I look out, feeling a mixture of excitement and terror. “That’s pretty,” I say in a voice that doesn’t even sound like me. Then a loud bang makes me just about jump out of my cowboy boots. “What’s that?” I shriek as I turn around to see who shot the gun. But all I see is Justin holding what must be a bottle of champagne, and it’s overflowing onto the rug. I run to the bathroom and grab a towel and attempt to sop it up.
“Don’t worry about that,” he says as he fills two glasses. “They’ll take care of it later.”
I set the towel on the table and just stand there feeling perplexed. What should I say? How should I act? I know what he’s expecting from me. I’m just not sure I can (or want) to deliver.
“Here.” He hands me a full glass of champagne and holding his glass up says, “To our first three weeks.”
Feeling like a puppet, I hold up my glass, hear it clink against his, then, following his lead, I take a sip. I’ve never tasted champagne before and for some reason I thought it would be better than this. But I don’t let on that I think it tastes like fizzy vinegar. Instead I brace myself and take another sip. Then I say, “Justin, I didn’t know that you wanted—”
“Don’t talk yet,” he says in a hushed voice. He pulls out a chair for me, next to the window. Then he goes over and turns on some music, fiddling with the stations until he finds one that plays lighter tunes. Now he comes back and sits opposite me. Leaning back and putting his feet on the low table between us, he says. “Let’s just enjoy the view.” He takes another sip. “And the evening.”
So we sit there and I listen to all the chatter in my head. It’s like there’s this big argument going on in there. One side is saying that Justin is my boyfriend, he’s treated me to a special date, and this is my big chance to lose my status as one of the few remaining virgins at Hamilton High. The other side is reminding me of all the crud that I’ve witnessed lately, and how Justin may have been responsible for Katy’s pregnancy and subsequent abortion. And back and forth I go, barely hearing Justin’s next question.
“Zoë?” he says again.
“What?” I look at him blankly.
He’s holding the bottle of champagne out. “Ready for more?” he asks hopefully.
Well, I’ve only had a couple of sips, but I nod and hold out my glass anyway. And he fills it nearly to the top again.
I take another cautious sip and this time it doesn’t taste quite as bad as before. Still, I think it must be an acquired taste. Finally, I know I have to say something.
“You’ve kind of caught me by surprise,” I say, taking another sip of my champagne to make him feel better.
“What do you mean?” he says as he fills his glass again. “We talked about this last week.”
“We talked about doing something special,” I remind him. Of course, at the time, I had a pretty good idea of what that “something special” might be. But tonight I guess I just want to play dumb.
“Yeah,” he says. “And that’s what this was supposed to be.” He gets a disappointed look on his face now. “Don’t you think this has been pretty special?”
Okay, now I feel really guilty. “Of course,” I assure him, “it’s been totally awesome. Dinner was amazing. Dancing was incredible. But I’m just not sure about”—I glance around until my eyes stop at the king-sized bed—“this.”
“So you were just leading me on?”
Now I feel torn. Was I really leading him on? Did I know that this evening was destined to end up in a hotel room? I’m not even sure. I stand up and begin to pace across the room, trying to keep my eyes off that bed. “I don’t know, Justin,” I finally say. “I guess I should’ve known this was part of the deal.”
He sets his glass down now and, standing up, he faces me. “I thought we had something special, Zoë.”
“We do.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m not sure.”
Then he reaches for me and pulls me toward him. “Just relax,” he tells me. And then we begin to slow dance. And I’m not sure if it’s the champagne or feeling his body close to mine, but I do begin to relax.
Then as we’re dancing I feel his hands searching over my dress and I realize that he’s looking for the zipper, which I am relieved to remember is tucked discretely on the side. But then I feel his hands moving over the folds of my full skirt, trying to lift it up. And that’s when I step back.
“Don’t,” I tell him.
He looks shocked. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t start trying to undress me,” I say in what I know must sound like a very uptight voice. I sit down in the chair again, folding my arms across my chest. “I’m not ready for that.”
He flops down in the chair across from me and exhales loudly. “So when are you going to be ready, Zoë?” But there’s something about the way he says those words, and something about the hard look in his eyes that makes me feel even more uncomfortable.
“Look, Justin. I’ve had a good time with you this evening, but there are some things that are bothering me.”
“Like what?”
“Well . . .” Of course, I’m not sure how to best say this and finally I just blurt it out. “Andrea told me that Katy really was pregnant, and that she had an abortion, and that it was your baby. She also says that you’re the one who cheated on her.”
Justin stands up now. His fists are clenched and for a moment I think he is going to hit me. “And you believe her?”
I step back. “Why would she lie to me?”
“How would I know?” Then he cusses. “But you’re taking her word over mine?”
“I don’t know. . . .”
“Then why are you telling me this?”
“Because it’s bugging me. And if we’re in a serious relationship, I have a right to know the truth. Think about what’s going on at school right now. Someone like Shawna goes around sharing her STD and—”
“I’ve never been with Shawna!”
“I’m not saying you have, Justin.” Now I’m feeling really angry. Like what right does he have to put me in this position anyway? “I’m just saying that if I’m going to have sex with you, and that’s a big if right now, then I have a right to know who you’ve been involved with and what happened.”
“Says you.” Now he goes over to his backpack and pulls out another bottle. Only this one isn’t champagne. It looks like something a lot stronger. And he pours himself a tumbler full of the brownish liquid and takes a big swig.
I watch him slug down that drink and pour himself another and suddenly I’m feeling extremely nervous. I know I don’t want to stay here with him, but if he keeps drinking like a fish, I don’t want him driving me home either.
“I’m sorry, Justin,” I say in what I think sounds like a calm tone. “But I think I better leave.” I begin to walk toward the door, but before I get there he grabs me by the arm.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Home.” I study him evenly.
“Not yet you aren’t.” Then he pulls me toward him and begins kissing me. Besides the fact that his kiss is wet and sloppy, his breath smells like something my dad might use to clean his tires. I push him away and tell him to let me go. But his grip only tightens and now I am seriously scared. I mean I’ve heard of date rape before—even Shawna warned me about it. If anyone has ever put herself into a bad position, it is me, and it is tonight. I consider screaming for help, but really that seems so juvenile, and what if no one could hear me and I only made him angrier? Besides, I’m not stupid, and I’m not drunk. I should be able to get myself out of this.
He is pulling me toward the bed now. “I paid lots of money for this date and I’m not finished yet.” And it becomes painfully clear, as he pushes me onto the bed, this guy’s not only in great shape, but he probably outweighs me by at least eighty pounds. I can feel my heart racing and I know I better think fast, before it’s too late. I consider kicking him with my cowboy boots, but am afraid if it turns to vio
lence, I’ll be on the losing end.
“Hey, slow it down,” I tell him, trying to sound calm as I think through a quickly contrived plan. I run my fingers through his hair now, just for effect. Then I reach up and pulling his face toward me, I kiss him again. Long and hard, like I really mean it. Then I gently push him away. “Let’s do this thing right, Justin,” I whisper, hoping to sound sexy and interested.
“Okay, babe,” he says eagerly. “I thought you’d see it my way.”
“I do,” I tell him. “It just takes me a while to get into it, you know. You just need to slow things down a little, okay?”
“Sure, babe, we can take it slow if you want.” But his hand is already pushing my skirt up now, attempting to feel beneath my dress.
“Hang on, Justin,” I tell him as I move his hand from my leg. “I mean if we’re going to do this, let’s make it enjoyable. I want to remember this night for a long time.”
He backs off a little now. “Okay,” he says, pushing some hair out of his face. “What do you want?”
“Well, first of all, I’d like to get into something more comfortable. This dress is kind of tight.”
He smiles. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“I thought I saw some terry robes by the bathroom,” I tell him. “Do you mind if I change into one of them?”
He smiles now. “Not at all, babe. Make yourself at home. Mi casa es su casa.”
“Okay,” I say with my best smile. “Why don’t you pour me another glass of champagne while I change?”
“You got it, babe.”
So I walk toward the bathroom, which is near the door. Then, grabbing my sweatshirt, I head straight for the door and quietly let myself out. I’m not sure if he heard, but I waste no time heading for the elevator. And to my relief there’s another couple already waiting there. At least Justin won’t be able to make a scene if he catches up with me.
My heart is still pounding as I ride the elevator down. I try not to look at the couple as they hold hands and look at each other like star-crossed lovers. I mean if love is anything like what I just experienced in room 1733, well, they can have it! Finally, I am in the lobby. But what should I do now? Who should I call? If I’d thought to bring a purse (which I felt certain would spoil my outfit) I could hire a taxi. Expensive maybe, but worth it. As it is, I don’t even have my cell phone with me tonight. How stupid could I be?
I know I could, maybe should, call my parents, but I really don’t want to. For one thing, this is so totally humiliating. I mean what are they going to think, having to pick me up at a hotel? And what do I tell them? How do I explain what happened to Justin? I put on my sweatshirt and stuff my hand into the pockets as I walk over to one of the phones, which I assume are for guests to use. But then I’m a guest, aren’t I? Like Justin said, he paid plenty for that room. I try not to think of what he might be doing now. Perhaps riding the elevator down, ready to grab me by my ponytail and drag me kicking and screaming back to his room.
My hand nervously fingers something in my pocket and I pull it out to discover it’s the business card that Nate gave me at the soup kitchen today. I look at the phone number on it and wonder if he was serious about that “call anytime” bit. Well, it’s worth a try. So I dial his number thinking he’ll probably be doing a gig with his band, or maybe he’s out on a date with (I’m sure) some nice Christian girl, maybe Casey Renwick. No, besides the fact that she doesn’t date, she’s not even his type. But I’m so shocked when he answers on the second ring that I start crying, and then I blubber out this totally lame explanation for where I am and why I need his help, saying, I’m sure, way too much. What is wrong with me?
“Take a deep breath,” he tells me. “And try to calm down.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I shouldn’t have bothered you, I’ll figure out some—”
“No, it’s okay, Zoë,” he assures me. “I’m coming to get you, but I just don’t want you to fall apart before I get there.”
“I—I won’t,” I tell him, glancing over my shoulder to make sure that Justin isn’t nearby.
“I’m leaving right now,” he tells me. “And I’ll be there as soon as I can, but it’ll still probably take about fifteen minutes. Are you in a safe place?”
“I’m in the lobby.” I look around the area. “And there are people all around the place. I’ll wait by the fountain. It’s right in the middle.”
After I hang up, I cautiously walk across the lobby and sit on a padded bench right next to the fountain. It’s in direct view of the registration desk, where there seems to be a constant flow of people. To my relief, Justin doesn’t make an entrance. I wonder if he even knows that I’m gone yet. Or maybe he’s already drunk himself into a stupor. I feel something scratching on my wrist and remember the corsage that’s now stuffed into my sleeve. I wrestle the stupid thing out and toss it into a nearby trash can. It’s not like I’ll be saving any mementos from this evening.
A wild mix of feelings rush through me as I wait for Nate to get there. Like why didn’t I realize that something like this would happen tonight? And is it my fault? I did lead Justin on. And was it a mistake to wear such a sexy dress? Like what kind of a message did I want to send anyway?
But on the other hand, what right did Justin have to expect that we’d have sex? I mean just because he put out for a fancy meal and a hotel room, which he never even asked me about, does that mean I have to surrender my virginity to him? I don’t think so.
And suddenly I am thinking maybe my virginity is actually worth something. Like maybe I really don’t want to throw it away too easily. And I even wonder why I’ve been so worried about being one of the last remaining virgins on the planet. Maybe it’s a good thing.
nineteen
NATE WALKS INTO THE HOTEL LOBBY AND I TRY TO REMEMBER WHEN I’VE been so glad to see anyone. Maybe back when I was five and got lost at the mall and then my mom showed up and rescued me. But that’s sort of how I feel as Nate walks toward me now. Even so, I find myself looking over my shoulder, still worried that Justin might show up and make my exit difficult.
“Thanks so much for coming,” I quickly tell him. “We should probably get out of here, pronto.”
“Have you seen him?”
“No. I was actually hoping that he knocked himself out with whatever it was he was drinking. He had a whole bottle of champagne, plus a big bottle of something else that looked even stronger. Maybe whiskey.”
“Do you think he’ll be okay?”
I consider this and wonder if I even care. “I don’t know. . . .”
“Maybe we should let the desk clerk know and have someone check on him.”
“Oh, I’m not sure—”
“I’ll call on my cell,” he says as he picks up a hotel brochure from a rack just outside the door. “The phone number is right here.”
And so, once we’re safely inside of Nate’s pickup, he asks me the room number then calls the hotel. “We’re concerned about a guest in room 1733,” he says in a very mature voice. “He’s by himself and consuming an unhealthy amount of alcohol. Plus he’s underage.”
I feel my eyes growing wide at this tip. Is Nate trying to get Justin busted?
“That should take care of it,” he says after he hangs up.
“But won’t he get in trouble now?”
Nate starts his pickup. “Nah, the hotel wouldn’t want to call the police or anything; it would make them look bad. But the underage part will probably make them feel responsible enough to check on him.”
I sigh in relief and lean back into the seat. “How did you get so smart?” I ask.
“It’s part of living,” he tells me.
I kind of laugh. “Are you trying to tell me that you’ve been around stuff like this before?”
“What makes you think I haven’t?”
“Let me think,” I say for effect. “Maybe the fact that you’re such a nice guy, not to mention a Christian?”
“That doesn’t mean that I haven’t be
en around and seen a few things.”
I study him for a moment. “Are you saying that you lead some kind of double life?”
Now he laughs. “Not exactly.” He’s pulling out of the parking structure to the street now. “Hey, do you want to stop for a coffee or anything?”
“Sure,” I say. “That would probably help to clear my head before I go home.”
So he takes us to Jitters Java, a coffee shop that’s a few blocks away from the hotel and I continue to question him about his double life.
“Like I said, it’s not a double life,” he tells me as we sit down with our coffees. “It’s just that I’ve seen my older brother mess up a lot. I’m usually the one who has to go out and rescue him. I guess I’ve learned a thing or two from his mistakes.”
I nod. “I have a sister like that. I’ve covered for her a few times, but I’ve never really rescued her. She usually just called my parents when she got into big trouble. I just couldn’t stand to do that tonight.”
He takes a sip of coffee. “Well, our mom is single and she’s not a really strong person, if you know what I mean. She has her own demons to deal with.”
I consider this. For some reason I just assumed that Nate came from the kind of family that you’d see sitting in the front row of church every Sunday. “Oh.”
“It’s not like she wouldn’t do more if she could. But it’s all she can do just to get herself to work every day without falling apart, you know.”
I nod like I know, but I really don’t. I mean my parents are like the most solid, steady people I know. I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like if they weren’t. Suddenly I’m realizing there’s a lot more to Nate than meets the eye. “What happened to your dad?” I ask.
“The usual. He met someone he liked better than my mom. Someone who didn’t have all the baggage my mom had. He lives about a thousand miles away. But at least he’s fairly regular with his alimony and child support. That’s something.”
“I’m sorry.”
He peers at me. “Why?”
“I mean about your dad, your parents . . .”
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