I Know It's Over (12 page)

“I know that’s not true,” I said quietly. “
I
ruined it. I don’t know what my problem is.” Sasha’s mom stared out from the kitchen, looking displeased. Her dad would probably be next, ordering us to come back inside. “I just felt really bad before—like it was my fault that it wasn’t any good. I mean, I couldn’t even finish. We could still be there, waiting. It was never going to happen and you…” I gulped down oxygen and forced myself to continue. “You’re amazing. Everything about you. The way you are with other people. The way you are about yourself. Just everything and…” Sasha was looking deep into my eyes; I wanted to disappear. “It was like I wasn’t good enough for you, like I was the wrong person for you to be doing that with.” I shrugged helplessly. “I’m really sorry.”

Sasha smoothed her palm against her cheek, her forehead creasing. “Look, I wanted to be with you because it’s you. Don’t you get that?”

“I wish I could take it all back.” I would’ve done anything to take the entire day back and make it happen right, but my brain was a blob of cottage cheese. I could hardly string a sentence together. “It should’ve been special and instead I acted like a loser. I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.”

We stood there in her backyard, watching each other in silence until Mr. Jasinski opened the sliding door and poked his head out. “It’s getting late,” he said. “I want you inside in five minutes, Sasha.” He motioned to her pajamas. “You’re not even properly dressed to be out there.”

“Five minutes,” she said dutifully. Mr. Jasinski pulled the door closed and left the kitchen. Sasha pressed her hand to her head and turned towards me. “I have to go.”

“Can I see you soon?” I asked. I felt better for getting everything out in the open, but that didn’t necessarily fix anything.

“Call me, okay? We’ll talk about it.” She took a step towards the door, then reached back and touched my sleeve so delicately that it made me flinch. “I don’t know what you expected. I thought it only mattered that it was us.”

Me too. How did I ever forget that in the first place?

ten

The next two
weeks were a blur of serious discussions, long pauses, and front door kisses. Hockey, school, and work happened in the background. We lost one game but won three. I did my own law homework and survived. I don’t even know how to describe it. It was kind of like Sasha and I went back to the very beginning but with bad karma. One night we watched TV with Mom and Holland and froze the minute they left the room, like it was the worst thing in the world to be left alone.

It probably sounds worse than it was. We were still together. We still kissed goodbye at the end of the night. One time we actually made her family dinner. Okay, it was only pasta and garlic bread, but it was dinner and it wasn’t half bad. It’s not even that I minded us not being alone anymore; it was the self-consciousness that bothered me. Even kissing was weird the first few times after that day.

Nathan noticed and asked what was up with us. I told him that we’d done it and wished we hadn’t and he didn’t ask why. Sasha told Lindsay everything and Lindsay acted like I was a serial killer for a week. At first I felt really weird about it, but Sasha said she had to talk to someone. Lindsay advised her never to sleep with me again and Sasha said she didn’t intend to. I already knew that. I didn’t even want to do it again; I just wanted to go back to the way things were.

Dad had said that I could always talk to him. Imagine me phoning him up and telling him about Sasha and me. A guaranteed conversation stopper.

Some things are better left unsaid and sometimes you just get tired of talking. Take Nathan. He’d gone very quiet on the gay thing lately. His dad wanted to turn off the lights and make the issue disappear. He had this bizarre idea that Nathan could lock up his identity for the next two years. At first we’d talked about that a lot, how weird it was that someone could say he loved you and wanted the best for you while essentially rejecting who you were. After a while it got so we were having the same conversation over and over, kind of like Sasha and me with the sex fiasco.

“I’m too young to be this bored with myself,” Nathan complained over lunch at the mall one Saturday. He set his chili down and rapped the table. “This is what a rut sounds like, Nick. Why do you put up with me?”

“Like I have a choice,” I kidded. Then, to take the emphasis off his dad for once: “Whatever happened with that Xavier guy?”

“Nothing. Still an asshole. Probably still thinks I’m lusting after him too.” He swallowed a spoonful of chili and added, “Which I am, but he’s straight. You know Courtland: homosexual population of three.”

“Two,” I corrected. “Dakota is bi.” She and Jeremy Eastman were the only out members of the school Gay-Straight Alliance, although there was constant conjecture about Ms. Navarro, the GSA advisor. “You know there’s gotta be more, though—we just don’t know about them yet.”

“Probably all the wrong people.” Nathan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Like, none of the athletes.”

It was around about this stage of the conversation that I always started to get edgy, as though specifics made Nathan’s homosexuality too real. Sometimes I wondered how I’d react when he actually hooked up with someone, if I could stand to hear the details.

“You can’t categorize people by whether they’re into sports or not,” I told him. “That’s what your dad does and you know it’s bullshit.”

Nathan scraped his front teeth across his lip. “You’re right. I don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s just that I can’t let myself get my hopes up about anyone. You’re really lucky with Sasha, you know.”

“I know.” I believed that more every day, despite the awkward pauses and sober discussions we’d been having recently.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to feel so connected to someone,” he added.

“You’ll know. It’ll happen.” My head skipped back through our conversation and snagged on the word
athletes.
“But exactly who are we talking about anyway? Who’s the athlete?”

Nathan paused before stirring his chili and telling me I had an overactive imagination.

“Bullshit!” I sang, curiosity edging out nerves. “It’s somebody I know, isn’t it? Come on, Nate. I told you about Sasha before it went anywhere.”

“Man, this is too big a deal now.” Nathan dropped his spoon and stared at me like he wanted to burn a hole in the middle of my forehead. “You’re a pain in the ass sometimes, Severson, you know that?” He blinked heavily and slouched in his seat. “Diego, okay? I was talking about Diego—not that I like him, just that he’s good-looking and not full of himself.”

“That’s a popular opinion,” I said, trying to act like it was no big deal. “I think Holland might have a thing for him too.” I’d noticed them talking in the hallway a few times. The last time Holland had glared over at me like I’d stumbled across her diary.

“Then I’m sure she knows he’s with that girl in Quebec and that he’s used to girls throwing themselves at him,” Nathan said definitively. “Temptation has been tried and failed.”

I finished my lunch, told Nathan I’d see him later, and headed back to Sports 2 Go. A bunch of us were going to Lindsay’s Halloween party later that night and Nathan had agreed to play chauffeur. His dad was all right about letting him use the car as long as he approved of who Nathan was with and where he was going and let me tell you, there wasn’t a parent on earth who could object to a party thrown by Lindsay. The event was bound to be composed of board games, finger foods, and a prize for best costume.

Anybody will tell you that I don’t do costumes. Even the coolest costume, in my opinion, is too lame for words. Bobbing for apples, which had a high likelihood of occurring at the party by virtue of Lindsay being Lindsay and not knowing any better, was worse. My only hope for the party was that Sasha and I could relax a little.

Sasha, of course, was really into the costume idea and that was part of what I liked about her. She’d tolerate bobbing for apples for Lindsay’s sake, but she was genuinely excited about dressing up like someone else for the night. She was so cute about it; she wouldn’t even tell me who or what she was going as. I had to wait until she climbed into Nathan’s car, black streaks in her hair and her body cloaked in a ridiculously long trench coat that covered her ankles.

“I thought you said you were going to wear a costume,” she said, eyeing my clothes.

“No, you said I should wear a costume.” I was wearing a gray crewneck sweater over a white T-shirt and the same jeans I’d worn the day before.

Nathan shot a look over his shoulder and said, “Come on, Sasha. Don’t you know Nick is too cool for costumes?”

“You too?” Sasha asked. It was a fair question considering the fact that Nathan was wearing a red hoodie and old jeans.

“In there.” Nathan motioned to the plastic bag next to Sasha in the backseat. She reached in and pulled out a bald wig. “Instant Moby,” he explained.

“Smart,” I told him. “Wish I thought of it.” I peered at Sasha in the backseat. “So who are you? Or do we have to wait until we get there?” She smiled, unbuttoned her jacket, and wriggled out of the trench coat, revealing this sexy as hell Gothic top, tied all down the front. Her breasts were nearly popping out of it and her belly button peeked out from the bottom. A long cross dangled from the black velvet choker around her neck. I couldn’t quit fixating on her matching black skirt, slit all the way up to her thigh to reveal a gorgeous bare leg.

“Maiden of darkness,” she announced. “What do you think?”

“Man.” I held my breath as I grinned at her. “You look incredible.” Did I say costumes are lame? I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about.

We picked up Yasmin next and she insisted on showing off her cat costume, tail and everything. The lumpy Lycra bodysuit and thick purple eye shadow gave me scary visions of what the party was going to be like, but there were no apples in Lindsay’s basement after all. A girl dressed as a Hershey’s Kiss and some guy in a mask were playing with a Ouija board, though, and Lindsay was walking around with a deck of tarot cards. She dragged me over to the leather couch and made me shuffle. I watched her deal and then listened to her feed me some bullshit about unexpected financial gains and an approaching betrayal. I had to pretend to be interested in what she was saying because I knew she was still trying to get over hating me.

“Sasha said you wouldn’t wear a costume,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“I don’t look good in them,” I said apologetically. Lindsay was a nice person; it wasn’t her fault she couldn’t throw a decent party.

Yasmin bounced over and asked to have her cards read and I went to check out Lindsay’s CDs. Four of them were stacked on top of the stereo with
Halloween Mix
printed on the labels. “SOS” was playing. According to Lindsay’s bubbly handwriting, the Pussycat Dolls were next and then Pink’s “Get the Party Started.” In fact, it didn’t look like the music would improve anytime soon.

Nathan had already slipped his bald Moby head on and was making the best of it, dancing around with his hands in the air. I grabbed a can of soda and hung out in the corner, scanning the room for Sasha.

Jeremy Eastman, in gray dress pants and wearing a humungous class ring, cocked his head and pulled a bottle out of his burgundy blazer. “Party booster?”

I nodded, gulped down more soda to make room for the gin, and then poured a shot’s worth into my can. Sasha bounded over to us and grabbed me around the waist. “Dance with me,” she said. I followed her across the room and danced to Lindsay’s crappy
Halloween Mix
until I was dehydrated. Jeremy seemed to have the only supply of alcohol and everyone kept sidling up to him for party boosters, even Lindsay.

Sasha and I sat on the couch with our doctored sodas. I had my arm around her and she was cuddling up to me, looking content. I wished we could sit there all night—even though my eyes were starting to water and my arms were beginning to itch. I rubbed my eyes with my other hand, determined not to disturb Sasha. “Are you having a good time?” she asked.

“With you,” I said honestly. “Yeah.”

She lifted her head and kissed me on the mouth. It started off very sweetly. Like a first kiss when you don’t plan on anything else happening. But we’d been alone so rarely lately that even kissing had been limited and soon that kiss began to remind our bodies of something else. Before I knew it, we were making out on the couch, Sasha’s hand flat against my back under my T-shirt, barely aware that we were in the middle of a Halloween party.

Then someone nudged my shoulder, reminding me. I looked up and saw Lindsay’s mom staring back at me from halfway down the stairs. Sasha saw her too. She stood there long enough for us to get the message and then turned and went back upstairs.

“God.” Sasha groaned. “A kiss, big deal.”

My eyes were worse by then and I went at them with both hands, although everyone knows the last thing you’re supposed to do with an itch is scratch. “I’m allergic to Yasmin,” I complained. “I’ll have to go.”

“Uh-oh.” Sasha examined my eyes and pressed her lips together. “Lindsay’s cat. He’s upstairs, though.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said, pulling up my sleeve to inspect the growing collection of hives creeping up my arm. “Its fur is probably all over the place.”

“I didn’t think about that.” Sasha ran her fingers over my exposed arm. “Do you have any medication for it?” I shook my head. “We should go outside for a while,” she said decisively, pulling down my sleeve. She rushed over to confer with Lindsay, who went upstairs to get our coats.

Sasha and I sat on the porch swing, watching our own breath. It was so cold that it wouldn’t have surprised me if it started to snow. “It’s freezing,” she said, her teeth chattering away. “It feels like January.”

“Well, get closer.” I folded her into my arms and kissed her cheek.

“You know this is the most alone we’ve been in weeks,” she said, hugging me back.

“I know.”

“So is it safe?” She pulled away and looked into my eyes. “Can we be alone together without anything happening?”