Anatomy of a Boyfriend (10 page)

―Well, just so you know…‖

Wes and I are going together. Uh-huh, we’re a couple. The most handsome and brilliant guy in
Florida wants me, and I want him too. In some ways, I think I love him more than I do you two. I
certainly think about him more than I think about you guys.

―Saturday night, you know, two nights ago, remember you were at that banquet and I told you Wes came over and we made brownies? Well, we talked a lot, and we decided to, um, go out. So we‘re going out.‖

Mom and Dad exchange glances and then look up at me. I‘ve actually stunned them into silence.

Then Dad says, ―Could he have spiked the brownies?‖

―Very funny.‖

I flee to Shorr before they can make any other comments that might puncture my high. But that evening when I‘m back home at my computer, Dad knocks on my bedroom door.

―Come in,‖ I call as I turn off my monitor to hide my latest e-mail in progress to Wes.

He enters beaming. ―I just wanted to say congratulations again on your victory today, hon!‖

―You mean finally getting a date?‖

Dad smiles. ―I mean Science Quiz, my little champion.‖

―Thanks, Dad.‖ Truth is, I am pretty pleased with myself for helping win our last tournament, though I‘m not shedding any tears over the end of SQ. It can only mean more time to spend with my new favorite extracurricular.

―Hey, don‘t I get a hug?‖ he asks, extending his arms.

―Yeah, sure.‖ I reluctantly turn away from my computer and go to him.

After kissing Wes that weekend, touching my father suddenly feels weird. I don‘t know why it should, it‘s just Dad. But then again, he‘s a guy too, with a penis. Ick! I simulate hugging him by placing my limp hands on his shoulders and tensing up my arms. The second he releases me I retreat to my desk chair. Maybe I‘m getting too old for our bear hugs.

Dad takes a seat on the foot of my bed. ―So, Dom, now that Science Quiz is over, do you think you‘ll have time to go fishing in Sanibel with Mom and me this Saturday?‖

―You know I don‘t fish anymore. Plus, I‘ll be seeing Wes.‖

―Yeah…about that Wes kid.‖ Dad rests his elbows on his knees and puts his preachy face on.

Obviously, this is what he came in here to talk about. ―Dom…in some way, I‘m actually damned proud of you because I know how much you wanted him, and you didn‘t stop till you got him. I was wondering why you were so happy yesterday, and I gotta tell you, it‘s great to see you like this…. Just promiseme you‘ll be smart about…just don‘t let him pressure you into doing anything you shouldn‘t be doing. And you shouldn‘t be doing much, got it?‖

―Sure, Dad.‖ I give him a serious look and nod, praying he‘s not going to go into more detail.

―And you know you can talk to your mom and me about anything, right?‖

―Yep.‖ I nod more vigorously, hoping he‘ll get the hint and leave.

―By the way, why didn‘t he come to your match today?‖

―Dad, he had track practice, and it‘s really bad to miss that. Anyway, he‘d never expect me to miss SQ for a meet…. Was that question meant to make me doubt him?‖

―Dom.‖ He shakes his head. ―I was just curious. I was looking forward to seeing him again now that you two are, um, dating.‖

―Okay.‖ I turn back to my computer. ―Dad, I need to finish some homework now. I‘ll come in for dinner soon.‖

Later that night Grandma calls to congratulate me on the SQ finals, the broadcast of which she watched on a local TV station. Last time we spoke on the phone she made me feel like a hunchbacked alien for being single, so I assume the recent progress in my love life will please her.

―Is he going to be a doctor or lawyer?‖ she asks as soon as I mention Wes.

I roll my eyes. ―I think most doctors and lawyers are kind of old for me, Grandma.‖

―I just want someone who can provide for you, sweetheart.‖

―Well, maybe
I’m
going to be the doctor in the family.‖

―If you‘re a doctor, then how will you have the time to make a home for your husband and take care of children?‖

―Anyway,‖ I huff, counting to five to refuel my patience, ―this boy‘s so nice and incredibly smart. He‘s a track star.‖

―A what star?‖

―You know, running? Like in races.‖

―Does he try to have intercourse with you?‖

―Grandma!‖ I gasp. ―Not that it‘s any of your business, but no!‖

―Good. Remember, no ring, no ring-a-ding-ding. Because once you spread your legs for him, do you know where he‘ll race once he‘s done? He‘ll race to another woman, that‘s where. I expect my only granddaughter to wear white to her wedding and for it not to be a sham. If he loves you, he‘ll wait.‖

―Y-you know what?‖ I stammer, my face suddenly hot. ―I thought you‘d be happy for me.

Instead, you‘re telling me to dump him for a lawyer, that I shouldn‘t work, and that he‘s going to leave me if we have sex? Please! I‘m going now, and hopefully I‘ll forget how you ruined my good news like you always ruin everything. Goodbye!‖ I flip down the cell.

A few seconds later Mom bounds into my room. ―Are you okay, Dommie? We heard yelling.‖

―Yeah, I‘m fine. It‘s just that, God, Mom, I was in such a good mood too. Grandma drives me crazy sometimes.‖

―You‘re lucky you have one, though. Remember that.‖

After Mom leaves I lie down and punch a pillow. Maybe I was unduly horrible to her and should apologize. She really didn‘t say anything all that bad. She‘s just old-fashioned. And lonely.

Before I met Wes, I guess I was lonely too. I mean, I suppose I was happy enough, but now that I think about it, I don‘t remember about what.

I swallow my pride and dial her number.

16

G
oing to school Friday is pointless. I feel like a wild animal at a zoo, except the cages are made of windowless walls, lockers, bulletin boards, and splintery brown doors leading to dead-end classrooms, where poor schoolteachers who have given up on their own lives and probably haven‘t gotten laid in years find their only pleasure in testing us on depressing subjects. I resent having to learn about
Crime and Punishment,
the slave trade, and the division of cancer cells when all I want to think about is Wes.

I know there‘s no way I can finish out the day without going crazy, so I skip my last period, P.E., and pedal home as fast as I can, fueled by my growing excitement about commencing the second weekend of Wes and me as a couple. I luxuriate in the world‘s longest, most thorough shower and spend forever on the phone with Amy, trying to decide which bra and panties set I should wear. We settle on my white cotton with lace trim.

My hair is done, my makeup‘s applied, and my pink sundress is on by six o‘clock, an hour early.

I count away the final minutes while I sit in front of my air-conditioning vent because I‘m sweating in anticipation of seeing my boyfriend.
My boyfriend!

I say a quick good night to my parents, assuring them I‘ll be back by one, and I dash downstairs without giving them the opportunity to say more than ―Goodbye, be careful!‖

―I will,‖ I call back.

Wes is right on time. Just seeing his blue Explorer turn the corner onto my street makes my stomach flip.

When I climb into his passenger seat and proclaim, ―Why, hello there!‖ he responds with a quick ―hey‖ and a blank expression. Then silence. I‘m suddenly completely disoriented. We tongue-kissed for three hours straight last Saturday, and he wrote me five beautifully cheesy e-mails since then. So why does he look like someone died? Was the other night a fluke?

After three blocks of deafening quiet, Wes mutters, ―So, where do you want to go?‖

―Oh. Um, I‘m not sure.‖ I force a weak grin, trying to salvage some of the good feeling I had all day. But now that he mentions it, I‘m not sure what tonight is supposed to be. Does he want to go grab a bite to eat somewhere? Or does he just want to make out again? Or neither?

―Um,‖ I continue, ―I mean, we can do whatever. We can get takeout and watch something at my place, but my parents are home, so we can‘t…well—‖

―My parents are home too, and I‘m not hungry.‖

―Well, I don‘t know, then.‖

―I think I know of someplace.‖

I want to ask him where, but he looks weirded out, almost upset, so I don‘t want to pester him with questions. Instead, I sit back in the seat and stare out my window, watching the ugly strip malls race by and bracing myself for the worst.

Fort Myers hugs the Gulf Coast, so there are a ton of docks. Some of them are really fancy with big yachts lined up in neat rows, and others are old industrial sites that can get pretty sketchy.

Wes pulls into the parking lot of a dock that‘s definitely one of the latter, and we‘re the only ones here besides a few scraggly seagulls. Maybe Wes does want to make out. Or maybe he wants to tell me it‘s over, and he chose a secluded spot in case I make a scene.

After he parks, I break our four-mile silence. ―Not to be a drag, but you‘re sure this place is safe?‖

―It‘s not like we‘re in the South Bronx, Dom.‖

―I know, I know. But still.‖ Dad‘s always reminding me how Fort Myers has a significant crime rate for a midsized city, so I‘m a lot more conscious of these things than the average suburban teen.

Wes says, ―Paul told me he sets off sparklers here sometimes and that no one ever comes by.‖

―Okay. I guess it‘s fine, then.‖

More silence. Just the hum of the engine. He‘s not touching me. He‘s not even looking at me.

That‘s it. He‘s not into me anymore. I want to die.

―Dom?‖ he says, staring straight ahead.

―Yes?‖ I choke.

―I actually barfed this morning I missed you so badly.‖

―What?‖ I burst out laughing, utterly relieved.

Wes looks down at his lap and shakes his head. ―This week was torture. All I wanted was to be alone with you again, to make sure it was real. I can‘t believe I‘m somebody‘s boyfriend.‖

―Yeah, I know what you mean.‖ I make a mental note that when Wes looks sad, it‘s not necessarily because he‘s upset with me. He‘s distant and withdrawn because he misses me, not because he doesn‘t. Then I muse, ―It‘s strange, Wes, I…I feel like we should be going out to dinner and a movie, a traditional date or something. And that we should be, you know, talking.

Talking about us and stuff and making plans. But we‘ve been talking for weeks, and now that we‘re alone…‖

Wes turns to me and looks into my eyes. ―I don‘t want to
talk,
Dom.‖

With that, he turns off the engine, and my body switches to autopilot.

17

I
lean over and kiss Wes on the mouth. Then I crawl onto his lap. Soon we‘re Frenching and holding each other just like we did on my couch last week. I love how comfy and familiar everything suddenly feels between us, but I think we‘re both a little nervous too, especially Wes.

His palms are really sweaty, so he keeps having to wipe them across the cloth upholstery.

After beeping the horn by mistake, which for some reason elicits gut-splitting laughter from both of us, we migrate to the backseat and continue kissing. The windows are darkly tinted, so I feel invisible to the outside world, as if we‘re in our own private little cave. It‘s impossible to get comfortable, though. Wes is so tall he can barely move without knocking his head and feet against the door handles and window controls, and the seat belt catches keep digging into our thighs and torsos. Wes mentions the backseats can be moved, so we shift them forward and spread out in the expanded trunk space. This is the first time we‘re actually lying down together, and it definitely makes everything seem a lot more sexual.

I guess Wes feels it too because soon he‘s nibbling at my ears, which is actually really nice, like an unannoying kind of tickling. I had no idea that area of the body was so sensitive. Then without warning Wes bites my neck.

―Ouch, ooh!‖ I whinny.

―Oh, sorry.‖ He pulls back. ―Crap, I don‘t know what came over me. I‘m so sorry, Dom!‖

―No, it‘s okay. I liked it, really, just a little bit softer, maybe,‖ I try to reassure him, not wanting him to clam up again. ―Um, you can do it again if you want.‖

―Not if it hurts you.‖

―Well, if you don‘t, I will!‖

I summon up all my impulsiveness, lean over, and gently gnaw at the depressed area over his left collarbone. It tastes…like nothing in particular. Maybe slightly salty.

―Mmmm,‖ he says, ―that is kinda nice. Good pain.‖

―Yikes!‖ I lean back. ―Are we entering into the realm of S and M already?‖

―I‘ll just call you Dominatrix,‖ Wes says before lightly biting me again on my neck, then high on my chest. Soon I feel his hands start to explore my back. When his fingers reach the zipper of my dress, a part of me wants to say we should stop. A very small part. One that is easily ignored.

―Wes?‖

―Yeah?‖ he practically pants.

―Do you want to…?‖

Wes freezes up and spurts, ―Do I want to what?‖

I sit up next to him. ―It‘s okay if you want to take off my dress.‖

I hear him swallow nervously. ―Yeah?‖ he breathes. ―Do you want me to?‖

I don‘t know where my audacity comes from, maybe from having fantasized about this moment for so many weeks, but I get up on my knees and unzip my sundress so the top part is hanging over my waist like an apron. I can almost feel his blue eyes piercing into my chest.

I slide my left forefinger under my left bra strap and ask, ―So, I guess you‘ve never tried taking one of these off a girl before, huh?

―Of course not.‖ He smiles. ―But I can try.‖

I lean toward him and we kiss again. Both his hands are on my back now as he reaches for my bra clasp. I can immediately tell he has no clue. He starts to tug on it a little, then move it up and down.

―Ouch,‖ I squeal as his nails dig into my skin by mistake.

―Sorry. I‘m such a loser. It‘s like trying to get out of Chinese finger cuffs.‖

―You just haven‘t had the practice. I‘ve been taking these things on and off since I was eleven.‖

―Can you show me how? I mean, if that‘s all right.‖

―Um, yeah, that‘d be fine.‖

I reach my hands behind my back. ―You just grab the two parts and pull them together a little.‖ I unhook my bra but keep it on. ―Voilà.‖