End of the Innocence (20 page)

I expected him to say something ugly or sarcastic in return, but instead he just looked at me in silence before he said, “I don’t want to say anything to him about it.”

“Okay. You’re still welcome to sit with us,” I repeated as I wobbled back to the couch and Brad.

“Hey, geek,” Kelly called back to me. I sort of hunched around and looked at him. “Thanks for this,” he said, gesturing to the party. “It’s kinda cool.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, smiling around the headache.

“Don’t let it go to your egghead,” he said bitterly, but he was smiling when he said it.

“How’s your head?” Brad asked when I sat down.

“Sore, but I’ve had worse.” I saw his expression change slightly, and I realized that was probably the wrong answer. “I never told you I practiced MMA when no one was looking?” I tried to joke. Jennifer chuckled, but I could see Brad didn’t buy it at all.

“We should go check it out to be sure,” he said casually.

“It’s good,” I assured him.

“We can’t be too sure,” he insisted.

“No, I am pretty sure it’s all good,” I said, confused.

“We should go upstairs and make sure your head is okay,” he said, gesturing to the stairs.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, he wants to go upstairs and fool around,” Jennifer said, standing up. “You need to buy a clue,” she said to me. “And you need to learn how to give better clues,” she said to Brad. “You boys have fun.”

As she walked away, both of us were red.

“We don’t have to,” he said quietly.

I took a deep breath to settle my stomach. “No, come on, let’s go,” I said, standing up quickly. Much too quickly. He just sat there staring up at me, shocked. I held my hand out. “Before I change my mind,” I added.

He leapt to his feet like he was on strings.

“Okay,” he said, grabbing my hand.

B
RAD

A
S
we climbed the stairs, my heart threatened to explode in my chest.

My mouth was dry as Kyle led me toward one of the guest rooms. I realized I hadn’t been this nervous losing my virginity. All the other times I’d had sex, my reasons had always been a mixture of something I needed to do to cover my tracks combined with the raw animal enjoyment of getting off. The few times I wasn’t too drunk to remember, I had wished it was a guy with me instead of the girl under me. Now that I was about to get my wish, I felt like I was going to pass out. Kyle opened the door, and though I was sure the room was tastefully adorned with all sorts of little touches that made it homey, it might as well have been empty.

All I could see was the bed.

“This work?” Kyle asked, no expression on his face at all. I nodded mutely, wondering at what point I had lost the ability to talk. “Lock the door,” he said, kicking his shoes off. I turned around and made sure the door would not open by accident. When I turned around, he had taken his jacket off and was halfway done with unbuttoning his shirt.

“Wait!” I said louder than I expected. “Hold on,” I added in a much lower voice.

His fingers paused. “What? We don’t have a lot of time.”

I took his hands in mine and wasn’t surprised to feel them shaking. “We don’t have to rush.”

His sigh spoke volumes to me.

What he said out loud was, “Sooner or later someone is going to come looking for us.”

What he didn’t repeat was, “I need to do this before I lose my nerve.”

“Hey,” I said in my most reassuring voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “Let’s get undressed.” He tried to pull his hands away. I say tried, because I didn’t let him.

I looked into his eyes, and all I could see was fear.

“You do know we don’t have to do this, right?” I asked, my feeling of nervousness turning into concern.

He nodded, but it was not the nod I had been looking for. It wasn’t a nod that said, “Yes, I do know I have the option of not doing this but still want to.” It wasn’t even the nod of “We are up against a cliff and I would rather jump off with you than face the guys with guns behind us.” This was a nod of “Dear God, please stop asking me questions and let’s get this over before I change my mind.”

“Kyle,” I said, trying to get through to him. “I mean it! We don’t have to do anything if you aren’t ready.” He looked down, breaking eye contact with me, and all I could see was the top of his head. “I mean it. I don’t want you to feel pressured….”

He looked up, and I saw the tears running down his cheeks. “I don’t want you to dump me, so let’s do it, and everything will be fine.”

He could have kneed me in the balls, and it wouldn’t have caught me as shocked as much as those words did. To be honest, I wished he had kneed me because it would have hurt less. “Leave you? Who said I was leaving you?”

He choked back a sob, disguising it as a laugh. “Oh come on, Brad, I know you’ve done it before, lots of times. I’m a guy too. I know what it’s like to be horny all the time. So let’s just do this, and then it’s all good.”

I moved him to sit down on the edge of the bed and just stared at him for a long time, not sure what to say.

“What?” he asked, annoyed. “Don’t just sit there looking at me like I’m speaking another language.”

I slowly began to shake my head. “You are the dumbest smart guy I have ever met.” That stopped him cold. “I mean it, there are times I think I’m dating Sherlock Holmes, and then there are times like this when you are dumber than Forrest Gump.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed, pissed. His head throbbed, and he winced.

“Nope. You had your chance to talk and messed it up, now it’s time for the grown up to talk,” I said a little more smugly than I intended.

“I am a grown up,” he said, gritting his teeth.

I shot back with a quick “No you’re not, and let me tell you why. If you were a grown up, you’d have told me how freaked out you were about this instead of just nodding every time I brought it up.” He opened his mouth, but I just ignored that. “I have had sex. Yes, I like having sex. And yes, I want to have sex with you—very, very much.”

He looked like he was going to interrupt again, but I ignored that too. “Yes, I am a guy, and yes, I am always horny, but you know what else I am? Not so desperate for sex that I would pressure the person I love—
love
, you moron—into having it. And there’s no way I’d ever think about dumping you. Didn’t we already talk about that earlier tonight?” Kyle nodded a tiny bit. “I have two good hands, and let me tell you, I am
really
good at jerking off. So if you aren’t ready to have sex, that’s great. Well, not great, but it’s acceptable, and I will totally respect that. But if you think I am some sex-crazed maniac who needs to get off so badly that he’d get mad if we didn’t have sex right now, then honestly, Kyle, I’m not sure who you think I am.”

His mouth had closed, and his expression again gave away nothing about what was going through his mind. I made a mental note to try to teach him how to play poker someday. I bet he’d clean up at bluffing. More quietly, I added a little more, something I had never said to anyone.

“I know what it’s like being pressured into having sex before you’re ready. The first time I did it was only because everyone expected me to. I couldn’t find a way for me to explain why I would turn down a sure thing. I was so scared….” I could feel my body kicking out adrenaline from just the memory. “I remember it feeling good and almost throwing up because I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. I just ended up doing it because I wanted it to be over.” I got quiet, and he took my hand. “I almost raced out of her house to my car. I don’t remember how I made it home, but I sat in the shower for like an hour trying to get the smell of her off me.” I looked at him, and I could see the compassion in his eyes. “Trust me, Kyle; make your first time count.”

Neither one of us said a word as the music downstairs drifted up to us. I could make out the song. It was a mash-up of Katy Perry and Rebecca Black. I smiled at him and asked, “Besides, do you really want to think of the lyrics to “Friday” every time you remember your first time?” His mouth bent up slightly. I moved in, carefully laid him back on the bed, and sang in a whisper, “It’s Friday, Friday! Gotta get down on Friday.” A small laugh escaped his mouth. “Oh, does that turn you on?” I asked, smiling even more. “Gotta have my bowl, gotta have my cereal….”

He finally cracked and started laughing for real. Then his head must have hurt because he went still and made the worst face he’d ever shown me.

“I love you,” I said, lying down next to him and pulling him in close, “even if you are a half-wit.”

He punched me lightly, but I felt him curl up closer.

“I was more nervous walking up those stairs with you than I had ever been with any girl. And I can wait as long as it takes for you to be comfortable, because I want it to be the right time for both of us.” He smiled and nuzzled in even closer to me. “I want it to be perfect, because I am warning you, once we have sex, I am not going to want to stop.” He stared up at me, faking shock. “No joke. I might just walk around town humping your leg.”

We both chuckled at that image as we relaxed.

“I want you to be my first,” he said in a low voice after a while.

“I wanna be your first, last, and only,” I replied, looking at him. “So stop worrying that I am going to dump you.”

“Or what?” he asked with a smart-ass smile. “You’re gonna dump me?”

There was no way I could not kiss him repeatedly for a long, long time.

After a while we settled in and just lay there holding each other. It was so weird not worrying about someone walking in or having to be somewhere. We had all the time in the world, and we took advantage of it. We talked about everything. He asked if I always knew I wanted to play baseball (No, I just knew I didn’t want to play football like my dad) and I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up (Happy). He asked what it was like to be the center of attention (Kind of a head trip until you realize that people only like you if you are the person they think you are) and I asked him what it was like to be smart (Not as fun as you’d think because people expect you to be smart about everything). He asked how old I was when I first realized I liked guys (I came home at six and told my dad I had met a boyfriend at school) and I asked him how old he was (He doesn’t remember a time he didn’t like guys).

We talked until our mouths were sore and after that we just lay there, enjoying having each other so close. It was easily one of the most perfect nights of my entire life.

It makes me wish we had never woken up.

K
YLE

W
HEN
I woke up, I had a panic attack.

I had no idea where I was or how I got there. The only thing that stopped me from losing it completely was the fact Brad was asleep next to me. It was morning because the sun was shining through the windows, all that cheery brightness making my brain hurt. My mind finally engaged, and I remembered last night. Then I wondered what had happened. Brad and I had been talking, and then—we fell asleep? Well, obviously, we fell asleep, but why didn’t anyone wake us up?

I looked over at the door. It was cracked open, which meant someone knew we were here.

I thought about waking Brad up, but he looked so damn cute asleep I didn’t have the heart to bother him. Someone had dropped a blanket over us while we had been sleeping.

If Kelly knew we were in here, why hadn’t he woke us up? I padded out of the room in my socks, wondering exactly what we had missed while we slept.

I passed Kelly’s room and peeked inside. He was asleep facedown, still in his jeans, snoring. A few empty beer cans lay on the floor by his bed. I had had enough experience with my Mom to know that waking him up would be a bad idea. So I backed out of his room and made my way downstairs.

Jennifer was sitting cross legged on the couch with a bowl of cereal in her hand, devouring the flakes or squares or whatever while she watched TV. When she saw me, she held up her bowl in a mock toast. “The walk of shame after The Party, welcome to Foster High.” I was about to tell her we hadn’t done anything, but she gestured toward the kitchen. “Grab something to eat. Kelly has the best selection of cereals this side of the Mississippi.”

The mere mention of food made my mouth water.

The kitchen looked like a beer truck had hit a mountain and spilled its contents everywhere. Empties were scattered here and there and a pretty impressive pyramid of cans was assembled on the table. I looked around its base and saw it was way sturdier than it should be, which told me Andy and the library crew had helped in making it.

Jennifer had not been lying; there were six boxes of cereal in the cabinet, each one a sugar-filled concoction made just for Saturday mornings. I filled a giant bowel with some Honeycomb, some Sugar Crisp, and topped it off with Captain Crunch for good measure. After filling it with milk, I walked back to the couch to sit next to Jennifer. She was laughing, watching
Adventure Time
, which made her instantly cooler in my book.

I ate half the bowl before I felt ready to start asking questions.

“So what did I miss?” I asked her during a commercial.

“Well, let’s see,” she began, turning toward me on the couch. “After a while Kelly turned on Rock Band, and we took turns being Freddie Mercury, then they”—waving vaguely toward the dining room table—“put away the card game, and we played beer pong until my dad showed up and told us to break up the party or he’d start calling parents. Then I had a huge fight with him because I said I was going to stay here instead of leaving with him, and then most of the people left, and Kelly and I dared each other to see if you guys were awake or not. Once we popped the lock and saw you were both asleep in your clothes, which was less exciting than we were expecting, I put Kelly to bed. He started crying, and you do know he is in love with Brad, right?”

It took me a few seconds to catch up with her words.