The Opposite of Innocent

by Sonya Sones

Luke says, “I’ll repeat the question:

  Who’s going to be there tonight?”

  “Oh,” I say. “Just Rose and Taylor.”

  “Tell me about them,” he says.

  And my heart skips a little beat,

  because he actually seems interested.

  “Well . . . Rose is sort of an adventurer,” I say.

  “And she’s really into reading love stories, like me.

  So we never run out of stuff to talk about.”

  “And Taylor?” Luke asks.

  “Tay?” I say. “Tay’s an amazing scientist, like you.

  And the funniest, coolest guy in the whole school.”

  “Did you say ‘guy’?” Luke asks.

  “Yeah,” I say with a shrug. “He’s awesome.

  No one makes me laugh like him.”

  Luke furrows his brow and says,

  “Sounds like you really fancy this chap.”

  And I’m not even sure why,

  but instead of telling him the truth—

  that Taylor’s one hundred percent gay—

  I just smile in a secret sort of way,

  and say, “Does it?”

  As We Turn onto Rose’s Street

  Luke glances over at me and starts

  drumming on the wheel with his fingertips.

  Then he clears his throat and says,

  “Do your parents know about this?”

  “About what?” I say,

  pretending I don’t get what he means.

  “About that lad being there tonight,” he says.

  “Oh,” I say. “Sure. But they trust me.”

  And it’s true.

  They do.

  Because they know

  that Taylor’s gay, too.

  As Taylor’s fond of saying,

  he’s never even set foot in the closet.

  Except to kiss Matt Hopkins that one time

  when they were in sixth grade.

  So yeah.

  Everyone knows

  that Tay’s gay.

  Except for Luke, I guess.

  When We Pull Up in Front of Rose’s House

  Luke switches off the motor.

  Then he turns to me,

  looking very serious, and asks,

  “Will this girl’s parents be home tonight?”

  “Geez,” I answer.

  “For someone who doesn’t have any kids,

  you’re excellent at this interrogation stuff.”

  “Will they be home?” he asks again.

  “Sure,” I say. But I say it like I’m not sure.

  All of a sudden, Luke reaches out

  and puts his hand on my knee.

  On my knee.

  He looks at me for a long moment.

  Then he gives it a little squeeze

  and says, “Well, just don’t . . .

  Just don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

  “Oh, I won’t,” I say, as casual as anything.

  Then I Thank Him for the Ride

  And as I hop out of the car

  and head up Rose’s front walk,

  I can feel his eyes

  following me.

  Or

  can I?

  Last time I thought he was watching me,

  it turned out he was watching his phone.

  So I glance back over my shoulder,

  just to check,

  and see that this time,

  he’s looking at me.

  Looking right at me

  with this real weird expression on his face.

  Almost like he’s jealous.

  I Ring the Bell

  The door swings open,

  and Taylor and Rose pull me

  into a bone-crushing hug.

  “It’s Triatomic time!” Taylor shouts,

  as we chase each other up the stairs

  to Rose’s room.

  And while we munch on popcorn,

  Rose launches into a story about

  this guy she met in Cape Cod named Vic.

  She tells us he’s incredibly cute,

  and that he pretended he was drowning

  just so she’d swim out and save him.

  “Which is exactly what I did,” she says.

  And then she smiles this dreamy smile

  and doesn’t utter another word.

  “Nooooo . . . ,” Taylor and I moan in unison.

  “You can’t stop there,” he says.

  “Yeah,” I say. “It’s a need-to-know situation.”

  Rose laughs.

  “It’s not nice to kiss and tell,” she says.

  Then a second later she adds,

  “But I’m not that nice.”

  So She Tells Us

  That when they got back to shore,

  she said, “You didn’t need to pretend to drown

  to make me notice you. I already had.”

  And when he asked how she knew he was faking,

  she said, “I was watching you out there, dude.

  You’re an amazing swimmer.”

  Then she closes her eyes and sighs.

  “Turns out he’s also an amazing kisser.

  And amazing at . . . everything else.”

  “Everything else?” I gasp.

  “Has our Rose been deflowered?” Taylor cries.

  “Deflowered?” she laughs. “Lord no.”

  Then she tells us

  it was just a lust thing, not love.

  So she didn’t let him get past second base.

  “I would’ve dumped him if he’d pushed for more,”

  she says. “I’m saving the rest for Mr. Right.

  Though we did do a lot of dry humping.”

  “And God,” she adds,

  “if just doing that feels so good,

  can you imagine how great

  having actual sex must feel?”

  “I don’t have to imagine it,” Taylor says.

  “I found out how it feels.”

  And Rose and I both shriek.

  Taylor Laughs

  And says, “Don’t get so excited.

  There’s nothing much to tell.”

  But then he proceeds to tells us

  “nothing much” for the next half hour—

  all about how when he first noticed Evan

  sitting alone in the chem lab,

  and Evan looked up from his experiment

  and spotted him,

  there was this

  overwhelming feeling

  of this-is-it-ness

  between them.

  Then he tells us

  that the strangest part is

  that Evan isn’t even

  that good-looking.

  “But,” Taylor says with a faraway look in his eyes,

  “we have the most amazing chemistry . . .”

  Then he snaps out of it and adds,

  “Pun intended.”

  And we all crack up.

  But When We Ask Him About Going All the Way

  He says, “That part’s private.

  Though it did involve some private parts.”

  Rose groans and says,

  “We respect your decision not to tell us.”

  “But we hate your decision,” I add.

  Then we both say how happy we are for him.

  And he says it’ll happen to us someday, too.

  “But how will we know for sure

  that we’ve found the right guy?” Rose asks.

  He thinks this over, then replies,

  “Well, it’s probably different for everyone.

  But for me, it was when I realized

  that it wasn’t just my body talking—

  it was my mind and my heart, too.

  And they were all saying just one word.”

  “One word?” I ask, my voice almost a whisper.

  “Just one word . . . ,” Taylor replies.

  “And that word was ‘Yes.’”

  Then we all leap up and sta
rt dancing

  around the room, chanting, “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  until we dissolve into a fit of giggles.

  When We Finally Stop Laughing

  And we’re just lying here on Rose’s bed,

  catching our breath, she turns to him and says,

  “You did use protection, though. Right?”

  “Of course we did,” he says.

  “We’re way too young to be dads.”

  And we all crack up again.

  Then Taylor asks me

  if I fell for anyone this summer.

  I nibble on my lower lip.

  I’ve never mentioned Luke to them.

  I didn’t meet them till he was already in Kenya,

  so there was never any reason to.

  I wonder what they’d think if I told them

  about him right now—and if I told them his age.

  “I kind of have a crush on an older guy,” I say.

  “Oooo . . . ,” Rose says. “How old?”

  “Old enough to drive?” Taylor asks.

  “Yeah . . . ,” I say.

  “Old enough to vote?” Rose asks.

  “Yeah . . . ,” I say again.

  “Dude,” Taylor says, grabbing his heart.

  “Please don’t tell us he’s old enough to drink.”

  So I don’t. I just tell them it doesn’t matter anyhow,

  because the guy doesn’t feel the same way about me.

  And then—I change the subject.

  I’m Trying to Fall Asleep

  But I can’t.

  And it’s not just because

  Taylor and Rose seem to be having

  some kind of snoring contest.

  It’s because

  I can’t stop thinking

  about what happened with Luke

  earlier tonight.

  I can’t stop flashing

  on how warm his hand felt

  when he rested it

  on my knee.

  I can’t

  stop reliving

  that little squeeze

  he gave it.

  To Luke,

  it was probably no big deal.

  Just an innocent little

  knee squeeze.

  But

  to me—

  it felt like

  the opposite of innocent.

  The Next Morning

  We’re making blueberry pancakes

  while discussing what to wear

  to the first day of ninth grade,

  when Mom texts to say Luke’s picking me up.

  And he’ll be here in ten minutes!

  Taylor offers me the first pancake,

  but suddenly I’m not hungry.

  I swipe on some lip gloss and try to tame my curls.

  Then I sit here, pretending to act interested

  in the conversation, while I wait . . . and wait . . .

  and wait . . . Until finally, after the longest

  half hour in history, a horn honks.

  I say goodbye, and dash outside.

  As I hop into Luke’s car, he says, “Sorry I’m late.

  I got hung up looking at an apartment.”

  “Oh . . . ,” I say. “That’s okay.”

  And he must have seen my face fall

  at the thought of him moving out,

  because he gives me a little wink and says,

  “Don’t worry. I hated the place.”

  I laugh, as a flash flood of relief washes over me.

  Then he says, “Your parents are off to a wedding today,

  so Alice talked me into taking you two to the beach.”

  Oh my God. I love my little sister.

  At the Beach

  Luke leads us

  past all the noisy families,

  past the teens flinging Frisbees,

  and the couples snuggling on blankets,

  leads us

  past the tide pools,

  across some big rocks,

  and around a bend.

  And there,

  stretched out before us,

  is a totally deserted strand of sand.

  “Our own private beach!” Alice cries.

  Then we’re spreading out our blanket,

  and stripping down to our bathing suits,

  and I’m trying not to stare

  at Luke’s bare chest,

  trying not to blush

  as his eyes drift across my skin,

  warming every inch of me

  like he’s my own personal sun.

  And Then Alice Is Tugging Us Toward the Water

  And we’re crashing into the icy surf,

  splashing each other and screaming,

  and diving and ducking and catching waves,

  and Luke’s sneaking up behind me and tickling

  my ribs and I’m shrieking and tickling him back

  and Alice is squeaking, pretending she’s a dolphin,

  and then Luke’s a shark, and Alice and I are mermaids,

  and now Luke’s pouncing on me and we’re laughing

  wildly and going under, swirling together

  in a frothy tangle of arms and legs.

  And a few seconds later, when we bob back up

  to the surface, we’re suddenly face to face.

  And he smells like coconut and cocoa,

  and we’re just standing here

  gazing into each other’s eyes . . .

  And then—

  Alice is a sea horse, splashing us

  with a vengeance, whinnying and giggling.

  And that’s when we notice that her lips are blue

  and her teeth are chattering.

  So Luke lifts her onto his shoulders

  and takes hold of my hand.

  (My hand!)

  Then together we walk back

  to our blanket on the sand.

  Now the Air Feels Icier Than the Water

  My teeth start chattering.

  Luke notices right away,

  and wraps me in a towel.

  I catch sight

  of the scar on his arm,

  and shudder.

  What if that leopard

  had done more

  than just bite him?

  Luke pulls Alice into his lap,

  and hugs her

  till she stops shaking.

  He settles her on a corner of the blanket,

  with a juice box and a bag of chips.

  Then he smiles at me and says, “Your turn.”

  He sits down next to me,

  puts his arms around me,

  and holds me close.

  “Just relax, luv,” he says. “Breathe.”

  But there’s no way I can possibly do

  either of those things right now.

  In Fact

  If anything,

  my shivering seems

  to be getting worse.

  We sit here like this for a few minutes,

  while the sky fades from blue to violet

  to pink to gold . . .

  And after a while, we become aware

  of the sound of Alice’s steady breathing.

  We look over and see that she’s asleep.

  “We’ve tuckered the poor lass out,”

  Luke says. “We better let her doze awhile.”

  Then he holds me even closer.

  But my shivering just won’t stop.

  Is it because of the breeze

  that’s blowing in off the water?

  Or because Luke has his arms around me?

  We Watch the Waves Rolling In and In and In

  And then finally,

  the heat from Luke’s body fills me up

  and my shivering stops.

  “There,” he says, brushing a damp curl

  off my forehead. “That’s much better.”

  But he doesn’t stop holding me close.

  He glances

  up and down the shore.

  “Our own private bea
ch . . . ,” he murmurs.

  Suddenly

  he’s cupping my face

  in the palms of his hands,

  looking into my eyes

  like he’s searching for an answer,

  our faces only inches apart.

  And now he’s kissing my lashes . . .

  my cheeks . . . my chin . . .

  Now he’s leaning in

  and gently pressing his lips to mine.

  Whoa . . .

  Then Suddenly—It’s Over

  I open my eyes,

  and for a split second

  I wonder if I imagined the whole thing.

  But when I see how he’s looking at me,

  how his dark eyes are gleaming,

  I know it really happened.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

  “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Oh yes you should have,” I say.

  And then we grin at each other.

  And I feel so . . .

  so connected to him—

  like we’re these two

  ridiculously happy people

  sharing one madly beating heart.

  But

  Just as he leans in

  for a second kiss,

  we hear

  Alice yawning,

  and we have to wrench

  ourselves apart

  and act like

  nothing has happened—

  like the course of both our lives

  has not just been

  changed forever.

  I’m Lying Here in Bed

  Staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars

  on my ceiling—the ones Luke gave me,

  back when I was Alice’s age.

  I’m lying here remembering

  how we stood on my bed that night

  as I told him where to stick each one.

  How when he was finished,

  we lay down side by side

  and Luke switched off the light.

  How he took hold of my hand

  as we watched the stars glow to life

  for the very first time . . .

  I’m lying here,

  in that same bed right now,

  remembering how magical it was.

  And tonight,

  as I let my fingers float across

  the stones on my necklace,

  remembering the thrill that ran through me

  when Luke pressed his lips to mine,

  I feel like I’m glowing to life.

  I feel like I’m made of magic.