by Kylie Scott
"No pressure." Apart from the hand holding down my heart, fingers slowly squeezing. I would not have a panic attack. I would not freak out.
"You could wait a little longer, magically meet someone wonderful and want him to be your first." Hang shrugged. "You just never know. You've only been at the school a couple of weeks."
"True."
"Or maybe that guy over there's the one and you'll fall in love, get married after college, and have babies." A dreamy smile appeared on Hang's face. "Then you'll be able to tell everyone you married your high school sweetheart."
"Mm."
"And you'll only ever have sex with one person."
I frowned.
"Yeah," she said. "I'm not so sure that's a great option after all. Forever is a long time."
"I am only seventeen, so me neither. Though we could be wrong."
"We could be," she agreed. "Let's just concentrate on getting you de-virginized and save the happy-ever-after for another time."
"I think that would be best."
Hang had dated a senior last year. They'd broken up when he went away to college. Her card had long since been punched in the name of love.
"Your long blond hair is shiny, your winged eyeliner is perfect, your boots are cool, and I really do like that dress you're wearing," she said, giving me the once-over.
"Thanks." I straightened the black cotton skirt. "Got to love a good maxi."
"True."
"It's just a meaningless bit of skin with a lame name," I said, shoulders back, boobs out, standing tall. "I don't need it."
"No you do not." Hang shoved the empty beer cup into my hand, face serious. "Go hard. Slay. Or do whatever you're comfortable with, you know. It's your body and your choice and I respect that."
"I'm glad we're friends." With an arm around her shoulders, I gave her a half-hug. Her lips parted in surprise. Guess me showing affection didn't happen often. Mom wasn't particularly touchy-feely either, generally.
"Me too," she said, eyes misty.
No more hesitating. Empty Solo cup in hand, I headed into the crowd. My every thought revolved around what the hell to say to him. It shouldn't come as a surprise that I almost ran the boy down.
"Oh," I said, stopping suddenly, standing much closer to him than intended. "Sorry. I should have been watching where I was going."
The friends at his side kept on talking. But he turned to me, looking at the cup. "You're a woman on a mission."
"Yes. Yes, I am." I forced a grin. "I'm Edie."
"Duncan." His gaze was warm, friendly. "We've got Trig together, right?"
"That's right."
We were about the same height, but his arms were thick with muscles. Clearly, he worked out. A dusting of freckles fell across his nose. Up close, he was cuter than ever. "How are you liking the school?"
"Much better than my last."
"Good. Here, let me help you with that drink."
"Thanks." I handed him my cup and he forged a path through all the people. Frequently, he'd look back at me to smile. Tonight was the night. Something about it just seemed right, despite the nerves running riot through me.
Quite a few people watched us; I have no idea why. One of the dudes gathered around the keg slapped Duncan on the back while another said "hi." Beer flowed, and he filled my cup to the brim before passing it back and getting his own. The cold beer cooled my hand for only a minute before John took the cup, spilling the contents out on the grass.
What the hell?
"Never let other people get your drinks," he said, lecturing me like a child. One who'd been particularly naughty.
"I was standing here the entire time," I said.
"He had his back to you when he poured." Blue eyes turned to ice. "Could have slipped anything in there."
"I wouldn't do that," said Duncan, tone aggrieved.
John barely spared him a glance. "Edie, do you even know the guy? How could you be so stupid?"
"Stop it," I said, dropping my voice and moving in closer. "You're right, I should have gotten the drink myself. But you need to calm the hell down."
"Forgive me if I find the idea of you getting drugged and raped a little disturbing."
"John!"
"Cole, you asshole." Duncan pumped the muscles in his arms, hands in tight fists. "You're the dealer, not me. I didn't do anything to her drink. I wouldn't do that. Edie--"
"You don't talk to her," John growled. "Don't even look at her."
"Whoa," I said.
People had started gathering around us, pressing in, getting excited. Testosterone filled the air like a stinking miasma. Jaw rigid and the veins in his neck standing out, John took a step forward. Obviously ready to fight.
I put my hand on his chest, holding him back by sheer force of will and one hell of a pissed-off expression. "That's enough. Let's go."
His furious gaze flicked between my face and Duncan's.
Duncan said nothing. Interestingly enough, for all his earlier flexing, wariness now filled his eyes.
"John." I slipped my free hand into his, forcing his fingers to open and accept mine. "Come on."
Ever so slightly, his stance relaxed, the set of his broad shoulders easing. Good enough. I half led him, half dragged him through the crowd. Away from the people, lights, and music. Away until it was just me and him alone in the parking lot, standing beside his car.
It was over. Okay.
"Oh, boy," I whispered, the pounding of my heart gradually slowing down. I dropped his hand and took a couple of steps, breathing hard. Wonder if this had been what he went through, breaking up the scene between me and Erika. The thought of him getting hurt, of him getting into trouble with the police or something, made me want to vomit.
"Holy shit, John," I said. "What the fuck was that?"
"You were going to give it up to Duncan Dickerson?" he sneered. "Are you serious?"
I halted, staring at him. This was not good. "How do you know about that?"
"Anders overheard you and Hang talking."
"Bastard."
"Well?" he demanded, acting all authoritarian. Idiot.
"To be fair, I didn't know his last name was Dickerson," I said. "That's unfortunate. Though, I wasn't actually planning on marrying him, so . . ."
"Not funny."
I shrugged.
"You barely know the guy."
"Um, yeah. None of your concern. We're not talking about this." How mortifying! My face burned bright. People should just gather around and cook s'mores. "I appreciate that we're friends. You mean a lot to me. But this is going to have to fall under definitely none of your damn business, so go away please."
"We're talking about it." He advanced a step.
"No we are not." And I retreated.
"You were going to let a complete stranger touch you." Advance.
Retreat. "People do it all the time. You do it all the time."
"But you don't," he said, taking the final step, backing me up against the side of his car and getting all in my face. "Edie, this is your first time we're talking about. Isn't it?"
"Yes, and it's going to be messy and painful and probably horribly embarrassing and I just want it over and done with." I tried to meet his eyes but failed, settling for a spot on his right shoulder. "You're not a girl; you wouldn't understand. Also, last time I checked, you're not the gatekeeper of my hymen, John Cole. So back the fuck off."
He said nothing.
Deep, calming breaths. "Look, someday I'll meet someone I really like and we'll have a deep and meaningful relationship and go at it like bunnies. But I don't want to be the dumb virgin in that scenario."
He slowly shook his head.
"Also, I do not want to die a virgin."
"What? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Hey, you and I both know death can occur at any time."
"This is crazy."
"I'm seeing a therapist!" I told his shoulder. "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm a little bit messed up th
ese days. It's hard for me to trust people. That's not going to change anytime soon."
He screwed up his face at me. "Wha--"
"I'm just trying to be practical."
"Well, you're being ridiculous. None of this makes sense."
"It does to me."
Again, he said nothing.
In fact, he said nothing for so long that I finally looked him in the eye. The anger had left him, replaced by an emotion I didn't recognize. Worst of all, he still smelled like summer. A little sweat and the open night air, everything I loved. Liked. I meant liked.
"What?" I said, finally.
He let loose a breath. "I'll do it."
My mouth opened. I blinked. Somehow, it seemed my brain had stalled. He couldn't possibly have just said what I thought he'd just said because that would be crazy.
CRAZY.
"What?" I asked. "What did you say?"
"I said, I'll do it." He hesitated, face grim. "If you want."
"Wow."
Both of us stood in utter silence for a minute, everything bizarre as all hell. Then he swallowed hard. "So you want me to do it or not, Edie? Yes or no?"
"Y-yes. Okay."
A grunt.
"Thank you." I stood immobile, a lot perplexed. "I thought you didn't like virgins? You know, the possible sight of blood and stuff."
"I don't, normally. But I like you. Come on."
"Is this going to affect our friendship?" I asked, uncertain and maybe just a little scared.
"No." He got into the car, reached across, and flicked the lock on the passenger-side door.
I climbed in, put on my seat belt. "We have to make sure it doesn't."
"It won't," he said, sounding so sure of himself that a lesser woman would have been insulted. No hesitation, no second-guessing. His face was set. "One time only. Then that's it."
"Okay."
"We'll go to my place. My uncle's out."
Anxiety had me in a stranglehold. I did my best not to fuss, but to sit still, face calm, looking straight at the road ahead. John and I having sex. Getting naked. Doing it. My mind couldn't begin to fathom the enormity of the situation. Luckily, I remembered to text Hang and tell her John and I were going for a drive. The way I kept disappearing on her at parties, it quite possibly made me the worst friend ever.
Time began to behave strangely. The drive took forever and yet we got there too soon. We pulled up outside a two-story house surrounded by tall trees. The porch light had been left on in welcome.
No words were spoken as I followed him inside the dark house. Suddenly light dazzled my eyes, showing a room littered with books on horticulture, football paraphernalia, photos of hills and lakes and stuff, and the largest flat-screen television in creation. Nothing here really said John. His boots thumped up the stairs and I trailed slowly behind. I found him standing in the middle of a bedroom, looking around. A lamp on the bedside table glowed softly.
"It's a mess," he said, before springing into action. Shoes and clothes were thrown into the closet, his schoolbag and books shoved aside. "I only changed the sheets yesterday, promise."
I lingered in the doorway, uncertain how to proceed. "Okay."
He hadn't unpacked everything; a stack of boxes sat to one side. Yet photos of him and a similar-looking, slightly older boy hung on the white wall. Had to be his brother. Next was a full family shot including his mom and dad, then came a picture of a much younger John and a woman posing beside the Charger. Navy-blue curtains, a Ramones poster, and his big bed.
Okey-dokey.
"Sorry about this," he said, still cleaning with a vengeance. "I don't usually bring girls here."
"It's fine."
He paused. "Come in. Sit down."
I did as told, taking the final fateful step into (gasp, shock, horror) a boy's bedroom. Once I started moving forward, things seemed easier. As instructed, I sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress sinking a bit beneath me. Firm but bouncy.
"John, really it's fine. Stop fussing."
A furrow sat between his brows.
"It's just me," I said, attempting a smile. "Relax."
He huffed out a laugh. Guess we were both nervous. Then he said, "Condoms," and raced out of the room. Rifling noises came from the bathroom across the hall and he returned triumphant, a string of silver packages hanging from his hand.
"You sure about this?" he asked.
I nodded. "But what about you? Are you sure about this?"
He closed the bedroom door, the lock clicking.
My heart punched hard. "Are you sure about this?"
John just looked at me. "Shoes are awkward. Let's get rid of them now."
"Right." Instructions were good. I could follow instructions. My fingers fumbled over the laces, hands shaking as I pulled off my boots. Neatly, I tucked my socks inside, then pushed them under the bed, out of the way. "Done."
With his back to me, he stood, flicking through a book. An expensive-looking new laptop sat on his desk. Wonder if it was part of his getting-serious-about-school thing.
He sat beside me, placing the open book in my lap. "Here," he said.
"What's this?"
"In case you had any questions," he said. "Are you okay at telling the boy and girl things apart or do you need some help?"
If I had, the biology text he'd provided me with had several large and neatly labeled diagrams explaining the relevant anatomy and the process of fornication in depth. Not only informative, it was a heavy book and would make a fine weapon. I slapped it shut, using it to try and hit him over the head. Sadly, the boy was too fast. He dodged my blows and tore the book out of my hands, sending it flying. I settled for slapping him around, instead.
"I'm sorry." He laughed.
"You're not forgiven," I hissed.
He grabbed my hands, wrestling me back onto the bed. The fool. In this position, I could use my legs as well.
"Shit," he said, struggling to keep my knee out of his groin. "Edie, you want that working, remember?"
"I changed my mind."
Despite my wrath, he won. His hands caught my wrists, holding them above my head. His body he wedged safely between my thighs. The worst I could do was beat my heels against the back of his legs in protest. And I did.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "Really."
"You're still laughing."
Somehow, he managed to calm himself down. "You didn't really change your mind, did you?"
I sniffed as disdainfully as possible.
Realistically, however, I doubted I could hold out for more than a minute or two, maximum. Some of his weight he took on his elbows. Still, the feel of his body pressing me into the bed made all sorts of things stir inside.
Patiently, he waited.
"Hmm. I guess not," I said.
"Need a definite from you."
I swallowed. "No, I haven't changed my mind. Yes, I still want to have sex with you."
A slow smile crossed his face, turning me inside out. Lying on top of me, being right there, he looked more gorgeous than ever. It wasn't fair. Whatever happened after tonight, however this changed things, I'd never regret stepping into this boy's bedroom. I couldn't.
"It would seem we've already assumed the position," I said, the corner of my mouth twitching in an attempt at a smile. "Was that your nefarious purpose with the textbook all along?"
"Maybe." He licked his lips. "Mostly I just wanted to annoy you. Distract you from being nervous so you'd stop making me nervous. I had no idea you'd try to damage me."
"I'm badass."
"You are."
"You're not really nervous, are you?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
Instead, his mouth came down on mine, gentle, hesitant almost. As if he still had doubts about my commitment to this whole losing-of-virginity thing. That wouldn't do. In a surge of action, I rolled us, putting me on top and him on his back against the mattress. Surprise turned into a smile, his hands sliding down my sides over the cotton of my dress
. Knelt over him, I kissed him how I'd wanted to, how I'd imagined in my very best daydreams. Sweet, deep, and hungry. No holding back.
The noise he made in the back of his throat sounded like something between a gasp and a moan. Either way, it was full of approval. A kiss had never been so good, so all-consuming. We were all lips and tongues and teeth. His hands moving tirelessly, stroking my feverish skin, holding me to him. To be this close, touching him how I wanted, feeling his solid body beneath me. My fingers searched out his chest, sliding under his T-shirt, needing no barriers.
I wanted it all. Every part of him.
Stubble scratched my cheek, my lips moving down to his neck. The scent of him there was stronger, warmer. I kissed and licked and did what I liked. Bit him just because I could. John swore in a voice about a billion times deeper than normal, running his hands up the back of my thighs. My face pressed against his neck, I could have hidden there forever. Strong fingers grabbed at my ass, pressing my body against him.
"Edie," he whispered.
"Mm?"
"Whatever you want."
"I want your shirt off," I said, panting just a little, hands tugging at the offending item.
He sat up, forcing me to do likewise, and then he tore the shirt off over his head. The expression in his eyes, the absolute focus. God, everything about him. All of that golden skin, mine to explore. I pressed the palm of my hand over his heart, feeling it beating fast. Inside of him seemed every bit as stirred up as inside of me.
"Lay down beside me?" he asked.
I nodded, and his hand guided my leg over him, my body back down onto the mattress. Raised up on one elbow, he stared down at me. Fingers traced patterns up my arm, around my shoulder, and over my collarbone. We kissed like we'd never be parted. Life and death, time itself, none of it mattered. Tonight would be endless and nothing beyond the bed existed.
His hand cupped one of my breasts, taking the weight of it, his eyes huge. It was impressive, the string of truly filthy words spilling from his lips. Basically, I guess he liked my tits. And I liked him liking that part of me. God, I liked it so much.
Lightly, the back of his hand trailed down my chest, over my breast, then farther still. Not stopping until he reached the hem of my dress, sitting high on my thighs. My thunderous, bulky thighs. My bulging belly. Embarrassment over body parts still sadly endured. How horribly crappy. I broke the kiss, breathing heavy, my hands tangled in his hair.
"You okay?" His whole body stilled. "Want me to stop?"
"No."
"What's wrong?" The hand that had been sitting high on my hip, under my dress but above my underwear, moved to cup my cheek. "Hey."
