“Whenever I get home,” I tell her, sitting down in one of the patio chairs by the pool.
“You’re still there?” she asks.
“Yeah. The roads are damaged from the storm and–”
“Good lord, the universe is having a fucking field day with you right now!” she blurts out. “So! Tell me everything! And don’t leave out the juicy bits.”
My heart picks up speed in my chest, and I wonder if she’s got ESP or something. Either that or a camera with a microphone planted in my suitcase. “Juicy bits?” I stutter. “I don’t know what you’re–”
“Oh, come on, Harp. I can hear it in your voice. Something is going on. You didsomething.”
I bite my lip, willing myself not to tell. How much can a girl hold back when she's finally gotten a little freaky with a man after never having even been kissed?
“He kissed me,” I say. After I say that, I feel a small sense of relief, like I’m no longer holding my breath.
“And?” she presses.
“And it was amazing. He is so–”
“I don’t mean how was the kiss. A kiss is hot, but it’s just the tip of the iceberg. I mean, what else?”
“How do you know there was something else?” I ask defensively.
“Spill it,” she says. Because she knows me. Because she can hear the bubbles fizzing under the cap, waiting to explode like a dormant volcano.
So I tell her. I tell her about the pool and him hearing me in the shower and how we pleasured ourselves in front of each other. I also tell her how when I do what he says, the orgasms are unreal.
“Jesus,” she breathes. “That really is hot.”
“Do you think it’s too much?” I ask quietly. I know Ash isn’t listening, but I’m still trying to be careful.
“Too much?” she echoes. “Girl, this is level one stuff. First base.”
“Not for a virgin!” I blurt, and then lower my voice. “How is this still first base?” I ask.
“Did he touch you? Aside from kissing, have you put your hands on each other at all?” she asks.
“Well…no. Not exactly.”
“Then it’s first base. Second base would be all the things you described, but with his hands, his fingers, his tongue, his–”
“Okay, I get the idea,” I interrupt, my cheeks turning pink just at the thought of all of that. Darlene giggles. “So third base is sex.”
“Then what’s a home run?” I ask.
“It’s…well…I don’t know how the bases work exactly, but unless your hands are all over each other, among other body parts, you’re still on first base. Maybe try second…”
“Darlene,” I say a little more seriously. “I still have no intention of crossing third base or home plate or whatever until I’m married. That hasn’t changed,” I remind her.
“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” she says supportively. “But there are still things you can do that don’t breach that line. A lot of things.”
We get off the phone, and I think about that. I suppose she’s right. Unless it’s actual D to V contact, it’s not sex. And as long as it’s not sex, it’s allowed, right?
Later that night, after a day of not fully avoiding each other but trying to pretend like nothing is weird at the same time, we are finally getting ready for bed. I do my nightly skincare routine, and he pumps out a small evening workout. No wonder this man looks the way he does; he works out like three times a day. The entire day we both were trying to pretend like nothing happened and that things aren’t weird.
I turn down the blankets on my side, and he grabs pillows like he is going to sleep on the couch.
“You can sleep in the bed with me,” I tell him without thinking about it. Ash looks up at me questioningly. “I mean, you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”
