“Ah. You want to know if I was telling the truth about there only ever being you, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“It’s true. You were my first,” he continues. “And you’ll be my last.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?” he counters.
“Have I been with anyone else besides you?”
“No.”
“You sound sure about that,” I say.
“I am.”
“So, we’ve been together for a long time?”
“Since high school,” he confirms.
“How’d we meet?”
“Oh, now there’s a story.”
I sit up and scoot back to settle next to him, our arms touching. “Tell me?”
“We were in seventh grade,” he begins. “You transferred from another school about a month in when your dad’s job brought him to Tacoma. It was the end of the day, and Johnny Millhouse was blocking you from leaving the building.” Lyric shakes his head with a scowl. “I can still see the look on your face when he called you a slut. Fuck, I was furious.”
“Why’d he call me a slut?” I ask incredulously, trying to recall the scene as he tells it.
He shrugs. “Don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing it was your short skirt, tight top, and knee-high boots over fishnets.”
“Oh my God, I didn’t,” I groan.
Lyric reaches over to brush a strand of hair away from my face. “You did, and I, for one, thought you were sexy as hell. But Johnny was a prick, and I was later told that you turned him down when he asked you to be his partner for a science project. I’m guessing that’s what set him off.”
“Asshole,” I mutter.
“He really was, so I punched him, knocking him out cold right there in the hallway.” He smirks, clearly still proud of himself. “Fucker never bothered you again, and you and I became inseparable.”
“In other words, you were my knight in shining armor,” I say with a laugh.
“I guess. Although, I didn’t step in with that in mind. I just did what any man worth his salt would do.”
“You were a boy.”
“A boy who was raised by a biker,” Lyric says. “I may have only been in seventh grade, but I’d seen and done things millions of men would never even contemplate.”
“Makes sense.”
He nods. “So, any other questions?”
“Yes, actually.” I hesitate, desperately wanting to see how he’ll respond but also terrified that I’ll sound stupid.
“Spit it out, baby,” he insists.
“Were things…” Dammit, this is hard. “With you and me… Was the sex good between us?”
