“I need more. I feel all vulnerable right now.”
“Well, now you’re just being a pain.” His hand is still on my arm; he slides it down and wraps his fingers around my wrist.
“Someone needs to teach you how to be human,” I say. “You’re not all that good at it. But you will be.”
“Because you’ll teach me?”
“Or die trying. Probably that.”
The coffee shop door opens, and a couple of kids from our school walk in. They’re not friends or anything, but they know us enough to wave . . . and to react to the fact that David and I are there together, apparently holding hands.
I don’t care that they can see us, but David says, “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”
Mom and Ivy won’t be back for a while, so I suggest we walk to my house. It’s over a mile, but it’s a beautiful day—?not too hot—?and it feels good to stroll side by side, our hands linked, the sun warming the tops of our heads. I feel too overwhelmed to talk much, and he’s pretty quiet too.
We reach my house. I let us in, then close the door and turn to face him.
“What now?” he asks, nervously shifting from foot to foot. “You should know that this is all new to me. I’ve never had a girlfriend. Or even gone on a date.”
“I’m shocked. I’m not shocked.” I heave an exaggerated sigh. “Clearly I’m going to have to do all the work here.” I lead him into the living room and push him down so he’s on the sofa. “The first thing you should do is sit very close to me.” I sit down so that our legs are touching, side by side. “Then you should say something nice.”
“Again?” He rolls his eyes. “Jesus. How many times am I supposed to compliment you in one afternoon?”
“Just do it.”
“Last night I didn’t think I could ever feel happy again. Turns out I was wrong.”
I let that sink in for a moment.
“Was that okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Pretty good, actually.” We don’t say anything for a moment, and I think of Ethan, sitting next to Ivy, wanting to touch her and hold her and kiss her, and I think of Ivy sitting next to Diana, wanting to touch her and hold her and kiss her, and it occurs to me that maybe the greatest thing in the world is sitting next to someone you want to touch and hold and kiss, who actually wants to touch and hold and kiss you back.
“What are you thinking about?” David asks me.
“Skin hunger.”
“Huh?”
I answer by turning toward him, taking hold of his arms, pulling him toward me and pressing my mouth against his.
He’s not a great kisser, but that’s just lack of experience.
So I give him a crash course.
And he improves quickly.
Thirty-Four
I’M GLAD OURGARAGE DOOR is noisy, because it gives us time to separate and enter the kitchen just as Ivy and Mom do.
“What are you doing here?” Ivy asks David.
His lips look a little swollen and darkened. I hope I’m the only one who notices that. He says, “Just hanging with your sister,” and drops into a chair.
“Where’s Ethan?”
“He’s gone,” David says. “He went to boarding school.”
“That’s what I thought,” she says. “Why are you here?”
“David’s my friend, too,” I say. “Not just Ethan’s brother.”
“How’s Ethan doing?” Mom asks him.
“I wish I knew. I can’t communicate with him for a while. They want him to get settled in first.”
“I guess that makes sense,” she says uncertainly.
“Not really.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t help more.”
“You were really great,” he says. “Coming over and talking to my father and stepmother . . . I’m sorry I wasn’t more grateful at the time. I’ve just been a little overwhelmed by the whole thing.”
She shakes her head. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
It occurs to me that, for all her flaws, my mother is a Very Nice Person. I go over to her and give her a hug.
“What’s that for?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Just felt like it.”
“Someone’s in a good mood,” she says, and her gaze flits over to David and then back to me, eyebrows slightly raised. So maybe she did notice his lips. And mine? I probe them gently. Yeah, they’re swollen.
Ivy says to David, “Why can’t you talk to Ethan? Why does he have to get settled first?”
Mom says, “I think the teachers are probably worried he’ll get homesick if he talks to his family too soon.”
Ivy turns to her. “But if he gets homesick, he should go home.”
“Sometimes you have to get past the homesickness. I’m sure that’s what they’re hoping will happen—?that even if he feels homesick at the beginning, he’ll get more comfortable over time.”
“I wouldn’t get homesick if I went away.”
“Says the girl who’s never spent a night away from home,” I say. It’s only a slight exaggeration—?we’ve gone on a couple of road trips, but she’s always shared a room with me and Mom, and she’s also always hated it. She’s never been on a sleepover by herself.
I touch David’s arm. “Hey, now that my mom’s home, I can use her car. Want me to drive you home?”
“I need to go back to school. I left my backpack there.”
“I could drive you to school and then home?. . .”
“If you insist.”
I go with him to retrieve his backpack. The hallway’s deserted, so he and I steal a kiss against the row of lockers. Then I push him away. “I thought you were morally opposed to PDAs.”
“Yeah, they’re gross,” he says, and leans in again.
I hold him off with the palms of my hands against his chest. “I’d hate for you to have to do something that makes you uncomfortable.”
“I’ll survive.”
“Come on,” I say, and shove him toward the exit. “Let’s go. But admit you were wrong about that whole kissing in public thing. It’s not such a crime.”
“It is when I’m not the one kissing you.”
“Were you jealous of James? Even back then?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “Not exactly. And you guys were pretty annoying. I was sincerely disgusted by you—”