“Still,” Gretchen pressed. “He could have been encouraging and supportive or something. Isn’t that what boyfriends do?”
“Gretchen, I like that he doesn’t know anything. I like that I don’t have to talk about this slut league with him. I like that I get to escape it all when I hang out with him, okay? Can you understand that and leave it alone?” I closed Terry’s laptop and slid it onto the coffee table.
“Yes, ma’am,” Gretchen mumbled, and I rolled my eyes.
“Would it be totally bitchy to say I’m glad you two haven’t met yet?” I asked.
“Yes, you bitch,” Gretchen replied. “What? Are you gonna cancel the dinner plans we all have together?”
“No.” I felt my face flush.
“Good, because it’s high time I met this Ryan person. You shouldn’t have kept him away for so long. Don’t I get a say in who you date?” Gretchen asked.
“Um, no. Are you crazy?”
“No, I’m not crazy,” Gretchen said. “Just feeling a little left out, I guess.”
I sighed. “Gretchen . . .”
“Brooke, you’re too young to be having sex,” Terry said.
I looked at Gretchen, and we both burst out laughing. Perhaps Terry just said it to ease some of the tension. It worked.
“What?” Terry asked. “I’m some sort of ancient or something? Just because I’m a little bit conservative, that’s funny?”
“Conservative?” Gretchen said. “You’ve got tats all over you.”
Terry shook his head. “Gretchen, get a clue.”
“Terry, I’m not talking to you about sex, okay? Can we change the subject?” I asked.
“Fine, but I don’t understand kids these days,” Terry replied.
“Oh, who are you kidding? I know all about the ‘90s, buddy, and I can only imagine the stuff you were into,” I said.
Terry blushed and grinned.
“It’s not like I’m putting out for every guy on the block,” I said.
“Exactly,” Gretchen said. “You’re in a committed relationship.”
I nodded and watched Terry carefully.
“Gross. Whatevs. Just don’t let anything get traced back to me when you take all this crap public. Got it?” Terry said.
“I’m careful. I keep telling you that,” I said. “When are you going to trust me?”
“I trust you, Wright,” Terry said.
***
“I’ve never seen you look so sexy,” Ryan said, grinning.
It was the springtime, and we were standing in the street, my foot poised on his skateboard. I was wrapped from head to toe in protective gear: helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, even hockey gloves.
“Hockey gloves?” Ryan had asked earlier as he scrounged around in his closet.
“It’s inevitable. I’ll fall on my hands, and I don’t want them scraped up,” I replied. “Just give them to me.”
Ryan handed the gloves over and kissed my lips.
“You’re adorable, and I love you,” he said.
My mouth dropped open in shock.
“Don’t say anything,” he said. He kissed my lips again. “I don’t need or want you to say it back. But I wanted to tell you because it’s what I feel. And what I know. So when you’re ready, you tell me. But for right now, just don’t say anything.”
I nodded, mouth still hanging open.
“And just because you’re so cute standing there in disbelief, let me say it again: I love you, Brooklyn.”
I flung my arms around him and smacked the side of his head with my bulky helmet.
“Ouch!”
“Sorry,” I said, and crushed my lips to his. I could have stood there in his bedroom all afternoon kissing him, but he wanted to teach me how to skateboard.
I hovered near his mailbox staring at the asphalt. Suddenly it looked really frightening, especially if I fell face forward into it.
“I’m digging this picture,” Ryan said. “I like your foot on my board.”
I burst out laughing.
“What?” Ryan asked.
“Why does that sound dirty to me? Like sexual?”
Ryan smirked. “Brooke, keep that little sweet foot right on my board. My board, Brooke. Mmmm.”
And I laughed all over again.
“Seriously, though, there’s nothing to riding a skateboard. The tricks are a different story, but all riding requires is pushing off with your foot and then positioning your feet on the board that’s most comfortable for you.”
“I’m afraid of falling over,” I said.
“Well, you will. But that’s what all your pads are for,” Ryan said.
I waved to a car passing through the neighborhood that honked at us. It wasn’t a hey-I-know-you honk. It was a girl-you-look-hot kind of honk. I looked down at my knee pads. Maybe they were a bit sexy.
Ryan walked me through the basics: pushing off, positioning my feet, stopping by pushing down on the back of the board. I was more than nervous. I was never good at roller skating. I definitely couldn’t roller blade. In fact, I hated any wheels besides car wheels underneath me. I was out on the street with him now only because I liked him enough to get scraped up for him.
“I’ll hold your hand at first just until you get used to the feel of it,” Ryan said.