by Mae, Cassie
“Fun.”
I wiggle my head, pen poised on my paper. “That’s it?”
“Yeah. We had fun.”
“Well, what did you do?”
“Studied for finals.”
I write it down, so I feel like we’re somehow moving forward. “And …?”
“Had sleepovers.” He winks, and I glare at him. He laughs. “Okay, okay. We just hung out. Probably a lot like what you did with Talon. She talked to me a bit about how he’s been bugging her lately. Okay, she talked to me a lot about it. But I didn’t dwell on it because it makes me feel like shit.”
I ignore that he’s a much better person than I am. “I’ll talk to her about it, then.”
“Kayla …”
“Wesley …,” I mock back. “We have three days. Let’s make them count, yes?”
It takes him a few seconds, but he nods. “Okay. Just tell me one thing, though.”
“Sure,” I answer, keeping my eyes on the progress report I’m drafting.
He gulps, and it makes me gulp too. Don’t know why, but suddenly the air has shifted because he’s acting all nervous. Wesley doesn’t get nervous around me. Not really. He’s only nervous around Reagan, so what’s the deal?
His ears fire up again and he refuses to look me in the eye. “Uh, why do you love Talon?”
Progress Report: December 22
I win for most awkward conversation ever! Wesley was only supposed to be over for a little while, but he just left and it’s almost midnight. I hope at least by now his mom’s latest boyfriend has left and Wesley can spend the holiday with just him and his mom. Well, and us of course. I’m emotionally drained, and surprised I can even write, but I better get it all down while it’s still fresh in my mind.
So we were all fine and dandy until he lobbed a bomb of a question at me: “Why do you love Talon?”
At first I was pissed, thinking he was totally joking. I had to explain my love for Talon? Who the hell does he think he is? He knows how long I’ve felt the way I have. He’s about the same with Reagan. I shouldn’t admit on paper what I did to Wesley, in case he comes after me for it later. (I’ll deny everything!) But after he recovered, he kind of fixed my wrestling-match hair and hovered over me on the bed. Because … well, we ended up there. Anyway, he asked me again, all serious-faced: “Kayla, why do you love Talon?”
I was like, “Why are you asking me that?”
And he was all, “Because I need to feel better about doing this to my best friend.” He was super quiet saying that, dodging my eyes and sitting up on my bed and stuff. Then, like he wanted to joke it away, he said, “You know, bros before hos.”
That made me feel like crap, so I asked, “Why do you love Reagan?” And he threw it back with the classic seven-year-old’s response: “I asked you first.”
So, with a lot of awkward glances and supposed-to-be jokes to lighten the mood, I explained my oh-so-strong attraction to Talon, and in turn he told me his reason for loving Reagan. And you know what really stinks? I think his reasons seemed more genuine than mine. He was all, “She’s never afraid to be who she is.” Which I thought was super deep, so I tried to come up with something like that, but I think I ended up saying, “Talon is nice to his mom.” It’s true, but I’m not sure if it really gave the impression I loved him. But a guy who is good to his mom is usually good to girls.
The worst part, though—and I hate to admit it—is that I had to really, really think about the answer to that question. Is that horrible of me? I guess I’ve loved him for so long I’ve forgotten why. The answer doesn’t come very easily. I could go on and on about his amazing ass and his beautiful smile and his blue eyes, but that has no meaning.
So, what kind of person does that make me? A girl who wants to steal her best friend’s boyfriend because he’s hot? Yeah … I’m a bitch.
Step 12:
Sometimes It’s Not About You
(It’s about comforting your best friend near the condom aisle.)
“Should I get the Pleasure Pak? It’s got ribbed, ultra thin, something called ‘Her Pleasure’ … ooh, I like the idea of that. And they’re all lubricated. That’s good. But I think I’ll buy lubricant too. And oil.”
How does one travel from heaven to hell in only a couple of days? I must’ve been asleep when I took the trip.
Reagan grabs the Pleasure Pak of condoms and then moves to the water-based lubes.
“Oh! These are flavored. How fun!” she exclaims way too loudly for me. Especially here, in the drug aisle of a convenience store in our hometown. I mean, Mrs. Kirby, Reagan’s neighbor, whom I saw as we walked in, could totally hear this conversation and call Reagan’s mom. Then she and her mom would play the “Let’s see how red Kayla can turn while we talk about sex” game when we got back to her house.
I think I killed someone very important in a past life, and karma is sitting up on a throne and laughing its ass off. If it was anyone else, seriously, anyone else besides Talon, I’d be giggling and helping Reagan pick out the best-flavored lubricant and getting all different kinds of condoms with a huge smile on my face, while secretly waiting for her to do the deed so I can get the details.
I pull out one of the smaller bottles of lube, pretending to read the label. “You sure you want to use this as a Christmas gift?”
“What better way to say ‘I want you in my pants’ than to give my hottie-hot boyfriend condoms?”
And Talon was all worried about buying something meaningful. “Just don’t do it for our exchange. I’m pretty sure Wesley and I don’t want to see his face when he opens this.”
She barks out a laugh, similar to Wesley’s but much more girly. “That would be priceless, but no. I want to do this privately.” She winks and takes the bottle from my hand. “Hmm … ‘tingles for her extra pleasure,’ ” she reads, tucking her purple hair behind her ear. “Good choice, Kayla. I’ll let you know if it really works, for when you need it.”
Yay. At this rate, I won’t ever need it. Since all I’ve done since I was ten has been to want the unattainable guy, my experience level is pretty low. Sure, I’ve kissed guys, but I wasn’t really feeling it. I didn’t think it was really fair to date someone just for the sake of it while my heart was trying to fly out of my chest and land in Talon’s hands. I could say I’m saving myself, but it’s not that. I just don’t want to experience all those things while wishing I was with someone else.
Reagan loops her arm through mine, tossing the condoms and lube in the basket on her other arm, and gives me a little pout. “Something is bothering my best friend. What’s going on, babe?”
I can’t tell her the whole truth, so I go with the alternative, the thing that’s been on my mind since she dragged me to Victoria’s Secret. “Why did you wait so long, anyway?” There’s no way I would’ve waited a year. Sex scares me, but if I was with someone for that long, that part of the relationship would be in bunny rabbit mode already.
“It hasn’t been that long. If I was going to go with what I’ve been telling Talon since we started dating, I’d be waiting till I have a ring on my finger.” She cocks her head and squeezes our linked arms tighter. “I really want to make sure he loves me for me. And not only to get in my pants.”
My throat tightens. “And—and you know that now?”
Her feet halt, and I get yanked back into an empty aisle. “You’re my best friend,” she says, her usually playful eyes going unreadable. “And I’m going to enforce the code on you right now. Not a word, okay? To anyone.” She pauses, chewing her bottom lip and eyes darting to the floor. “Including Wes.”
I’m panicking. Does she know something? Why would she specifically say him? It’s not like Wesley and I share secrets behind their backs often. It’s just recently. Unless she maybe thinks something is going on between me and him because I totally went overboard with the whole Wesley-is-oh-so-hot act. But if she really thought that, she would’ve drilled me on it the second she got here. So it has to be something else
.
Did she find my journal? Damn it, she found my journal, I know it. How do I get out of this? What do I say? So not good. They’re all going to kill me. Reagan will ditch me, and Talon will go with her, knowing I was trying to seduce him. And Wesley will blame me for the whole thing blowing up. Or it could be nothing, right? Shit, I need to calm down. Sweat on my hairline, go away!
“Um, of course. Not a peep.”
She eyes me for a second, then drops my arm. “Talon is a good guy, but he has kind of a full past, if you know what I mean.”
Full … “As in, experienced?”
She nods, chewing her lip again. “You know I haven’t had sex, but I’ve done other things. He’s been with someone—a lot of someones—who are way better at everything, I’m sure of it. How can I compete?” Her finger traces the words on the condom box as her eyes fill up.
Before she lets out any of those tears, I pull her into a hug. I’ve been so concentrated on stopping her and Talon from having sex, I haven’t even thought about how Reagan feels about her decision. This is so not about me right now. She needs to know that I’m listening and I care. I’m not going to use this as a way to wiggle in, even if I don’t think they’re right for each other.
Reagan squeezes back, then pulls away. “I haven’t been able to be very physical with him because I freeze up. I have no idea if what I’m doing is right because I’m overanalyzing everything. He’s been so patient with me. Very PG … well, sometimes PG-13, but I want him to know how I feel. Even if it comes off awkward and weird.”
“So all this …” I wave at the basket on her arm. “It’s because you want him to think you’re experienced?”
“He knows I’m not. But I don’t want to seem scared anymore.”
“But you are.”
She nods, a tiny smile curling on her lips. “Terrified.”
And she looks it. I’d compare the look she has now to the same one she had when the spider crawled across her face at summer camp. She didn’t scream. She sat there with her eyes and lips clamped tight while she smacked my arm to wake me up to get rid of it.
“Oh sweetie,” I say, suppressing a smile and taking her into my arms again. “If you’re not ready, then don’t do this. You already said Talon isn’t pressuring you.” I ignore the fact that it ups his hotness level, even though he’s had a “full” past. This is not about me, damn it!
“That’s the thing. I think I am ready,” she says over my shoulder. “That’s what scares me the most, Kayla. I know I want Talon, but … it’s not just that he’s been with girls. What if I’m scared because he’s not the one?”
Holy shit. “What?”
“What if I’m with the wrong person?”
Breathe, Kayla. “Who’s the right person?”
She opens her mouth, shuts it, and shrugs. I’m afraid to even utter Wesley’s name in case she starts thinking I’m interested in him or something. So we stand in the convenience store, awkwardly staring at the floor.
“Anyway, I’m being stupid.” She swipes her hand through her hair and links her arm with mine again. “Probably just normal nerves.”
“Mmm …”
We check out in silence, watching the cashier slide each product over the scanner. I wonder if Reagan’s stomach is dropping with every beep, because mine sure is.
Progress Report: December 24
Last-minute shopping with Reagan after the sex package purchase went okay. Every time she said Wesley’s name, bouncy balls started up in my tummy. Whatever magic he did while they were alone together is apparently working. Even though he was in class and at work most of the time, something had a major effect on her. I wonder if Talon is questioning his and Reagan’s relationship too, but I doubt it. He hasn’t really touched or spoken to me since Reagan and Wesley showed up.
It’s totally wrong of me to be mad about that, but I am. Like, what the hell? We spent an awesome weekend together and suddenly I don’t exist anymore. It’s not even back to normal when we’d all hang out. He’s shifting away from me and acting way weird. What did I do? I asked Wesley and he said not to worry about it. But it’s all I can do. Worry, worry, worry. Reagan is planning on sealing the deal with Talon tomorrow! Does Wesley not realize this? Or does he not care?
So I have Christmas Day to make Talon see me, and I have to do it without pissing Reagan off. Though given how super clingy she’s been to Wesley, she may not even notice.
Step 13:
Don’t Read Too Much into Christmas Presents
(Even when you think they mean more than they really do.)
Yeah baby! Christmas morning and I feel awesome. Wesley called late last night and made me feel ten times better about our plan. I guess Talon has been talking about me, saying he’s avoiding me because he’s finding it hard to “concentrate.” I don’t know what about me has him so distracted, but I’ll take it as a good sign. So even though I totally can’t hold a tune, I’m poppin’ and lockin’ it out of the bathroom in only a towel, singing “I’m Sexy and I Know It” into my hair pick. Mom and Dad left this morning to do their traditional holiday kiss at sunrise, so I’ve got the house to my lonesome till Wesley gets here.
I shake what my momma gave me all the way to the dryer, which is in our main hallway downstairs. Setting the pick down on the washer, I unwrap the towel on my head and shake out my wet curls.
I get to the “passion in my pants” line and undo the tuck at top of my towel, since I may as well toss it in the washer while I’m here, but just before I can take the towel off a voice startles me, and my fingers freeze.
“As much as I want to let you keep going like I’m not here, my damn conscious won’t let me.”
“Shit! Wesley, what are you doing here?”
His hand is over his eyes as he leans against the wall by the kitchen. “You said come early, so that’s what I did.”
“I have a doorbell.”
“I used it.” His dimple pops on his chin while his hand still covers half his face. “Don’t worry. I stopped looking when I noticed your wardrobe.”
I want to ask him how he knew I was stripping if he wasn’t looking, but I don’t. My steam-red body wants to get dressed stat.
“Keep your hand there till I say or I’ll take a fireplace poker to your eye sockets.”
“Ah, the Christmas spirit is in all of us this morning.”
“You’re such an ass.”
“Mickey, you know it turns me on when you call me that.”
“You use that name again and I’ll—”
“Careful. You threaten me and I may drop my hand.”
Damn him. I go lightning fast, grabbing my dry clothes and jumping into my room down the hall. And I thought I’d have more privacy at home than I do living with Reagan.
I plop down in front of my mirror after pulling on my jeans and ruby red sweater, and I can barely notice the difference in the color of my skin versus the color of my top. I’m still flaming from being caught stark naked in front of Wesley. Well, almost naked. Naked enough. And singing. I’m getting redder thinking about it, my heart racing like it’s trying out for the cross-country track team.
Waving my hands in front of my face, I breathe in and out, trying to calm down so I don’t come out of this room a fresh ripe tomato. Think of something boring. Glue. White glue. That glue kids used to put on their hands and wait till it dries just to peel it off. Not that I was one of those kids, but I remember watching Reagan do it. Or they’d put it on those pencil box things and make bookmarks out of them. I did do that.
I open my eyes and the bright red has diminished to a healthy non-embarrassed pink. Sweet. Now to cover that up with makeup.
I’m shuffling through the bedroom door with my three giant presents when Wesley pops up, taking the top one off the pile before it tumbles to the floor.
“Thanks.”
“Yup. You doing your big-box, small-present thing again?”
“Of course. It’s more fun this way. And since it’s th
e same boxes I always use, I can recycle the wrapping. Yay!” I shake the massive box holding Talon’s gift card in it. “He’ll never guess what it is.” Even though he already knows.
“Is it a shrine of him? Made out of his discarded gum and pencil shavings?”
“Of course. It took me all year to make, and I know he’ll fall in love with it and, naturally, fall in love with me. And you can have Reagan all to yourself. See, I’m just looking out for you, my friend.”
He tucks the big box under his arm and grabs me with the other in this awkward, present-filled hug. He still smells like gummy bears, even though he hasn’t worked in a few days. “All this effort, when all we needed was just a gum shrine. Kayla, you’re a genius.”
I thrust my hip out, bumping him off me. “Will you help me get these in the van?”
“Yup, yup.” He grabs a second box from me, and we walk outside.
“Crap, it’s cold,” I say through my chattering teeth while Wesley packs the van up. “I forgot we aren’t in California.”
Wesley takes the last box from my outstretched arms, and as soon as it’s in the car he shrugs out of his puffy green coat. Without a word, but with a big smirk on his face, he envelops me in the warmth and then bolts back inside my house. As much as we tease each other, he at least knows how to treat a girl. Must be because he’s good to his mom too.
I sit on the edge of the open back, swinging my feet by the tailpipe, which is blowing white exhaust. Apparently Wesley didn’t forget we’re in a real winter, and started the van to get it toasty.
Today is more than the best day of the year—I’m hoping it’s an epic moment for our love square. Sort of like the point when you know things will change. If Wesley and I have managed to get into their heads enough, made them see us, maybe the lingerie and condoms won’t be needed at all. Maybe Talon will see how fun I am and how good we are together. And Reagan will see Wesley: how cute he is when his dimple appears, how his hair sticks up in the front with his cowlick, how when he’s concentrating real hard he sticks his tongue out to the side as if that will somehow help him figure out whatever he’s trying to figure out, how hard a worker he is, and how he really is a good guy.
