“That’s not what I want, Keatyn. Go out with me. Be my girlfriend.”
“I, uh . . . I don’t know what to say. Are you serious?” I quickly stand up. “You never have girlfriends. I don’t think you’ve ever even had a second date.”
He gives me the sweetest smile. “Please say yes.”
“I’ve only been single for six days.”
He doesn’t reply, just kisses me instead. The kind of kiss that makes me want to say yes to any question he could ask.
He slides the remaining strap off my shoulder, which causes my gown to slink it’s way off my body. I don’t have on a bra, just a white satin thong. I also get a feeling of déjà vu. Although we’re not at a hotel with rose petals, I realize Cush is following my script.
I flash him a big smile as he stands back and stares at my body. I know I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. I feel confident as he takes in my body and slides his hands down my back. But then he stops again.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not doing anything else until you say yes.” He sits on the edge of the bed and takes off his slacks. I can see that he’s hard. He grabs Tommy’s shorts and pulls them on. “You’re right. You better get me to bed, or I’m going to be no good for soccer tomorrow.”
I don’t think I ever made Sander hard.
Suddenly, I don’t give a shit about his soccer tournament.
“I know it’s probably bad school spirit and not very supportive of me, but right now, I really don’t care about your soccer game.” I kiss him and pull him on top of me.
“Keatyn, are you sure about this?”
“I’m very sure. I don’t want to stop, Cush. In fact, if we stop, the answer to your question is going to be hell no.”
He frowns at me then gets off the bed and grabs his phone off my desk.
What the hell is he doing?
I swear, I hate boys.
I literally just threw myself at him, and he chooses now to check his texts?
I feel a lump forming in my throat and know that I’m going to start crying. My ego can’t take this.
It can’t take being told no one more time.
First, Sander doesn’t want me. Then, stupid Brooklyn.
I can’t stop the tears. They start to flow like rivers down my cheeks. I grab my comforter and pull it in front of my bare chest. I feel so incredibly naked. And stupid.
He sets his phone down and plops back on the bed with me.
“Okay, so I set my alarm for seven. I can’t miss the bus, and I’ll probably suck it up on the field tomorrow, but I don’t care . . . are you crying? Why are you crying?”
“I thought you didn’t want me,” I sniffle. “I thought you were checking your texts.”
His eyes get big. “No, I just wanted to set my alarm real quick. I’m sorry. See, I’m no good at this. I’ve never cared before. I’ve always just done it with no thought.” He kisses my forehead, then my cheek, and then across my lips. “Let’s start over, okay?”
I nod as he reaches over and turns off my lamp. He leans toward me, stops, and flips the lamp back on.
“Can we talk first?”
“Um, sure?” I clutch the comforter tighter to my chest. I want to scream at him, Just be Cush. Throw me on the bed and do me already.
“How did you picture it?”
“Picture what?”
“Losing your virginity?”
“Um, I don’t know.” I lie. I’ve written a million different versions. Versions where I lose it in a hotel on prom night to my perfect boyfriend. Versions where Brooklyn attacks me on the beach. Versions where Brooklyn takes me to his bedroom.
Cush grabs my hand, pulls it up to his lips, and peppers it with sweet kisses. “Please tell me.”
“It’s silly, really.”
“I won’t think it’s silly, I swear. In fact, I’ll go first.”
“You thought about it?”
“I did. And it’s kinda embarrassing for me.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“Yeah, I do.” His lips are still slowly kissing the tops of my knuckles. It’s very sweet. “I used to dream it would be you. You always looked so pretty and perfect at school, but I’d see you every afternoon at soccer practice, and you seemed different. Free. Happy. Tough. You made varsity freshman year. Not very many people do that. I didn’t miss a game. I didn’t even know your first name for the longest time. Had just heard the coach yell Douglas at you. Then one day you were running toward me for a soccer ball that had gotten kicked over to our side of the field. It stopped right in front of my feet. I picked it up and said here. Do you remember what you said?”
“I said, Thanks, I’m Keatyn by the way, didn’t I?