by Sierra Hill
“It’s not a date, Carver…so stop saying that. And don’t you dare say anything remotely similar to Van, either. We’re just friends, you jerk.”
Carver’s right, though. I did put a lot of effort into my wardrobe tonight, including hair and make-up. My light auburn locks are hanging at my shoulders in loose waves, created by the styling wand my mother got me last Christmas. I’d slathered on some mango-spice body lotion my dad brought me back from his trip to a tropical island last year, and slicked on a peach tinted lip gloss.
Instead of wearing the usual T-shirt, shorts and Converse, I chose a flirty floral print jumper with wedge sandals. It barely hits my knees and exposes a lot of leg. My legs are definitely my best assets, in my humble opinion. I actually pulled the ensemble out of Kady’s closet, because I own nothing as sexy-cute as this outfit. She wore it once this past summer and left it behind when she went to school.
I looked nice. Date-worthy, even though it’s definitely not a date.
Wishful thinking. I need to get that idea out of my head. It will only come back to hurt my heart.
It’s then that I feel something bounce off the back of my head. I look across the table and see that Carver threw a wadded up napkin at me.
“Rude much?”
Carver just laughs as he stands up from the couch where he’s been parked the last half hour and walks over to sit at the table next to me, turning the chair around and straddling it. He’s wearing a blue-tank that on the front says, “It’s not gonna suck itself” with an arrow pointing down to his nether regions. Carver is never subtle and always up for a good time. He probably doesn’t even need to advertise with a shirt like that. Most girls would do it on their own accord.
He wears a serious expression as he leans his arms over the back of the chair, adjusting his baseball cap backwards too.
“As the older and wiser of the two of us, I feel it my duty to instruct you on the important rules of dating…”
I tilt my head to the side, my curiosity peaked.
“It’s not a date…” I refute once again, even though I know it holds no weight. “But what is this sage advice you have, o’wise one.”
Carver reaches out his hand, gently taking mine in his very large palm. He stares down at our joined hands for a moment, as if he’s in deep thought, ruminating over whatever he’s about to say to me.
And then he smiles. The smile that only Carver can give women. It’s his ‘I know I’m pretty and you’d love to get down on your knees for me’ smile. Many girls have, of that I have no doubt. He’s the captain of the team and is never at a loss for women admirers and hoops hunnies. In fact, it surprises me that he’s home tonight without company of the female persuasion. Present company excluded.
“It’s very important, Ky, that when the time comes…” He pauses for emphasis, lowering his voice so that I have to lean in to hear him. “That you always swallow. No spitting.”
“Oh my God, Carver!” I shriek, jerking my hand from his grasp and shoving him on his shoulder. Carver throws his head back in laughter, howling at his clever tactics and perverted advice.
“That is so disgusting! Ugh! I can’t believe you just said that to me!”
His laughter dies down and a genuine smile returns to his face as he looks me over with a sympathetic concern. Because I know he knows…although I don’t know how, exactly…but he somehow has accurately concluded that I am still a virgin.
Yes, I know…it’s most certainly not what I had hoped for myself as a college freshman and a few months’ shy of my nineteenth birthday. But it is what it is. I can’t go back through any time travel mechanisms to change my past. I’ve been extremely unlucky in fulfilling the right of passage that most girls my age have already checked off their bucket lists. It’s just never happened for me because I’ve never had the opportunity. And I’m also incredibly awkward and shy. A homebody that isn’t out there flirting and messing around with boys.
I had my first kiss when I was seventeen with my prom date, Billy Bloomquist. It was wholly unsatisfying, very wet and extremely awkward. He was in my biology class in high school, a member of the debate team, and a friend of the boy I really wanted to go to prom with. But I didn’t have the nerve to ask him – and Charlie didn’t ask me – so Billy was runner up.
I went on my one and only other date in high school, but that was a set-up, double-date with my friend Brittany and her boyfriend. Nick went to another school and there was no connection between us at all. Toward the end of the night, as Brittany and Alec got it on in the backseat, Nick groped and fondled me in the front seat in the most dispassionate way possible, until I finally just told him to stop. It was embarrassing. For both of us.
My hope was that college would fix all my problems. That by some miracle, the boys would have matured and I would turn into a less-bumbling, gawky girl who practically swallows her own tongue any time a guy talks to her.
Swallowed. No pun intended.
So with my very limited experience with an actual boy, my hands, mouth or eyes have never even actually seen a real live penis up close and personal. So I guess it isn’t so surprising that Carver would catch on to my inexperience. He probably has some virginity radar, where he can easily detect the good girls from the bad. I assume he always goes for the naughty ones. What is a surprise to me, though, is that I’m about to ask him to elaborate on the whole swallowing thing. Lord help me.
“Carver,” I say, my face heating from the blush coloring my neck and cheeks. “When you’re with a girl…um…does she…well, how does it get from point A to point B?”
His eyes go round and wide as they flick to me, apparently trying to assess whether my question is for reals. I can’t look him straight in the eye, so I glance away, staring instead at the table. Finding whatever he was looking for, Carver nods his head and scoots his chair in closer, as I inch my way back. While I don’t like him like that, his closeness is a bit overwhelming. He is pretty damn hot.
“Didn’t mommy and daddy ever tell you about the birds and the bees, Ky-Ky?”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up, dummy. That’s not what I mean. I just…like, who makes the first move? Do you like girls who take control and just go for it? Or do guys like to be the instigator?”
“It depends,” he says with surprising sincerity. “Some guys like the coy girls who flirt and flaunt, but act all innocent until it’s time to get down to business. And some like the dirty girls who just take what they want. I happen to like them all. I’m an equal opportunity lover.”
I snicker. My face is heated from the topic of discussion, but if anyone can tell it to me straight, it’s Carver. And he might make fun of me, but I know he has my best interests at heart. He’s a good friend to Cade, which by proxy, means he’s a good friend to me.
Leaning my elbows on the table, I reach for the wadded up ball her threw at me earlier and begin to play with it. Nervous tick.
“What if…well, if the girl is inexperienced. Do you…or guys…will they just automatically take the lead?”
His answer is thoughtful and not what I expect to hear from him.
“Believe me, Ky-Ky, even guys worry about getting rejected. So if I’m with a chick who I think may be hesitant to go any further, or seems genuinely nervous, then I ask her for permission. A good guy should always that. If he doesn’t, and he just races to the finish line without taking into account your needs, then he’s an asshole who deserves to get blue balls. In my book, the girl is always in control, even if I’m leading the way. And I know it’s hard to believe, but I’ve even been rejected before.”
Wow. For being a certified man-whore, Carver is actually human just like the rest of us. And it appears that he even has a morality clause and can be a gentleman. Now that’s a surprise.
My head nods in understanding, even if it still doesn’t answer my question. Maybe it’s a case by case scenario, but I’m dumbfounded by the mechanics of sex. It’s obvious that everything starts with a kiss…and it requir
es some level of attraction to move forward. Hands and mouths are involved. And then there’s naked body parts to account for. But the entire process is just foreign to me. I wish there was some kind of manual, or instruction sheet, that I could read to help me learn how things go down. My analytical-brain needs that type of direction.
Kady and I have talked about these things in the past, but hearing it from her can be akin to a Mexican telenovela. She’s light years ahead of me in the boy and sex department, and is over-dramatic in the descriptive nature of things. She lost her V-card when she was sixteen in the back of a Tahoe and hasn’t looked back since. The problem is that I don’t own the same confidence level that she possesses. Kady is a born flirt. Rebel. Risk-taker. Renegade.
And I am not.
With Kady away at school in Boulder, it’s not easy to pull her away from the various activities she has going on to have a serious heart-to-heart. And there’s no way in hell that I’d ever discuss this with Cade. Good grief, he’d flip shit if he knew I was even considering something like this – with Van or anyone else for that matter. Carver seems an obvious choice to open up to. He’s experienced, non-judgmental, and won’t treat me any differently. I also know without a doubt that he will keep this in confidence.
“Okay, thanks C. Good talk.” I pat his hand and start to get up from the table when he latches on to my wrist to stop me.
“Ky-Ky, this thing with Van…you know he has a girlfriend, right?”
Of course I know, you idiot! I want to scream at him, but it wouldn’t do any good. In my dreams, Van’s stupid girlfriend doesn’t exist. It’s just me and Van. But reality is a cruel bitch, where Van is head-over-heels for his high school sweetheart. And I’m just the lonely, pathetic, virginal school girl who pines after someone she can’t have.
“Yes, I’m fully aware of his relationship. Thank you for enlightening me, though. As I’ve already said, Van and I are just platonic friends. I’m going to a movie, he’s going to a movie, that’ it. For the last time, this isn’t a date…in fact, if it would make you feel better, you’re more than welcome to come with us tonight, since it’s obvious that you think I need a chaperone.”
Carver scoffs like that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard.
“Sorry – no can do. I’ve got plans with Teresa and Sadie tonight.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. His transition from Dr. Drew to porn star Carver is astoundingly fast. “I just don’t want you to get hurt if you have expectations of being boyfriend/girlfriend with him. Okay, Ky-Ky?”
Carver leans across the table and kisses me on top of my bent head. Cade and Carver have been friends for a long time, so I’ve come to expect his annoying habits and crazy theatrics. But this Carver is sweet and loveable. Too bad he hides that from everyone else most of the time.
Our heads turn in unison when we hear a throat being cleared behind us. I glance over my shoulder to find the oh-so-dreamy Van standing in the doorway, hands buried in his front pockets, eyes clearly taking note of what’s going between us. I see a brief flash of something across his face, before his lips turn up into a warm smile. I shift back into my seat and straighten my back, feeling the warmth move across my spine.
“Hey guys.”
Carver leans back, his eyes bouncing between the both of us until they land on Van again.
“Yo, what’s up, bruh? Heard you’re taking our lil’ sis here out to a movie. Better keep your dick in your pants, though, or Cade’ll kick your ass. And I’ll have to join him.”
I roll my eyes and groan. At this rate, no one will ever touch me, for fear of suffering the wrath of the entire ASU men’s basketball team.
I stand up and grab my purse so I can hurry Van out the door, just as Carver bolts up and leans down to speak in a low voice at my ear.
His breath tickles my cheek and my face turns hot when I hear what he says.
“Remember to swallow.”
I gasp loudly, slapping at his back as he quickly retreats down the hallway chuckling, leaving me and Van alone in the kitchen.
Van slowly ventures forward into the room, a look of uneasiness washing over his features, as his gaze flits between me and the spot Carver just departed.
“What was all that about?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I bend my head back to look him in the eyes.
“You know Carver. Crude, rude and disgusting at every turn.”
He grunts loudly, seeming to accept my answer as I scoop up my Gap denim jacket off the back of the couch.
“You know it’s like ninety-five degrees out, right?” His voice holds a hint of amusement in it.
“Thanks, Mr. Weatherman,” I retort, bumping his hip with mine. Technically, my hip hits his mid-thigh because of his height. “Movie theaters are always so dang cold, so I need to bring something to keep me warm.”
There’s no response, so I chance a peak up to his face. His gray eyes are now filtered with a dark shadow, eyes narrowed into slits. They blaze with intensity and for a second I feel trapped in his gaze. A spark ignites low in my belly and it ribbons its way up my spine.
Immediately the spell is broken when the door swings open and in steps Cade and Ainsley. Instinctively, we shift apart, as if somehow our bodies had been magnetized together in the moment before, closer than we realized, and now we are forced to recreate a suitable amount of personal space.
Maybe that’s just me romanticizing the moment. I’m hopeless.
It’s then that I notice Cade staring between us – first at me, then Van, then back to me. He wears a deep frown, squinting at us both.
“What’s going on? Where are you two going?” He looks at his watch, his grimace growing wider. His tone is accusatory.
Van breaks the tension by greeting Cade with a strange handshake slash bro-hug, leaning down and giving a quick hug to Ainsley. Her usual bright smile is greeting us without a hint of any suspicion – either she’s oblivious to the unusually high level of weirdness or finds it all rather amusing.
Whatever it is that she sees, she wraps her hands around Cade’s bicep, which seems to be a natural elixir to his obvious stress. I have to admit, since they started dating, she has changed him in such positive ways. He’s not as angry, or high-strung, as he once was. Ever since mom and dad divorced, Cade’s found ways to avoid family obligations and has become self-absorbed. Ainsley has been a positive influence on him, and for that, I adore her.
We haven’t had much of an opportunity to hang out much, but when we have had conversations, I find that she’s just super chill and easy to talk to.
“Hi Cade. Hi Ainsley,” I say, giving them both a small wave. “I invited Van to go to a movie with me tonight. None of my friends in town are available and he’d mentioned wanting to see it.” It pains me to have to say what I say next, because I really don’t want to make the offer. But if I don’t, it will look weird.
“Do you two want to come with us?”
Cade immediately asks, “What movie?”
Ainsley says, “No, thank you.”
And then they look at each other and burst out laughing. Cade concedes without argument.
“Nah, guess not. Me and Ainsley haven’t seen each other in a while, so we have some catching up to do.”
There’s a naughty twinkle in Cade’s eye and I blush at his inference. They’d recently gotten back together after a short break-up, and their alone time is few and far between these days with everything they have going on. I can’t say as I blame them. If I were them, and that much in love, I wouldn’t ever want to be apart for too long from my lover, either. Although, what would I know about lovers anyway?
Ainsley gives me a shy, apologetic smile. “Thanks for offering, though. Under normal circumstances, I’d say yes. But Cade and I aren’t going to see each other much in the next few weeks.”
Thank God for alone time.
All I want is to spend my own alone time with Van, without everyone else getting in the way and reminding me that he has a girlfriend. It
’s not like I can forget. Is it so bad to want to hang out with him because I like him as a friend? Friends go to movies together. Big deal. Plus, he doesn’t like me that way, anyway. He’s probably just being nice because he didn’t want to turn me down.
Just because I have the constant urge to jump his bones shouldn’t factor in to our movie-going plans.
“Okay, maybe another time then.”
I give my brother a reassuring smile, trying to convey to him that everything is A-Okay. Nothing to worry about here. “We’ll catch you later, Cade. Will you be over at Mom’s on Sunday for brunch? You, too, Ainsley. Before I leave back to school?”
Just mentioning my return to school has my heart deflating, like a discarded birthday balloon that’s been hanging in the corner of the room and is now slowly losing its air. My soul has felt lighter, freer, from the anxiety I feel about school. Since I’ve been back home. Since I’ve met Van. Geez, I’m such a loser. Why do I have to be crushing on the one guy I can’t have?
“Of course we’ll be there, Ky. We wouldn’t miss it. And we’ll bring gramps, too. Right, Ains?” My brother turns to look at his girlfriend, who happens to be a nursing student and my grandfather’s nursing assistant at the adult-care facility where he lives.
“Absolutely. If Simon is feeling up to it, we’ll bring him with us. I’m sure he’d absolutely love it.”
My thoughts shift then to my parents, specifically my dad. He and I have gone out to dinner a few times this past week during my fall break. I know he and my mom are still on speaking terms, but definitely not friendly. And he and my grandpa - my mom’s father – have never gotten along. To say I have a fairly dysfunctional family is an understatement. I guess all families have some form of drama.
As I consider this, I wonder what kind of drama Van has in his family? He hasn’t discussed it much. We’ve talked a lot about school, movies, music, our favorite foods. Stuff like that. Nothing serious, though. He’s also been pretty tight-lipped about his girlfriend, Lyndsay – only bringing up the things I already knew about her. She’s apparently a junior at University of New Mexico. Is from the same hometown as him; is also a basketball player. And that he doesn’t get to see her as much as he’d like to during the school year.
