16. Ready?
I pulled the ear buds from my ears and set the magazine next to me on the bed when I heard the knock on my door.
"Hi," my mother smiled easing the door open. "Can I come in?"
"Sure," I encouraged, not sure why she was acting so nervous. Then I noticed the frame in her hand.
"I wanted you to have this," she said, propping the frame on the top of my bureau, next to Leyla and Jack's framed Christmas card. I slid off the bed to get a better look. "I figured you should have it, since it's the only one that escaped my clumsiness."
It was a picture of my father balancing me on his shoulder, smiling proudly. I was laughing, wearing a soccer uniform and holding up a trophy. My mouth turned up at the sight of it.
"Thank you."
"He loved watching you play soccer," she recalled. I examined the picture, but couldn't place the moment. I appeared to be around five or six. Perhaps I was too young to remember. "You understand why I don't have pictures of him out, right?" she asked tentatively. I nodded. "Well, it doesn't mean you can't."
I wasn't sure what to say. It was obvious it had taken a lot for her to share this with me. And I wanted to tell her how much it meant to me. I probably should have hugged her. But we just stood there awkwardly, having difficulty even meeting each other’s eyes, forget about touching.
"So how was the party?" she finally asked, breaking up the emotional tension.
"It was a party," I sighed indifferently.
"Did anyone say anything about the sweater?" she pushed.
"Oh no!" I exclaimed, shaking my head.
"What?" she questioned in alarm.
"I forgot my sweater," I explained, upset with myself. "I can't believe I forgot it."
"Can't you just go there and get it?" she asked, not understanding my dilemma.
"Well... it was at my ex-boyfriend's house, so I'm not so sure that would be a great idea," I groaned.
"Ex-boyfriend's?" my mother mused with raised eyebrows. "Does Evan know you went?"
I pressed my lips together guiltily. "No. And I'm not looking forward to telling him."
"Good luck with that," she scoffed lightly with a shake of her head.
"Oh, thanks," I shot back, my stomach twisting at the thought of having to tell Evan I went to Drew's and that he drove me home. "That makes me feel better."
"Sorry," she chuckled.
"Ready?" Jonathan hollered from the hallway.
"For what?" my mother questioned in confusion, just as red and purple squirt guns thumped on my bed.
Jonathan appeared in the doorway, armed with a blue one. "For this," he smiled wickedly and released a stream of water.
I ducked toward the bed when he shot at us again. My mother yelped in laughter.
"Oh, you are so going to get it," she squealed, snatching the red gun and chasing after him down the stairs, spraying the entire way.
I grabbed the other gun and pursued them, losing sight of Jonathan as my mother ran into the kitchen for cover. I led with the gun, pointing it into the living room, but he wasn't there.
I turned and crept back toward the foyer. My mother stuck her head out and nodded toward the dark hallway that led to the basement door. Before I could react, Jonathan emerged from the shadows and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me in front of him just as my mother popped out of the kitchen, aimed to squirt.
Jonathan pressed his arm across me, taunting my mother to shoot.
"You're using me as a shield?" I accused, as he waved the gun, flashing it between my mother and me―ready to squirt whoever made a move first.
"She's not going to shoot you," he explained, steering me further out into the foyer as my mother attempted to circle around to get a clear shot.
"Sorry, honey," my mother said, aiming the gun at my head.
"Mom?" My eyes spread wide in disbelief. Then I noticed her eyes flip toward the floor, and in that second, I dropped out of Jonathan's arm and onto the floor while she squirted him. I spun around and began streaming water at him as well.
Jonathan held up his hand to protect himself while he shot back at us. None of us attempted to retreat, allowing the water to fall on us as we laughed, until there wasn't anything left in our guns.
"Time to refill," Jonathan proclaimed with his hands raised in surrender.
My mother took my gun as I sat on the stairs, wiping the water from my face, still smiling.
"Okay, we get a head start," my mother instructed a few minutes later, handing back the filled water guns. "Jonathan, you have to stay in the kitchen for twenty seconds before you can come out. Ready, Emily?"
I nodded. Jonathan eyed us suspiciously before retreating to the kitchen.
"Quick," she whispered, "up the stairs."
I scampered up the stairs with her right behind me. Ducking into the bathroom, I hid behind the door, as she lay on the floor of the hallway, ready to ambush him when he came up the stairs.
"Ready?" she asked, glancing back at me. I thought I heard a knock at the door, but I couldn't be sure from where I was.
"Wait, you can't go outside," my mother hollered when the door squeaked open. She popped up and started shooting in that direction before she was even on her feet. I stepped out of the bathroom to follow her. But she'd stopped. She stood frozen at the top of the stairs with her hand covering her mouth.
"I am so sorry," she gasped. I followed her horrified gaze to find Evan at the bottom of the stairs with water running down his forehead and over his nose, stunned and confused.
I opened my mouth in shock and then burst out laughing.
"What did you do?" Jonathan asked from beside the door. "That's not the best way to greet someone."
"Evan, I thought you were Jonathan trying to escape," my mother offered in a rush, her face bright red. I shook my head, still laughing as I went down the stairs.
Evan wiped the water from his face with the sleeve of his jacket. "It's okay. It's only water." He eyed me and with his amused grin. "You're laughing? You think this is funny, right?" I recognized that look.
Before I could turn back up the stairs to get away, he had his arms wrapped around my waist and I was off the ground.
"Oh no, Evan. Don't," I begged. I had no idea what he planned to do, but I knew I was in for it. Jonathan appeared entertained, but my mother scrambled after us.
"What are you going to do?" she asked, watching as he wrestled me into the kitchen.
"Mom, help," my pleas were broken with laughter. I tried to squirm away when one of his hands released me to turn on the sink. "Evan!”
He squeezed the sprayer on the faucet and doused me over the head as I broke free. My mother and Jonathan hid behind either side of the doorway to get out of the way. By the time I was out of range, I was dripping wet.
"Now that's funny," Evan’s laughter was echoed by Jonathan and my mother.
"Thanks for your help," I sulked, looking down at my drenched t-shirt.
"What? And be soaked like you?" my mother chuckled.
"Nice, Evan," Jonathan admired. "Next time, you're on my team." I shook my head and dripped up the stairs.
I returned a few minutes later with a dry t-shirt and my wet hair pulled back. Evan was helping wipe up the water in the kitchen.
"You missed a spot," I teased.
He turned toward me and grinned, taking in my wet hair. "No I didn't."
"Oh, you're so funny," I smirked. "Ready to go?"
"Where are you going?" my mother asked, taking the wet towel from Evan.
"To Evan's."
"Really?" Evan confirmed, obviously not aware of the plan.
I nodded.
"Okay, to my house then."
"I'll be back later," I announced, pulling my jacket out of the closet.
"Good luck," my mother offered, making me hesitate before leaving, suddenly understanding what she meant. Maybe we should've stayed after all.
"Are you okay?" Evan asked when he saw my face drop.
"Yeah," I choked. "I just thought I forgot something." I grumbled under my breath, walking out onto the porch, "But unfortunately I didn't."
"You didn't want to stay?" Evan asked when we entered the car. "Looked like you guys were having a good time."
"Yeah," I said, distracted. "But I haven't seen you all week, so I wanted to be alone with you." Or I did, I thought.
By the time we arrived at Evan's, my stomach had twisted to the point of nausea.
"Are you okay?" he asked, examining me intently when we entered the rec room. I could only imagine how pale I was.
"No," I blurted before I even took my jacket off. I released a deep breath and confessed what I’d rehearsed a thousand times on our way over. “You’re going to hear this tomorrow, so I’m just going to say it.” I strangled my hands as he leaned against the back of the couch, waiting. “I went to a party at Drew’s. I didn't know we were going there, and I never would have gone if I'd known we were. I'm sorry.”
I let the shock of it settle in, but his mouth curved up and the concern in his eyes disappeared.
“Why are you looking like that?”
“That’s it?” he questioned, unfazed.
“Yes, I mean no,” I answered guiltily, not understanding his comical expression. “He ended up driving me home because Casey took off, but nothing happened―I swear.”
“I know,” he answered casually, taking off his jacket and flinging it on the back of the couch.
I studied him, not understanding why he appeared so calm while the nerves in my stomach were about to devour me.
“You know?”
He stood in front of me with his hands on my waist. “Emma, I trust you. I’m not worried about what party you go to at whoever’s house, even Drew’s. Was he a dick to you?”
“No,” I answered, still in shock.
"Good," he stated with a kiss on the top of my head. He continued to the pool table and began pulling out the balls from the pockets.
I shook my head and mouthed, “Where did you come from?”
“What?” he laughed.
“How did I end up with you? I mean, my life’s so messed up and then…” I kept shaking my head in wonderment. “And then there’s... you. I couldn’t have made you up if I’d tried.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he replied racking the pool balls with a sparkling smile. While I was still gawking at him, he walked over and wrapped his arms around me. “Most of your life wasn’t your decision. You didn’t get to decide who your parents were, that your dad was going to pass when you were young, or that you'd end up with…” His jaw tightened slightly, and he couldn’t finish. “Those weren’t your choices.
“The things you do get to choose, you put everything you have into them―school, sports, protecting the people you care about. And you chose me.”
Warmth fluttered through my chest. I had a hard time meeting his eyes.
“So your life is not messed up…” Evan paused, placing his forehead on mine, demanding my attention. "You've actually done a pretty amazing job at living it." He kissed me gently and pulled me into him.
"I love you," I murmured into his chest, holding him tighter. I tilted my head back and met his steel blue eyes.
"That I know too," he smirked, causing my mouth to drop open.
"Nice," I shot back, pushing him away. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back against him.
"I love you too," he whispered before tilting his head toward me.
I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of his breath on my lips just before they pressed into mine. I inhaled deeply at the touch of them, flutters instantly rushing through my chest. He ran his hand along the back of my neck, his mouth slipping across my parted lips.
My heart raced and my breath quickened as I pulled him into me. He unzipped my jacket and slid it off, dropping it on the table. The tease of his lips along my neck captured my breath as I hopped up onto the side of the pool table and wrapped my legs around him.
He slid his hands under me and picked me up, balancing me while walking toward the couch, our mouths frantically passing over the other's. My entire body was pulsing. He laid me on the couch and eased himself over me.
I ran my hands under his sweater and he pulled back to remove it. I sat up to run my lips along the hard lines of his chest, before pulling my t-shirt over my head. Evan grabbed the blanket at the end of the couch and pulled it over us as I reached for his waistband.
My quickened pulse stirred a heat that crept through my entire body. We eased across boundaries, unfastening bindings, slipping beneath fabric. Our lips brushed in a breathless exchange.
Our mouths pressed harder; our breath grew faster as our hands slid along curves. He inhaled quickly at my caress, his heart beating against my bare skin. His breathing quickened, and his muscles flexed along his back, the tension rippling through his entire body as he groaned in my ear. I gasped when he found me, closing my eyes. A flush swept across my skin at his gentle touch. I writhed under the growing sensation until I was released with an exhilarated breath.
Evan pulled the blanked tighter around us, exhaling deeply. "Wow."
"Yeah," I breathed, still unable to focus clearly. I tucked myself into his arm and rested my head on his chest, draping my leg over his. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything," he said, running his warm hand along my back.
"When are we going to have sex?"
"Umm..." Evan laughed. "I wasn't expecting that question."
I popped my head up to look at him. "I'm not saying that I don't like what we just did, it's just―"
"I know," he smiled. "We will. It's a big deal, and I don't want to do it on the couch in the garage, or in the backseat of a car. I want it to be what it should be."
"What if it's horrible?" I sulked, resting my chin on his chest. “I have no idea what I’m doing. You want it to be this epic moment, and I’m afraid I’m going to fail miserably.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Evan consoled with a small laugh. "I'm not worried." He released a calming breath and repeated, "Believe me, I'm not worried." He put his hand under my chin to pull me in for a kiss.
Despite his lack of concern regarding my sexual prowess, I was worried. No matter how much I tried not to let it consume me, it was all I could think about. I'd only been waiting for it to happen, since well... forever.
My phone rang as I lay on my bed later that night, waiting for Sara to respond to my text. I quickly pressed Answer.
“What’s going on?” Sara demanded before I could say hi.
“How was Cornell?” I asked, suddenly regretting sending the text.
“Shut up, Em,” Sara shot back. “Your text said you needed my help. What’s going on?”
After gathering myself, I finally stated bluntly, “Sara, I want to have sex.”
"Well, of course you do," she responded like I'd said the most obvious thing in the world.
“But what if I’m terrible at it?”
Sara started laughing hysterically. I hung up the phone. She called back ten seconds later.
“Sorry,” she offered calmly. “You’re serious. I thought you were having one of your delusional episodes.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Emma, you and Evan love each other, so there isn’t a wrong way of doing this. But I’ll give you some pointers if you want.”
I let out a short nervous laugh, the anxiety in my stomach squirming. “Maybe.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t draw diagrams or anything. Oh, or maybe I should.”
“Sara!”
“Emma, don't you dare act all embarrassed to talk about it,” she scolded. “I’m not the one to be telling anyone to have or not to have sex, but if you can't even talk about it with me, then maybe you're not ready. I know this is huge for you, and you of all people need to be emotionally prepared for it.”
“I know," I replied. "I mean, I'm ready―I think. What do you mean by emotionally prepared?"
“Well, you don’t trust… anyone, really. You barely trust me and Evan. And having sex is all trust. You can’t take it back once you do it, and it leaves you completely emotionally vulnerable. You trust him totally and completely, right?”
“Of course,” I answered automatically. How could I not trust Evan? Especially after everything we'd been through.
“Emma,” Sara scolded, “do you? No matter what’s happening in your life, however complicated and personal, you’d trust him with it?”
I wasn't sure why I hesitated, but a streak of panic flicked through me at the thought of being completely open with anyone, even Evan.
"Yes," I answered, without as much conviction.
“That’s what I thought,” she said honing in on the waver in my voice. “I’m not saying don’t have sex. I want you to. It’s amazing. I just want you to go into this completely aware of what happens to you after you put your clothes back on.”
“Thanks,” I sighed, feeling a little deflated. “See you in the morning?”
“Yes,” she replied enthusiastically. “I have so much to tell you!”
We said our good-byes and hung up.
I stared at the ceiling, contemplating trust. Evan was the most trustworthy person I knew. I believed in him, knowing he would never not be there for me. But when Sara asked if I trusted him enough to tell him my most personal secrets, I choked.
The vulnerability of letting someone, anyone, into the dark places I couldn't face myself was unfathomable. It wasn't because I didn't trust him. I didn't want to reveal them to anyone, not even me. After all, they were secrets for a reason.