by S. Walden
Stupid. Just stupid.
“Gross,” the girl said. She cocked her head and studied me. She was so pretty, and I wondered why I’d never noticed her at school. “Do you like him?”
I didn’t know how to respond. She curled her lips into a grin and moved aside, inviting me in.
“Ryan!” she called up the stairs. “Your girlfriend’s here!”
“Nice,” I replied, and she giggled. “How come I don’t see you at school?”
“I’m not in high school yet,” she replied. “I’m in eighth grade.”
“Gotcha.” I looked up the stairs, heart thumping, when I heard the plodding of heavy feet. Ryan appeared, dressed in plaid pajama bottoms, hair askew, coming down the stairs with his T-shirt halfway on. I got a glimpse of his stomach, rippled with well-defined muscles, before he pulled the shirt down. He was sexier than I’d ever seen him.
“Hey,” he said, addressing me. He was confused.
“Hi,” I replied, just as confused. Why had I come over?
“Ryan, when did you get a girlfriend?” his sister asked.
“She’s not my girlfriend, Kaylen,” Ryan replied. “Go away.”
I knew it was stupid, but the thumping in my heart stopped altogether at the sound of those words: “She’s not my girlfriend.” A pinch took its place, and I tried to ignore it.
Kaylen shrugged and left the room. She was no longer interested once she learned her brother’s relationship status hadn’t changed.
“Your sister’s cute,” I observed.
“My sister’s annoying,” he replied, pushing his hand through his tousled hair.
“Did you just wake up?” I asked, noting his clothes.
“No,” he answered.
“Sooo, what’s with the pajamas? It’s like four o’clock.”
He stared at me for a second. “Why are you here?”
I hated when people did that: answering a question with a question. It was infuriating.
“I just haven’t talked with you in weeks,” I said. “I thought I’d come over and say ‘hello.’”
“Really?” He sounded genuinely shocked.
“Well, yeah. I thought maybe we could hang out,” I offered.
The truth was that I wanted him to pursue me. I think that’s inherently female to want to be pursued. And I think Ryan wanted to initially, but I or he or someone else messed it up. So I swallowed my pride and made my interest known, hoping he would pick up where we started several weeks ago outside my house. I knew I had no business doing it. How did I think I could possibly juggle Ryan and Cal? We all went to school together, for Pete’s sake. But in this moment, I didn’t care. He was standing in front of me with hair I was itching to run my fingers through, and a stomach I wanted to feel pressed against my own.
I admit my vulnerability. I felt it the entire day, trying hard to keep myself busy to avoid confronting it. Dad had to go into the office, so I was left alone. Beth crept into the forefront of my brain, asking me why I wasn’t moving faster, why I wasn’t working harder to avenge her, and I couldn’t silence her. I tried by wearing the broken heart necklace she had given me. I thought that would appease her, but it only encouraged her incessant interrogation. I had to get out of the house. Ryan would be the perfect distraction.
“You want to hang out.” He didn’t pose it as a question. He said it with sarcasm, and it irked me.
“Well, if you’re busy I can go,” I said, turning to leave.
“No,” he said, and took my hand. “I’m just confused.”
“About what?” I asked, turning to face him. He dropped my hand.
“I don’t know why you wanna hang out.”
He looked at me with those ocean eyes, his brows furrowed in thought, and I decided in that moment I didn’t want to hang out. I wanted to make out. Hard.
“Ryan, you promised you’d take me to Lindsay’s house,” Kaylen whined from the top landing of the stairs. She had an overnight bag slung over her shoulder.
Ryan never took his eyes off of me. “Any interest in riding over to Lindsay’s house to drop off my sister?”
I smiled and nodded.
“All right. Wait here,” and he disappeared up the stairs.
While he was changing, Kaylen peppered me with questions, successfully extracting all the important information from me before her brother came back downstairs: my age, grade, family situation, social status at school. I told her I was the most popular girl in my class. She didn’t believe me, and told me so, but I think she liked me anyway.
A few minutes later, Ryan came down dressed in jeans and a dark green cardigan. He looked like a poster boy for Banana Republic, and I liked every bit of it.
“Maybe Ryan’ll stop being such a mopey loser at school if you start hanging out with him,” Kaylen said as Ryan grabbed his car keys from the foyer table.
“Maybe,” he replied, and she smirked at him.
The drive over to Lindsay’s was filled with Kaylen’s chatter. I enjoyed listening to her. She was funny and sweet, quick with the witty remarks, and there was nothing in her manner that suggested something terrible had happened to her. She was bright and talkative. Happy.
I realized I jumped to conclusions in my moment of panic, considering the worst because Cal was so insistent I stay away from Ryan. Naturally I assumed Cal did something horrible to Kaylen and didn’t want to be found out. I thought I was becoming paranoid.
Once we dropped off Kaylen, we returned to Ryan’s house. He invited me to his room, and I was a little too quick to follow. I kept telling myself not to pounce on him, but it was hard when he made it so inviting by shutting his bedroom door. I felt like a guy. Completely aroused with no thoughts other than sex.
“I didn’t have to work today,” he said, plopping on his bed. “That’s why I was still in my pajamas. I finished my homework then played video games all day.”
“You did your homework first?” I asked, and giggled.
“I have a good work ethic,” Ryan replied, grinning.
“Indeed.” I plopped down on the bed beside him. No point in trying to be coy about it. I promised myself that I would only respond to the kiss, not initiate it. “So where do you work?”
“A game store,” he said.
“Like video games?”
“Yep.”
“So you play video games a lot?”
“Yep.”
“You don’t strike me as dorky,” I said, then instantly regretted it.
Ryan laughed. “I don’t think you have to be a dork to like gaming.”
I smiled sheepishly. “Oh.”
“I do like the mechanics behind it, though,” Ryan said. “So that may be where the dork factor comes in.”
I grinned and inched a bit closer.
“So how’s your mom doing in California?” Ryan asked. He scooted a little ways away from me. I guess I made him uncomfortable. I should have sat on his desk chair instead, but it would look awkward if I moved now.
“She’s fine,” I replied. “I talk with her once a week.”
“I bet she misses you a lot,” Ryan offered.
I nodded. “I’m glad I stayed here, though. I’m getting to know my dad all over again, and it’s fun. I probably hang out with him way more than most teenage girls.”
Ryan nodded.
“Truth is, I like it. I didn’t know we’d get so close so fast. It’s almost like there weren’t those years in between when we didn’t live together.”
Ryan nodded again.
We sat in an uncomfortable silence, and since Ryan didn’t look like he was itching to say anything, I spoke up.
“So do you plan on telling me anything about yourself other than you like to play video games?”
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
“Well, for starters, how long have you lived here?” I asked. I ran my hand back and forth over his comforter.
“All my life.”
“So you’ve been going to Charity Run si
nce ninth grade?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Do you have any other siblings?”
“No.”
“And what are your hobbies?”
“I feel like I’m being interviewed,” he said.
I smiled. “Well, you don’t offer anything. I have to ask.”
“Brooke, why don’t we talk about you instead? You seem much more interesting.”
I started feeling frustrated. “I’m sure that’s not true. Why are you so mysterious?” I tried to sound light, but I think it came out as an accusation instead.
Ryan was quiet for a moment.
“Look, you probably don’t want to be associated with me at school, okay?”
What the hell did that mean?
“I guess I’m a bit of a pariah. And I don’t mind. I just don’t wanna drag you down.”
I looked at him, astonished. “Okay. You just upped the mysterious factor by a trillion.”
He laughed. It sounded genuine, dark and rich—that male laughter that’s so damn sexy.
I inched a little closer, and this time he didn’t move.
“It’s your senior year, and you should meet people and make friends and have fun,” he said.
“I’m meeting you,” I offered. It came out sounding flirty and sensual.
Ryan chuckled. “You’re going to be my trouble this year, aren’t you?” he asked softly.
Hell yeah I was.
I looked at him and let myself get lost in those translucent eyes. I didn’t care if they held a bunch of secrets he was unwilling to share. I just knew that I was hungry to be touched, and to be touched by someone I wanted.
“I don’t even know you,” he said. He lifted his hand to the back of my neck, brushing me lightly with his fingertips.
“Same goes for you,” I replied. I grazed his neck with my fingertips in much the same way.
It was incredibly intimate, sitting there, rubbing one another’s necks, foreheads pressed together so that our lips were mere centimeters apart. I thought it might be more intimate than sex, and I didn’t know what I was doing. The rational part of my brain screamed this was much too soon. The sexual part cheered me on. The vengeful part scolded me for seducing the wrong guy.
“I think you’re full of secrets,” Ryan whispered.
“I know you are,” I whispered back.
“All right then. We can each share one. But only one,” he said.
“Do we get to ask each other?”
Ryan tensed for a moment, hand frozen on the back of my neck. “I guess.”
“Why were you at Beth’s funeral?” I asked. I didn’t even have to think about it.
“I knew her. She went to our high school. I heard what happened and just felt like I needed to go.”
I felt the instant, unsettling tears in the back of my eyes threaten to surge over my lids and ruin this intimate moment.
“Why were you at Beth’s funeral?” Ryan asked.
I swallowed. “She was my best friend.”
Ryan pulled away from me. I knew he would. “Do you . . . do you know why she did it?”
That was a secret I was not willing to share. I shook my head, lowering my eyes. I felt his arms go around me, and I stopped thinking about Beth. I had spent my entire day thinking about Beth. Right now I wanted to think about Ryan and all the things he had planned for me in his bed. I knew it was too soon, but I didn’t care. I felt his hand on my chin as he tilted my mouth to his. He hesitated for a second before pressing his lips to mine.
It’s always described as melting, and I finally understood why. I thought my body was turning to liquid. I could feel my bones giving way, threatening to dissolve and leave me one big puddle of goo. His lips were incredible, soft and supple, raining light pecks on my own until I shifted and grunted—yes, actually grunted—in frustration.
“What do you want, Brooke?” he asked into my mouth.
I whimpered a reply, and he kissed me harder, finally giving me his tongue. That’s what I wanted. I mingled mine with his, feeling a sharp aching deep inside my belly that almost hurt. I thought that this was the guy I was always meant to kiss, that everyone before him didn’t count for anything.
Ryan pulled away. “I’ve wanted to do that since I ran into you at the funeral.”
“Why’d you stop?” I asked playfully.
Ryan smiled wearily. “Brooke, I don’t think I can be with anyone right now, and I can’t tell you why. It doesn’t have anything to do with you personally. You’re beautiful. It’s just—”
“Stop,” I said. “Let’s worry about your issues later. Will you please just kiss me again?”
Maybe it sounded pathetic. Maybe I was totally pathetic. I had no business getting physical with a guy I barely knew. Oh, who was I kidding? I didn’t know him at all! But I was learning his lips, and that’s something. Right?
The side of his mouth quirked up, and I took it as an invitation. I lunged for him, pinning him to the bed and kissing him hungrily. Yeah, so I was being aggressive. So what? He didn’t seem to mind. He wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed. It knocked the breath out of me momentarily, and I squealed.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into my mouth, loosening his hold.
I kissed him harder, and before it registered, I was on my back being pressed into the comforter by his weight. He moved his lips to my neck, sucking and nibbling, eliciting moans and cries and other sounds. It dawned on me that we were both going at it like we hadn’t made out in ages. For me it was five months. I wondered about my mystery man.
I pushed against him, and he released my neck. He looked down at me.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “It’s just, when was the last time you made out with a girl?”
His face turned pink. “Am I rusty?”
“No no!” I said. “I was just wondering.”
Ryan thought for a moment. “I don’t know. A year?”
“What?!”
He sat up, leaning back on his heels and pushing his hand through his hair.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. I felt like a jerk.
“No harm done,” he replied. He moved off the bed and headed for the bedroom door. “I was planning on going out in a bit.”
I stared at him.
“Well, like now,” he said.
“Oh. You want me to go?”
“Well, it’d be weird if my parents came home and found some girl in my bedroom,” he replied.
I felt humiliated. I was just “some” girl, whether he meant it to come across that way or not. I had no business coming over here. No business making out. No business making him feel embarrassed. I was such an asshole. I thought only guys could hold that title, but I realized girls could, too.
I got up and followed him to the front door. We stood in an awkward silence before I walked away. He didn’t say goodbye, and neither did I.
***
“Why did you make fun of him?” Gretchen asked.
I agreed to spend the night with her, but only if she didn’t make us go to another party.
“I didn’t make fun of him,” I said. “Or at least I didn’t mean to.”
“Was he horrible?”
“Far from it. The whole thing was hot until I opened my stupid mouth,” I whined.
“Why did you?”
“A year, Gretchen! What the hell? I mean, I could see if he were ugly or something, but the guy is drop-dead gorgeous! I couldn’t hide my surprise. What do you want from me?”
Gretchen tossed an emery board in my direction and started in on her nails.
“So, it’s like you two have this uncontrollable sexual energy around each other?” Gretchen asked.
“Obviously. We don’t even know one another. I lunged at him like a freaking hoochie,” I said.
“Oh, Brooke. Stop beating yourself up over it. Make-out sessions can be nice.”
“I want more than a make-out session with him,”
I said, filing my nails.
“So this goes way beyond a sexual attraction thing,” Gretchen confirmed.
I nodded sullenly. I felt like a big wet blanket on her fun Saturday night. I don’t know why she invited me to stay over. She heard the way I sounded on the phone earlier. Dejected. Slightly bitchy.
“Well, you know what you’ve gotta do,” Gretchen said. “Go back over there and apologize.”
“I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for!” I argued.
“You’re apologizing for making him feel like a loser for not having kissed a girl in a year. That’s what,” Gretchen said.
“Fine.”
“Brookey, get rid of the ‘tude, okay? Tonight is about nails and Sex and the City reruns and Bacardi.” She plunged her hand into her purse and pulled out several airplane bottles.
“Where’d you get those?” I asked. I was in no mood to take care of Gretchen tonight.
“Why does it matter?” she replied, holding up the miniature bottles of rum.
“I’m not replaying that Friday night with you, Gretchen,” I warned.
“Oh, relax. I’m not drinking. You are,” she said.
“No way.”
“Uh, yeah you are. You need to loosen up and stop worrying about Ryan and have a little fun tonight,” Gretchen said. “We’re not going anywhere. We’re staying right here in my room. This is my ‘thank you’ for taking care of me after Tanner’s party.”
“I can’t drink straight liquor,” I said.
“Hello, Brooke. I’m totally aware. You act like I don’t have a clue who you are,” Gretchen huffed, and pointed to the Coke bottle sitting on her desk.
Thirty minutes later I was trashed.
“And I’m, like, what? What? What? A year? That’s, like, completely impossible because he’s sooo freaking hot,” I said, lying sprawled on Gretchen’s bedroom floor wearing only my bra and panties. I’ve no idea what happened to my clothes.
“Did you want to finish changing into your pajamas?” Gretchen asked, giggling.
Oh. So that’s what happened to my clothes.
I shook my head from side to side.
“Hey, don’t do that too hard. I don’t want you yakking on my rug,” Gretchen said.
“I just wanted to say, ‘Ryan, why are you so gorgeous and strange? What are your secrets? Your secrets, Ryan. I must know them.’” I rolled over onto my stomach. “God, will you just tell me!” I begged.