Same routine as yesterday. Starbucks (coffee for me, tea for him). Then his dad’s house despite his dad being an asshole yesterday. I stay outside in my truck this time because Abigail might shoot me with something more than her eyes if I go inside. As I’m waiting, I think about last night.
About all that happened.
Me imagining I’m this girly princess safe in Art’s knightly embrace.
Then, five minutes later, I’m mounting him like a guy and he’s crying out like a girl.
Fuck, we’re weird. Too weird? It’s got to be wrong. Right? This isn’t how people are supposed to act. Right?
Then I get a text:
CAM
Thinking of how hot it was to kiss you;)
I wink back because I should text something but don’t want to get into anything. But then:
CAM
Can I see you tonight?
I ignore it. I should say I wish I could fucking ignore it. I can’t do this. Juggle both of them. I have to tell Art that last night was a mistake …
… but then I watch the kid glide out from his house toward my truck and all I want to do is swallow his pretty face. So we go back to the motel room and I throw him on the bed, take off everything but his underwear and then I take off everything of mine except my underwear. I even take my bra off.
“Those are your boobs, Zee,” he says, trying not to smile.
“More like my mosquito bites,” I say, because I fucking hate my body.
“They’re your boobs and they’re sexy and they’re perfect,” Art says, and I love how he loves me just the way I am even when I hate the way I am. And so I—
art
—she eats me alive again just like last night and rides me with our underwear soaked between us again and I cry out like a girl again and she grunts like a guy again and I’d nominate us for the most interesting couple ever if I wasn’t sure there was something seriously wrong with us.
As we’re cuddling on top of the motel bedspread, Zee says, not looking at me, “Is it okay if we don’t tell anyone about this? At least for now?”
“Yes,” I say right away, before I can say anything else. It doesn’t bother me that Zee doesn’t want anyone to know we are getting sweaty and dirty inside a sweaty and dirty motel room. And when I say it doesn’t bother me, all my vital organs are disintegrating.
“Thanks,” she says, breaks from our cuddle and stands to dress.
“When are you going to see Cam again?”
“Art…”
“I’m sorry.”
She gets back on the bed with me, takes me into her arms. “I’ve wanted Cam for six years.…”
“I know. Never mind.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t want to lose my chance at being with Cam.”
* * *
Don’t cry, Arthur Adams. You agreed to this! You’re a grown-up now! Even if you’re not, you have to pretend to be.
* * *
I say, crying only on the inside, “I’ll be fine, Zee.” Must change the subject! “Want me to bring home some food from Fridays for dinner?”
“Sure, but I asked Coach Dish yesterday if I could pick up more hours at the check-in desk and she said they needed an evening person all week. So I won’t be home until after ten.”
“I’m sure I can make enough at Fridays to pay for this room so you don’t have to work if you don’t want to.”
“Art, come on, no you can’t. At some point you’re going to go back to your house and your real life and I’m going to have to fend for myself.”
I face the other way on the bed so she can’t see me. Or I can’t see her. Or I can’t see her seeing me seeing her.
* * *
After work, I walk to Target on the way to the hotel and pick up some things for the room. Two scented candles, a red pillow that reads Love, Bluetooth mini-speakers, water bottles, kale chips, and laundry detergent. I might have also picked up condoms, but I make myself forget this the moment I finish paying for them.
I spend the rest of the night nibbling at the food I brought home from the restaurant and doing my best to transform this motel room into something divine. At nine, I shower, put on the only pair of silk underwear I have and nothing else.
At ten, I light the candles, turn on the music, turn off the lights, get into bed, and wait. But then I get this:
ZEE
Going to be late
ZEE
After I leave the motel that morning, I’m glad to be away from Art. I spend the next hour trying to figure out how I can tell him we need to stop what we’re doing without crushing him flat.
But as the day goes on, I start missing him. A little at first. Then it grows. And grows. By the time I clock out from the CrossFit desk at ten, I want to race home and tell him we should get married so we never have to spend a night apart again. I’m acting and thinking like a bigger girl than I ever have and it’s all because of the girly guy I’m maybe, sort of in love with.
Except Cam shows up—surprise! yay!—just as I’m getting into my truck. He’s hands and tongue and “Want to go park somewhere?”
“Not tonight … I’m tired.”
“Man, Zee…” Cam starts, but pauses. You want to know why he pauses? Because I crushed him. HE CRUSHES EASIER THAN ART! His eyes are watering as he continues, “… I feel like you’re not really into me.”
I suck. Don’t suck. “Cam, dude … I’m sorry. I think this is just harder than I thought. Transitioning from friends to whatever.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. It’s just Abigail always wanted to see me and text with me and you’re barely acknowledging I exist.”
“I’ve never been much of a texter. You know that.”
“But that’s when we were friends. Now that you’re going to be my girlfriend—” Girlfriend?
“Cam…” I don’t say it. But he knows.
“You don’t want to be my girlfriend?” Dude is teary-eyed again.
“I do…” Sure, maybe, if I don’t run off and elope with Art. “… but I want to work toward it, not jump into it.”
“But love is about jumping in. No safety net!” Holy fuck, he’s talking like those Hallmark movies my mom watched all the time. I hate those movies. “Zee, I know you’ve never been in a relationship, so let me take the lead, okay?”
* * *
I kinda want to let him lead himself into a fucking wall. Then I want to tell him I’m staying with my not-so-platonic husband in a motel tonight. But then—
* * *
“Yeah, okay.”
This makes him so happy, me letting him lead, he bursts into a smile and kisses me. I kinda like it. Reminds me of something Art might do, which reminds me that I should tell Art I’m going to be late and he’s going to know why I’m late.…
art
Knowing Zee is probably making out with Cam at this very moment makes me want to text a beautiful girl and flirt, so I think of Carolina but thinking of her makes me think of Jayden.
So I text him instead:
ME
When are you buying me dinner?
I regret texting him the second I do it but he texts me two seconds later, so it’s too late to do anything:
JAYDEN
You said lunch, now it’s dinner-
Does this mean you broke up with your boyfriend?
ME
What makes you think I had a boyfriend?
JAYDEN
Was I wrong?
I hesitate.
JAYDEN
Exactly. I forgive you.
You didn’t know someone as fabulous
as me existed yet;)
ME
I’m straight.
JAYDEN
Yes, me too;) Shhhhh.
I don’t respond because I suddenly feel like this is cheating on Zee more than if I was texting with a girl. (And even though SHE’S the one cheating! Or not-cheating-but-still-cheating. Ugh.)
A few minutes later, Jayden texts me a pictur
e. It’s him. In a long white-blond wig, a gold dress hiked up high on his thigh, lipstick, mascara, done excessively but done well. His eyes eat the camera and his tongue is placed on the edge of his bottom lip with an expert touch of seduction.
JAYDEN
So, straight boy, Tell me since you’re an expert.
I’m a very pretty girl, aren’t I?
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood … it was a yellow wood, right? I think. I can’t remember. I hate school. Anyway:
ME
Yes very
JAYDEN
oooh, you like me in a dress, don’t you?
Yes.
JAYDEN
Does the Art that lives below the border
like me in a dress?
I had been ignoring the lower half of my body. But now Jayden made that impossible.
The answer was yes. The answer was a picture of a boy in makeup and a dress made my penis hard.
JAYDEN
Does Little Art want another picture of me in a dress?
Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.
ME
I have to run-sorry
ZEE
I let Cam talk me into getting in his car and making out more. He’s pawing at me and pulling at my arms, trying to make me paw at his crotch, which I do for five seconds until I decide it’d be more fun to touch the gearshift.
“Cam…” I start to stop him.
“I want you so bad,” he says with this heavy breathing.
I don’t want you at all. I don’t say this. I say, “I need to take things slower,” because I probably am in love with someone else.
“But…”
“Please.”
Then he fucking says, “I’m falling in love with you.”
* * *
WHAT?
No. You’ve either been in love with me since Little League or you’re horny and want me to jerk you off. It’s an either/or. There is no option of I’m falling in love with you because I saw you in a miniskirt.
* * *
But I say, “I really need to go.”
“You’re not going to tell me you’re falling in love with me too?”
“I’ve been in love with you for six years and you never had a clue,” I say. And I’m gone.
* * *
When I walk into the motel room, it’s like walking into a corny romance novel. Candles, soft music, everything’s clean and warm. He even bought new pillows! I always hate these scenes in movies because I never believe any dude would take the time to do this sort of stuff …
… but Art did. My beautiful boy did. And, man, the shit works. I feel safe and turned on. I feel like a princess and an animal ready to … you know.
Art is asleep, new pajama bottoms on, bare otherwise. I strip down to just my boxer briefs and slide up next to him. His eyes bat open as I pull him into me.
“Do you like it?” he asks, still half-asleep.
“I love it,” I say, and I kiss him, hard, and he emits this delicate, ache-filled whimper and, man, that makes me want to swallow him whole.
art
I wake up before Zee does the next morning and walk to the strip mall next to the Home Depot, pick up juice and bagels, and bring them back to the room. She’s still sleeping, but she’s kicked off the blanket, her body naked but for her boxers.
With her short hair, her small chest, her toned muscles … she looks like a boy. She kisses like a boy. She dresses like a boy. She swears like a boy. But I love her like a girl.
You do?
Yes, of course I do!
Sure.
What’s that mean, “sure”?
It means I think you’re confused.
I am not!
Jayden’s picture?
I have no idea to what you’re referring.
* * *
“Hey,” she says, waking up.
“I got some food.”
“Come here.”
I leave the bagels and juice on the motel table, get into bed with her. “I love you,” I say.
“I want you,” she says, takes me in her hands, strips me down to my underwear, and makes me cry out like a girl.
* * *
Afterward, as she’s holding me, I ask, “You’re not a virgin, are you?”
She hesitates, but then admits, “No, I’m not.” Ugh.
“Thanks for being honest. I am.”
“I know.”
“I want to have sex with you, Zee.”
She turns my chin with her fingers so we are gazing into each other. “I want to have sex with you too, Art.”
“But is it okay, the first time we do it, that I take the lead?”
Again, she hesitates, but then she says, “Yeah, yes. Of course.” Then she kisses me hard.
I pull back. “But I want to wait until tonight, okay? I know you work late. But when you get back, I want to take you to dinner even though it will be late and then I want to come back here and make love.”
She laughs. “Make love.”
“Yes, I know I can’t take your sex virginity. But I want to take your ‘make love’ virginity.”
“You’re hilarious,” she says even though I wasn’t trying to be for, maybe, the first time ever.
ZEE
By the time I leave the gym that night, I’m exhausted (Cam’s texted me fifty times) and am hoping Art will want to forget going out and just stay in. But when I walk into the motel room, he’s dressed in a fancy fucking suit, with this musky cologne on that he’s never worn, and sporting big boots that make him taller than me.
Seeing him I know it would crush him if I bailed on dinner, so I say, “You look very handsome,” even though he still looks pretty.
“Thank you. You can just go as you are. I won’t mind. I just wanted to look special for you.”
“No, I want to look special for you too,” I say, which might be the cheesiest crap I’ve ever said in my life. I take a shower, and as I’m drying off, I’m like, “Fuck it,” and—
art
—Zee exits the bathroom in the tight designer jeans and tank top I bought her at Macy’s. She’s even put on mascara.
“You look so beautiful,” I say, and I mean this. I do. Because she looks like a girl. I like when she looks like a girl. I do! I really do.
* * *
When we get out to her truck, I ask, “Can I drive?”
She laughs and throws me the keys.
* * *
I want to go somewhere special, but at this time of night, the only place open and romantic enough is in Evanston, so we have an almost hour drive. Zee doesn’t complain, but I can tell she’s bored and her being bored on a night I wanted so badly to be perfect.… Ugh, I don’t have the inspiration to come up a with good metaphor.… I just wanted everything to be perfect and it’s not.
ZEE
Everything Art is doing is awesome. Really fucking awesome. But I can barely breathe in these jeans and I feel like every waiter at this fancy restaurant is looking at my tits in this skimpy-ass tank even though I barely have tits to look at. And I’m tired, and I just want to be home with him in bed watching TV.
He asks, “Are you going to go to Penelope and Benedict’s party this Saturday?”
“I wasn’t invited.”
“You were. They invited you on Facebook.”
“I don’t look at that much anymore. And I hate high school parties. Teenagers thinking they’re acting mature by getting blasted and puking up on lawns.”
“Okay, we don’t have to go.”
“You can go, Art. We’re not…” I didn’t say it. But the kid knows and he’s crushed. “Okay, I’ll go to the party with you. But people have to think we’re just friends, okay?”
He nods.
I lean across the table, whisper, “Maybe we shouldn’t have sex tonight.”
“You don’t want to?”
Not really. But I say, “I do, but maybe it will be too much for us.” For him.
“No, I’ll be fine, Zee.
I understand the rules.”
I fall asleep on the way home.
art
When Zee fell asleep in the truck, I was relieved. This night felt like a total failure, and I didn’t want the first time we made love to be when she was barely awake.
But when I come out of the bathroom after washing my face, she says, “Give me five minutes?”
“Of course,” I say, not sure what she’s up to.
ZEE
I had packed one pair of panties—can we just admit what a stupid fucking word “panties” is and I might not wear them ever just because of the word?—and I wanted to keep playing the role of the girl since Art was playing the role of the boy …
I mean, I am, he is …
Never mind. I wanted to wear the fucking panties, okay? I put those on, left the tank on, and then I—Jesus—put some lipstick on. My reflection asked who the hell I was, so I gave it the middle finger and—
art
—Zee exits the bathroom wearing girl underwear and lipstick. I know she’s trying as hard as me to feel normal—we are normal! I mean, I feel … ugh! I don’t know what I feel and it’s a disaster not knowing what I feel!—what I mean is that I love her for understanding me. Yes, this is what I mean.
She gets into bed next to me. I can tell she wants to kiss me but she waits for me to lead, just as I asked, so I lean over her and kiss her and soon our lips flow into our song.
ZEE
Once Art’s kissing me, I stop feeling like a girl pretending to be a girl and feel like me again. When he’s leading, I feel like he’s making our lips dance together. Like he’s got music playing in his mind and he’s twirling my body just by touching my lips to his. That sounds crazy or stupid but it feels beautiful. Soft. Slow. Sensual. Yes, sensual. When I’m kissing him, it feels like we’re these wild sexual animals. I love it. But I love this too. This sensuality. It feels like we are floating above the bed.
The Handsome Girl & Her Beautiful Boy Page 17
