neighborhood and walked the rest of the way, meeting her at her car. We were supposed to go to “our” coffeehouse tonight, but I can't think of anything except Lori and Coach. I see pictures of them inside my mind, of him doing with her what I want to do with her.
“Mathers? I don't know. Who keeps count?”
“So you are dating him?”
She turns in the driver's seat to face me. “Is this an interrogation? I don't have to account for the things I do with my time.”
My stomach feels as if I've swallowed a hard cold stone. “I—I thought…I was special. That we were special.”
Her expression softens. “We are. Very special.”
Rain is pelting the windows, sluicing in long noisy rivers along the glass, like a knife cutting through my heart. The windows are fogged, moist from our breath and the heat of my anger. Hot wetness swells behind my eyes. I'm acting like a jerk, but I can't help myself. I have to know the truth about her and Coach.
“Ryan.” Lori reaches over, places her palm on my cheek, rubs her thumb across my skin. “Are you jealous?”
I can hardly breathe. Every cell in my body is screaming and on fire. “Of course I am,” I say. The confession hurts like crazy on its way out of my mouth.
“Oh, my dear, precious Ryan.” She leans forward, lifts my face and kisses me lightly on the mouth.
I take her shoulders and kiss her back. Hard, I kiss her, and long. Her tongue slides between my teeth, igniting a fever I can't control. Outside, the rain drums on the glass, giving a rhythm to some primitive force in me that I don't want to control.
Her hand slips onto my crotch, cups the bulge pushing against my jeans and makes me groan. She rubs me and I think I'm going to burst. “Do you like that?” she asks.
“Yes.” I kiss her again, driving my tongue into her wet, hot mouth.
We're both breathing heavily and all I want is her body against mine. I struggle to get closer, but the gearshift pokes me in the stomach. I break our kiss long enough to gasp from the pain.
Her eyes are wide, her pupils large, staring holes in my face. “What do you want?” she asks, her voice low and whispery. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” I say.
She opens the door and the car fills with cold wet air. The rain plasters her sweater to her body, showing me every curve in detail. I see the shape of her bra and her breasts. I want to touch her so much it hurts. “Come upstairs,” she says.
I go, not feeling the rain, only the heat from inside my body. She opens the door and for a minute we stand on the rug inside it, dripping wet, shivering. And then her mouth is on mine and her hands are tugging at my jeans. Somehow, I don't remember how, we're in her bedroom and our clothes have come off. We're in her soft bed, and just before I think I'm going to explode, she hands me a foil packet from her bedside table and says, “Put this on.”
My hands are shaking so hard I can't open the wrapper, so she helps. And then the world goes away and there's Lori, only Lori, filling my universe.
I watch Ryan sleep. The rise and fall of his chest is mesmerizing. The light from the lamp makes his skin glisten. His body is beautiful. I knew it would be. The long muscles of his arms and legs look loose and limber, no longer coiled with energy. His face is serene, no longer brimming with passion and need. I like that look that says hunger on his face. The one that says, “I want you.”
We've been on this collision course for months. From the first time I saw him in my classroom, I knew that, with planning, we'd be at this place where we are tonight. Ryan with me, in my bed. Tonight, he wanted me, needed me. And I need him, too. He won't believe that if I tell him. He could never know how satisfying it is to have him touch me, his young hands stroking my skin. I rise inside like a surfer cresting on a wave, hovering in the curl, hiding in the blue-green water until the last moment before it breaks and sends me to shore.
Now Ryan sleeps. When he wakes, we'll have to talk about what has happened. I'll console him if he's sorry, which I don't think he will be. Males rarely are.
Ryan
I wake up and I'm confused, disoriented. I see a room bathed in lamplight, but it's not my room. I sit up and see Lori sitting in a chair by the window. She's staring at me. I'm naked and feel embarrassed. “You okay?” I ask.
“Are you?”
I hear a catch in her voice, so I grab the comforter and wrap it around myself, cross the room and kneel beside the chair. I can see she's been crying. “What's wrong?” Instantly I think I've disappointed her, that I didn't do something right.
“Are you sorry?” she asks.
“Are you?”
She smooths my hair. “I will never be sorry.”
Relief floods through me. “Me neither.”
“I—I've wanted to kiss you for a long time.”
“Me too. I mean, I've wanted to kiss you, too.” My head's spinning because we've done a lot more than kiss. Our first time together at the coffeehouse comes back to me, how insecure and inadequate I felt. I don't want to feel inadequate now. I want to feel the power I felt when we were in bed, Lori moving and moaning. I don't know what to say.
“Did I make you happy?” she asks.
“Happy?” I don't exactly know what she means.
“Like other girls you've been with.”
“T-there haven't been others,” I say, but I turn away from her.
“It isn't necessary to lie, Ryan. I can handle the truth.”
“All right.” I tell my story, getting out as much as I can as fast as I can, hoping I don't turn Lori off. “The truth is that I've been close to doing this with a few girls, but that was mostly in middle school when we were playing kissing games and drinking. Once I was shut in a closet with some girl and we heard all our friends telling us to get it on and I wanted to, but she started crying and saying she didn't want to do it for the first time in a closet with a guy who was basically a stranger. So we lied to the others when we came out. I never did anything like that again. I decided to save the sex until I cared about a girl.”
She stares at me for a long time before saying, “Then I'm glad I can be your first.”
“Me too. I'm glad about you wanting to be with me.”
She lowers her head, and her hair falls like a veil around her face. “You don't think badly of me, do you?”
“No way! You're beautiful and I wanted this to happen more than anything.”
She looks up. “Are you sure?”
“And… and I want it to happen again.”
She's been holding her hands in her lap, but now she reaches out and cups my face. “We'll have to be very careful. If anyone finds out—”
“Do I look stupid? Do you think I'll blab this all over school?”
“I hope not.”
My heart is thudding. How can I convince her? “I won't.”
