Beautiful Together

by Andrea Wolfe

  His cheeks were red as usual too, a product of our proximity under the blankets. Although I had felt aroused in the past, tonight I felt different.

  Very different. I felt awake.

  "I do," he said. "I meant every word I said. You're perfect, Naomi."

  I gazed into his eyes, still speechless. My mind suddenly jumped to my backpack and the knowledge of the hidden condoms. Thoughts continued rushing by at a thousand miles an hour, my brain overloaded.

  Lust, love, longing, fear, anxiety—they all made an appearance.

  "What are you thinking?" he asked. It was clear he was struggling to read my mind.

  "If I said... I wanted to do that," I whispered, "would you know what to do?"

  His expression eased into a look of focus. "I think I know," he said. "I mean, I've got a really good idea. But what about—"

  "Protection?" I asked. "I have some."

  He raised an eyebrow. "You didn't have to do that. I mean, I definitely could have picked up—"

  "No," I said, cutting him off. "Planned Parenthood has free condoms. I went and grabbed some." I swallowed hard, feeling like maybe I had disrupted a sacred becoming-a-man ritual. I mean, didn't high school guys like to buy condoms and high-five each other because it meant they were finally having sex?

  I waited for what seemed like an eternity for some kind of response. Finally, Mason's lips curled into a smile. "That's such a good idea," he said. "I meant it when I said you were smart." He kissed my cheek. "Are you on the pill?"

  "Should I be?" I asked, feeling dumb and a little exasperated. "I w-was too worried my mom might find out or something. Maybe I should do that too before we—"

  "No, we can be safe," he said. "With just the condoms.”

  I nodded, still staring at his perfect body, barely comprehending what he said. "Yeah."

  "So wait," he said, sitting up. "You have condoms here? Does that mean you actually want to... do that? I thought you said—" His words dropped off an audible cliff and were replaced by the soft hum of his computer.

  My head blissfully spun. Did there have to be a ton of planning? I knew it wouldn't be perfect the first time, so why did the circumstances have to be? We were fine to take our time in his house; Mason's mom would be gone all night as usual.

  The whole house to ourselves. Just the two of us. That's the way it was supposed to be, right?

  After learning he was a virgin too, my perspective changed. We could take each other's virginities right here, right now, such a delicate gift to one another. A night that we'd remember forever.

  I knew I had said I wasn't ready, but that wasn't true anymore. Not after all of this. I gazed at him with thoroughly salacious eyes, feeling more wetness between my thighs than I had ever felt before in my life. It felt more adult, more mature.

  "I think we should," I said softly, carefully studying his expression.

  "Wow," he said, totally stoic and serious. "You're sure, Naomi? You're actually ready right now?"

  When he said things like that, it only made me crave him more. I mean, we were sitting in his bed mostly naked, he had a hard-on that I could see the outline of through his boxers, and he was telling me that we didn't have to do anything right now if I wasn't ready.

  I nodded. "Yes."

  He smiled. "I've been waiting for this ever since we started dating."

  I reached across the floor for my backpack, grabbing the strap and instinctively pulling my arm back into the warmth after feeling the chill of the room. It was so cold compared to our hidden world beneath the covers.

  I unzipped the center pocket and grabbed the foil bunch, depositing my treasure on the comforter. The whole connected strand came at once, and Mason looked at me, totally shocked.

  "Are those all for tonight?" he joked.

  "Oh my God," I joked. "You wish."

  I tore one off and threw the rest on the backpack. I handed it to him. He held it carefully, rolling it between his fingers. It was the only thing that would stand between him and me, the only thing that would separate our flesh.

  "When do I put this on?" he asked disconcertedly.

  "I think right when we're ready to start," I said, my hands trembling. "So it doesn't fall off before or whatever."

  He nodded and set the condom on his nightstand. "Okay."

  Mason wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. He kissed me firmly and desperately, and I kissed him the same. Our breaths were incredibly shallow and rapid, and it affected the flow of the kiss. But we really didn't care.

  My hands continued to twitch, and my heart pounded, thudding so hard it felt like it was actually shaking my organs. We had done this exact thing so many times before, but now that we knew where it was going, it was totally different.

  This was a real thing that people did before they did that, a thing that adults did, not kids.

  We raced toward that vaguely-defined line, ready to cross. Our tongues spiraled, and our hands clutched hair and flesh indiscriminately. Sometimes he raked his fingers along my breasts, and sometimes he grabbed my butt or the back of my head, pulling me against him.

  I could feel how hard he was, and even though I was anxious about it, something told me everything would be okay.

  It was about to happen. My first time. Our first time.

  We kissed for a long time until he finally stopped abruptly, just as out of breath as I was. He was such an incredible athlete, yet here he was acting as if he had just sprinted twenty miles—and we were still on the bed.

  "Do we start now?" he asked with uncertainty.

  "Yeah," I said. "If you want."

  "I do," he said. "I want you."

  He pulled away from me and gripped the elastic of my panties, sliding his fingers beneath, watching my face for any signs of discomfort—but there were none. He dragged them slowly down my body until I was fully nude.

  I would have liked to return the favor, but I couldn't. I was still in shock about what was going on. He dropped his own boxers and I finally saw what had been prodding me for so many months.

  Mason grabbed the condom and tore it open, initially rolling it on the wrong way. "Shit," he said. He flipped it over and started rolling it on right.

  "Wait," I said. "I think they said in sex-ed that the clear stuff can carry sperm. Did you get it on the outside?" I felt so horrible ruining the flow, but we needed to be as careful as possible.

  "Oh, shoot," he said. "Do we just toss this one out?"

  "Yeah," I responded, giggling, reaching down and tearing off another. "There are plenty more. Maybe that's why I grabbed so many," I joked.

  He gave the second one a long, concentrated look before putting it on. "Okay," he said proudly, "I know what to do."

  I watched him roll it on, somewhat fascinated, somewhat horrified. I mean, that whole thing was somehow supposed to fit inside of me. I took a deep breath.

  I spread my legs apart and Mason climbed on top of me, resting there initially, giving the position a try in these new totally unclothed circumstances. He gazed at me adoringly, peppering my cheeks with kisses. "I'm nervous," he said sheepishly. "I don't want to hurt you."

  "Just do it, Mason," I said, realizing that it was indeed now or never. Everything had led up to this moment, and finally we were submitting to each other. "I'll be fine. I want this."

  He tentatively gripped my shoulders and aligned his pelvis with mine. And then, after a little bit of adjusting, he eased in slowly, and yeah, it hurt. I grimaced, shutting my eyes tightly to deal with the initial sharp pain, hoping that he was doing the same because my pained expression was probably not what he wanted to see in the middle of first time sex.

  Mason stopped about halfway in. "I'm so sorry," he said. "That looks like it hurts too much. I feel bad."

  "No, keep going," I pleaded. We couldn't stop now. No way.

  I was worried I would have permanent wrinkles around my eyes after we were done. I took deep breaths, which actually relaxed my muscles, reducing
the strain. I fought to suppress the groans that formed in my throat, not wanting to send any more bad vibes. Finally, he was all the way in, and I started to acclimate to the newfound sensation. I felt stretched and exhausted and well, pretty good.

  We melded together in the most exotic of ways, his body weight holding me down, owning me. It was a beautiful feeling.

  This is probably why Arielle does this so much, I thought abruptly—and a little weirdly.

  Mason started to thrust and initially, it reignited the earlier pain. But soon it became something else, something that felt quite remarkable. He rocked back and forth, and I tried to encourage his movements, tried to encourage him to just let go and live that beautiful moment with me.

  Contrary to what I had expected, he didn't finish early. In fact, he didn't finish at all. After probably twenty minutes of awkward, yet enjoyable motion, I started to feel sore. At times, it had felt really good and started to grow toward something bigger, but that sensation was fading.

  "You should just finish," I said to him, hoping to end my discomfort.

  Sweat was beading on his forehead as he mechanically rocked back and forth, over and over. "I can't," he said. "Nothing's really happening down there."

  "Well, it's starting to hurt," I admitted weakly, regretting the words as I said them. "I think we have to stop."

  Abruptly, he quit and pulled out, holding me tightly again. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm not really sure what else to do. That probably wasn't very good for you."

  I kissed him, suddenly feeling waves of emotion rushing over me. "No, Mason, it was perfect. Our first time. At least you weren't a one-minute man," I whispered.

  He smirked at me, finally showing some glimmer of happiness. "I'll get better, I promise."

  "Sure," I said. "But you already did great."

  Mason unrolled the condom and tossed it in the trash. He climbed back into bed with me, cuddling back into position.

  It shocked me how wise I suddenly felt, how I instantly identified the human, realistic elements of our failed sex attempt as the very reasons why it had been so great. I mean, neither of us had finished, but then again, sex wasn't only about that. It was about us.

  The experience had brought us even closer, and I knew it would only get better from there. Mason still looked upset though, even in the tender afterglow.

  "I'm sorry," he said again.

  "Mason, why are you apologizing?" I asked.

  He swallowed hard and gazed into my eyes. "Because I love you, Naomi. And I wanted it to be perfect."

  If I hadn't been lying down, I probably would have fallen on the floor. "I... love you too," I said breathlessly. I kissed him firmly, with incredible intent.

  We stayed in that same position until he drove me home shortly after midnight, the perfect Friday night coming to a close. The kiss goodnight suddenly felt so different, so transformed from what it had been every time before.

  I surreptitiously entered the house as a woman instead of a girl, deliberately stepping in the known quiet spots on the creaky floor to avoid detection. After a brief stop in the bathroom, I got into bed, my head spiraling with thoughts of love, and sex, and the future.

  I didn't sleep a whole lot, but that was okay.

  6

  Things did get much better after that, and sex quickly became very regular in our blossoming relationship, the "serious" replacement for making out. I finally understood why sex was such a big deal, why it was mentioned in nearly every TV show or movie ever made.

  I got it.

  In the days that followed the first time, I legitimately worried that my mom would somehow be able to magically tell that I had committed the ultimate sin and send me away. That she could see on my face that my "innocence was gone forever," and that "nothing more could be done to save someone as awful as me."

  I thought I would have a sex look, a look of sudden maturity—and impurity—that I couldn't hide. I felt like it was obvious, but apparently only I noticed it.

  Nothing happened, however, and that fear quickly left my mind. It wasn't like I was going to tell her, so it just meant my transitional phase was over—I was sexually active and happy about it.

  Arielle had been so excited when I told her, echoing the same at least he wasn't a minute man sentiment I had initially shared with Mason.

  "That's so awesome," she had said. "It's only going to get better. Well, as long as Mason's not an asshole like Daniel."

  And Mason definitely wasn't an asshole.

  We strutted around together at school, proud as hell, our smiles beaming with confidence, our hands welded together semi-permanently. I mean, we felt great after crossing that line.

  Mason started reading articles online about sex, and yeah, he quickly figured out what to do.

  I felt a little awkward at church sometimes, but I couldn't figure out what was so bad about it. We were being responsible and caring, doing our best to make each other happy. Our sex didn't hurt anyone.

  I felt better than ever about life generally, even about the situation with Jesse. It was just no more. Months had gone by with zero contact, and I assumed it would stay that way.

  Arielle and I stayed close after delivering an A+ presentation, and although I was never as explicit as she was, our sex talks became fairly routine. I kind of loved it.

  Not long after these exciting developments, Mason and I actually agreed to go to one of the punk shows she kept inviting us to, one that was in a smelly dive bar about twenty minutes from home that she had to sneak us into through the back.

  The insane loudness made our eardrums ring and fried our brains. But watching Arielle's insane dancing made the hearing damage worth it.

  We forgot the band was even there once she started whipping her limbs around like some human death machine. She tried to get us to join her, but as usual, she didn't seem offended when we declined. We cowered in the back while the wild crowd proceeded to basically make mincemeat of itself.

  Not having any tattoos and not wearing any leather or spikes, we felt pretty out of place. So the back seemed safest for a number of reasons.

  "Daniel's the bassist," she screamed to me during one of her periods of respite. She pointed at the stage to ensure that I looked at the right person.

  I glanced up—Daniel was tall and heavily tattooed all the way up to his neck, his hair spiked into a blue mohawk. He was skinny as a rail, and clad in torn up girl jeans. Here, he looked totally normal. But outside, you'd spot him from a mile away.

  "I think I'm going to dump him soon!" she shouted.

  I nodded and smiled. "Whatever you've gotta do!" I yelled. I pointed him out to Mason and tried to explain, but I don't think he could hear me, and after repeating myself three times, I finally gave up.

  Arielle went back to dancing. We waited for the band to finish—thankfully that didn't take long since all of their songs were really short and fast—and then tried to sneak out.

  "God, I need a cigarette," Arielle said before I could tell her we were going.

  "We'll come out with you," I said, nodding to Mason, seizing the opportunity.

  We followed her outside into the bitter cold, watching her shiver as she puffed away, silently planning our escape. "I can tell you guys aren't really punk fans," she said. "But that's okay. I just wanted you to experience the vibe. It's all about the vibe." She nodded and shivered some more.

  "It was really cool and intense," Mason said. He wrapped his arms around me and we huddled close as freezing air assaulted us from all sides. "I'm always up for something new."

  Suddenly, the front door swung open and Daniel came charging out into the night, drenched in sweat that would probably freeze in a matter of seconds. "There you are!" he yelled at Arielle, rushing over to her.

  "Hey, Dan," she said through chattering teeth. "These are my friends—"

  "What the fuck was going on in there?" he snarled, his words slightly slurred. "I saw you with Markus! I told you that I don't want you hanging out wit
h him."

  We had been with her from the start, and aside from about ten minutes when I did see her talking to another guy, that was all I saw. Talking. Not even flirting or hugging or touching. Normal, platonic interaction.

  She finished her drag. "Nothing happened," she said abrasively. "And I'm not your fucking property, Dan. I'm sick of this paranoid bullshit. You can't blow up like this every time I talk to another guy. It's not like I fucked him."

  "You'd better not fuck him," he hissed. "Or else I'll—"

  "Or else you'll what?" she shouted back at him. She was right in his face. Mason and I stood like statues as we watched things unfold. "Are you threatening me?"

  "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that?" he pushed her up against the front of the building, knocking her lit cigarette onto the ground. It fell into a small hill of snow and quickly fizzled out. I glanced over at Mason and noticed a very uncomfortable look on his face.

  I didn't know what to say.

  "We're fucking over, Dan! I'm not taking any more of your bullshit. I'm leaving. Don't call me ever again." She wriggled out from under his tensed arms and started briskly walking toward the parking lot.

  "No," he said through clenched teeth. "We're not done here!" He quickly grabbed her arm and she fought to break loose, slipping on a patch of ice and falling on the ground.

  I heard her yelp in pain. "Fuck you, Dan!" she whined. But despite her fall, he was still tugging at her arm.

  "Leave her alone," Mason announced coolly. "Now."

  I couldn't believe how tense everything had become. Mason was twice this guy's size, so I hoped it would be resolved quickly. Something had to be done. Daniel was clearly drunk or on drugs—and he had the worst jealousy issues on the planet.

  "Who the fuck are you? And what the fuck are you doing here?" Daniel immediately got in Mason's face the same way he had Arielle's.

  He didn't even flinch. "I'm Mason. Arielle invited me and my girlfriend to the show. She would have introduced us if you wouldn't have stormed out here and started treating her like shit. So now you need to let her leave."