First Loves: A Collection of Three YA Novels

by Jolene Perry

  “Antony,” I whisper and he steps back.

  The loss of him is staggering.

  I’m seriously out of breath. My body feels like it’s teetering on the edge of a cliff I want to jump off of. “Did I do something wrong?”

  He shakes his head. His eyes are wide, and he might be breathing even harder than me. “I don’t want you to think I brought you here for that.”

  I step forward, still out of breath, just so I’m looking up at him. “I don’t think that.”

  “I didn’t…” He swallows. His hands rest on my shoulders before he begins to slide his fingertips up and down my arms. “I didn’t expect that from you.”

  “Me either.” I start to step back, but Antony holds me and that frantic energy comes back. “I trust you, though.” I love it. That’s what I want to say. I’m learning about who I am. What I want. How I want things. It might change over time, but right now I want him to hold me hard. Tight. I’m not sure if I should want these things.

  He leans forward and touches our foreheads. “I trust you too.”

  My body slowly settles as I listen to our breathing.

  “Well,” He finally says as his hands drop. “Might be nice to get the rest of this place boxed up before our night out. I’d really like to get my new apartment at least partially set up before you go back to Seattle.”

  I nod absently. It’s not that I need to be kissing him again or anything, it’s that I wasn’t ready for it to be over. We’ve definitely flipped places, which feels so backwards and strange.

  * * *

  So. All afternoon I’ve been preened by two girls from… I’m not sure where they’re from because they came here to buff and polish every inch of me for our night out. I’d be embarrassed but without them, I’d have had to do this all on my own.

  My hair is two shades of blond lighter. That part came first.

  When they finally leave, I let out a long breath.

  I slide on a very high, plum heel to go with the cream Armani dress I picked out. I’m having this weird “Cinderella” moment. I’m not the kind of girl to enjoy something like dressing up in insanely nice clothes, but the silk against my skin is a little like heaven.

  Antony knocks on the bedroom door and I holler, “Come on in!”

  I slip on the other shoe and lose my breath as he steps in the room.

  His tux rests on perfect shoulders. It nips in at his slim waist. He looks both incredibly strong and incredibly tall and a little like James Bond. This makes my heart ka-thump in my chest a little because I’m going to be on the arm of this guy. Watching him fumble and be grouchy on his dad’s boat was him in a world he didn’t understand, and a world I know better than anything else.

  Now…I’m here in his world, and he wants me even though I’m sure I’ll fumble through our evening.

  “You…” I smile. “Wow.”

  His eyes travel from my face to my feet. I slowly stand up in the very low, very snug, dress.

  He leans back and shakes his head with a smile. ”You look. Amazing.”

  “Dinner?” I ask. “The girls who were here polishing my hair and body wouldn’t let me eat anything but cucumbers.”

  He laughs. “I love that you’re still you underneath Armani.”

  “I don’t care who made this dress. Only that this silk makes me feel like a goddess.”

  “Not a princess?” he teases as he holds out an elbow.

  I lean into him a little. “I feel far too sexy to be a princess.”

  In Seattle, Antony would have taken advantage of that comment to slide his hands over me, or to start kissing, but instead he chuckles a little and we head for the door.

  Disappointment begins to creep up, but that’s not something I want to feel tonight. My makeup is on and flawless. My hair looks ten times thicker than normal as it loosely curls down my back. This simple (and tiny) cream dress is unlike anything I ever expected to put on my body. Tonight, I want to pretend like I belong in New York.

  * * *

  Billboards for all the Broadway shows stretch toward the sky, and I’m not looking at all like I live or belong here. I don’t want to miss anything, so my head is snapping from side to side, and my mouth is probably gaping.

  “This is our restaurant.” Antony gestures before holding open a door.

  I carefully take the step inside because these heels are a little ridiculous. That’s maybe the one thing I’d change about my outfit tonight. I forgot we’d probably be walking.

  Antony speaks quietly to the man standing at the small podium. The lights are soft and the voices are hushed, and everything is modern, smooth and looks like it shouldn’t be touched.

  His fingers slide across my lower back and I shiver. Antony gives me another smile. “I’m enjoying you here far more than I thought I would when we first talked about it. I love that we can be sailing one week and here the next.”

  “Me too.”

  We follow a six-foot tall stunning woman through the dimly lit restaurant. A girl rushes around the front corner of the bar with a trey and slips. The world slows as her feet fly from underneath her, and the drinks crash to the ground in splinters.

  She reaches out, catches my dress, and I latch on to Antony as she pulls me down.

  His arms are around me, but my leg is twisted. Pain shoots up my ankle, but Antony keeps me from hitting the ground. He grunts a little as he lifts me to my feet.

  “Watch it!” he frowns at the girl.

  I stand and another shot of pain shoots up my leg. I jerk my foot off the ground. “Ouch!”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa…” His arms are fully around me now. “Someone get a chair. Now.”

  And then I’m being lowered in this dark and beautiful and perfect restaurant and I can’t believe this is happening. How is this happening? This is a few days worth of anticipation and planning and… I’ll be fine. I just need to sit and survey the damage.

  I'm sitting. Antony’s kneeling on the floor while a manager cautions him on broken glass. The server who fell is in tears and being hid behind the bar.

  I still… I can’t believe this just happened.

  “How are you?” Antony asks, his hands carefully sliding up and down my ankle. “You’re swelling up so fast.”

  “No glass, right?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No. I think I caught you in time.”

  I wave him away. “I’m okay. It’s fine.”

  “Ma’am?” the guy asks who was just shooing Antony away from the glass. “Could you sign this please?”

  Antony slaps the papers away. “We’re not signing anything.”

  I let out a sigh. “I’m sure I'm fine.”

  My shoe is on the floor and Antony is running his hands over my foot, which is heating up my cheek and heart and other places that should maybe not be heating up in public.

  He shakes his head. “I’m debating on taking you to the ER.”

  “Way overreaction.” I shake my head. “Let’s sit and eat…” But the sharp pain has now turned into an aching throb.

  Antony rests a bag of ice on my ankle. I have no idea where it came from but my body relaxes in relief.

  “Just slide on my shoe, and we can go sit down. I’m starving.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”

  That’s ridiculous. I lean forward and tuck my toes into the shoe, but the moment I push, another shot of pain goes up my calf and I gasp.

  Antony takes my hand and rests both our hands in my lap. His dark eyes meet mine. “Amber. I think it’s time to face the fact that our night is coming to a close. We need to get you home, get your foot up, and get it iced. A few pain killers also would probably be a good idea.”

  “But we’re all dressed,” I protest. “And we’ll miss the show.”

  “We’ll make someone very happy by giving away our tickets, okay? And… Let’s just get you home. I’m trying not to panic over your ankle, and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on to my smile w
ith how fast you’re swelling, okay?”

  I stand on my one good foot, but Antony scoops me in his arms like I’m nothing and a waitress hands me my shoe. I just stare at the heel while Antony exchanges a few more frustrated words with the manager who came out to ‘take care’ of us.

  I’ve given up at this point and try to just enjoy being in his arms. “I’m too heavy,” I protest, but it’s a weak protest. The thought of trying to put any weight on this foot is sort of a joke. Again. I can’t believe this is happening.

  “You’re fine,” he says, as the door is held open for us. A cab sits waiting. Probably also courtesy of the restaurant we just left.

  He sets me on one foot so I can crawl into the cab. I smooth my hands over the dress and feel a sharp pang of loss over our night.

  Antony slides in next to me. ‘I’m sorry,” he says. “We can try again in a few days. We’ll see how your foot is going and maybe find you some flats so we don’t kill your ankle?”

  I shake my head, not willing to let disappointment sink in—but that’s the sucky thing about being disappointed. It comes from a pretty deep place, and I don’t know how to fix that right now. “I’m so hungry.”

  He reaches down and carefully lifts my legs onto his lap. “Anything you want.”

  “Can we get pizza?” I ask.

  “Absolutely.”

  Antony gives our driver instructions and taps his phone a few times. “I have a friend who wants the tickets.”

  “Who?”

  “A girl who I’ve apologized to, but she’ll appreciate this apology even better. We have very good seats. Although she texted me back to say that she’s pissed because two hours isn’t enough time to get ready and make it to the show, but I’m sure she’ll manage. She’s not the type to attempt anything but cucumbers before a night out.”

  “How will we get the tickets to her?”

  He holds his phone. “They’re on here. I just sent them to her.”

  I lean back in the cab trying not to wonder how many other people have also rested their heads here.

  His fingers slide through mine. “How much do you hurt?” he asks.

  My ankle throbs, but… “I’ll live.”

  This time his finger touches my chin, tilting my face to look at him instead of staring out the window. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

  “It was an accident,” I say as much for his benefit as for mine. “Accidents happen. I’m sorry I ruined our night.”

  His dimples are back in full force. “Not ruined. I’m going to throw us the best swollen ankle pizza party you’ve ever gone to.”

  I run my hand over the snug bodice of the dress. “Or at least the fanciest.”

  “Definitely the fanciest.” He kisses my cheek and then the corner of my mouth and now our mouths are moving together, and he leans into me and is pushing. This is what I’m used to from him. This is what I’ve been missing.

  * * *

  We’re lounged on Antony’s bed, pizza and soda on the nightstands, and neither of us has bothered to change. Yet.

  Every moment, I wait to see some sign of disappointment flash across Antony’s face, but it never does. He takes the first bite of his second piece of pizza and offers me another slice.

  I shake my head.

  “Wanna watch one more episode of Brooklyn 99?” he asks.

  This time I nod.

  He cocks a brow, and I give him a faint smile.

  “You in pain?” he asks. “You’re quiet.”

  “You have me pretty well propped up.” I point to the pillows under my ankle and the ice bag resting on top. I took like four Advil and Antony’s bed is the softest bed I’ve ever sat on.

  He taps the remote a few times and another episode comes on.

  “This isn’t what I pictured for our night.” I’m almost afraid to touch the dress after using my hands to eat pizza.

  He pauses the show and turns to face me. “I know, but you have to know I don’t care. We can do a big night out anytime.”

  He takes a long sip from his Pepsi and I hold my hand out. He sets the cup in my hand and I take a few drinks before setting it on the small side table next to the pizza. We’re still just watching each other, but the mood in the room has shifted.

  “I changed my mind on the show,” I say quietly and set the soda down.

  He flicks off the TV.

  In a half second my heart begins hammering so hard, I can’t hear my own thoughts, but I don’t want our whole night to be ruined.

  “I’d like to see you without your shirt,” I say.

  “You’ve seen me that way lots of times.”

  “Please?”

  “You first,” he teases.

  I lean forward and tap my back, my fingers trembling a little in excited nerves. “Can you unzip me?”

  Antony’s fingers touch my back near the top of the zipper, but he stops. “Um… You know I was joking, about the ‘you first’ thing, right?”

  “Please?” I spent so much money on my underwear, and even though I’ve ruined the rest of our night, maybe I haven’t ruined this.

  “You got it zipped up on your own.” He lets out a little nervous chuckle.

  I tug the zipper down two inches from the top to show him that it’ll take some creative twisting for me to unzip this thing all the way.

  He holds the top of the dress with one hand, and I swear his fingers are trembling. Then slowly, the zipper slides down, his finger trailing down my skin, running a shiver through me.

  “I don’t,” he whispers but stops.

  I turn my head sideways, just barely able to see him behind me. “When you asked me to come with you to New York, part of me assumed we’d—”

  “But that’s not why I invited you. And on the plane I sort of promised myself I wouldn’t go there because the last thing I want is for you to feel like I wanted you here for that.”

  I slant by body toward him, and one of the shoulders of my dress slips off. I let it. “And maybe that’s why I want you so bad. Because I know you’re okay if we don’t.”

  His eyes flit from my face to my bare shoulder and the thin strap of my lace bra. He’s thinking. Staring. Licks his lips. “I’m so afraid I’ll disappoint you.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me,” he teases but the teasing sort of falls flat.

  I shake my head. “You won’t disappoint me. This is us.” I carefully lay my ankle on the bed, and Antony tosses the extra pillows to the floor.

  There’s no way I’m letting this moment pass us by—swollen ankle or not. “So.” I go for lightness. “I got a few things myself when we went shopping.”

  “Hmm?” he asks, his eyes finally locked onto mine.

  “Let me show you.” I should be freaking out. My heart should be going crazy. I’ve never let a guy see me like this before.

  But I trust him. I know what his reaction is going to be, and I can’t wait to see his face. Feel his hands. I shrug my shoulders a little and the other strap falls off and then using just my good foot on the floor, I lift my butt off the bed and slip the snug dress off.

  His eyes have the perfect mix of love and lust and wonder. “You…are…stunning. Every inch of you.”

  I rest my swollen foot back on the bed, tug the front of his tux shirt, and he kicks off his shoes, sliding closer to me.

  “I want my lips on you and my hands on you and…”

  I touch the top of my bra knowing it’s a silly move, but wanting to play with him a little. “So, you like?”

  He kisses the corner of my mouth and then my neck and collarbone. His lips trail down to the top of my bra while his hands brush lightly up and down my stomach, sides, and back. “I’m…”

  But he stops there, sliding his lips just above the lace edge of my bra.

  “Antony’s at a loss for words,” I tease. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  He pulls away just enough to look me in the eye. “You’ve stolen my words more than I ever thou
ght anyone would.”

  “I want to repay the favor.”

  “What do you mean?” he asks.

  “I want to touch you everywhere.”

  “You sure?”

  I push out a frustrated breath. “And I need you to stop being so careful with me.”

  He grins. “Well, then let’s get me out of these clothes.”

  I undo all of the tiny buttons on his tux shirt, and help him shove the crisp material over his shoulders. And then tug his undershirt up so he can shrug out of it. Grasping the button of his pants, I quickly slide it back through the hole and unzip his black pants.

  His mouth finds mine, hard and hungry and now we’re lying on the bed together. His bare stomach against mine. My hands sliding up his firm sides and tracing that perfect place where his pants meet his skin.

  “I still can’t believe you’re here,” he whispers.

  I want to see more of him, so I push down on his pants until he gets the hint and slides them off. His black briefs are barely containing him, and my chest tightens in a brief moment of panic. Is this going to hurt? Will I do something weird? Or wrong? Or will it all get super awkward?

  He pulls away from me, leaving his hand resting on my waist. “You okay?”

  I blink and then blink again. This is Antony. My Antony. The guy I held in the cold waves and the one who makes me laugh and the one who I love. “I’m nervous.”

  “Do…” He traces his fingers down my arm. “Do you want to stop for tonight?”

  I smile at him. “No. Definitely no. I just…”

  “I love you.” He scoots closer again, wrapping his arm around my back and holding us together. His forehead rests against mine. “I love you so much.”

  I reach around behind me to unclasp my bra, but Antony is faster, his hand sliding over mine and slipping the clasps apart. He slides off my bra and then leans back to flick off the lights. Just the small lamp is on now.

  “Don’t turn off anything else,” I tell him. “I want to see you.”

  He smiles again. “I want to see you, too.” Grasping my wrists lightly, he guides me onto my back and rests my hands above my head. The small action alone fuels everything burning in my body.