First Loves: A Collection of Three YA Novels

by Jolene Perry

  He stands up and pauses in the middle of the closet. “I’m just going to set aside a ton of stuff for you, as long as you promise to take what you like, and leave what you don’t like, and know that I don’t care either way.”

  Tucking my knees to my chest, I nod. I feel like we’re hot and then cold and then… I guess I just need to settle into the idea that this trip is going to be a lot of me not knowing what to expect. When and how did we sort of swap places? Me wanting more and him sidling away?

  * * *

  “Are you okay?” I ask for the millionth time as we walk along the west side of Central Park. Central Park. Seeing the trees and the paths and benches and things that I’ve seen in a million movies, in real life, is just… I definitely feel like a gawking tourist in this moment. But, Antony’s quiet. Weirdly quiet.

  “I don’t know,” he says for the millionth time. “I guess I don’t have everything sorted out in my head yet.”

  I get that, actually. There’s a lot I want to sort out in my head, too. Like how Antony has sort of pushed me right to the edge of what I'm comfortable with, but since we got here… I feel like he wants me in the same room. He wants to sleep next to me, but I can’t even remember the last time I got a kiss with tongue. Five days we’ve been here together, and…

  I guess I expected that we’d have sex on this trip. We’re away from our parents. Together. Alone.

  Antony’s hand squeezes around mine. “Can I sound like an asshole for a minute?” he asks.

  I smile. “Sure. We’ll pretend we’ve re-winded a few weeks,” I tease.

  “Fair enough.” He does this weird nodding thing as he sits on a bench, tugging me with him.

  He wraps his arm around my side.

  “Did you know there were times when my haircut didn’t go the way I wanted, and I’d actually stay in my apartment until it got sorted out?”

  “You’re a guy.” I touch his soft, brown hair, unable to imagine it looking less than perfect. “Why would that matter so much?”

  “It shouldn’t matter. Not that much. I could have worn a hat or something. And there was this time when I picked this girl up for a date, and she had this total Prada knockoff dress on. It was so obviously a knockoff, that…it was just so bad. I spent almost a grand on a dress for her, and it had way more to do with what I was comfortable with than her.”

  I’m trying to wrap my head around the idea of this. This will never be me. Is he trying to say that he doesn’t feel comfortable because of who I am or what I’m wearing? And then heated shame runs through me at the fact that even with his mom’s clothes, I only sort of fit in. “Your mom gave you an allowance like that?”

  He shook his head. “She was pissed. Made me camp with her in South America for a month after that.”

  “And did that change anything?” I ask quietly.

  He shakes his head as he watches the street, but I’d be surprised if he actually sees anything. I think he still sees his mom and his memories everywhere we look. “It gave me some added status with my friends when I came back, that’s all. And then we went to Paris, and I saw…” He stops suddenly, and I’m pretty sure I know who to fill his silence with. “I just wanted you to know how different things are for me now.”

  I lean into him and he tightens his arm. “I also want you to know that I need you to call me on it if I start sounding like an ass again.”

  “Haven’t I always?”

  “You always have.” He tightens his arm and my body responds immediately, leaning into him. “I did all this traveling. All of this “world-seeing” and I didn’t get how lucky I was. I never really stepped outside of my shell or my comfort zone or whatever.”

  I just sit and let him talk because I can tell he has things to say, even if it’s going to take him a while to get it out.

  “And losing Mom made me reflect, but really it was you… You were someone I was falling for and for the first time, I had no idea how to get you.” He pauses. “But then I realized that I don’t ever “get” anyone. I want to be around you. I love that you’re here with me. Love it. But it’s because you’re choosing it, and I guess I hope you keep choosing me.”

  I press my nose into his cheek, my heart and body warming from his words and tone and the sincerity of it all. “I want to keep choosing you.”

  “Maybe it’s that I want you to know that I’ve changed, but that there’s a part of me who’s still that super spoiled guy.”

  “Why don’t we feed that spoiled guy for a night?” I suggest. Maybe bringing back some of the old Antony will mean I get more than an old-person goodnight kiss.

  He laughs as he stands.

  When I stand, I make sure we’re close enough that our bodies rest together. Antony touches my cheek with a finger before placing a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. I feel sort of…let down?

  “So, do you wanna dress me up and take me out?” I offer. “Just for old times sake or something?”

  He sighs. “I definitely want to take you out, but as for the other part… I’m almost afraid to really step into that world again.”

  I glance down at his several hundred dollar jeans and special production tennis shoes. “I hate to tell you that you never really left.”

  He chuckles and kisses my cheek before we start up the sidewalk. “I’ll think on it. You know that’ll take a few days to put together. Is that okay?”

  “Completely fine. We could do a show? Broadway?” I suggest. Although I’m not sure I really have the funds for that. I know Antony can pay for everything, but I never want him to think that I’m here for his money. Ever.

  “We should do that.”

  I love the idea of seeing him dressed up for Broadway.

  “Be totally vain for one night?” he asks. “You can see how annoying it was to be the old me?”

  I give him a quick nod, even though I now have prancing nerves over the whole situation. A night out like this will be one of many for him, and a big first for me.

  “You pick the show,” he says again. “And I take you shopping. My budget. No arguments.”

  My stomach balls up in a another kind of nerves. I had no idea my body knew so many ways to be nervous.

  * * *

  “What do you think!” Antony tosses his hands out to the side as the metal elevator creaks to a stop and the real estate broker jerks open the sliding mesh doors. This building is about a million times crappier than the apartment he’s selling, but it has…character…?

  I’m not sure what to say yet.

  “I couldn’t sleep last night, and I found this.” He takes my hand, and we follow the broker who opens a large wooden door. We leave the broker in the doorway and Antony does a quick scan of the open kitchen/dining/living before leading me down a very short hallway into a yellow room.

  A yellow room that has facing walls of built-in bookshelves.

  “This,” he says proudly. “It’s just as cool in person.”

  There’s a window seat, and the bookshelves go from floor to ceiling. My brain puts together a million scenarios for furniture and lamps and what those shelves would look like filled with books. I’m not even sure where all this domestic type imagination came from, but this little spot is fantastic.

  I sit on the large window seat, the buildings near campus now looking more charming than old.

  “I think this could be your room… I mean, you…” He grimaces. “I realized I just asked you to move in with me in a very weird way, and that I maybe shouldn’t have…”

  “I’m getting my own place.” The words fly out. I need my own place. I need to feel like I got myself here, not anyone else.

  Antony nods like he understands, but I can see the hurt in his frown. It tugs at my heart. I look down on the busy street to avoid his gaze.

  “I still want this apartment. It’s really close to campus, and I’m still going to set you up in this room…” He slips his hands around my waist from behind as he sits. “Even though when you stay over, I’ll beg
you to be in mine.”

  Before this mood shifts, I turn my head slightly and slide my tongue along his lip until I get the kind of head-swirling kiss I’ve been wanting since we arrived.

  He tugs away with a chuckle and stands. “Consider this room your study. Your home away from whatever hell-hole full of freshman girls you end up in. You’ll have a key. If you need quiet. You can come here.”

  “So, we have a deal then?” the broker asks from the doorway.

  “Yep,” Antony says. “I’ll take it. Thank you so much for your time.”

  I’m dating a guy who can drop two million on an apartment in New York without pausing. Madness.

  With a few more words, the broker backs out of the room leaving us alone.

  I tug Antony’s belt loops to keep him close and stand next to him. “This is overwhelmingly sweet of you.”

  He gives me a curious look. “What happened to the girl who barely touched me? Who made me work forever to get a kiss?”

  I touch my nose to his. “She decided she really liked falling for you.”

  His kiss is soft and unhurried. His fingers move slowly around the top of my jeans until his hands rest on my hips. His tongue slides against mine, and I take his hands with mine, wanting to feel the pressure of him. I back up until I’m against the wall. My fingers wrap more tightly around his hands.

  I want… I want… I want more. I just don’t know more of what? “Tighter?”

  He pauses before taking my hands and raising them over my head, pressing them against the wall. His mouth moves with mine and as his thumbs tickle the inside of my wrists. As his palms put more pressure on my palms, I want to dissolve into him. With him. Anything.

  Antony breaks away, drops my hands, and backs up a few steps—all with a faint smile on his face. “You, Amber, are full of unexpected surprises.”

  Digging up all the courage I have, I push off the wall and let my hand run down his stomach. I stop breathing in nervous anticipation. My hand slips down and over his crotch before I walk out the door. Maybe now we’ll start to move forward again.

  He chuckles again. “I like the girl who is falling for me. She’s pretty amazing.”

  I laugh in the hallway, giddy with excitement and newness and Antony.

  * * *

  With each step we take toward Neiman Marcus, my stomach dances in more frantic nerves. Antony’s smirking next to me so I poke his side, making him jump away.

  “You’re liking me nervous way too much,” I say with a strangled half-laugh. At least his mother’s nice jeans and shoes are helping me not feel like a total slob.

  He plants a quick peck on my cheek. “Yep.”

  “This is what payback feels like.” I let out a long sigh as if joking might help my stomach.

  “Not payback exactly…” He rubs his chin. “I just never thought I’d see you nervous.”

  I feel my brows rise. I’ve been nervous around Antony plenty of times. They just always happened when we were alone. Something in the way his face changes makes me think he’s catching my meaning.

  He pulls us to a stop next to newspaper dispensers and out of the flow of sidewalk traffic. His fingers slip through mine, and he stares at our feet.

  “What’s up?” I ask as my stomach once again dances in anticipatory nerves.

  “I never, ever want to make you nervous. Not that way. Ever.”

  My heart flips.

  “Is that why you’ve barely touched me since we got here?” I blurt.

  He chuckles. “Yeah, I guess…”

  “I want a kiss.” Need a kiss, actually. Even after our kiss in his new apartment yesterday, nothing more happened last night. We really have flipped places. I’d have never guessed this about myself, or him, really.

  Antony’s lips press against mine softly. Too softly. I open my mouth slightly, and our kiss deepens.

  “Hold me tighter,” I ask. “I’m not nervous with you anymore.”

  His arms tighten around my waist and it amps up everywhere we touch. My tongue slides against his. I want more. Need more.

  “Tighter,” I say. “Please.”

  The muscles in his arms now press into my sides. My stomach is crushed against his, and his lips are pushing into me as well. I want to tell him tighter again, but I’m losing myself in his kiss.

  There’s nothing careful about the way his mouth moves with mine. The way he’s taken a step past caressing with his tongue.

  “Tighter,” I moan, and everything in me lights up as I feel his muscles contract again. My feet barely touch the ground, he’s holding me so tightly.

  He stumbles once before breaking our kiss and letting his arms relax. He still holds me, just with some distance. His eyes are wide and curious and there’s something else that spreads an ache low in my stomach.

  Benefit of busy streets? I feel alone with him. We’re just two more people in the millions.

  “That was a rush.” One that’s going to last me a long time but also has me thinking about spending more close time with him. My body wants more. I want more.

  “Intense,” Antony adds. And then the familiar spark of interest lights up his eyes just before he reaches forward and touches my cheek.

  Now that the moment is over, I’m wondering if it was okay, if I asked for something that isn’t what he’s used to or… I don’t even know…

  “Is it weird?” I ask. ‘That I…” I swallow. “That I like being held that way?”

  He shakes his head. “Aren’t we both at that great place in our life where we’re supposed to be figuring out who we are and what we want?” There’s a hint of innuendo in his last work and the way he tugs me against him.

  “There you are,” I say with a smile.

  His head cocks to the side. “What does that mean?”

  “You’ve been distant since we got here.” I’m already wondering when I can ask him to hold me and kiss me that way again. “I was starting to wonder.”

  “I love you. We’re good. Great…” He stumbles—both words and feet. “I don’t mean to be distant.”

  “Oh.” I watch him as his eyes dart around before locking with mine.

  “And now we have an appointment at Neiman Marcus for our night out, which I’m now in no state to be a part of.”

  “What?” I start to ask but he reaches down and shifts himself.

  “Oh.” I wait for the familiar heat to tinge my cheeks but it doesn’t happen. Instead I feel kind of proud that I affect him that way. I want more.

  He wiggles his hips again, and I laugh with him before we step back into the flow of traffic on the sidewalk. Something between us feels new. Different. Our hands are together like we’ve done lots of times, and we’re glancing at each other like we’ve done lots of times, but there’s something new behind the way he’s looking at me. I feel like I’m carrying a load of wants and curiosities about him and us together—all of which I now want to explore.

  He pauses with his hand on the door of Neiman Marcus. “We ready?”

  Not so much. “I’m going to leave you because I’d rather shop alone.”

  His brows twitch in something like concern. “Are you sure?”

  “Didn’t you say that you asked someone to pull dresses for me?” The whole idea of shopping this way is so foreign. Part of the torture is sifting through the racks, but someone has done that for me. Maybe I need to get over my mom’s attitude about shopping.

  He steps closer to me again, fuzzing my brain. “I did.”

  “Then I’m good. You get what you need, and I’ll shop.” I have a plan, and I’d rather surprise him.

  He kisses me again. “You’re so amazing.”

  And then we step inside and a guy in a suit shakes Antony’s hand and it seems like he knows him and I’m whisked away by a woman in a sleek, black suit to a room with a ton of dresses and no price-tags. Antony apparently made sure I couldn’t just run in and grab the cheapest.

  “Are you ready to get started?” the woman asks.
>
  “Well… I think I am… But there are also a few under-things I might like to get for myself that I’d rather Antony not know about.”

  She gives me a practiced smile. “I can definitely help with that.”

  * * *

  I’m trying to read him on the cab ride back to his old apartment. He’s absently playing with my fingers. My dress is being slightly altered. Since Antony already has a tux, I think he just got a few things.

  We’re both quiet as we pull to a stop and take the elevator up to his floor. He slides the key into the lock and lets me inside.

  “This is weird,” I tell him as he follows me in to the now nearly empty apartment.

  “What’s weird?”

  I lean against the wall behind the door as it falls closed.

  He pauses, watching me in the entry.

  Before letting myself chicken out I tug on his t-shirt, bringing him closer. And then closer again. I slip my fingers into the waistband of his pants and pull until our hips are pressed together.

  He’s staring at my lips and his breathing echoes in the small space.

  Is he nervous? I hold his waist, keeping his hips pressed into mine and slide my tongue over his lower lip. I feel his body respond immediately and he presses himself more fully against me.

  His tongue slides in my mouth and all I can think is that I want him to hold me tighter. Harder. This isn’t like me. This is the opposite of me. “Harder,” I say between kisses.

  He pauses and blinks at me. And then his body shoves against mine. His hips hard against me. His whole body holding me against the wall. Firm hands smooth up my sides as his mouth opens and he kisses me like he did on the street.

  I’m moaning into his mouth before I can think to stop myself and his strong hands slide down my arms until he finds my wrists. His hips shove into me again, and I gasp for air as the ache of wanting him cripples me. Our fingers lace together and our palms press together.

  I don’t know where he’s getting the strength to keep so much pressure on me, but I never want it to end. His kisses are more frantic. He grabs my shoulders before smoothing them down over my front. He rocks his hips against mine as his hands rest under my breasts, cupping each of them before his kisses trail from my mouth and down my neck.