by Tessa Teevan
“Like I said, she caught me at a bad time… If you get my drift.”
He nodded again, looking like one of those bobble heads that you get at a baseball game. He cleared his throat again and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at me. “Well, son. It made me realize we’ve never had the talk. I guess I was letting the school do it for me, but now that you’re experimenting and stuff, I figured we should have a talk. Man to man. You know. The birds and the bees stuff, even though I have no idea why it’s called that. Maybe because bees pollenate? But that makes no sense for the birds because they lay eggs. I mean, I guess, technically, a woman has eggs, but it’s a completely different type of reproductive system and process…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Where the hell does that damned saying come from?”
My face blanched. Birds and bees? What the hell? “I’m not experimenting, Dad. I swear it. I was just jacking off!” I protested.
The corner of his mouth twitched, curving into a half-smile as his eyes relaxed. “You’re not? I just… Well, I was hoping you were…” His crooked smile was quickly replaced a tight frown. “So you and Sierra aren’t…you know?” He started making hand gestures even I couldn’t interpret.
It was getting worse by the second.
I jumped off the bed and shook my head profusely. “No! Absolutely not. We’re just friends, Dad. Just friends,” I insisted.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want to.
Holy shit. Where did that thought come from?
“And you haven’t…?” He raised an eyebrow as well as his hands.
Imagine a circle and a lone finger and an old man miming what apparently is a sex act. It was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever seen. For the second time, I was officially mortified. If I had to choose between that conversation and Sierra watching me come, I’d happily choose Sierra every freaking time.
“No! I’ve never even see a real, live boob before,” I admitted.
Almost instantly he exhaled a relieved sigh.
That was all I gave him. He didn’t need to know about Mandy. In fact, no one ever needed to know about her. I’d never even kissed a girl, let alone had a sexual experience outside of that, and I was more than happy to play the perfect innocent role. I mean, it was pretty much true.
That probably was weird for guys my age. In the locker room, I heard lots of talk of who had made out with whom, who’d given whom a blowjob, and there’d even been sex talk already. Crazy, I thought. Who the hell has sex at fourteen?
A lot of people, apparently.
I just wasn’t one of them. I guess I was what you could call a late bloomer, but it was more than that. Ever since the second grade, Sierra and I’d been inseparable. Where she went, I was right beside her. No girl had ever interested me enough to stray from her side. And, until just a few weeks ago, I’d never even considered kissing her. I was starting to realize, however, that I needed to do something. I needed to kiss someone, but there wasn’t a single girl I wanted to except for the one I couldn’t have.
Dad cleared his throat again, and I looked up to see him nodding happily. “Good. Good. You know, there’s plenty of time for all that. Boobs and sex, I mean. Both are great, beautiful things when you’re with someone you love. That’s the key to good sex, you know. You should wait until you love your partner enough to accept the responsibilities that can come along with sex.”
“Umm, yeah, Dad. I get what you’re saying.”
I was hoping that would get him to stop, but nope. He kept right on going.
“You see, son, what a lot of kids don’t realize is just how serious sex is. Boys your age think they’re invincible. But the truth is, you’re not, and even if you use a condom and birth control, there’s no guarantee to prevent pregnancy. Your sperm, you know, it can be potent.” He tapped his index finger on his chin as if pondering how he should continue this conversation.
The urge to groan was strong, and for once, I was wishing Jenna would break curfew and get in trouble. Awful, I know, but anything to get my dad out of my room. No such luck, however. His eyes lit up as if the lightbulb in his brain had just clicked on.
“Sperm. Think of it like a rich fertilizer. Fertilizer that doesn’t always have a success rate. This kind of fertilizer is special. It has to hit the egg just right to make a baby, but even still, you have to be careful. It’s like the lottery. The more you play, the more likely you can win, and you’ll never know when you’re going to hit the jackpot. But if you don’t play, you have no chances of winning.”
“So, to be winning, you have to have sex?” I joked, making him look even more uncomfortable. Probably not a good idea when I wanted this topic of conversation to be over, but it just came out without a second thought.
“No!” he protested as all the color drained from his face. He pulled on his collar as if that’d help him breathe better. “That is not what I meant.”
“I’m just kidding, Dad. I know all about sex and reproduction and where babies come from. You can spare me The Talk. The last thing I plan on being is a teen dad. Trust me. I’m not having sex, and I don’t plan on it any time soon, okay?”
The color started to return to his face. Thank goodness. It was time to end our conversation.
As I started to walk out of my room in hopes of him following, my dad called my name. I glanced back to see him eyeing me contemplatively.
“You know, Jeremy. Sometimes best friends make the best lovers.”
I nearly choked but kept my composure and raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Dad? Lovers?”
He barked out a laugh. “I don’t mean in just a physical sense. It’s just… I don’t know. I could see Sierra as my daughter one day.”
The memory of my eight-year-old self proclaiming he was going to marry Sierra flashed in my mind.
I gave Dad a small smile. “Like I said, we’re not like that.”
But, as I walked down the hall, I wondered who I was trying to convince.
My dad or myself.
I was pretty sure it was the latter, and I wasn’t doing that good of a job at it.
THE FALL OF FRESHMAN year came and went quickly and without much excitement. Kind of like Jeremy.
Not that I would really know. After “the incident”—as I’d dubbed it—I always made sure to knock before entering his room, and I’d yet to witness another not-so-unfortunate event. Unfortunately.
After I’d fallen into a routine of school, cheering, and homework, there wasn’t much time left over for Jeremy. That didn’t mean we didn’t steal every moment we could with each other. We absolutely did. We had our study dates. Our Dawson dates. And we still walked the beach every weekend, even when it was chilly outside.
It took no time for things between us to go back to normal after the whole strokin’ incident. Well, mostly. For Christmas, I received a stuffed mouse from Jeremy. And when I say stuffed mouse, I don’t mean the animal. He literally sewed me a stuffed computer mouse. I couldn’t even be mad because of all the time and hard work he’d put into it. I, however, did not get him any sort of stroking memorabilia. The last thing I wanted to think about was Jeremy’s penis. Hell, any penis for that matter. But the image from that day was burned in my mind, resurfacing at the most inopportune times.
Like right then as I walked towards the biology class I had with Jeremy. Naturally, we were lab partners, and this was the absolute wrong day for my hormones to get the best of me. I really needed to suck it up, but I’d been asked out by three boys since school started, and none of them gave me butterflies. Not the way my best friend was starting to. Sure, they were cute enough. The problem was I always found myself comparing them to him. Maybe I needed to just say yes to one of them. Maybe Jeremy and I were spending too much time together and I’d never be over him until I tried dating someone else.
But the thought of not spending all of my time with Jeremy?
Awful.
Terrible.
Unacceptable.
Who needs k
isses at fourteen anyway?
My stomach flip-flopped as I walked down the hall to where he was standing outside, waiting for me, like he always did. But, this time, he wasn’t watching for me. Instead, he was staring down at his tennis shoes. His shaggy, brown hair was a little unruly, strands of it falling over his tan forehead. That was par for the course, as he was always using his hands to run his fingers through it.
The muscles in his biceps bulged as he turned and pressed his palms against the lockers. He seemed anxious, and it appeared as if he was breathing heavy. Something was definitely wrong. With a sense of trepidation, I inched closer.
Whispers of how hot Jeremy Banks was filled my ears, and without even looking over, I knew girls were staring at him. He’d become popular with the ladies at Navarre High when he’d been the only freshman to make the varsity football team. But, just like me, he’d turned down any advance. Even when senior Jacqueline Dawes asked him out. We’d had plans that night, and he’d stuck with them even when I’d told him that it was okay if he wanted a rain check.
I tried not to read too much into it. He still treated me like he treated everyone else.
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t quite true, but he wasn’t hitting me up for kisses or anything. Not that I wanted them.
Not really.
“Jeremy?” I spoke softly as I approached, tentatively reaching my arm out to touch his. A spark shot out as he stood up straight, his eyes wide.
“Fuck, sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He grinned as he rubbed his feet on the carpet. “Static electricity is a bitch. But, then again, I think there’s always been a bit of electricity around us, don’t you think, Sierra?”
My heart pounded, and my eyes had to have been as big as saucers with how caught off guard I was at his words. Did he really mean them?
He turned towards me and leaned his shoulder on the locker, giving me a cocky once-over. It was a new signature move he’d stolen from one of the seniors who, not so successfully, was trying to date his way through the freshman cheerleaders. But, unlike that jackhole, Jeremy didn’t look like a smug jerk. He looked sexy. Confident. A tad bit goofy, too. Which was part of what was so damn endearing about him. It was all I could do not to rise on my tiptoes and see what he’d do if he knew just how much that move was affecting me.
Not that I’d ever do it. But hey, a girl can dream, right?
“Umm, yeah,” I mumbled lamely.
He continued to grin. “How you doin’?” he asked in his best Joey Tribbiani impression. Have I mentioned what TV junkies we were?
“Better than you, apparently. What’s with you? I was walking down the hall and you looked like you were either trying not to puke or trying to work your way into finally asking out Heather Perkinson.”
My heart faltered at the thought. Heather Perkinson was the prettiest, perkiest girl in the sophomore class. She made it no secret that she had the hots for Jeremy, and I’d seen them talking in the hallway from time to time. She always smiled and twirled her hair around her dainty little finger, making sure to laugh at every single one of Jeremy’s jokes. Of course, she always reached out to touch his arm, and the protective side of me wanted to yank her hand off him each time. But Jeremy was a big boy who could take care of himself. If he liked Heather…well, then I guessed we’d see what happened.
That didn’t mean I prayed to God that he didn’t. I had been fully prepared for high school to change our dynamic, but so far, it hadn’t. In fact, it had cemented how strong and solid our friendship was. We were stronger, closer than ever, and I loved it. We didn’t let school or football or cheer knock us down a peg. We always made time for each other. As little as it had seemed to be lately. I hoped we always would.
Jeremy’s groan brought my attention back to him. His grin was gone, and he was a little pale. I placed my palm on his forehead, then his cheeks, checking for a temperature. He was sweaty—clammy, even—and it worried me.
“Jeremy? What’s wrong? Are you going to be sick? Do you want me to help you get to the nurse?”
He shook his head profusely. “No. No. I’m not going to be sick. Well, at least, not yet.” He jerked his head towards the classroom door, which was a few feet away.
That’s when it hit me. I knew exactly what Jeremy’s problem was, and I couldn’t help the giggle that rose up. I slapped a hand over my mouth as soon as it had escaped my lips, but I was too late. Jeremy’s scowl indicated that he’d heard me, and the poor guy was not amused.
“That’s today?!” I exclaimed, laughing again—much to his displeasure. “I completely forgot! How could I have forgotten? You’ve been looking forward to this for years!”
His eyebrows narrowed, and I squealed when he pushed forward and gripped my hips. Then he twirled me around, pressing my back against the lockers. As he brought his head down dangerously close to mine, his expression darkened.
“Are you laughing at me, Tod?” he asked, his eyes dancing with small traces of amusement.
I feigned complete innocence. “Now, Copper,” I replied, pausing to bask in those warm eyes that resembled his nickname. He’d always been Copper to me, and no matter how old we got, he always would be. “Why would I ever do a silly thing like that?”
A low growl-like sound escaped his lips, and it was…sexy. God, it was sexy as hell, and that familiar feeling between my legs nearly knocked me off my feet. My eyes lowered just in time to see him capture his lower lip between his teeth. He looked…turned on. My belly twisted and tightened as my heart began to beat furiously.
“I think you know exactly what you’re doing to me, Sierra,” he said, his voice now gruff and husky.
The way he’d called me Sierra made me melt. For so long, I’d been Tod or Sullivan, but ever since we’d started high school, he’s let more Sierras slip here and there. And I loved it.
I swallowed hard as I stared up into his eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was just teasing or if something else was lurking behind his brown-eyed gaze. He took a deep breath, and his chest rose and fell, his hard ripple of muscles on full display underneath his tight football T-shirt. As much as I complained about him spending too much time lifting weights in the field house, I sure did appreciate the results. His body was strong and lean, and built in all the right places with broad shoulders, the solid wall that was his impeccable chest, and arms that were corded with muscle. The desire to run my fingers over his hard edges and planes was so intoxicating that I started to reach my hand out to do just that.
“Let’s go cut some frogs!”
Chris, as usual, had interrupted our moment. If you could have called it that. I was really beginning to hate that guy. Okay, not really. He was so oblivious to anything going on with me and Jeremy that it wasn’t his fault.
At the reminder of what we were about to do, Jeremy’s face paled again.
I grinned up at him. “I’ll be right there with you, Jer. Every step of the way,” I promised, giving his forearm an encouraging squeeze.
It was his turn to swallow hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he gave a slight shake of his head. Then he winced. “I don’t want to cut an animal open! I think I need to go to the nurse. You can do this one solo, right?” he asked, looking hopeful. “I’m suddenly feeling ill and need to go home.”
As lab partners, he knew I’d be there for him. He’d been dreading this day for years. My big, bad, football-playing best friend was terrified of having to dissect a frog. Not that he’d ever said the words out loud until now. Still, I had known that it was true.
I remembered watching that episode on one of our favorite TGIF shows a couple of years ago. I had been fascinated, but when I’d looked over at Jeremy, his face had been as pale as it was now, and he’d even broken out into a bit of a sweat. I was nervous about it, too, and I wasn’t sure how I’d do with all the guts and stuff, but I could stomach my way through it. Jeremy? I wasn’t so sure. But I’d do my best to get him through it.
After all, what were friends
for?
I pushed past him and walked towards the door. When I was about to step in the classroom, I turned and issued a challenge. “I mean…I guess, if you’re too chicken to do it, then by all means, go see the nurse.”
He muttered a curse under his breath, but sure enough, he shuffled behind me into the classroom. When we made it to our table, the instruments were already set out for us. Somehow, Jeremy paled even further at the sight of them. I was starting to wonder if maybe he really did need to see the nurse. But, just like all those years ago when we’d faced our fear of sharks, I was going to hold his hand all the way through this. By the end of the period, Jeremy would be a master frog dissector.
Okay, that may be stretching it, but he’d have at least passed this portion of biology.
“It’s two hours, Jeremy. Take a deep breath, suck it up, and in two hours, the day will be over and you can go get your man card back in the field house, lifting weights with all the other muscle-head jocks.”
He frowned. “I am not a muscle-head jock,” he protested.
I smiled in spite of myself. Even if he thought it was insulting, at least I was getting his mind off the task before us.
I raised an eyebrow and leaned against the lab table. “Oh really?” I reached over and squeezed his bicep.
He flexed underneath my touch. Case in point.
“Mr. Muscles. You didn’t have these a year ago. Ever since football season ended, you’ve spent all of your free time in the field house. You’ve added at least an inch to those biceps.”
A huge, proud smile spread across his face. “Are you complaining?” he asked.
Before I could answer, he stalked towards me and wrapped his arms around my body, squeezing hard.
“The bigger the muscles, the harder the hug. And I know how much you love my hugs, Sierra.”
Ha. He didn’t even know the half of it.
I briefly closed my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy the smell of his fresh soap as the scent danced around my nose. It was true. I adored his new muscles. I wanted to run my hands up and down them, explore the toned definition under my fingertips.
