First Loves: A Collection of Three YA Novels

by Jolene Perry

  Dad nods. “That’s as good of an explanation as any. I think the important thing to remember is that with enough perseverance, almost anything can float.” His eyes watch me way too carefully for a relaxed conversation about boats.

  Great. No way am I in the mood for some life-lesson today. “Almost done down there?” So I can hide in my room for a bit?

  “If you’d keep the flashlight where my fingers need to be tightening these bolts, then yes.” Dad hunches back over the battery.

  Right. When I think about displacement, what comes to mind is how I got sent from New York, to here. And now, without Mom, even New York is a completely different spot. I’m displaced, here there, and pretty much everywhere. It’s suffocating, but I’m getting better and better at pushing that feeling away.

  - - -

  Amber’s in my room again—for a movie this time on the miniature TV attached to the wall.

  Neither of us are watching. Her head’s on one pillow, mine’s on the other.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “What part of me?” I chuckle.

  “Pick one.”

  “It still feels like I got kicked in the chest. I don’t really ever forget it, only brief seconds pass when I don’t feel the full force of losing Mom.” Crap. That was way more honest than I wanted to go for.

  “I can’t imagine.” Her hand touches mine, and it’s like elementary school all over again. I slide my fingers through hers, and I swear her breathing changes, from holding hands.

  I want her to relax, for this to be okay. “Part of me still feels like it can’t be real.”

  “Maybe part of you will always feel like that.”

  “Maybe.” I don’t know if that’s comforting or really, really depressing.

  My bedroom door opens, no knock, no nothing.

  “Hey!” I spin to face Dad, who’s now a foot away from the bed.

  “Keep the door open, please.” He latches this little hook that keeps the door locked open when we’re sailing and then walks away.

  I want to protest, but it’ll probably make Amber more uncomfortable anyway, and I mostly just want to get back to talking. I still push out an exasperated sigh before lying back down next to her. “Can we just pick up where we left off?” I smile.

  Her fingers slide through mine again, and we lie in silence for a moment before she speaks.

  “Even though I don’t think it’s fixable, it sucks to not know my dad, you know?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve always thought of my dad as kind of a weirdo.” I hope she knows I’m mostly kidding.

  She smiles. “Your dad’s a nice guy.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting that. It’s just. With Mom, things were so different. New York, all over the world. When we were in the cities, we were always at nice hotels. I made friends with all the super rich kids, the ones who made mom look blue-collar. And then to visit Dad, in all his…natural man stuff. I don’t know. I guess I looked down on him for a long time.”

  “And now?”

  “No.”

  She raises a brow.

  “Okay, maybe still a little. But I like him now, and that’s sort of a big step for me. And I can’t believe the crap that just comes out of my mouth around you.” I raise our hands up to touch her cheek.

  She looks away and giggles. It’s sweet and makes me want to kiss her cheek, right over that little indent off the corner of her mouth, the one I just touched. How did she stay so sweet at eighteen?

  “I’m serious. Stuff never just comes out. I’m always careful about what I tell people.” Our hands rest between us again.

  Her brows twitch once, as if she’s concentrating on me. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “It is.” I just didn’t realize it until very recently.

  “I’m tired.” She takes the remote. “Do you mind?”

  I shake my head.

  She turns off the TV, and drops the remote on the bed.

  I have no idea what to do, but I feel desperate, like our night can’t possibly be over. “Don’t I get a goodnight kiss?” I ask. Maybe I’m pushing her, but if she was anyone else, I’d have kissed her by now. A lot.

  “Is that what you’ve been thinking about all day?” Her lips push together, trying not to smile.

  “Not all day.” I let my smile spread across my face.

  “Fine.” She leans forward and quickly pecks my cheek. “Goodnight.”

  “That totally doesn’t count.”

  “Well, it does to me.” She pulls the blanket up. “Good night.”

  “You’re forcing me to share my bed with you, and that’s all I get?” I tease. Even though I’m thrilled she’s still here and plans on staying.

  “Just take it, Antony.” She gives me a gentle slug to the shoulder.

  She tugs on the blanket again and closes her eyes.

  I stare at her in the dark. Her small brows, tanned skin, thick lashes. Her eyes open.

  “Stop staring. You’re making me self-conscious.” Her cheeks turn pink, even in the dim light.

  “Sorry.” I close my eyes. “Your turn.”

  “What?”

  “You can stare at me, instead,” I say.

  She lets out a half sigh, half laugh.

  I lie still and quiet and try to settle my nerves at having her so close. When I open my eyes, she’s staring. “Caught ya.”

  “Fine.” She rolls away from me. Her shoulder curves down to her thin waist, and then the curve of her hip.

  Flashback to my night with Gem—the curves I love so much. I want Amber way more than I’ve ever wanted Gem. This is different. I like Amber. Really like Amber. Enough to know I’d love to just hold her, have my arms around her. This is all kind of a big deal for me.

  I don’t know if she’ll just chase me away, and I barely remember the last time I was dying just to get my arm around a girl. I scoot in behind her and slide my arm around her waist. “I promise to behave.”

  She answers by resting her hand over mine, and pulling me closer. The warmth of her next to me, her hand over mine, feels like everything I’ve been missing.

  I breathe in the peach scent of her hair and wonder if I’ll ever get to sleep with wanting to touch more of her.

  Fourteen

  Dad puts his arm over me as I stumble out of bed in the morning. Amber’s awake and chatting with her mom.

  “Happy Birthday,” he whispers.

  I nearly double over. She promised. My birthday. I’m supposed to be in Paris today, celebrating eighteen.

  “I…uh…” I turn and go straight back to my room.

  Dad follows, closing the door behind him and making the air hard to breathe.

  “Antony?”

  I put a hand over my face, enough deep breaths will make it go away, push it away.

  “What’s going on?” he whispers.

  “She promised she’d be home by my…” But if I keep going, I won’t be able to stop the tears.

  He sits next to me on the bed, resting a large hand on my back. Any comforting now will just make things worse. “Sorry.”

  “We’re all sorry, aren’t we?” I blow a breath out as I stare at the ceiling. “I’m okay. I’m fine. I just…”

  “We’re ignoring this one?” Dad asks.

  I don’t meet his eyes. “Yeah. We’re ignoring this one.” And maybe every one that comes after it.

  - - -

  “Son of a bitch!” I slam my laptop closed. I thought I’d take my newfound adulthood and do something grownup like sort email, but that was a stupid mistake.

  Three sets of eyes are on me. My hands are shaking and my breath’s coming hard. “Some stupid asshole who didn’t even know Mom is writing a biography.”

  “Unauthorized,” Dad says.

  I nod.

  “You could pick someone to do an authorized one, so you’d have some say as to what goes in there,” he suggests.

  Amber’s eyes are wide and on me.

  Great. I’v
e probably just scared her away, too.

  “You could do it,” she says. Her voice is quiet, soft, tentative.

  “I couldn’t do her justice.” And how would I even be able to start? All the stuff I’ve been cramming down starts to roll around inside me, but there’s no way I’m going to stand inside this stupid boat with three sets of eyes on me while I cry over my mom.

  Amber stands up. “Let’s get out of here. Get off the boat.”

  My shoulders relax. “Sounds perfect.”

  Let’s run and never look back. Leave it all in the dust. Mom’s promise, her stupid decision to go to some other third-world country, and my birthday.

  - - -

  “This break from the boat may kill me.” I try to laugh as I follow Amber up this never-ending trail to a watchtower she says we have to climb. A few hours off the boat, her having no idea it’s my birthday, and me not wanting to tell her, means that we just are. We’re just together, and it’s exactly what I need.

  “Wimp.” She laughs and keeps moving at the same impossible pace.

  Now, I’ve always worked out in gyms, but this is different. This isn’t sets and running. This is prolonged uphill torture.

  “It’ll be worth it.” She’s grinning as she turns to face me.

  That smile hits me in a million different happy places. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking needing to talk to Hélèna. Right now, this is enough. I’d love it if it was more, but this is enough.

  So, I’ve practically cried in front of this girl, told her way more than I normally let people in on, slept all pressed together, and she still hasn’t let me kiss her. My world has definitely changed.

  We’re on a rocky hill, and the tower’s the only thing up here. Already I can see islands in every direction. The frustration and ache from this morning is dissolving as much as it ever does anymore.

  “Look.” She steps in so close to me that our bodies are touching, shoulders to hips, maybe more.

  I am looking, but not to where she’s pointing. I’m looking at her. Her tank is cut low and my fingers itch to trace her collarbone and slide down her shoulders.

  “Your dad’s boat is right down there.” Her arm’s stretched out pointing, but I can’t take my eyes off her.

  “What?” Her nose almost touches my cheek, putting our lips dangerously close together.

  “I like you.” What? That’s my smooth line? I couldn’t come up with anything more clever than that?

  But her eyes practically sparkle as she leans in.

  Finally, touching her lips with mine has become more of a need than anything I’ve imagined in a long time. Just before our lips touch, she turns away.

  “Where are you going?” I try to laugh but don’t pull it off.

  “We’re climbing the tower, silly.” She jogs ahead of me.

  “You’re killing me, Amber.”

  Her laughter floats through me, punching holes in the darkness.

  I jog to catch up to her. The tower is stone, tall, with only tiny windows for light on the winding staircase leading to the top. Her light steps on the boards are all I can hear, and blackness is nearly complete once I step inside.

  When I break back out into the sun at the top of the stairs, I pinch my eyes shut for a few moments before daring to open them. The view from up here is even better than below.

  “Wow.” I step to the railing on the edge, and rest my arms there, looking across the ocean and scattered islands.

  “I know. Worth it, huh?” Her hands touch my waist from behind me and slowly slide around my stomach.

  There’s no way she could know that this is one of my favorite ways to be touched. Her chest presses against my back and then her face as she rests her head on my shoulder blade.

  “Very worth it,” I answer. My arms rest on top of hers, and I slide our fingers together.

  She’s practically begging me to kiss her; all pressed into me like this.

  I turn around and take her in my arms.

  She stretches up. I lean down. Her breath touches my lips.

  “Not yet.” She breathes out, spins around and runs for the hole to the stairs.

  “Oh come on!” I laugh. “Surely I’ve earned it by now!” Killing me. But this little game we have going on is also pretty awesome. Distracting, if nothing else.

  She laughs back and disappears into the blackness below.

  I take one last look around and head for the steps. The stairs look even blacker than before, but I move into the darkness. Her hand takes mine. She’s just a blur. My eyes aren’t adjusted. I smell her breath and then feel her lips against mine, sending a wave of want through me. Our fingers slide together. I lean forward and feel her smooth lips again. I need more of her. She feels even better than I’ve been imagining. Soft. Warm. Comfort. Electric.

  She laughs and pulls away, running down the stairs.

  “Wait!” My eyes have adjusted. Now I can see her.

  Her laughter turns to shrieks as I get closer, but she’s fast and escapes my grasp. She disappears into the light. I run out behind her, but the sun hits my eyes, and once again I stop, unable to see. She grabs my shirt from the side and pulls me toward her as she leans against the side of the rock tower.

  “There’s something sorta nice about being disoriented, isn’t there?” She’s as breathless as me.

  I start to laugh again, but she pulls me too close. I don’t have time to think about how I want to touch my lips to hers, we just do. She’s warm, tastes sweet, and it feels like something big, something important. We’re finally kissing the way I’ve been thinking about for way too long.

  I lose myself in her, in her mouth, the way I haven’t since maybe my first kiss ever. I press our bodies together as I pull her closer. I feel Amber in my chest, in places where I still hurt, like pin pricks on a fresh bruise. As if this simple act of liking her, of really liking her, completely changes what a kiss is. As much as the familiar touch of a girl’s lips is what I thought I wanted—it’s more with her. Too much. I step back.

  Our eyes meet, and even that pushes into me, on the rawness left by losing Mom.

  “You okay?”

  “I really like you.” My shoulders slump down in honest realization. “Really.”

  Her smile spreads wide, and I blink a few times as the familiar feel of hot tears hit the back of my eyes. I’m completely messed in the head. Or the heart. Or something like that.

  Her hand takes mine, and I may be crushing her with my squeeze, and my need for her to feel something like I do, but her smile never falters.

  My body’s in this weird state of shock thinking of what I’ve missed out on. This adds to my thought that I might not be one of the nice guys. How have I never liked a girl this much? It’s not like I’m lacking in experiences.

  Amber breaks our gaze first, staring at the ground. “I don’t… you know I haven’t, or that I don’t. I’ve just never been with someone like you.” Her forehead presses into my chest.

  I pull her close, maybe if she’s closer, all the ache will blend in, but she’ll overpower it. “Me either.”

  She shakes her head and puts her arms more tightly around me. “That’s not what I meant.”

  She means actual, physical, experience.

  “You just do what feels good. The rest just…comes.”

  “That sounds like a guy thing to say.” I can tell by the way she isn’t even trying to look at me that we probably won’t kiss again. Well, we’ll definitely kiss again, just not right now. I lean down and press my lips to her temple, just because I can. Still hurting, but still really feeling how much I like her.

  “Ready to walk back down?” I ask.

  “Ready.” She steps away from me more quickly than I’d like, but keeps my hand in hers, hopefully wanting to keep the connection as much as I want to.

  But as we walk, her hand feels better and better. Normally holding hands just gets uncomfortable. My fingers start to feel all stretched, and then my hand gets too hot. Bu
t this is nice. She’s nice. Every time our eyes catch, which is often, because she’s looking up at me, she smiles. The same strip of white teeth I noticed on my first day. And now it’s for me.

  Finally I can’t stand it anymore. Our hike is almost over. I pull her to a stop, lean down and kiss her twice, very softly. I’m going to have to keep telling myself this is a big deal for her, the physical stuff. She leans up to give me one last kiss and as the sweetness of her falls through my body, pushing away more of the hurt, I know this is probably a big deal for me, too.

  - - -

  We’re both sitting cross-legged on my bed, a book of Dad’s movies between us.

  “For one movie, and then I’m going back out to my own bed.” Her jaw is set. She’s actually serious.

  “You spent the night in here last night!” I’m hoping it sounds teasing, but I’m sort of amazed. We’re kissing now, and that makes spending the night together way better.

  She starts flipping through the small book. “It’s just...”

  My fingertips touch the soft spot under her chin. “I’m not going to try anything crazy, you know.”

  Her eyes still won’t meet mine. “Look, Antony, I meant it today when I said I have like no experience.”

  “But you’re eighteen, and you’re beautiful.” She can’t have NO experience.

  “I’ve spent all my time on Mom’s boat, traveling here, there and everywhere. I’ve had braces and glasses. I’ve kept to myself, and when you’re the older girl in the home-school groups who’s never done anything, you avoid being close to anyone.” The whole time she talks, she flips through the book, not meeting my eyes.

  What does she mean by never done anything? “Is it totally rude of me to ask?” Will she know what I’m talking about?

  She covers her face for a moment before resting her hands flat on her cheeks. “I have kissed three boys ever. You’re one of them. And…”

  And the silence stretches on.

  “You don’t really want to know this, do you?” Her eyes finally meet mine.

  “I feel like…yeah…I kinda do, because now I’m worried I’m just going to push you too much or something.” It’s hard to take a deep breath in here.

  “Everything feels like too much.” Her cheeks are bright, and her eyes go back to the movie book between us.