Enzo started to roll another cigarette. “I didn’t lie to you.”
“That’s exactly what you did. I’m just a distraction for you.”
“That’s not true.” Enzo stood up, naked. He pulled one of the bloody sheets off the floor and wrapped it around his waist. “I promise, that’s not true.”
My eyes stung with tears again. The night was getting more mortifying by the second.
Enzo leaned down and kissed me softly. Then he looked me in the eyes.
“Here’s the truth. I thought there was a small chance you were right. Not that she was a werewolf, but she was so into wolves that she might have run off because she thought she was a werewolf. We read about that, remember? Clinical lycanthropy? When we were searching the woods, I really thought we might find her. Doing research and taking notes seemed useful for understanding what she was going through. And yes, maybe I wanted to listen to you talk about all your magic and folktales because it made all the real stuff easier to handle. But that’s not the only reason I stuck around. Spending time with you is great.”
“Well. OK then,” I said.
“Are you upset?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you still want to go home?”
“Yes.”
After helping me hunt down my keys, which had somehow ended up under the bed, Enzo walked me to the door. He kissed me good-bye, like he was suddenly my boyfriend, like that was something we always did. He leaned against his open door and watched as I made my way out of the building.
“Hey, Hawthorn,” he called.
I turned.
“Do you really think Lizzie’s a werewolf?”
I thought about it. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t know much of anything tonight.”
Enzo nodded as if it was the answer he expected, and I made my way to my car, where at least I’d be alone with my thoughts.
? ? ?
What happened next is what my dad would call “learning a lesson” and my mom would call “karma.”
I got in my car, super glad Enzo wasn’t looking at me anymore so I could start to sort out my feelings. I figured I’d drive around for a bit, maybe find a place to get some coffee. I didn’t want to be at Enzo’s, but I didn’t want to be at my house either.
I put the key in the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened. Nothing at all. The car didn’t even try to start. No clicks, no rumbling. Just silence. I tried again. More of the same.
I could just imagine how smug my parents were going to be. They’d remind me of how many times they’d told me to take my car to the mechanic.
I groaned and rested my forehead on the steering wheel. Of all the times for this to happen. Of all the places. I was going to have to drag myself back to Enzo’s apartment and ask if I could use the phone. Then someone, probably my dad, would drive all the way out to Layton, grumbling the whole way, to pick me up. I didn’t want to spend the next half hour waiting awkwardly in Enzo’s apartment. I didn’t want my dad to see where I’d been spending so much of my time. He’d think the apartment was in a bad area and think less of Enzo than he already did. He’d probably instinctively know I’d had sex for the first time and lecture me or—even worse—want to have a heart-to-heart, and it would be unbearably embarrassing.
I tried to start the car again, hoping something had changed. It hadn’t. I wished I had my cell phone on me so I could call someone without having to deal with Enzo. I wished I had someone to call besides my parents. But I didn’t, and I had to do something.
So that’s how I ended up walking home.
? ? ?
It was a long walk, so there was a lot of time to think.
About how I was no longer a virgin, how I had reached a milestone in my life, how I would always remember the first time that I had sex. Was I happy it had been with Enzo?
I thought about what would happen with me and Enzo. And if I really wanted anything more to happen. I was pretty sure that Enzo didn’t understand me as much as I pretended he did and would never be as into me as I wanted him to be. And it wasn’t because of Lizzie. For once, it didn’t all come back to Lizzie Lovett. It was just who I was and who he was.
I trudged through town, shivering the whole time. I was glad it wasn’t snowing yet. We’d had a warm fall. And walking wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be and certainly not as terrible as pacing in Enzo’s apartment while I waited for my dad to show.
Cars passed me without slowing down, and I wondered how I looked to the people inside of them. Did I seem different now that I’d lost my virginity? I knew I was supposed to feel different, but I still felt like me. Only more confused than ever.
I wondered how old Enzo had been the first time he had sex and how he’d felt afterward. I wished we were the same age, had experienced all our firsts together. Maybe our relationship would have been different if it wasn’t so unbalanced from the very start.