Stepping away, I extract myself from his arms. “I never knew my first time would be so romantic,” I say sarcastically. I glance over at my nightstand, the top clear of everything but a lamp and a book. “Roses? And candles? You really went all out to make my first-time special.”
Finn shakes his head, his hair falling in his face. Reflexively, he pushes it back. “That’s not how I meant it.”
“Did you really think I would just lie on my back and open my legs?” Angrily I reach for a shirt, ripping it from the hanger. “I need to change. Please leave.”
He sighs, his shoulders slumped as he moves for the door. I wait until it closes behind him, then I pull my shirt over my head and press it to my face, letting it catch my tears. I feel stupid and embarrassed and angry.
When I’m done, I take a deep breath and look at my reflection in my mirrored closet door. Luckily there’s only a tiny mascara smudge under one eye, and with a swipe of my finger, it’s gone. I pull on a new shirt and swap my jeans for a skirt that falls to mid-thigh. Winding my purse over my shoulder, I pull open my bedroom door and step out into the hall.
Finn leans against the opposite wall, his hands tucked in his pockets. He looks contrite. Ignoring him, I walk down the stairs. Just as I’m reaching for the handle of the front door, it flies open. Finn and I both freeze. My stepdad walks in, pausing in the open door when he sees us.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He looks at Finn, then back at me. “Your mother forgot the pie she made for tonight. I came home to grab it.” He speaks slowly, glancing again between me and Finn.
“Okay, well,” I say. I’m too afraid to look back at Finn, so I glance down at my feet instead.
“We were just on our way out, Mr. Blake,” Finn says.
“Yeah, sure,” Ted responds quickly, moving aside. I take a step, but Ted’s arm shoots out to stop me.
“Finn, why don’t you go on outside?” He motions out front with his chin. “Lennon will join you in a moment.”
Finn brushes past me, our eyes meeting briefly as he goes. The door closes softly behind him.
“Are you having sex with that boy?” Ted asks.
My cheeks flame. There’s no way I’m talking about sex with Ted. I’d like to pretend he doesn’t even know what sex is.
“No,” I answer, looking away. I’m too mortified to meet his eyes.
“Lennon?”
I look up.
“If you do it once, it’ll be easier to do again. And again. That’s how young women get into trouble.”
“I’m not—”
He turns away, walking toward the kitchen, and the declaration dies on my lips.
I want to follow him, proclaim my innocence, but I also want to get the hell out of here.
I dart through the front door, hurrying to where Finn waits for me beside his uncle’s truck. He opens the door for me, and I climb in. Halfway through the drive, Finn reaches across the seat and finds my hand. Then he doesn’t let me go until we reach Brady’s.
* * *
“Brady’s momis going to kill him,” I shout to Finn over the noise of the party. We’ve taken fewer than ten steps inside, and I’ve seen two beers spilled and tracks of muddy footprints on the foyer rug.
Finn glances at me, nodding his head solemnly. He cares for Mrs. Sterling about as much as she does for him, but he doesn’t want to see her house ruined.
Neither of us could figure out why good boy Brady decided to throw a house party. It’s out of character, but maybe that’s why he’s doing it. Maybe he wants one chance to be something besides the golden child.
“Let’s find Brady,” Finn yells, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the crowd, thick with bodies. We snake through, Finn craning his neck as he looks around for Brady. It’s me who spots him first. His back is to us, and he’s talking animatedly with two blonde girls. They laugh and gaze up at him as if the moon is in the sky because Brady placed it there. We approach, but his back is still turned, and he doesn’t see us coming. Like an animal marking its territory, I reach out, wrapping my arms around Brady’s torso and squeezing him from behind. I know he’ll look down, see the delicate gold band I always wear on my pinky finger, and know it’s me. And he does.
“Lennon,” he gets out the first half of my name before he even turns around. Smiling, he shifts, bringing me into his side. His smile is lazy and slow, his cheeks pudgy. Alcohol has thickened his skin and his tongue, making his whole body puff out.
“Angelina, Veronica, this is Lennon. And Finn,” Brady adds, gazing over my head to Finn.
