There was the clink of cutlery downstairs. My parents were going to eat dinner like it was any normal night, pretend that fight hadn’t just happened, like we’d been pretending all along. Then I heard a soft tap on the door. “Julia?” my mother said. “I made you a sandwich. I’m going to leave it here, okay?” Silence, but I could tell she hadn’t walked away. “Sweetheart. We were only trying to protect you because we love you so much.”
I took a long shower. I meant to leave the sandwich untouched in protest, but I was hungry, and my mother’s words had softened me. And while I ate, I started thinking. What if I was wrong? What if I hadn’t needed someone to tell me what to do next? Last year, after graduation, I’d had no idea what I was supposed to do with my life, and I wanted an answer. But what if the point was the question, not the answer?
It’s so tempting. Being told: this is who you are. This is how your life will go. This is what will make you happy. You will go to the right school, find the right job, marry the right man. You’ll do those things, and even if they feel wrong, you’ll keep doing them. Even if it breaks your heart, this is the way it’s done.
That night sophomore year. The memory I had been trying not to think about for so long. After Adam invited me into his room, upstairs at his party, he stepped close and backed me up against the wall. He leaned in and kissed me. For the first time all night—all year—I stopped thinking. I stopped thinking about everything confusing and difficult and uncertain. Doubts about my relationship, about friendships, about what I should major in. The sickening look of disappointment on Evan’s face, downstairs. The feeling of having too much space and not ever knowing what I was supposed to do with it. It vanished. Adam was such a good kisser. My mind was finally at peace, focused on only one thing: the person in front of me.
Then a bang sounded from the party below, a speaker blowing out, the music stopping abruptly. We pulled apart, and Adam looked at the door. A loud chorus of booing filled the void. And then, a second later, the music started again. Adam, satisfied that the problem had been fixed, turned back to me. There was a gleam in his eyes, a hunger for something he knew he was about to consume.
But I was frightened of myself, of what I was doing. I’d been this person before—a cheater, a liar—but I didn’t want to be that person again. I wanted to be better. Adam slipped his hands to my waist. The clash between temptation and resistance made me nauseous. I wanted this; I didn’t want this; I’d been daydreaming about this for months. He kissed me harder and started sliding his hands under the hem of my dress.
“No,” I said, turning so his lips grazed my cheek. “No, Adam, I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” he muttered, kissing me on the collarbone.
“No,” I said, more forcefully this time. “No, I can’t. Please stop.”
I pushed him away. He looked confused. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, Adam. I have a boyfriend. You know that.”
“You’re serious?”
I started for the door, but he grabbed my hand. “Let me go,” I said.
“What the hell, Julia? This is exactly what you wanted.”
“No, it’s not. Adam, stop.” I tried to wrest my hand free.
He laughed. “You are such a fucking tease.”
“I’m not—I’m sorry if I led you on. I thought we were just friends.”
“You’re sorry? Julia, what the fuck do you want? You really want to go back to Evan? Like he’s going to make you happy?” He laughed again. “He’s never going to make you happy. Anyone can see that.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong.”
“I’m not wrong, Jules. I mean, you guys are going to break up sooner or later. It’s so obvious. So what’s the problem here?”
“You don’t know him. You don’t know anything about it.”
“I know exactly who Evan is. And I know who you are. You’re bored. You want more, don’t you? You want something better. I know you do.”
He was waiting for me to say something. When I didn’t, he stepped closer, his hands against the wall on either side of me. He leaned in so his mouth was next to my ear.
“Let me tell you how this is going to go,” he said in a low voice. I closed my eyes. “You’re going to forget about Evan. Forget about everything else. It’s just you and me, right now. Isn’t that what you wanted?” I could feel the damp heat of his breath against my neck. “I know you, Julia. The real you. I know what you want. You’re going to stay here with me.” I was thinking: Is he right? Does he know the real me? Is that so impossible to imagine? “You’re going to take that dress off. And then you’re going to—”
“I’m leaving,” I said, ducking under his arm. He didn’t know me. I’d been so stupid, letting my boredom disguise such an obviously bad idea as a good one. I wanted to be better than I had been before. I was better. Adam didn’t know the real me. He was wrong.
But he grabbed my hand and yanked me back. He pinned me against the wall with his weight and used one hand to pull up my dress, the other to unbutton his jeans.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I squirmed away from his hands.
“Come on, babe,” he said, trying to kiss me. He pressed against me, harder.
“Let me go. Adam, stop!”
Finally I got my hands onto his shoulders and used the leverage of the wall behind me to shove him away. He stumbled backwards, tripping.