Alex look surprised. “As, um, intense. You do know that I work with half the boys in your grade.”
“You work with five of them. And one of them is my best friend’s brother. So he’s getting it secondhand. Not because I dated any of them. Dating isn’t exactly allowed in my house.”
Alex looked like he wanted to say something. But then he looked away, picked at the fibers on the back of the couch, looked back at me. He pushed the brim of his hat up, pulled it down. I knew what that meant.
“What?” I asked, perplexed.
“I wasn’t going to say anything, but my mother sort of lit into me about us. I guess your mom didn’t know we were hanging out. You know, having lunch.”
“Was she mad at you?” I asked. “That you didn’t tell her about me?”
“No. But it’s not like she keeps tabs on who I hang out with. She was mad because, well, you’re younger than me and she thought your mother was upset, and she was embarrassed that I didn’t introduce myself.”
“She’s fine,” I lied. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Well, still. She’s right. I should’ve gone down to the docks and introduced myself to your dad. I mean, you are only sixteen. And I’m in his house right now. With his daughter.”
“First of all, I’m seventeen in a couple of weeks. And second, don’t say anything to him. I’ll tell him. He’s got this weird thing about me and boys. If he finds out about us, that we’ve been together, it’ll just be a million questions.”
Alex was quiet, then, and when I looked at him, he was staring at me, his mouth open. The words ran back through my head. That we’ve been together. My face flamed.
“I don’t mean together as in we’ve been together. Like that,” I said quickly, breezily. But repeating it just made it worse. Alex didn’t smile, and I swallowed.
The words were out there, and the picture of us together was in my head. Even though I hadn’t meant it like that, I couldn’t erase the image.
I was aware suddenly of how close we were sitting next to each other. He barely had any clothes on. Board shorts, no shirt. I kept my eyes on my lap. I knew if I looked at his body, lean and muscular and tanned, and that scar on his knee, the one I dreamed about tracing with my fingertip, my face would give me away.
His hand touched my shoulder, his fingertips grazing the skin on the side of my neck. I looked at him, and those green eyes were looking straight into me. Neither of us moved. I stopped breathing. I didn’t look away from his gaze. Underneath me, the couch dipped and Alex leaned forward.
My whole body tingled. I felt his breath on my cheek, then his lips on mine. My hand reached out, and I ran it down the front of his chest, and he shivered, his lips pressing harder against my own. When our tongues slid against each other, he shifted and pulled me closer.
The way he touched me told me he’d been thinking about it as much as me. He pulled my legs over his lap, our bodies pressing against each other, his hand running up my leg, under the back of my shirt, his thumb grazing the side of my breast. I’d thought of this moment so many times in the last month. But in my mind, I didn’t feel the softness of his lips, the stubble on his jawline, the heat of his skin under my hands.
Now I didn’t want him to stop. My hand found the back of his neck. My fingers running down his bare back. He made a noise and pulled away, his hand gently holding my face, his fingers in my hair, keeping me still. He was breathing hard, his skin on fire.
“Jesus,” I heard him whisper, his head down. He breathed out. I leaned forward, tried to kiss him again, but he pulled back.
“No, Jess. Stop,” he said. “I’ve got to stop.”
I didn’t move. He pressed his forehead against my own, let out another breath. I ran my fingertips down the smooth skin on his back, and he shifted, tightening.
When he picked his head up, he looked bewildered, frightened almost.
“I didn’t know you wanted this,” he whispered.
I leaned in to kiss him again, but he stopped me. Then he stood up and walked over to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall. As far away from me as he could get without leaving the room.
I stared at him, stunned. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It’s just—” He paused, avoiding my eyes, his gaze on the floor. “I don’t know. You’re only sixteen.”
“Almost seventeen.” I smiled. “We’re a year apart. It’s not like you’re Mr. Maturity over there,” I joked, but he pressed his lips together in a grimace.
I felt the smile leave my face. “I’m just saying a year difference is not a lot.”
“It’s not. . . . That’s not what I meant.”
“Well, what do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t expecting this. I guess I thought, well . . . you’re you.”
I crumpled my face. “Huh?”
He sighed, shifted from foot to foot. He looked uncomfortable, pained. “I mean with your father, you know, with the whole no-dating thing. You haven’t dated a lot of guys. Anyone, from what it sounds like. So I just got it in my head that we were friends. That we were just friends. Nothing more.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, trying to understand. “We started as friends. But we can move past that. I mean, it was just a kiss.”
He snorted. “That wasn’t just a kiss, Jess,” he said quietly.
I folded my arms across my chest, covering the side of my breast his hand had just touched, feeling my face grow hot. Now I stood up, moved to the doorway, trying to sort out what he was saying. I heard him say it again in my mind. You’re only sixteen. You haven’t dated a lot of guys. My face burned.
“So would it make a difference if I had dated a bunch of guys?”
“That’s not what I mean,” he said, pressing his fingers in his eyes.
“What, then? Afraid you’ll have complaints?” It slipped out before I could stop it, but I was frustrated, angry now, that he thought my dating history, or lack thereof, was any of his business.
He cocked his head at me. “Yeah, Jess. You could tell by my reaction I had complaints,” he said sarcastically. “Look. I’m trying to do the right thing here, and you’re making it impossible.”
My jaw dropped. “I’m making it impossible? If I remember correctly, it was you who leaned over and kissed me.”
“I know I did!” he shouted. “I told myself that we were just friends. That being here alone with you was nothing. And then you said that, about us being together, and the way you looked at me, I just kind of lost it and kissed you. I just wasn’t expecting you to kiss me back. And it changes things, Jess. Believe me, it does. And now you’re telling me you want this, and my head is about to explode. And I can’t kiss you right now. Okay? I can’t kiss you.”
I felt rejected. Like a silly girl with a crush. The way I’d looked at him. Like he hadn’t looked at me the same way.
Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe it was all in my mind.