by Robin Talley
“My dad is here,” I whispered. “You go in without me.”
“I’m not just going to wander in there by myself,” Christa whispered back. “They’ll all think I’ve lost it.”
So we went in together. I made Christa stay on the side closest to my dad, and somehow we made it into the living room without anyone looking our way. As soon as we were inside, I erupted into a new round of giggles. Christa looked annoyed at first, but then she started giggling, too.
I grabbed three candles and slipped them into the pocket of my skirt. Christa hunted around for a lighter and found an almost-empty book of matches on an end table. Then we bolted back toward the door.
And ran smack into Aunt Miranda.
“Aki?” Miranda took a step back and looked me up and down in my borrowed clothes. Then she turned to Christa. “What are you two doing here? It’s your bedtime.”
“Oh, uh.” Crap, why didn’t I think of an excuse before we came in here? “I was looking for my dad. I need to ask him a question.”
“He’s right out here.” Miranda pointed over her shoulder. “I’ll go get him.”
“Wait, no, uh.” What was I supposed to say? “Actually, never mind, I figured out the answer.”
Miranda didn’t look terribly convinced. “In the past ten seconds?”
“Uh. Yeah.” Crap, crap. “I was trying to think of what to get him for Christmas, but now I have an idea.”
“Christmas? Wow, you plan early.” Miranda folded her arms. Her lip twitched. “So what are you getting him?”
“Um. It’s a surprise.” I turned to Christa. Her mouth was in a tight, polite smile, the same way she looked whenever an adult was around. “I guess I’ve got Christmas on the brain. Earlier some of the Harpers Ferry guys were singing ‘Feliz Navidad’ and—”
“Actually, I retract my question.” Miranda held up her hand. “I don’t want to know.”
I could’ve sworn she winked at me.
“All right.” I ducked past her, Christa right on my heels.
“But listen, Akina?” Miranda said. I turned around. “Let’s catch up sometime soon. Come find me during the lunch break when you get a chance, okay?”
“Okay.” I’d say anything to get out of that room.
“And as for tonight...” Miranda must’ve seen the guilty look on my face because she said, “Try to stay out of trouble, all right?”
I nodded, not meeting her eyes.
Christa and I ducked through the front yard fast so Dad wouldn’t see us. When we got around the corner and were safely out of sight, Christa’s polite look slipped away and we both tried to muffle our laughter.
“We’ve got to keep going!” Christa whispered. “They’ll hear us!”
We crept around to the backs of the houses and made our way toward the Riveras’. I was getting hiccups from trying so hard not to laugh.
But I was also starting to get nervous. If this plan worked, we were about to be alone in a room with a real bed for the first time ever.
What were we actually going to do? The stuff I’d read about sounded cool but also kind of scary. It was hard to imagine doing something like that in real life.
A yelp came from behind us. I jumped and grabbed Christa’s arm, ready to run in case it was another coyote. Then I realized that had been a distinctly human yelp.
“Relax,” Christa whispered. “It’s only Nick and the guys.”
I followed her gaze. It was hard to see them in the dark, but five or six houses down, Nick, Will, Tyler and a couple of other guys were horsing around, throwing something back and forth between them. Probably more beer.
“They’re idiots,” I whispered back.
“Nah, they’re drunk, that’s all. Anyway, don’t worry about them. Let’s go.”
We could see the guest house now. In the dark, we couldn’t see into the windows at all.
“What if there’s someone inside?” I whispered. We probably didn’t need to whisper—there didn’t seem to be anyone in hearing distance—but whispering was the sort of thing you did when you were sneaking around.
“If there was someone inside they’d have turned on the light,” Christa whispered back.
“Dad said the power in there was spotty.”
“Oh. Well, let’s listen at the door before we go in.”
We crept up to the entrance. The guest house was pink, but in the dark it looked gray, and the window showed nothing but blackness. It was tiny—there couldn’t have been room for much more inside than a bed. The door was still ajar.
We crept toward it and crouched below the window. My heart pounded. I didn’t know if I was afraid someone was inside or if I was afraid of going in there and doing...whatever we were going to do.
A minute passed. Then another.
Christa still hadn’t spoken. I wondered if she was as nervous as me.
Finally she said, “I think we’re safe.”
I pulled the door open one inch, then two.
Nothing happened. The guest house was dark and empty.
Christa fumbled for a match, and I pulled a candle out of my pocket. It took her three strikes to get the match lit. She held the flame low as I slid the door open enough for us to squeeze through.
Inside, Christa set the candle on the floor. The flicker of light it gave off was barely enough for us to see a tiny bedroom. The bed looked lumpy but the blanket seemed clean and fresh.
Best of all, the curtains were thick. I drew them quickly on both windows. Now we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing us.
When I turned around, Christa was looking right at me, smiling nervously and smoothing out her dress.
The whole world was ours. Or at least this little corner of it.
I cupped the back of her head in my palm and drew her toward me, but she moved even faster, closing the space between our lips so fast I giggled again. We kissed, and kissed, and kissed—and then we were falling back, back, until we landed on the bed. Sure, it was lumpy and the pillows felt like sacks full of rocks, but it was still my very favorite bed in the history of beds.
We kissed, and giggled, and rolled around and kissed some more. Then the kissing got deeper, and I rolled on top of her, and the giggling stopped.
I touched her through her clothes. She felt incredible. Then I slid my hand inside the neckline of her dress. Her skin was soft and warm. I reached down to cup her breast inside her bra, and she sighed. I loved the way it sounded, and the way she felt. Touching her with nothing between her skin and mine was new and strange and wonderful.
Christa closed her eyes. Her face looked so peaceful. I kissed her, and she parted her lips to kiss me back. I slid my hand over to her other breast, and she sighed again. I slipped my hand out from under her dress and ran it down her side to her hip, and then down farther, to brush against the hem of her skirt and her bare leg below it.
My heart was beating faster. I was nervous, but I wanted to be close to her this way.
We’d only ever touched above the waist before. But I didn’t think she’d stop me, and she didn’t. I reached under her skirt hem, just an inch. Then I slid my hand up as far as I dared, to the top of her thigh. Her skin was so soft and smooth. Touching her under her skirt felt so intimate, even if I wasn’t touching her there.
Christa surprised me then. She rolled me over onto my back and climbed on top of me. She was stretched out, her body touching every inch of me. I kept my hand where it was, on the back of her leg, and she didn’t seem to mind.
She kissed me while she fumbled with the buttons running down the front of my shirt. I never usually bothered with buttons—it was easier to pull shirts off over my head—but it was sexy, the feeling of her hands undoing the fastenings, separating the fabric. And when she leaned down and pushed my bra up and started ki
ssing my breasts, that was even better. Her dress was loose around the neckline, so I pushed it down to her waist and took her bra off, too. This was the closest to naked we’d ever been together. It was hot in the guest house, and my skin was dotted with sweat. Hers was, too.
I lost track of time. I couldn’t believe how good this felt. How good she felt.
I rolled onto my side, wound my arms around her and pulled her tight against me. She started to giggle, but then she saw I was serious, and she stopped laughing. I kissed her hard, leaning in so far she had to bend backward. She made a little sound in the back of her throat that I loved.
I loved this. I loved her.
Wait. No. I didn’t. What I had with Christa wasn’t about love. This was just for fun.
Christa was already with someone else. I wondered if she loved him.
But I didn’t see how anyone could really love one person and still want to do this with someone else. This was so intimate. So real. And part of what made it feel that way was how much I cared about Christa.
I didn’t have time to think about that, though. Right now I had other priorities.
I reached down before I had time to get nervous. I ran my fingers over the front of her dress and between her legs, feeling where she was warm underneath. She drew in her breath.
This was good. No, this was amazing. We didn’t have to be in pure, old-fashioned love for this to be the most awesome thing ever.
I pulled on the fabric of her skirt, tugging it up under my fingers, revealing an inch of bare skin, then another, then another. My hands were trembling, I was so scared, but if she noticed, she didn’t say anything. She was still kissing my neck. I pulled the hem of her skirt higher and higher, slowly, because I couldn’t believe this was actually happening, and then suddenly it was up to her waist. But then I touched her through her underwear and she was gasping, actually gasping, and I knew it was real.
I didn’t really know what to do, so I just pressed, and moved my hand around in circles, the way I did when I touched myself at night. It must have been the right thing because she started gasping louder. I kept on going, and she kept on moaning, and it was as amazing as before, even though after a while my hand started to ache. Right when I was wondering if I should stop or keep going or what, she made a choking sound and then got quiet. At first I thought I’d done something wrong, but then she was rolling over and pressing me back into the bed, so she must’ve felt all right about things.
I leaned up to kiss her mouth, and she kissed me back. Fast, hungry kisses. She pulled my skirt up so fast I didn’t even know it was happening until I felt her hand on the inside of my thigh. At first I wanted to slow down, to kiss for a little while longer, but then she was touching me, and I didn’t want it to slow down. I wanted to keep going. I wanted to feel this way forever.
I’d always thought my first time doing this would be slow and romantic, but it wasn’t. It was fast and frantic and still really, really good.
It felt special. As though my chest was going to explode. Just looking at Christa made me happy, and feeling this plus seeing her face over me plus the excitement that I was really doing this, here, now, with her—it was the best feeling ever.
Afterward, staring up into the darkness, I remembered the stuff I’d read about how it was important to talk to your partner about sex before you did it. Oh, well. We could talk later. Anyway, we didn’t actually have sex—we only fooled around. Right? What qualified as sex for two girls, anyway? I used to think it was oral sex, but maybe that wasn’t right. Christa probably knew. When we talked about it, I could ask her then. She’d probably done it all a bunch of times before.
Anyway, none of that was important now. All that mattered was that I was here with Christa, where I belonged, and that I was utterly, blissfully happy.
This was exactly where I was supposed to be.
PART 4
When We’re Dancing
Close and Slow
CHAPTER 15
“Wow.” Jake held the paper out at arm’s length, studying the careful sentences I’d crafted. “You did a great job.”
“Thanks!” I grinned. “I spent practically the whole morning on it. Want to be the second signature?”
“Definitely.” Jake took the pen and wrote his name neatly under mine. We were on the road in front of the work site, getting ready to go inside to where the rest of the group was putting up the last coat of paint. “Thanks for giving me the first chance.”
“Well, I based it on your petitions.” The paper looked a lot better now that there were signatures on it. To be honest, though, when it first came out from the ancient printer at the internet place, I’d already thought it looked good. Dad had given me special permission to go into town so I could put it together.
I’d read the stuff he’d given me and talked it through with Jake. It turned out to be another no-brainer. The global health plank at the conference called for church members to support helping countries that didn’t have enough resources to give everyone good health care. It also said we should donate to the Red Cross and other organizations working in countries that were having crises—wars, earthquakes, hurricanes, that sort of thing. I didn’t see how anyone wouldn’t want to sign on to that.
“How are your other petitions going?” I asked as I sorted through my pens. I wanted to make sure I had enough in case more than one person wanted to sign at the same time. There were only a few minutes left until jewelry class, but I could get more people to sign tomorrow on our bus ride to Texas.
“I got lots of signatures on the war petition.” Jake reached out to straighten the hem of my T-shirt. Which was actually his T-shirt. Christa was running out of work shirts, so Jake had lent me his for today. It fit better than I’d expected. Maybe I should start wearing guys’ clothes more often. “Immigration is harder, but the marriage petition is the real win. Once those girls from your church started signing it, it really took off. Even some people from Harpers Ferry have signed it now.”
“That’s awesome!” But I wished Christa had signed that one, too. We’d been meeting in the guest house every night for nearly a week. I’d brought up the marriage petition again, but she said she couldn’t talk about it. It was starting to bother me more that she wouldn’t even consider signing.
“Yeah, I’m really psyched.” Jake smiled. “Uh, by the way, you know. That petition, the one on marriage. You know why I started it, right? Why I got into this whole thing in the first place?”
I had a feeling, but I said, “Why?”
“Well, because I’m, you know.” He cleared his throat and glanced from side to side. “You know. I am, too. The same as you and Christa.”
I’d suspected Jake wasn’t entirely straight, but I hadn’t expected him to say so out loud. Up until this summer, I hadn’t really known anyone who was bi or gay. Or at least anyone who’d talked about it. I’d always thought it would be weird to hear someone just come right out and say it.
But it didn’t feel weird at all, hearing him say the words, watching the nervous smile play on his lips. It felt...normal. Actually, it even felt kind of cool. I’d never had a friend who was like me before.
Everything was changing so fast. The world felt different than it had three weeks ago.
“That’s cool,” I told him. I took a breath and added, “I think I’m probably bi.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Jake’s head bobbed up and down. He brushed a stray hair out of his face, and I saw his hand shake. “Bi, I mean.”
“Awesome,” I said. “Do your parents know?”
“No.” His hand was still shaking. “No one does.”
“Whoa. Am I the first person you’ve told?”
“Uh, yeah.” Jake ducked his head.
“That’s so great.” I smiled and touched his wrist gently so he’d know I really mea
nt it. His hand was still trembling. “I don’t know why people act as if it’s such a big deal, you know? I read this theory once that almost everyone is really bi, deep down. Because if everyone’s being totally honest, we’re all at least a little bit attracted to all kinds of people, right? I mean, the straight girls at school totally talk about which female celebrities they think are hot, and one time I even got my brother to say he thought Prince was kind of okay-looking back in the midnineties.”
Jake laughed, and I did, too. It suddenly felt really good to laugh together in that moment. Soon Jake was laughing so hard he was grabbing my shoulder to keep from falling over.
I understood. It was like this big wave of relief had flooded over me, and laughing was the only way to keep from losing it.
“Okay,” I said, between giggles. “We have to go inside. I want to get some signatures before I go make jewelry.”
I left Jake by the door and strode up to the first group I saw—Rodney, Eric, Sofía and Rosa. They were dipping rollers into pans of yellow paint.
“Hey, guys,” I said, pulling out my paper and pens. I still felt high from what had happened with Jake, and I had to stop myself from giggling as I talked. “Want to sign this? It’s a petition supporting the international health care plank at the conference.”
Rodney bent down to tap the extra paint off his roller. He looked a lot healthier than last time I’d seen him. Montezuma’s Revenge must have run its course. “I think I already signed that. Jake brought it around, didn’t he?”
“No, this one’s brand-new.” I held it out so he could see. “Jake’s petitions were on other stuff.”
“So what’s this one about?” Rosa said.
“Global health care.” I thrust the paper toward her. “Here, you can read it.”
She took the petition and peered down at it. Rodney and Sofía leaned in to look over her shoulder. All of them frowned.
“What does this mean?” Rodney said. “What’s it for?”
“It’s for helping other countries.” Had they not read what I’d written at the top of the page? I’d spent a lot of time getting the words exactly right. “You know, supporting health care and stuff.”
