“Okay. I get it. No girl has ever seen you without pants, and you’re worried I’m going to be sizing you up or something, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, I won’t be. I’ve had sex exactly one time with exactly one boy. It was dark and cramped, and I didn’t see anything, so I have no previous sightings to compare with this one.”
And that’s how I ended up half naked, sitting on a toilet, while a gorgeous girl scrubbed chocolate off my pants in a department store bathroom.
I was skinny and exposed, my white knees almost as shiny as the porcelain sink. At least there was no need to talk. First there was the sound of running water and then the hand dryer blazing heat into my jeans.
Pilar handed over my pants.
She turned her back while I put them on. I tried to go fast, shooting my legs through the holes like bullets, but that led to me almost falling on my ass. Finally, zipper zipped, button buttoned, and belt buckled, I was clean and dry—chocolate free.
“Thanks,” I said.
Pilar turned to face me, examining her work. “You’re welcome. Can you believe no one tried to come in? I figured we’d get interrupted at least once.”
I couldn’t imagine explaining the situation. “Can you see us getting kicked out and me with no pants on?”
Pilar giggled and took a step toward the door, so we were standing very close. “You’re cute, Stephen.”
“I am?”
“Yeah, not like the guys I usually go out with. We are all alone in a locked room and you haven’t even kissed me.”
“It’s not ’cause I don’t want to,” I said. “I don’t have a lot of experience with this stuff.”
I should’ve told her the truth, that I didn’t know if I wanted her because of the obvious reasons … She was fun to talk to and every inch of her body made me tingle all over. Because that was enough. Before. But the thing with the kissing experiment happened, and I didn’t like how I felt anymore.
I hated to admit my mom could be right. She was always talking about the importance of emotional connections before physical intimacy. It’s as close as she came to giving me the sex talk, leaving the nuts and bolts of it to Dad.
“That’s why I like you so much,” Pilar said. “My last couple of boyfriends cheated on me, and it sucked, but if you aren’t making a move when I am practically throwing myself at you, I’m guessing it’s a safe bet you don’t have three other girls hidden in your back pocket.”
She had to use that number. Three. Exactly the number of girls I made out with right after her, exactly the number of girls I kissed without even asking their names.
The butterflies in my stomach turned to dragonflies. I don’t remember what I said, if I said anything. I mumbled, not sure what to admit to and what to keep hidden. It’s not like I was ever going to see those girls again. It’s not like I had feelings for them.
And there wasn’t anyone else either. Joan remained an odd fascination I couldn’t shake, but not a relationship in any sense of the word.
Pilar hooked a finger through my belt loop and tugged me across the tile. My foot threatened a kick, but I pressed it hard into the floor and focused on Pilar’s face, the way her lips parted.
Her fingers left my waistband, still warm from holding my pants under the dryer, and slid under my shirt, over my stomach. She went on tiptoe, and so what if I did kiss her? It was a tame kind of kiss, not like I’d let her take off her pants earlier. If Ballard changed places with me, he’d have had her naked so fast her head would’ve spun.
I kissed her, and I relaxed. All of the tension in my muscles disappeared, and when she nudged me backward, I bumped into the wall and pulled her closer.
Pilar ran her fingers through my hair and I kissed her neck, her collarbone. Her skin was warm and dewy. It was hot in the bathroom. When our mouths met again, I couldn’t resist testing my limits. I fluttered my fingers near her breasts, nervous, and she whispered, “You can touch me, Stephen,” in between kisses.
I wasn’t sure how to touch her, though. I wanted to squeeze, but maybe that was wrong. I paused, like she might tell me what to do next, but someone banged on the bathroom door and we froze.
“Open up,” a deep voice said.
Pilar giggled, and my shoulder jerked.
Busted, she grabbed her purse from the hook before opening the door. As we walked out past the security guard, I’m sure my face was as red as his official mall staff polo shirt. Pilar, still giggling, ducked her head and moved quickly with me trailing behind.
“That was fun,” Pilar said when we were out of the store, back in the sea of people and their loud voices.
Was it? I wasn’t sure. It felt good. Damn good. But the day hadn’t gone at all like I’d planned, and something Pilar said before we kissed suddenly exploded inside my head.
“My last couple of boyfriends cheated on me…”
If her last two boyfriends cheated on her, and she was saying I wouldn’t cheat on her, did that mean I was her boyfriend? Had I become someone’s boyfriend without even knowing if I wanted to be her boyfriend?
If Pilar noticed my confusion, she didn’t comment on it, and I might’ve forgotten the whole thing. Might have. But I didn’t.
We held hands and wandered in and out of stores. I bought us each an ice cream cone, and she sat on my lap while we ate. My leg twitched a couple of times, but Pilar didn’t comment, and I enjoyed the looks we got. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t invisible in a good way. Instead of people staring and wondering what was wrong with me, guys were staring like they wanted to be me.
I tugged Pilar’s braid affectionately and she laughed. I liked making her laugh. And if I liked making her laugh, and I liked kissing her, and I liked being seen with her at the mall, maybe that was enough. Maybe that was my answer.
But I turned my head away from Pilar and looked across the food court. I don’t know how my eyes found her in the crowd of people, like something about her called to me, my years-long fascination with Joan Pearson making me ever alert to the possibility of her presence. She was sitting at a round table, across from some of Wade’s friends and another couple of girls. Her hair glistened under the fluorescent lights, and I couldn’t make myself look away.
Joan turned and, at first, she seemed to look back at me, but Wade appeared, and she jumped from the table to greet him. When Joan moved, all of her moved. Her hips swayed, the yellow ruffles of her skirt swung, and her hair fell around her shoulders. Her arms settled beside her gracefully, like a dancer’s, as she waited for Wade to walk into them.
He didn’t.
Pilar followed my gaze. “Do you know her?”
“Who?” I asked, stupidly.
“The girl you are staring at so hard? Duh.” She looked hurt.
“Yeah,” I said. “From school. That’s her boyfriend, Wade.” As I said it, Wade sat at the table. He didn’t hug her or kiss her or anything, and she deflated, dropping onto the bench beside him. It wouldn’t help to explain Wade was her ex and not her current boyfriend. They were together so much, I’m not sure it mattered anyhow.
Pilar was watching me watch another girl, which was rude, no matter how unsure of everything I was. I didn’t know how to save the situation, so I said the first thing that came to mind. “Wade’s an asshole and she’s a bitch.”
It was a mean thing to say, mean in a way I don’t want to be.
But in that moment, watching them together, I almost meant it. Part of me meant it. Part of me could not forgive Joan for loving a creep like Wade. Part of me was glad he’d snubbed her open arms in front of his friends and hers.
But another part of me?
A part I wasn’t willing to acknowledge on that bench in Eastdale Mall …
That part of me leaned forward and kissed Pilar on her ice cream lips, tasting a girl who wanted only me, while pretending she was the girl that barely knew I existed.
“Your boyfriends were idiots,” I told Pilar. “How could anyone cheat
on you?”
She grinned and kissed me and then laid her head on my shoulder. “It’s a good thing my taste in boys has improved. Maybe this new one won’t be an idiot.”
“He won’t be,” I said.
Why the hell did I say any of that? Simple, because I knew I was an ass for looking at Joan and wanted to make it up to Pilar. I know I was being confusing, but I was so damn confused myself, I let my mouth lead the way without any time for my brain to catch up.
I wanted to say something, anything, who knows what, but Isabel and her boyfriend appeared then. She was carrying a jewelry store bag, and he was holding her hand, glaring at Pilar and me on our bench.
“Pilar, kiss your boyfriend goodbye. Bobby has to work tonight.” Isabel twirled the tiny shopping bag around her finger, a teasing smile on her lips.
Pilar didn’t correct Isabel, didn’t explain I wasn’t her boyfriend. She kissed me quickly and waved as they walked away.
Of course, I didn’t correct Isabel either. I just sat there with my head full of static, happy and frustrated at the same time.
Chapter Ten
On Monday, I sought advice from the one person who knew how it felt to like a girl, even kiss a girl, and not be in a romantic relationship with said girl.
Ballard sat across the lunch table from me, spoon paused in midair. I’d explained my concerns, and he got an intense look on his face, as though I’d asked him to come up with a peace treaty for World War III or end the fighting between Israel and Palestine. Underneath his wild facade, Ballard could be serious. He liked to analyze things, which is why he came up with the whole kissing experiment in the first place.
“Did you ever say the word ‘girlfriend’?”
I mentally inspected my Saturday at the mall with Pilar, the awkwardness with my pants and making out in the bathroom, and finally eating ice cream together until Isabel showed up and pried Pilar away.
“No,” I told him once I’d replayed every bit of conversation from the day. “I never said the word ‘girlfriend.’”
“Okay. Good.” Ballard’s spoon resumed its journey to the pudding cup in front of him.
Around us, the other guys rehashed a football game, and Sylvie sat cross-legged at the center of us all. She was wearing red leggings and a huge green T-shirt, making her look a bit like a Christmas elf who showed up too early. The bells jingling on her earrings helped the effect. Only Sylvie could pull off that outfit in September.
“But she said the word ‘boyfriend.’ Or, boyfriends, actually. And I didn’t say anything to dissuade her.”
“That is problematic,” Ballard said. He licked his spoon and watched Sylvie eat a bite of salad.
“Right?” I folded and unfolded a paper napkin on the table. “I messed up, didn’t I?”
“I’m not sure it matters,” Ballard said. “I mean, if you don’t want a girlfriend, tell her so. I know you think I string girls along too much, but I always tell a girl exactly where we stand. Otherwise, it gets messy fast.”
He was right, and I knew it. But …
“What if I tell her I don’t want a girlfriend right now, and she thinks that means I don’t like her?”
Ballard shrugged. “Tell her it doesn’t mean that.”
“That seems too simple.”
“Maybe it is. But you can’t control how she responds, only how you act.”
For a few minutes, we chewed in silence, the sound of the conversations around us rising and falling, Ballard’s eyes continuously wandering to where Sylvie sat.
Then his eyes were back on me, and he looked like a cartoon lightbulb had just gone off inside his head. “We still have the kissing experiment, and you can’t go around kissing other girls if you have a girlfriend.”
“I’m done with that experiment, man. I have enough data to know it works, at least temporarily, but I’m not even sure it matters.” I lowered my voice and leaned toward him. “Pilar likes me, right? And I didn’t have to hide my Tourette’s for her to kiss me.”
“What are you boys discussing so intently?” Sylvie dropped onto the orange plastic seat beside Ballard.
“Whether or not Stephen here has a girlfriend.” Ballard gave Sylvie an appreciative once-over. There was a certain glint in his eye that screamed trouble. His last prom date possibility turned out to be a hardcore virgin, wearing a silver purity ring and denouncing prom when he slipped it into conversation.
Sometimes I wasn’t sure how Ballard and I stayed friends all these years. His perseverance in the prom quest and my discomfort with continuing the kissing experiment served to show how different my best friend and I had become, no longer riding bikes together or staying up all night with Legos and video games.
Well, okay, we still stayed up all night with video games. We’d just turned to Call of Duty instead of Mario Kart.
“How is that even debatable?” Sylvie wrinkled her brow. “Either you have a girlfriend or you don’t have a girlfriend. It’s not a sort-of-kind-of-maybe thing.”
I blushed and suppressed a shoulder jerk. I held it off a total of three seconds. “I spent a day with this girl, and I’m afraid she thinks I’m her boyfriend.”
“And you don’t want to be her boyfriend?” Sylvie leaned against the table, the wide neck of her T-shirt gaping.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I like her. I might want to be her boyfriend … eventually.”
“You’re a good guy, Stephen. Most of these jerks wouldn’t worry about something like this.” Sylvie cut her eyes at Ballard, who looked away innocently. “Tell me why you think she thinks you’re her boyfriend. Did she say something about it? Call you her boyfriend to someone else?”
“She didn’t call me her boyfriend, but she said her last boyfriend cheated on her, and she knows I won’t do that. And I said they were idiots and implied I wouldn’t cheat on her, but how could I cheat on her if she isn’t even my girlfriend? So she must think she’s my girlfriend, right?”
Sylvie ran a fingernail across her bottom lip. “Sounds like she was feeling you out, seeing if you were interested in taking the job of boyfriend. How many times have you seen this girl? Who is she? And why don’t you ask her what she’s thinking?”
“Her name is Pilar,” I said. “We met at a party last month, and I’ve only seen her once since. I was going to talk to her Saturday, but she sort of … well, she took charge of things and I never found a good time to bring it up.”
“Do you talk a lot? Like, on the phone or text or whatever?”
While I talked the situation over with Sylvie, Ballard had finished his pudding cup. He was sucking on the spoon and watching Sylvie intently.
I’d seen his look a million times before. It was always directed at something Ballard wanted but knew he couldn’t have … a motorcycle most recently and, when we were kids, it was a friend’s bike or video game or piece of candy. Usually, he got whatever it was he wanted.
But Sylvie? No way would Ballard get Sylvie. Rumor had it she was dating a college guy, some artist she met volunteering at the Shakespeare Festival. He went to Huntingdon College and had his lip pierced. Those are the facts I’d picked up from kids at church the week before.
“Okay, here’s the deal. First of all, the talk has got to happen soon,” Sylvie said.
“The talk?” My mouth puckered around the words, and I fought to straighten my lips out. “What talk?”
“The talk,” she repeated, making air quotes so the glitter polish on her nails caught the fluorescent lights. “The ‘what are we’ talk. Figure out what you want and tell this girl. She’ll appreciate your honesty. Girls like it when boys know their own feelings and aren’t afraid to share them.”
I nodded, processing the idea of a conversation with Pilar. I wasn’t sure when I would even see her again, and “the talk” didn’t sound like the kind of conversation you have over the phone. Maybe I could borrow the car again. She didn’t live too far away. I could go see her after school one day, or over the weekend.
&
nbsp; “But, for the immediate right now, no, you aren’t her boyfriend. Either she wants you to be or she’s seriously on the rebound and hoped you’d have sex with her.”
I shook my head, fire in my cheeks. “No, Pilar isn’t that kind of girl.”
Sylvie shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s a certain kind of girl who has rebound sex, Stephen. All of us do things like that from time to time.”
When Sylvie walked away, I felt a lot better. I hadn’t accidentally landed myself in a committed relationship with a girl I barely knew, and I’d gotten through a whole conversation with Sylvie with only three or four tics, total. The more I talked to girls, the easier it got.
“I need a plan,” Ballard told me, tapping his plastic spoon on the table. His eyes followed Sylvie, who tapped Joan on the shoulder a few tables away.
Joan was arguing with Wade, tears on her cheeks, and I looked away, embarrassed for her. A tough girl like Joan wouldn’t want anyone to see her cry, but I kept managing to do just that. I couldn’t figure out why she held on to Wade so tightly.
He was clearly moving on, Neva Calhoun sitting on one side of him with a leg thrown over his lap so her skirt rode up her thighs. I’d seen them in the hall together the week before, Wade’s tongue so far down Neva’s throat, you’d expect to see it sticking out of the girl’s spinal column. While Joan left the cafeteria with Sylvie, Wade was sliding his hand up and down Neva’s bare leg.
“You’re not listening to me.” Ballard chucked his spoon at my head.
“Ouch.” I scooped the spoon off the ground and tossed it back at him, hoping he hadn’t taken notice of who I’d been watching. “What do you need a plan for?”
“I need a plan to get Sylvie to go to prom with me.”
I laughed. “Ain’t gonna happen, man.”
His face darkened. “Why the hell not? She made out with you, didn’t she?”
The other guys at our table were gathering books and walking toward the exits. I wadded a napkin and shoved it into my brown paper lunch sack. “She kissed me because it was part of a game. She never would’ve done it otherwise. Besides, she has a boyfriend.”
Kiss and Repeat Page 9
