Jesse," I said. "Well, try to relax. It'll be fine. I'll talk to you later."
Well, I didn't talk to him later.
Friday rolled around and I went to the dance with Mason, and all I can say is that a lot of things changed that night. It all happened so fast.
"Are you ready?" he asked me, just before we walked in.
My heart pounded. I could hear the excitement spilling into the hall from the cafeteria.
"Yeah, I think so," I said, feeling giddier than I'd been in years,
I guess it was probably just hormones, but when he took my arm in the hall and led me into the dance—after throwing the game-winning touchdown pass, of course—I lost myself in the moment.
Hell, I drowned in it.
Everyone cheered for Mason as we walked in. It was incredible. I felt like royalty, like the dance was just for us.
Streamers and colored banners and flashing DJ lights. The pulsing thump of the music and the roar of laughter as we all sang along. The hot, sweaty crowd, dancing the night away, celebrating a homecoming victory in the best way possible.
Sometimes we danced with our friends, and sometimes we danced alone, soaking up the excitement together. And when John Mayer's "Daughters" came on, I almost melted into a puddle on the floor.
"May I have this dance, madam?" he asked.
"Of course," I shouted, jumping into his arms.
Mason was gorgeous, with sandy-blond hair and striking blue eyes, wide shoulders and an impressive, highly-toned physique, one of the hottest guys in the whole school. His cheeks got rosy-red whenever he laughed, and his smile was utterly infectious.
And now I was slow-dancing with him. Even though we were in a crowd, it was just us in that beautiful moment, a moment I wished would never end.
It was such an incredible, magical night, like something out of a John Hughes movie from the eighties. I didn't even know it was possible to have that much fun. We laughed and danced and wandered around the school, eventually sneaking into the gym and goofing around in the dark on the wrestling mats.
I didn't want the night to end. It was just... too good. Youth, excitement, romance...
We danced the night away, feeling totally free. My mom hadn't really approved of me going at all, but despite her firm beliefs, she was rather passive about enforcing them. And that night, I was especially thankful for that fact.
I was there, enjoying one of the greatest nights of my life. It was perfect.
Jesse never showed up. I blocked him out of my mind because I didn't want to worry. I didn't want that situation to spoil the night. And it didn't.
He took off after the game without telling anyone where he was going, driving into the night in the raggedy red truck that his father gave him for his sixteenth birthday. Whatever. Things would be back to normal next week, like nothing happened at all.
I was certain of that.
After the dance, Mason drove us to an empty parking lot overlooking the hills on the other side of town. He shut off his old Corvette and left on the radio.
"That was great. Did you have fun tonight?" he asked, gazing over at me.
"I did," I said. "I'm really glad we did this." There was such a warm, fuzzy feeling in my belly the whole time. I hadn't ever felt anything like it before. While Mason wasn't my first crush, he certainly felt like the first one who actually mattered.
"I like you, Naomi," he said. "I always kind of thought you and Jesse were a thing so I never said anything. But I always wanted to. You're... really cool and cute."
I shook my head in disbelief, missing his compliments entirely. "Jesse and me? No way. We're just best friends. I've known him my whole life." The idea of dating Jesse seemed so odd and foreign.
"Me too," Mason said. "It's funny how things change, isn't it?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. Did you ever ask him about me? Or say anything about how you felt?"
Mason stared off into the nigh
t, the headlights of passing cars glinting in his eyes. "I did once, but he was in a bad mood. So I dropped it and just asked you out instead."
I took a sip from my water and leaned back in the seat, pressing my head against the headrest. "Well, thanks for asking me," I finally said. "It's been really fun."
He smiled. "I'm just glad you said yes!"
I laughed in disbelief. "Did you really think I was gonna say no to the hot quarterback?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. You could have. I wanted you to say yes, but you're definitely allowed to say no. It doesn't matter that I'm the quarterback."
I gazed back at him, appreciative of his honesty. "Well, I did what I wanted, Mason. And I'm happy."
We both fell silent after that, sitting quietly, comfortably. I didn't feel like I needed to say anything.
Mason glanced down at the clock on the old cassette radio. It was a few minutes after midnight. "When do you need to be back?"
"By one at the latest. My mom is already going to be mad, but I'm definitely not ready to leave yet."
Mason nodded. "Well, let's sit in the back until then. It's more comfortable."
I followed along, not sure where things were going. While I certainly had ideas, none of them were concrete or reliable. We climbed out of our respective sides of the car and pulled the seats forward. And then we quickly jumped back in and yanked the doors shut, our bodies now one row closer to the oft-ignored NO LOITERING AFTER DARK sign behind us.
Yes, we ignored it too.
We initially remained separate, leaning back and staring out through the front window, idly chatting, passing juicy gossip back and forth like we were taking swigs from a bottle of wine in a brown paper bag.
I started to get cold, but I tried to hide it, not wanting to disrupt the perfect silence of the night by asking him to start the car. Mason seemed to pick up on my discomfort almost immediately.
"Are you cold?" he asked.
"A little chilly," I confessed. "But you don't have to—"
"Here," he said, promptly handing me his varsity jacket. "I'm too hot anyway."
"Thank you," I said quietly. But instead of taking the jacket, I instinctively slid toward where he held it and just sort of fit myself into the comfortable space in front, leaning against him.
He wrapped the jacket around my body and kept his warm, strong arm there, holding me close. I rested my head on his chest. Not long after, he was stroking my hair, and I began to lose myself.
I felt tingly from top to bottom, and when I finally tilted my head to gaze up into his eyes, he kissed me, and it was like the kiss spilled all the way through my entire body. The deep and powerful sensation rushed through me with an overwhelming undercurrent of care and concern and want. Goose bumps rippled along my icy flesh in delicate waves.
When I kissed back, I couldn't stop. I had always wondered what people did when they kissed, where they put their hands and feet, what they did for variety so it didn't get boring.
Was that something to worry about? I knew that sex in movies was not very realistic, but what about passionate kissing?
I mean, the sex was usually simulated, but the kissing was real, and so did that mean I had to—
My heart beat out of control, urged on by my hyperactive imagination. We kissed and kissed without stopping, shifting our tongues back and forth, breathing into each other, speaking beautiful, silent phrases that only we understood. Every natural movement helped to quiet the tumult of my neurotic thoughts until they were tinier than whispers a mile away.
I put one arm around his lower back and one on the nape of his neck, passively exploring and massaging during the tender interplay of our lips. He cradled me gently, lovingly, and it showed just how comforting strength could be.
Eventually, he pushed me flat against the seat and climbed between my legs, legs that I willingly spread to accommodate him. I could feel how hard he was, but me being a sixteen year old virgin, I didn't know a whole lot about that.
You know, did he have to have sex if that happened? Would he be mad if we didn't? Also, my mom liked to talk about how sinful pre-marital sex was, but if it felt anything like this, I knew I probably wouldn't be able to resist...
Even though it was only our first real date, I was already thinking like that. It was odd. A little wild and crazy. A little rebellious...
But it never came up. We made out until my head was fuzzy and sublime and I was swimming in a sea of unbelievable feelings. The whole thing felt physically incredible from start to finish, and nothing I had worried about was a problem at all. It was totally automatic, guided by feeling, just as it should be.
He drove me home and then kissed me goodnight. "Can we do this again soon?" he asked.
"Of course," I said.
We awkwardly paused for a minute, and then kissed one last time. "Okay, see you, Mason," I said, stroking his hand.
"Bye, Naomi. Thanks for such an awesome night."
I crept inside, thankful that my mom wasn't waiting for me. After a quick stop in the bathroom to get ready for bed, I fell into a beautiful slumber.
It was the beginning of something new—but I had no idea where it would take me.
3
Things got really confusing really fast after that—but not with Mason.
The Monday after the dance, I snuck up on Jesse, surprising him at his locker. I had gotten out of class early and actually had time to make it to the other side of the school.
He was legitimately startled by my appearance, dropping his textbooks all over the floor. "Shit," he mumbled under his breath. It was as if I had interrupted some intensely private personal moment. I felt horrible.
"Jesse, I'm so sorry," I said. I squatted down and helped him pick up the fallen educational tools.
His cheeks were flushed red with embarrassment, even though none of the passing students seemed to notice or care about what had happened. He stared back at me with huge, subdued pupils as he restacked the books on the top shelf of his locker. "It's okay."
"Do you have a minute?" I asked.
"I don't have long," he said tersely. He looked unhappy, but he was probably just tired. Mondays were never easy after the weekend.
"What happened to you on Friday? Nobody knew where you went. We were—"
"I felt sick after the game. I didn't want to go out." His eyes focused on everything except for me.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I wish you could have been there. We had such a good time. Mason and I."
"I'm sure you did." His tone was really inauthentic, but I was way too excited to feel uncomfortable.
"We even made out," I whispered. "My first serious kiss! It was awesome."
"That's nice," he said, still conspicuously avoiding eye contact. "I'm so happy for you."
"What's wrong, Jesse?" I inquired aggressively. "I need to know what's up. You can tell me anything. Did something happen at home?"
"There's nothing wrong with me," he said haughtily.
"So are you saying it's me?" I snapped. I grew impatient fast. Jesse was someone I had always had a direct line of communication with, a line that withheld nothing. Now he was acting eerily combative and I didn't like it one bit.
"Not necessarily." He hastily closed his locker and leaned against it, facing me, arms crossed defensively over his chest.
"What the hell are you saying then?" I said, almost shouting. People were starting to notice us.
"I guess I don't know what I'm saying." His face grew so pallid after the harsh red I had seen earlier. "But I've gotta go. See you, Naomi."
I scoffed at him and shrugged my shoulders. "What the hell, Jesse? Seriously?"
He didn't look back as he disappeared down the hall.
***
I never could have predicted what happened in the next few weeks.
Things were great with Mason. We were hanging out a lot, even with his football practice and part-time job, which actually meant we were making out a lot.
Sometimes we w
ould sneak out into the woods and mess around on a blanket, always having to pluck the twigs and leaves out of our hair like a couple of grooming monkeys before we returned to civilization. He had a secret spot, a little clearing in the forest, and he loved bringing me there.
"I like being out here with you," he always said. "I used to play out here with my older brother a long time ago. Now it's our place."
There was, coincidentally enough, a big graffiti-covered rock near the clearing, referred to as Make Out Rock by local couples. But we always avoided it because it seemed pretty gross.
We went out for ice cream at least once a week, and Mason always paid. He was an incredible gentleman, all the time, every day, and on top of that, he was a great guy. Sweet, attentive, caring. I was falling hard for him—and fast. I still hadn't even told my parents that we were dating, but I knew I would have to soon.
It was better for me to tell them directly than have them hear from somebody else.
"It'll be fine," he kept saying. "They won't be mad. It's not a big deal."
"You don't know that," I would whine. "You've never met my mom. You don't know how she can be."
"Well, you should take me to meet her then. And your dad."
It was crazy—he actually wanted to meet my parents.
All of this left me in a wonderful haze—except that my relationship with Jesse was deteriorating rapidly. He wasn't calling or texting back, wasn't even trying to hang out with me.
If I approached him at his locker, he would play dumb, sometimes pretending not to hear, other times just dismissing me by saying he had to go. It seriously hurt. And the fact that we didn't have any classes together made it feel like we were living on different planets.
The problem was, I was so blown away by Mason that I wasn't really trying all that hard to fix things. He was an overwhelmingly positive thing in my life, a thing that would have brought the old Jesse great joy. Why was everything so different now?
He wasn't talking to Mason either. It made me wonder if his parents were going through a divorce and he was just lashing out at the world.