Page 14 of The Girl He Loves
I smiled. Despite the fact that I had acted like a total bitch and slut, he still loved me. “I’m so sorry,” were the first words out of my mouth. “I acted like a total spaz.”
He laughed. “You did.” He reached for a bottle of orange Gatorade. “Here, have some of this. It’ll make you feel better.”
I gladly accepted the bottle and took a swig. I also escaped our tent to go have a pee in the woods. It was a quiet damp morning — it had rained during the night. Everyone was still sleeping.
When I ventured back in the tent, Brian pulled me down to him and kissed me. He was so warm and tasted so sweet — I couldn’t get enough of him. We kissed for hours it seemed, although I’m sure it was only minutes. I snuggled close to him under the thick sleeping bags, as close as can be. He pulled off my sweats, and I peeled off his jeans. We explored each other’s bodies, tasting each other, trailing our tongues along the curves of our torsos, biting, playing. With every touch, every lick, I wanted more. I wanted him to touch me like he had so many times before. But he was slow that morning, he made me wait for it, beg for it. Finally when his long fingers slid between my folds and entered me, I pressed myself against him and whispered. “I’m ready now. I want you inside me.”
His beautiful green eyes darkened. “You sure?”
I reached for his erection, and held it tightly in my hand. “Yes.”
“I’ll go slow, I promise,” he assured me. “I won’t hurt you.”
As promised, he sank into me very slowly. He felt so good, yet there was pain. Just a bit of pain. The pleasure made it bearable. I loved the feel of our bodies finally connected in this way. I never wanted to let go. His mouth pressed against my neck as he gradually pressed harder into me, repeatedly, until he came inside me for the first time. I’d been on the pill for two months by then so there was nothing to worry about.
When he was done, he kissed me softly and gently pulled out. He slid down the length of my body, and wrapped my legs around his head. I arched my back, anticipating the pleasure he would give me. And he didn’t disappoint. Within a minute, I reached my own climax.
I would never look at a red tent the same way again.
7
As I head outside, I’m fully aware that I’m not acting sanely. I wonder what Dr. Russell would have to say about this. I wonder if I should tell her about it. Of course I should. The more transparent you are with your therapist, the more effective therapy can be. What I should really be doing is dropping everything and calling Eva for an emergency session. I should spill all my secrets and let her help me overcome this. Dr. Russell and I go way back. I’ve been seeing her since we moved to Chicago.
One of my first full-on meltdowns as a teenager was at my older sister Sacha’s Sweet Sixteen birthday party. It was the stuff of legends, and I’m sure I will never live it down. To this day, they still talk about it.
We’d all been working very hard at the preparations. When I say ‘we’, I mean Mom and I. My sisters were too busy traipsing around with boys, shopping and going out with friends. In other words, they were busy being normal teenage girls. I, on the other hand, at thirteen, had no social life to speak of.
Mom and I had gone for a butterfly theme because what sixteen year old girl doesn’t like butterflies. The color theme was lilac and yellow. Streamers, balloons, napkins… everything was in keeping with my chosen colors. I’d even worn a matching outfit; my jeans with the purple flowers and a yellow top. Mom and I argued about this — she thought the party would be more festive with all the colors of the rainbow. But I held my ground and won that fight.
All in all, I blew thirty-six balloons on the morning of the party, and felt extremely lightheaded by the time I was done. I limited myself to a five minute break — I just had so much to do. I also had to wrap all the gifts from Mom and Anika and me, and set the table. I fished out Mom’s vintage embroidered tablecloth, the one with the pretty lace and pink, lilac and yellow flowers. Mom was in charge of the cake and she opted to make two dozen white vanilla cupcakes, decorated with gold sparkles and colorful paper butterflies, and displayed on her late mother’s pretty three-tiered antique serving platter.
There were initially nine girls invited, but one could not make it because she was recovering from rhinoplasty. I didn’t understand what the big deal was, why she couldn’t just show up with a bandage on her nose. Everyone knew she had gotten a nose job.
Everything was ready and perfect when the first guest arrived: Karen Morgan, my least favorite of Sacha’s friends. She squealed as she busted through the door. “Happy Birthday, bestie.” She hugged Sacha so tightly, I’m sure she stole her breath away. A pang of envy hit me — unlike Sacha, I didn’t have many close girlfriends, just one I saw at school.
Suzie Powell quickly followed, and the rest of the gang trailed in shortly after. I nipped at their heels, righting everything they touched. I busied myself arranging Sacha’s gifts on the den desk. I served punch and offered snacks. There were too many of them, and they were all so loud. They glared and rolled their eyes, barely tolerating me.
They were giggling and talking about boys. Matthew Thompson seemed most newsworthy. I scowled, wondering why they didn’t have anything better to discuss. I wondered if I’d turn into one of these boy-crazy imbeciles when I turned sixteen. I certainly hoped not.
They were playingTruth or Dare,and reluctantly let me participate when my sister, Anika, stood up for me. “C’mon, girls. Mischa did everything for the party. She deserves to play.”
Sacha huffed and let me sit next to her in the circle. It was typical lame teenage stuff. Truth: Who’s the first boy you ever kissed?When I told them I’d never kissed a boy, they laughed.Who was your first crush?I told them about Connor.What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?I beat up a girl when I was six because she messed up my Legos house. They were quite impressed by that one.
Sacha was dared to eat an olive because everyone knew she hated them. Suzie was dared to go hug my mom, for no reason at all. All the girls giggled, and my mom smiled awkwardly, confused. And finally, they dared me to eat my own booger. Well, turns out I had a juicy one, and why the hell not?
I did it. And I didn’t receive the congratulatory reaction I expected.
Suzie winced. “That’s disgusting.”
“Your sister is so freaking weird,” Karen chimed in.
“Wait til I tell my brother about this,” another girl said, and my breath hitched because her little brother, Rodney, was a known bully, and he also happened to go to my school.
“Don’t,” I begged.
“Why not?” she asked. “You eat boogers, and people should know. What if you try to kiss a boy.”
I glared at her. “I told you… I’ve never kissed a boy.”
