by Mary Whitney
“Fuck yes!”
With that, he undid his pants, and I helped him get them down to his knees. His dick bobbed in full erection. He seemed almost giddy as he lined himself up between my legs. Despite his joy, he asked one more time, “Are you sure?”
I tried to swat him on the butt. “Yes, just do it, damn it.”
It had to be some kind of sexual instinct because straightaway I raised my hips up to him so that it was his move next. With a determined smile, he looked down so he could properly place his dick against me. Then, he gently pushed in. The first couple inches didn’t feel like a big deal, but the deeper he got, the more pressure I felt. It wasn’t painful, but when he finally got all the way in—or at least as far as he was going to get, it was uncomfortable.
I didn’t want him to think I didn’t like it, though, so I smiled at him when he asked, “Are you okay?”
“More than okay.”
He then slid out and back in again, repeating it over and over and going a little deeper each time. I couldn’t say it was orgasmically pleasurable, but I could see how it would be in the future. We were naked, physically joined, and our hearts were in it. He was in a much different place, though; he looked like he was about to explode with lust.
“So good. You feel so good. Shit, Nicki. I’m not gonna last.”
“Then don’t.”
It wasn’t like he was asking for my permission, because he grunted and launched into me, hitting me deeply. Yowza! I flinched hard, and he yelled my name with a curse or two. Then he crashed onto my chest panting and, after a moment, said, “I love you, sweetheart.”
I kissed his hair. “I love you.”
He looked into my eyes as if to get an honest assessment. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, of course not. It was fun.”
He announced, all too seriously, “I wanna make you come, though.”
“Well, I’m all for that.” I giggled. “Let’s try again.”
“Oh, Nicki.” He shook his head and snickered. “We are going to try and try again.”
“You promise?”
Reaching up to my face, he happily rubbed his nose with mine. “I promise.”
Chapter 24
THAT NIGHT, I RESTRAINED MYSELF and waited a whole thirty minutes after I got home before I did a three-way call to tell Rachel and Lisa the big news about the end of my virginity.
Rachel was unimpressed. “It’s about time.”
“You know I didn’t want to have sex until I knew the pill thing was okay.”
“If that was true, it would’ve happened a few weeks ago. You were holding out for something big—which is fine,” said Lisa.
After I told them the details, they became more excited.
“You lost your virginity on Valentine’s Day, on the beach, with a hot British guy,” Lisa said. “Maybe it was worth the wait just for that.”
“It’s a story to tell your grandchildren.”
“Um…right, Rachel.” I rolled my eyes. “That’s just what I was thinking—not!”
The following day, everything was perfectly normal between Adam and me with no mention of what had happened between us the day before. It was only in English when we were supposed to be listening to Mrs. Anderson that he acknowledged it. Sensing his eyes on me, I turned to look at him. He grinned and winked at me, and I smiled back bashfully because I knew exactly what he was thinking.
I’d already wondered what was going to happen when we got to my house after school; after he winked, I knew. When we pulled in my driveway, we wasted no time kissing in his car. Instead, we were laughing at each other because of how quickly we were trying to get inside the house.
As soon as we got in, he picked me up off the floor. “I’m taking you to bed.”
“I can walk, you know.”
“This is faster.” As if to prove his point, he gave me a kiss while taking me up the stairs.
When we got to my bed, I pulled him on top of me, and our clothes were gone in no time. The mechanics between us were better than the first time, though still a little awkward, but the simple act of sex with Adam was fun. I smiled, taking in all of its pleasures—the connection, the arousal, and the playfulness. We both enjoyed it, and eventually Adam showed me how much with a cursing, grunting, and altogether animalistic orgasm.
Afterward, we cuddled and laughed for a while before I noticed my ratty hair and our pervasive scent. I giggled. “Uh, I think we smell like sex.”
“I suppose we do.”
“I think my mom may notice.”
He looked at me devilishly. “Then maybe we should have a bath.”
“I don’t think I’ve taken a bath with anyone since I was six.” I giggled.
Raising his eyebrows suggestively, he nodded toward the bathroom. “Me neither.”
For the next few days, Adam and I went at it like rabbits. We did it whenever and wherever we could. Adding new positions each day, we also got better and better at it. Our times together were so carnal and fun, but I was also taken by the intimacy.
It was Thursday of that week, and we were moving in unison on my bed. Adam was on top of me, resting on his elbows and holding my hands slightly above my head. Our fingers were interlocked, binding us together. Occasionally, Adam would look down to watch himself slide in and out of me, but mostly our eyes were focused on one another.
When our mutual orgasms peaked, I got spooked. There was something about the look in his eyes and the feeling of our bodies being connected that was too much. Everything about being with him felt impossibly special, but was it? In a way, I didn’t care if the actual sex was as good for him as it had been with Kate or Meredith; he appeared to enjoy himself just fine. But did it feel the same way for him?
Only allowing him to rest on my chest for a minute, I turned over onto my side. I felt the need to protect myself, but I also wanted to know the truth—at least I thought I might. Timidly, I asked, “Is…is it always this way? When you’re with someone?”
He pulled me back toward him. Looking me straight in the eye, he somberly shook his head. “No. It’s never been like this for me.” Kissing my forehead, he ended the discussion. “I love you, Nicki.”
It was bliss—or as blissful as you could get for two high school students living with their parents. For weeks, Adam and I existed in our own bubble. We spent most of our waking hours at each other’s side. Soccer season had started for him, which cut into our afternoons, but I made it to all of his games.
And other than an occasional slip, we kept our pact not to talk about the future. Sometimes we would be out with friends or at a party where we couldn’t control a conversation. The talk might turn to summer jobs or vacations, but that was rare. Our close friends knew to steer clear of any subject that forced us to talk about our separate ways.
But as the month of March wore on, the foreboding I had kept at bay for all those months began to gradually seep into the forefront of my mind. Maybe it was because everyone started mentioning April in passing all the time. April was the month we’d delayed all of our talks to. Now April was right around the corner. It was as if the sand in which I’d happily stuck my head was now receding all around me.
I didn’t really think about what Adam and I would do when he left; I was still absorbing how it was going to feel. Regardless of what we did together in the future, he would be gone from my everyday life. I would miss him desperately—just like I did Lauren. I would be alone again, and loneliness was paralyzing to contemplate.
I kept my troubles away from Adam. Instead, I saved my gloom for when I was by myself, or at least alone in my thoughts.
One night at dinner, I was lost in this teenage wasteland of thought when Mom loudly snapped, “Nicki! Do you hear me?”
“Uh…yeah. I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“I was asking if you were interested in a summer job at the Bellaire library. I heard they’re hiring, and I thought you might want me to call my friend there.”
“Sure. T
hat would be fun.” I smiled apologetically. “Thanks.”
With a determined look, she said, “I want you to be busy this summer.”
“Why?” Right as the word came out of my mouth, I knew it was stupid to ask.
“Because you’re going to be lonely.”
I stared at Mom. She’d come a long way in the ten months since Lauren’s death. She seemed more present in our everyday life—no longer like a zombie going through the motions. Most importantly, she looked after me more.
The way she’d told me I’d be lonely reminded me of how she used to answer when I’d ask why I needed a coat on a spring day. She would say, “Because you’re going to be cold”; it was a fact I wanted to ignore. As I’d grown older, however, I accepted her reasoning. She was right. So I responded just as I would’ve if she’d told me I’d get cold without a coat. Reluctantly, I said, “You’re probably right.”
“I am.” Her voice became soft. “It’s what happens in these situations.”
“What kind of situations?” I asked it like Dad would if he was in court. It was a leading question because at that moment I wanted her to lead me through what I was feeling, what I was going to face, and what I didn’t want to face by myself.
“When you’re in a long-distance relationship.”
“Is that what I’ll be in?” I’d never considered it might have a label.
“Well, I think so.” Her brow furrowed as she confirmed, “You two are staying in touch, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess. We haven’t talked about it.”
“You need to. You need to have a good understanding of what each of you expects.”
“Because?”
“Because…” She stopped with a frown and placed her hand gently on my arm. “Because these things rarely work out. Long-distance relationships are difficult for adults—even for married couples. When you’re so young, it’s doubly hard. If you don’t know what you expect of one another, you’ll get hurt, although—”
My eyes locked onto hers. “I’ll probably get hurt anyway.”
“It’s going to be painful regardless.” Then she tried to spin it. “Who knows, though? Through it all, you two might have a lifelong friendship.”
Friendship. Only a friendship, because there was no happily ever after for two teenagers from opposite ends of the Earth. We could merely be friends—pen pals, maybe. If we were lucky, that’s what it would come to. There would be a few letters during the year. The highlight might be the rare phone call, but because it was international, it would be expensive and super scratchy sounding. That’s it. Was that what Adam had meant when he’d mentioned lowering our expectations?
My heart went numb. How could I just be friends with Adam? Yes, he was my friend—my best friend, really, but I couldn’t imagine sharing him with another girl. Would I have to hear about whom he was dating? How happy he was with her? What they did together?
I thought about him saying that Kate hadn’t liked hearing about me. At the time, I’d taken a bit of pleasure in it, but there was none now, only sympathy. Very soon I could be in her same situation.
Faking a small smile, I mumbled, “Thanks, Mom. I’ll think about it. I need to go study now.”
Mercifully, she let me go.
The year before Lauren had died, Tom had hosted a movie night where we’d watched The Three Faces of Eve. It had always stuck in my mind, and somehow I identified with it now. It was like I had multiple personality disorder.
I didn’t tell Adam about my conversation with Mom; what good would that have done but to start our painful talks early? With Adam, life was playful and fun, and I smiled all the time.
With Mom, I was utterly despondent. There was no use trying to fool her after that downer conversation. She knew what was up.
And with Lisa and Rachel, I went back to acting just as I’d been before Adam and I had gotten together; I was melancholy and sort of half-hearted about life. I’d still hang out with them, but I wasn’t as cheerful, and I begged off when I could.
Of course, it didn’t take them long to figure out what was going on with me. The first signs were a couple of knowing looks that passed between them. Then there was mention of a trip to Galveston right after school got out. The timing obviously coincided with Adam’s departure.
When I looked at a calendar, I realized that it was also near the anniversary of Lauren’s death. I had been so absorbed with my Adam crap that I hadn’t thought too much about it being almost a year since the accident. It was the one good thing about Adam leaving: I had expanded my inventory of things to be depressed about.
When Rachel and Lisa finally spoke to me directly about everything, we were sitting in my living room, eating popcorn and watching videos on MTV. I knew eventually they would confront me, and I’d expected a coordinated intervention. So I was surprised when they casually stumbled into the conversation.
During a commercial, Rachel announced, “I heard a secret today.”
“Really? What?” Lisa asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, I can’t say. It’s about Adam and Nicki.”
I looked at her quizzically. What could she possibly know that I didn’t? “What’s that? Why can’t you say?”
“I’m not supposed to know.” Rachel shrugged. “But I overheard Tom and Adam talking when I was in the bathroom at Tom’s. It’s a surprise for you.”
Lisa was sardonic. “But you bring it up anyway? Like you’re not going to tell her…”
“I couldn’t decide, but then I thought that maybe Nicki should be prepared.” But first, she scolded me. “I don’t think you and Adam have talked much about the future.”
I shook my head; I couldn’t imagine what Adam was up to. “Is it a good surprise or a bad one?”
“Well, I’d say an all-expense-paid vacation to England is a good surprise,” Rachel said giddily.
“Are you kidding?” Adam and I had never talked about me visiting. I considered it a taboo topic.
“Nope! Not kidding. He’s going to buy you a ticket to visit him this summer. He wants you to stay for a month or so.”
“Oh my God. How would he pay for it?” I couldn’t imagine he had that kind of money.
“You know his family is loaded, right?” said Rachel. “His dad is the heir to some giant estate.”
I had to shake my head again. At least in Bellaire, Adam’s family didn’t live that differently from mine. His house was bigger, but it wasn’t like they drove fancy cars. An estate, though? My vision of his family at dinner in a palace hadn’t been that far off.
“Wow.” I couldn’t verbalize another response.
“He’s been fighting with his dad over it.” Then Rachel wrinkled her nose in distaste. “His dad thinks you two are young and you’ll break up—like it’s not worth it. But Adam’s mom is on his side, and his dad finally gave in.”
As happy as I’d been, my heart sank. Adam’s dad still didn’t want us to be together; he probably didn’t even want us to be friends after they went back to England. Just like Mom, he thought it was a futile relationship, except he was practical. He wanted a clean break.
I envisioned being in some giant mansion for a whole month with Adam’s dad watching over us the entire time. His father had always been nice to me, but I could predict that the scene would be awful. Just thinking about it made me feel like shit.
“It’s not that his dad doesn’t like you.” Rachel frowned sympathetically. “I think he—”
“He likes me okay, but he probably thinks if Adam and I are going to break up anyway, we should just stop seeing each other altogether—like, why prolong it?”
“You think that’s it?” asked Lisa.
“Sure.” I shrugged. “My mom’s said something like that. From their perspective, it makes sense.”
Lisa looked at me warily. “What are you saying, Nicki? Do you feel that way?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what we should do. Maybe his dad is right. Maybe there’s something to
just ending things.” As the words came out of my mouth, I became confident that Adam’s dad could very well be right.
“What does that mean? ‘Just ending things.’ Like breaking up with him permanently? Like not talking again once he leaves?” asked Rachel.
“Maybe. It’s a thought. Maybe it would be easier,” I said.
They were both shocked, but Lisa exclaimed incredulously, “Nicki, he’s your boyfriend! You would just let him leave and never see him again? That would be horrible for both of you.”
“You would really, really hurt him,” Rachel said in a warning tone. “He loves you.”
“Yeah, but how much? We’re supposed to have a long-distance relationship? For how many years? Everybody knows those things don’t last.” In that instance, quoting Mom made sense. She knew a hell of a lot more about failed relationships than me.
“But you could be friends,” said Lisa. “Listen, you know I haven’t always liked the guy, but even I can tell how much he cares for you. You care for him. You’re good friends. Why would you throw that away?”
“Even if you’re not together together, don’t you want to at least give it a shot?” asked Rachel. “Otherwise, you’ll never know.”
“I know the odds, and the odds aren’t with us.” I looked at my best girlfriends’ pleading faces and decided to tell them the truth. “And besides, I can’t bear to think of him with another girl. And I know him; I know he would be. I’d die of jealousy. I wouldn’t be a friend. I’d be a pesky, jealous old girlfriend while he was off with some new girl.”
“Oh, Nicki. I’d feel the exact same way. I’d hate the bitch, but is that really worse than not speaking to him?” asked Rachel.
“Of course both of you would date other people,” Lisa said in a practical manner. “But not talking to him ever again would be incredibly painful.”
That irritated me, and I couldn’t see how they were on my side. “I think I know something about pain—more than both of you. I know what I can handle.”
I’d played my trump card, and they knew it. Their faces were aghast.
