Anatomy of a Single Girl (12 page)

Soon I’m pushing Guy off.

“I’m sorry,” I pant as if I just swam a mile. “I need a break. It’s like I’m out of shape.”

He laughs and wipes his mouth with his knuckles. “That’s fine. Take five.”

I also need to pee, so I excuse myself and head next door to the hall bathroom. I’d be more repulsed by its mildewy stench and carpet of pubes if I weren’t so amazed that I’m mid-hookup with one of the finest guys in Florida. Then, as I’m washing my hands, the ringtone for my parents’ landline blares on my cell. They wouldn’t be calling this late unless something were wrong.

“Yeah?” I answer anxiously.

“Oh, thank God!” Dad wheezes. Then I hear him mumble to Mom that I’m fine.

“Dad, you okay? What’s going on there?”

“I woke up with indigestion from that damn French restaurant your mother and I had dinner at, so I went to the living room to watch TV, and I saw your door was open and you weren’t here.”

“So? I’m hanging out with Guy. He was at the concert I texted you that I was going to with Amy.”

“Fine, but it’s after one. It looks like
someone
forgot her curfew.”

I almost drop the phone.

“Um, actually, Dad, it looks like
someone
forgot I’m no longer in high school.”

“It looks like
someone
forgot she’s now living with her parents.”

“It looks like
someone
forgot I can stay out as late as I want in college.”

“It looks like
someone
forgot Fort Myers can be a dangerous city after hours, and her folks sleep a lot better knowing she’s safe in her room.”

“It looks like
someone
forgot it’s completely unfair
that I have to be back at the same time I did when I was a minor!”

“Mmm.… All-righty, Dom. You have a point. From now on curfew’s one-thirty.”

“
One-thirty?
That’s, like, right now.”

“Which means
someone
had better start heading back ASAP. See you soon, hon.”

Dad hangs up, which is lucky—otherwise I might’ve snapped that the sobriety tests
someone
taught me just came in handy as foreplay. I realize that my parents worry because they love me and that they get to call the shots as long as I’m under their roof. Between this and the move, though, I’m really beginning to resent them.

Guy’s totally chill when I explain the situation, but as I stand to leave, he says, “Before I take you back, do you mind if I come first?”

“Hmm? Come where?”

He smiles like he’s holding in a laugh. Then he glances down at his shorts.

“Oh!” I clasp my fingers over my mouth and try not to laugh, either.

“The thing is, Dom, I don’t want to risk blue balls. That hurts like a mother.”

“Uh … well …” I’m still swallowing giggles. “Of course I don’t want you to be in pain, but Dad’s waiting up for me.”

“I can be quick when I have to.”

I have no problem saying no to him. Even if Guy gets any discomfort, I’ve read that it will disappear eventually. But since I’m already late, I suppose another few minutes won’t make a difference, so I tell him it’s fine.

I assume he’ll go to the bathroom, or that he’ll ask me to wait downstairs. Instead he springs back onto the bed, undoes his fly, and reaches for my right hand. “Wanna help the cause?”

I’ve given my ex dozens of hand jobs in the past, so none of this is foreign to me. Still, I wasn’t expecting any nakedness tonight, and I sense my whole body seizing up.

“Sorry, Dom. Is this too fast?”

“Well, more like too sudden. I just—”

“It’s cool. I’ll be only a minute.”

Guy then hikes up his T-shirt and pulls down his shorts and briefs so swiftly, I don’t have a chance to see his whole penis before he grabs hold of it and starts stroking furiously. I cover my mouth again, astonished he’s actually doing this
in front of
me. I couldn’t imagine touching myself with anyone else watching. It just seems so private, like going to the bathroom. But Guy doesn’t appear the least bit self-conscious, which is doubly impressive since what he’s doing isn’t exactly attractive. How is it that human anatomy evolved so that something as stupid-looking as a repetitive back-and-forth movement can generate the peak of physical ecstasy?

Guy wasn’t exaggerating about being fast. In a matter of seconds he’s grunting and convulsing. By the light of the lava lamp, it looks like his chest is being squirted with neon-green silly string.

After it’s over, Guy reaches for some tissues, which is when I get my first unobstructed view of him. Even in the dark it’s clear he’s bigger than my ex. That something so unimportant can make me so thrilled is absurd. Nonetheless, I feel like I definitely gained the lead in the exes happiness
contest, and a smug grin coils across my face for the entire car ride back to my building.

“You’d better go in now,” Guy says when we pull in front of the entrance. “I don’t want you to get
grounded
.”

I shake my head. “Mom and Dad are being
so
ridiculous. There’ve been plenty of times when I’ve come home for school breaks this year and stayed out past one, and they never found out, ’cause they were asleep. And if Dad’s that concerned with Fort Myers being dangerous, why’d he even let me go to Tulane, which is in the most dangerous city in the country?”

“I think it’s a law of nature that parents are unreasonable, and it’s harder to take the older we get. When I went home last summer, mine drove me so crazy, I almost ran away. That’s why I kept my distance this summer. I will next summer, too.”

I wonder if this will be my last summer with my parents as well. I don’t know whether I’m relieved or sad at that prospect.

“Well, thanks for the lift, Guy.”

“Thanks for coming out.”

Guy leans over, cups my face in his hands, and kisses me until my whole mouth numbs.

“FYI,” I gasp while floating out of his car, “the invitation’s still open for that wedding next month, if you’re free.”

“I think that can be arranged. Oh, and I still have your Herophilus book. I haven’t had time to read it yet. When I finished, I
was
just gonna drop it off at the front desk at your hospital, but—”

“Now you won’t have to.” I smile, glad to know that I’ll
be seeing the book again after all. Before tonight, I’d written it off as breakup damages.

Back upstairs, I fill out Matt and Brie’s RSVP card for two attendees. As I drop it down the mail slot, I think how, by Guy’s definition anyway, I have a boyfriend again, and
our
curfew is in five weeks.

15

“B
ruce kissed me at Chamber last night,” Amy announces over breakfast at IHOP, where I’m wolfing down scrambled eggs as if my life depended on it. It’s remarkable how ravenous hooking up can make you. “But I pulled away and told him I had a boyfriend. He didn’t seem pleased.”

“Well, you
were
pretty touchy-feely at the concert, so maybe that gave him the impression you
wanted
him to kiss you.”

“Whatever. All that matters is I didn’t kiss back, though it was tough not to. That Bruce is one fine frat boy.”

“Are you going to tell Joel?”

“Why should I? It was a one-way snog that I intercepted on contact. There’s no sin to confess.” She takes a bite of her hash browns and smirks. “It’s not like I watched him beat off or anything.”

We both bust up again.

“I still can’t believe how casual Guy was about that.”

“Well, he’s obviously very secure in his sexuality and probably incredible in the sack, which means you’re in for quite the summer. First you study biology, now
Guy
-ology. Eek! I’m so stoked—you’re gonna be ‘taking a
luv-ah
.’ ”

“Or not. I’m fine just fooling around with him. And just because I’ve done it with one boy doesn’t mean I’m obligated to do it with everyone else I go out with.”

“True, but if
I
became single again, I don’t think abstinence would be in the cards anymore. Once you’ve ridden the roller coaster, the Ferris wheel’s kinda restricting. And with Beta-boy, maybe you’ll finally
like
doing the deed.”

“I liked it before.”

Amy raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not lying, Ames. I loved the closeness of it.”

“You know what I mean. Sometimes when I’m with Joel, oh, my God, it feels so brain-spinningly fantastic I think I’m going to croak. The only thing that replicates it is the vibrator I bought when he started camp. It’s much better than the wand massager I used before. But it’s still not as fun as actually being with him—”

“
Thank you
for those lovely images.” I look around us to make sure no one’s listening in. “And it’s not that I wouldn’t like to do it with Guy. I think all the time about how it’d be with him. But I don’t know if it’s worth going there at this
point. It’s already more than halfway through July, and we all know what happens next month.”

“But aren’t rebounds supposed to be quick? Anyway, everyone says that the best way to get
over
someone is to get
under
someone else. This could be your next ‘experiment.’ ”

“Yeah, ’cause my Cal one turned out
so
awesome for me.”

“Well, whatever you decide, I’m just glad you and Beta-boy kissed and made
out
. ’Cause, actually”—she shifts on the booth cushion and strokes her locket—“Joel asked me to visit again next weekend, and now that you have a playmate, I’ll feel a lot less guilty about skipping town.”

I gulp down my orange juice and try to smile for her. I’m unsuccessful.

“Of course you can come with me,” Amy continues, “but then you’d have to leave your
toy
friend. And after last night, it’ll be good for me to catch up on some couple’s time with Joel if we’re gonna make it until Matt and Brie-
dzilla
say ‘I do.’ Being apart brings too many temptations. I gotta remember to pack bug spray, though.…”

I wish I could be happy about her trip. Instead I’m distraught that at the rate everything’s going, this will probably be my last summer with my best friend, and it’s not even a whole summer. None of this is shocking, though. It’s yet another example of how the person you’re physical with takes priority, and I’m just as bad. When Amy asks if we’re having a sleepover later, I tell her I already made plans to stay late at Guy’s. She completely understands.

After Guy answers the Beta house door that evening, we barely say hello to each other before we’re back in his bed. At first it irks me that his brothers are just down the hall, but so
what if they assume we’re hooking up? It’s true, and there’s no shame in it. I even feel an illicit thrill from them knowing that there’s more to me than the grade-grubber most people pigeonhole me as. It makes me extra eager to take things further with Guy, which he must perceive, because after only a few minutes of kissing, I feel his right hand slither up my arm and over my collarbone before settling over my right breast.

“This cool so far?” he asks while gliding his hand to my left one.

“Well … my shirt loves it, but I don’t feel a thing,” I reply with a boldness I didn’t know I was capable of.

“Okay.” He laughs. “I get the hint.”

Guy begins unlacing my peasant blouse. I’m also wearing a camisole and bra, despite it being ninety degrees outside. Even though I already counted on us shedding our clothing tonight, I wanted to have on as many layers as possible to give myself extra time to back out in case I started having doubts.

A minute later Guy easily unclasps my bra but pauses without moving the straps. It’s my final chance to object, but I still have no impulse to stop. I’m glad I prolonged this whole process, though. A boy sees a girl topless for the first time only once, and the anticipation of the big reveal is really exciting. I feel like I’m a present being unwrapped. I nod for Guy to go ahead. He slowly draws the bra off.

Then he just grins for a moment before tearing off his own shirt, lunging downward like a hawk, and sucking my nipples. It’s wrong that an act meant for nursing infants should feel this good. Next, he nestles his nose in between
my breasts and motorboats away, which doesn’t feel as good as it does gratifying. Of all the far more endowed girls in Fort Myers, Guy’s choosing to do this with me. Soon we’re Frenching again while Guy kneads both my breasts with his hands, and I’m getting so turned on, I yank down his cargo shorts and let him slip off my capris, which also takes him a while, since I purposely wore my pair with a button fly. When he starts fiddling with the hem of my panties, I wait for my conscience to flood with misgivings about exposing my crotch to a boy I’ve known for only two weeks. Instead I feel myself nodding once more, and suddenly I’m nude.

But then Guy switches on his bed lamp.

“Guy! No!” I grab the pillow and hold it over my torso.

“Yikes. Sorry, Dom.” He turns off the lamp, leaving the green lava globs as the only light source. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to see you better.”

“I know. I’m not mad. I just prefer it dark.”

“Okay, that’s cool … but may I ask why?”

I never gave it much thought before, but doesn’t everyone make out in the dark? I always did, at least when I was undressed. It just feels less exploitative than with light, which showcases every stray hair my razor missed, those ugly little bumps on my areolas, and the uglier stretch marks I got spring semester from working off the freshman fifteen I packed on in the fall.

“I guess I just feel … sexier with the lights off.”

“But you’re gorgeous, Dom!”

“Thanks,” I say weakly.

“That’s it. I’m staging an intervention. Don’t wig out.”

Guy turns the lamp back on but angles the bulb toward
the wall so it’s still dim. Then he jumps up out of bed and stands before the full-length mirror hanging on his closet door. He waves his hand for me to follow.

“Really, Guy. This is unnecessary.”

“Why don’t you look for just … ten seconds? I’ll even time it. Please?”