“Come again?” she asked lightly.
“I love you,” he replied firmly. No crack. No wavering. No doubt.
He bent his head and kissed her cookie crumb lips, tasting the faint sourness of milk that sat too long on her tongue. He didn’t mind, and he trapped her in his arms when she tried to pull away.
“My breath,” she mumbled against his mouth.
“Is perfect,” he replied, kissing her more deeply.
His wired hormones wanted to kiss-walk her to the bed, but his patient side glued his feet to the floor.
Don’t you have a cake to bake? it asked, and he groaned into her mouth.
She doubled her efforts, believing his groan was in response to her unbelievable skills. She pulled on him, encouraging movement toward the bed.
“Not yet,” he said, pulling away.
She grimaced. “I’m too aggressive. I read you wrong. I thought that groan meant—”
“It meant exactly what you thought it meant,” Jeremy reassured her. “I just . . . I think . . .”
“It’s okay,” Regan said.
“I don’t know why we should wait, but we should wait,” he said at last.
She bit her lip. “You think I was asking you for sex?”
“I don’t know. Were you?”
She shook her head. “I just wanted you to lie on top of me.”
He blinked. She waited.
“Really?” he asked.
“Mmhmm.”
“Why?”
“I thought you’d be warm.”
She walked to the side of the bed then dropped to her knees.
“I’m always curious to see what’s going on underneath people’s beds.”
He sat beside her. “Just this,” he said, pulling out a long, narrow bag. He unzipped it and opened the flap.
“Oooo, I like,” Regan replied, running her fingertips over the silky smooth wood.
“Would you believe Roy bought this for me?” Jeremy asked, pulling the snowboard completely out of its protective bag. “Custom made.”
“Just out of the blue?”
“For my birthday,” he said, then instantly regretted his words.
Regan said nothing as she studied the board’s design. Various size Blind Boards symbols decorated one half while the other featured a mountain sunset rich in fiery oranges and stark whites. She traced the sunrays with her index finger.
“When was your birthday?” she asked slowly.
“I don’t know.”
“Try again,” she said patiently.
He hesitated. “Last week.”
She looked at him with sad eyes. “Why would you not tell me, Jeremy? I’m your girlfriend.”
“I don’t like to make a big deal of it. I had no idea Roy was gonna get me this. You know how expensive a board like this is? I was embarrassed!”
“I don’t care if you were embarrassed. I’m your girlfriend, and you should have told me. I feel like an idiot.”
“Regan, please don’t. It’s weird, okay? We’re still . . . new, and I wasn’t just gonna volunteer the fact that I had an upcoming birthday. Like I expected something from you. That’s stupid. And tacky.”
She shrugged.
“And anyway, you already gave me my birthday present,” Jeremy said.
“Yeah? And what’s that?” she said moodily.
“Your words. You told me you loved me.”
She smiled.
“And you’re baking me my favorite cake,” he added.
“Is it really your favorite kind of cake?”
“Ever since you brought me those cupcakes,” he replied.
She leaned into him, nudging his arm.
“I’m still mad at you.”
“December 2, okay? My birthday is December 2.”
“A lot of good that does me today!” she cried.
“Well, then get in that kitchen and bake me a cake,” he said.
She pounced on him, knocking him on his back and kissing him greedily. Her lips flew all over his face. They gave extra attention to his scar before moving back to his mouth. She kissed him until her mouth grew sore and dry, itchy and tight. She paused her assault and searched her pocket for her ChapStick. She held it to his face and grinned.
“I can keep going and going and going . . .”
He wrapped his arms around her back and rolled her over, pinning her to the bedroom floor.
“Give me some of that,” he ordered, and she uncapped the stick, gliding the soothing peppermint balm over his lips. Around and around and around until he glistened. She tended to her own lips afterwards.
They resumed their make-out session, pausing every now and then to reapply. Sometimes to talk. Sometimes just to stare at one another because the idea of being lovers was still so fresh. So new. And they were amazed by it. Amazed and nervous. Excited. Committed. They loved each other the way young people do—completely out of their minds, as it should be.
Eventually they baked the cake. Eventually Regan went home. Eventually Jeremy’s heartbeat slowed to a normal rhythm.
Until next time.
~
My shoulder hurts. Usually I ignore the pain. I chalk it up to the pain one feels after a really grueling session in the gym. Good pain. I’m-transforming-my-body pain. But I just can’t ignore this ache tonight. It’s like my rifle had it in for me—wanted to abuse me just like all those assholes at school do. I even screamed at it, “We’re a goddamn team!”
It didn’t listen.
~
He heard the faint knock from his bedroom. It sounded unsure, like a Regan knock. His heart faltered—lost the beat—then found its rhythm again. Right on time for his nerves to chime in—pinging and zinging about his body, shocking his arms and legs and setting his scar on fire. He couldn’t make sense of his reaction. It’s not like she hadn’t been alone with him here. But this time was different. No baking class to keep them occupied, out of trouble. Oh, no. This time there was nothing to do but to “hang out,” and he was fairly certain where that would lead.
Another more purposeful knock. He leaned over and smelled his sheets.
“Just in case . . .”