Ryan pulled away from me. I knew he would. “Do you . . . do you know why she did it?”
That was a secret I was not willing to share. I shook my head, lowering my eyes. I felt his arms go around me, and I stopped thinking about Beth. I had spent my entire day thinking about Beth. Right now I wanted to think about Ryan and all the things he had planned for me in his bed. I knew it was too soon, but I didn’t care. I felt his hand on my chin as he tilted my mouth to his. He hesitated for a second before pressing his lips to mine.
It’s always described as melting, and I finally understood why. I thought my body was turning to liquid. I could feel my bones giving way, threatening to dissolve and leave me one big puddle of goo. His lips were incredible, soft and supple, raining light pecks on my own until I shifted and grunted—yes, actually grunted—in frustration.
“What do you want, Brooke?” he asked into my mouth.
I whimpered a reply, and he kissed me harder, finally giving me his tongue. That’s what I wanted. I mingled mine with his, feeling a sharp aching deep inside my belly that almost hurt. I thought that this was the guy I was always meant to kiss, that everyone before him didn’t count for anything.
Ryan pulled away. “I’ve wanted to do that since I ran into you at the funeral.”
“Why’d you stop?” I asked playfully.
Ryan smiled wearily. “Brooke, I don’t think I can be with anyone right now, and I can’t tell you why. It doesn’t have anything to do with you personally. You’re beautiful. It’s just—”
“Stop,” I said. “Let’s worry about your issues later. Will you please just kiss me again?”
Maybe it sounded pathetic. Maybe I was totally pathetic. I had no business getting physical with a guy I barely knew. Oh, who was I kidding? I didn’t know him at all! But I was learning his lips, and that’s something. Right?
The side of his mouth quirked up, and I took it as an invitation. I lunged for him, pinning him to the bed and kissing him hungrily. Yeah, so I was being aggressive. So what? He didn’t seem to mind. He wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed. It knocked the breath out of me momentarily, and I squealed.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into my mouth, loosening his hold.
I kissed him harder, and before it registered, I was on my back being pressed into the comforter by his weight. He moved his lips to my neck, sucking and nibbling, eliciting moans and cries and other sounds. It dawned on me that we were both going at it like we hadn’t made out in ages. For me it was five months. I wondered about my mystery man.
I pushed against him, and he released my neck. He looked down at me.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “It’s just, when was the last time you made out with a girl?”
His face turned pink. “Am I rusty?”
“No no!” I said. “I was just wondering.”
Ryan thought for a moment. “I don’t know. A year?”
“What?!”
He sat up, leaning back on his heels and pushing his hand through his hair.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. I felt like a jerk.
“No harm done,” he replied. He moved off the bed and headed for the bedroom door. “I was planning on going out in a bit.”
I stared at him.
“Well, like now,” he said.
“Oh. You want me to go?”
“Well, it’d be weird if my parents came home and found some girl in my bedroom,” he replied.
I felt humiliated. I was just “some” girl, whether he meant it to come across that way or not. I had no business coming over here. No business making out. No business making him feel embarrassed. I was such an asshole. I thought only guys could hold that title, but I realized girls could, too.
I got up and followed him to the front door. We stood in an awkward silence before I walked away. He didn’t say goodbye, and neither did I.
***
“Why did you make fun of him?” Gretchen asked.
I agreed to spend the night with her, but only if she didn’t make us go to another party.
“I didn’t make fun of him,” I said. “Or at least I didn’t mean to.”
“Was he horrible?”
“Far from it. The whole thing was hot until I opened my stupid mouth,” I whined.
“Why did you?”
“A year, Gretchen! What the hell? I mean, I could see if he were ugly or something, but the guy is drop-dead gorgeous! I couldn’t hide my surprise. What do you want from me?”
Gretchen tossed an emery board in my direction and started in on her nails.
“So, it’s like you two have this uncontrollable sexual energy around each other?” Gretchen asked.
“Obviously. We don’t even know one another. I lunged at him like a freaking hoochie,” I said.
“Oh, Brooke. Stop beating yourself up over it. Make-out sessions can be nice.”
“I want more than a make-out session with him,” I said, filing my nails.