“First, it was only a rumor about bedbugs, not lice, and that was in the middle school. I wouldn’t be anywhere near Phil, either. Teaching is what I want to do,” I said.
“This would be temporary and then they could tell you to screw off in the spring, and that’s bullshit!” he told me. “I want you to have good hours so you’re not driving on these empty roads,nice coworkers who aren’t predators, a lot of time off so you can travel for the first time, and a high salary so you don’t have to work two jobs and you can afford those vacations.”
“Well, that would all be nice,” I agreed. “If I work at my former elementary school, I’d get some of those things.” I looked up at him. “You don’t think I’d be bad at teaching?”
“No. I’m not an expert but you’re smart and you care about people. You always try to help. If I was a kid in your class, I’d love you.”
“Really?”
He nodded.“Really.”
“Thank you,” I said. It felt like a weight lifted off me. “I think that you’re an amazing football player. You’re also smart and very skilled, and the Woodsmen are lucky to have you.”
“Thank you. You’re not pissed off at me anymore?”
“I wasn’t,” I said. “It’s ok.”
Everett shook his head. “I’m sorry anyway.” He still held my arm and he squeezed it gently. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m acting like this. What do you call it? Whacko?”
I thought about Jannie and her suggestion of where to put stickers. Mostly, I thought about her question: why not?
Why not? Was I going to be the Fun Girl, was I going to be satisfied with two kisses for the rest of my life?
My heart pounded. I took a little step closer to him and lifted up on my tiptoes.
“Zoey, what are you doing?” he asked me. But he didn’t pull away. He leaned down closer, bringing his mouth nearer. I tilted my chin and quickly, just for a brief moment, I put my lips on his. Three. I was up to three, still no tongue, but that counted.
“Did you just kiss me?” he asked, and I nodded.
“Is that ok?”
“Damn. Yeah, it’s really ok.” He smiled at me and I touched his cheek where he had his dimple. He laid his palm against my cheek, too, and he put his other arm around my waist to pull me against him. “Damn. Jesus.” He bent and kissed me again, but for a lot longer. Obviously, he didn’t play an instrument and I wasn’t sure how he’d developed such nice firmness in his lips—they were exceptional. And then I felt…yes, that was his tongue and I opened my mouth so that…yes, now we were making out. It was happening, and I’d had some ideas before about how it sounded a little slimy and gross but I had been wrong.
It was amazing and I thought I should have done this before, and I planned to do it a lot more in the future. I planned to do this with Everett as much as I possibly could. I felt kind of like I had when I was a kid and jumped off a swing—like I was flying and free, and almost giddy.
He pulled away after a while, but I wasn’t exactly sure how long it had lasted. The moon had gone back in and it was very dark so I couldn’t really see his face. But he put his forehead against mine and I could feel his chest moving up and down quickly. Icould feel the warmth of his body and the gentle brush of his breath.
“We should go to bed,” he said. My heart, which had been pounding, seemed to stop.
“Ok,” I agreed. “Yes.” Jannie was going to be very happy to hear this, if I ever told her. I thought I would probably keep it to myself, even though it was going to change my life.
I was going to have sex with Everett.
He kept his arm around me as we walked upstairs toward my room, and I wondered why he didn’t want to do it on his own bed since that was bigger, much bigger. Did he expect that I would have condoms? I hadn’t thought that far ahead—in my daydreams, I had imagined us kissing and him touching my breasts, and then me doing some vague stroking as well. I hadn’t gotten up to any actual insertions even in my fantasy life, so I definitely hadn’t gone to the store for birth control. Did he have that on him already, like he was always prepared? It was the same as how I kept a blanket in my car in case it ever broke down in the winter.
When we got to my bedroom, I walked right in and then turned around, mentally readying myself and so excited that I could hardly stand up. That was ok, because we’d be lying down soon enough. Should I have turned on the lights? Stripped? I didn’t have any stickers on me!
He had stopped at the door, though. “Come here for a second,” he said, and I stepped back to him. He kissed me again, a long one (with tongue) that made me hold on to his shouldersbecause my knees actually got weak. “Good night.” One more kiss, just a brief one (it still counted). “Good night, Zoey.”
I watched him walk back down the hallway and I heard his feet on the stairs. What had just happened? Well, I had read things wrong—again. He didn’t want to have sex with me. Was he satisfied with kissing? It was definitely satisfying, I couldn’t argue with that, but wasn’t he interested in more? I wandered back into my room and, since I hadn’t answered the question of whether I needed to flip on the lights, I tripped in the pitch dark over a bench at the end of the bed and hurt my toe, a lot. Then I took off my clothes, put something on, brushed at least a few of my teeth, and got into bed. By myself.
The next day, the Woodsmen were flying out to Nebraska but he would be home in the morning. As soon as my eyes opened, I jumped from the bed where I’d slept alone and hurried to the stairs. Then I returned to my room, thoroughly brushed my teeth and my hair (different brushes), and walked all the way down.
Everett was already in the gym and I went directly there, figuring that I shouldn’t prolong the inevitable. I was going to have to see him and determine what had happened last night. Obviously, we had moved beyond our original definition of “friends”—or maybe not so obviously, because people kissed their friends. People slept with their friends, too. People were also confused by their friends, just like I was.
But he acted the same as always. He invited me to work out with him and offered a glass of green smoothie which he’d alreadyprepared and put into the little fridge. “I used less kale this time. I don’t think you loved that,” he said.
“Thank you.” I drank it and did some desultory weight lifting, feeling awkward the whole time, as he watched sports shows on the TV he had in here. “I’m going to work in the garage before I get dressed,” I mentioned finally.
