Everyone We've Been (25 page)

Life continues to be very cruel to us and then one day, about two weeks later, I'm sprawled out over my bed, surrounded by Spanish homework, with zero desire to tackle it. So I pick up my viola and am playing an elegy by Stravinsky, a deceptively slow-moving piece that is bittersweet and sounds like falling or watching a shadowy graveyard or the kind of heavy storm that rolls in cloud by cloud, when I get a call from At Home Movies.

“Hello?”

“Hey,
baby.
I got let go from Pizza Hut. Which, I'm told, means fired.”

“Kevin?” I ask after a moment of trying to place the voice.

“You know it, babe.”

In the background, I hear Zach yelling something.

“You got fired? What happened?” I ask.

“I called my boss a fox. I guess that's not allowed,” he says dismissively.

“Oh my God,” I say, swallowing a laugh so as not to encourage him. “That's terrible.”

“Eh,” Kevin replies, and I can picture him shrugging.

I am about to ask why he called—other than to tell me he got fired—when he says, “Zach says hi.”

“Say hi back,” I tell Kevin.

“She says hi,” I hear Kevin say. “Zach also says that friend of yours, the blond one, is a babe and would be perfect for me.”

“Kevin,” I hear Zach say, and then there's some sort of scrambling, scratching sound. And then a slap that is followed by Kevin snort-laughing and continuing to slap what sounds like the counter.

“Oh God, sorry about that,” Zach says, sounding a bit out of breath.

“It's okay. I can't believe he got fired,” I say.

“Can't you?” Zach deadpans, and I laugh.

“So, listen, my parents are going to Caldwell again, and I was supposed to watch Kevin until they get back tomorrow, but now he's
fired,
so he's going
with them.
”

“Okay,” I say, mimicking his tone, “
that's
good to
know.
”

“No, no,” Zach says, and I can hear the smile in his voice, picture him bringing the phone closer to his mouth as he speaks. “They're gone till
Saturday.
With Kevin.”

Oooh.
Now I'm catching on. “What about the store?”

“It might be closing earlier tonight. You never know.”

I faux-gasp. “Can you do that? Your dad will freak.”

“We haven't had a customer in
six
hours. Somehow I doubt in two—”

A scrambling sound, Mr. Laird's voice, a pause, and then, “So where were we, babe?”

“Kevin, stop flirting with my girlfriend!” I hear Zach say, and I can't help smiling.
My girlfriend.

Zach's
girlfriend.

“Zach's back pretending to stock shelves now,” Kevin informs me. “He says please let him know of your decision.”

“Tell him yes,” I say.

“She says yes.”

“Zach said to tell you that just so you know”—he pauses while Zach passes on a message I can't hear—“he has sent a strongly worded text to Raj.”

More mumbling from Zach.

“With threats of dismemberment and/or”—more mumbling—“Raj wearing the nun costume for the next ten films”—more mumbling—“if he comes within a mile of our house tonight.”

I laugh into the phone.

“Why can't Raj come to our house?” Kevin asks Zach.

“Tell Zach,” I say, “that I do not condone dismemberment or threats of any kind, but that sounds perfect.”

Kevin relays the message. I'm already texting Katy to cover for me and pretend I'm spending the night at her place.

U slotmachine!
she texts back instantly.
But done.

“Have a good trip to Caldwell tonight,” I tell Kevin.

“It would be better if
you
were going,” Kevin says.

“Kevin,” I hear Zach say on the other end. “Didn't you get
fired
for this?”

I haven't been this nervous about seeing Zach since the day we met. When he opens the front door, we stand there and grin awkwardly at each other. Then Zach holds the door open for me to come in, and I do.

So we continue smiling awkwardly at each other in the foyer until Zach laughs and says, “There is no way to be smooth about this. Do you want to come upstairs?”

I laugh now, too, and he leads me up to his room, holding my hand.

I tell him how I only just managed to get here. Despite the pains I'd taken to create an alibi with Katy, Mom set up camp in the living room tonight and patted the couch as I approached to ask if I could borrow her car. Caleb was already in the chair across from her, his hairy feet on the ottoman, and his eyebrows went way up when I mumbled something about wanting to meet Katy to practice for orchestra and how we had a chem project and also she was tutoring me in English. I was
not
a good liar.

“I did pretty well in
English,
” Caleb said. “Want me to tutor you?”

“That's okay,” I said quickly, and shot him a pointed look. A part of me was worried; Caleb might decide to call me out just because, just to remind me that we aren't allies. But he only smirked at me. To my surprise, Mom was relatively easy to convince, but she made me promise to spend next weekend at Dad's, since Caleb had been there the last two, and I'd seen my father once all summer.

“Sure, I promise!” I said, a little too quickly and brightly to be believable. How had I made it into Zach's movie again?

Zach cracks up as I relay this to him.

His room is cleaner than I've ever seen it. All the DVDs usually strewn on the floor everywhere are stacked against the wall. Some of the posters that were half falling off the walls are taped on properly, and his bed is neatly made. I feel honored that he picked up for me, and then I feel nervous that he picked up for me, and then I don't know
how
I feel, but my heart beats an unsteady staccato against my ribs.

I put my bag on the table, which is full of books and camera equipment.

“You know,” Zach says when I turn around again, “we don't have to do anything tonight.” I can almost feel the heat drifting off his face; his cheeks are a warm red. “We can just, like, watch movies. Or…”

While he's trying to think of another suggestion, I press my lips against his. He looks caught off guard but recovers quickly and kisses me back. We back up until his legs hit the bed. He lies back against the mattress, with me on top of him, our lips never losing contact.

We kiss like we don't have enough time in the world. He's out of breath and I kiss him, filling up his lungs, and then I'm out of breath and we volley the tiny amount of air in this room back and forth and back and forth and somehow it seems to be enough.

When we stop to catch our breath, I sit up, my legs on either side of him, and he props himself on his elbows while I try to take off his shirt.

He helps me yank it over his head and then he flicks it away. His lips move all over my neck as he tries to undo the zipper of my dress.

“Son of a bitch,” he hisses after a few unsuccessful attempts. He pauses for a moment, concentrating hard to get it down, and I laugh.

He gets it halfway and his hands are like fire on my bare back.

I climb off his legs and take a step back; he stands, unbuckling his belt. We watch each other as my dress falls past my hips and hits the ground and his jeans fall past his hips and he steps out of them.

I feel warm everywhere just from his eyes. I feel their fingers travel the length of my body, from my head to the tips of my toes, to my ears and neck and everywhere.

His face is flushed, too, and I think, I hope, I'm having the same effect on him.

Zach frowns, looking away suddenly. I crawl into the bed, still in my underwear, while he searches for his wallet on the ground and comes away with a small silver packet.

He crawls under the covers now, too, and we're facing each other, breathing on each other's lips but not kissing.

His voice hitches like it's hard to swallow when he says, “You're beautiful.” And I believe him, because he looks at me as if I am.

We kiss again, and seconds later, he is on top of me, all our clothes gone now. Nothing between his skin and mine.

He props his elbows on either side of me.

“Have you ever, um, done this before?” he asks, even though we've already talked about it. I mean, he knows he's my first real boyfriend; I guess he just wants to be sure.

“Tons of times,” I joke, and we laugh despite our trembling. Both of us a lot smaller, more fragile, without our clothes on. Zach was with Lindsay for two years, and I know his answer to this question.

“There was Stu. Kindergarten. He pulled my hair, so that's one,” I continue, even though I just want to be quiet so this can happen.
Shut up shut up shut up,
a voice screams in my head, but I'm a prisoner to whatever is happening to my mouth, which won't stop moving all of a sudden.

“And then there was, in seventh grade, Grant. Acrobat-Tongue Grant. He had the tongue of a serpent,” I say.

Zach rumbles on top of me as he laughs, but he's still holding himself up, leaving only inches between our bodies.

“There was also Eric Johns and he got to second base and oh God I don't know why I'm still talking.” I cover my face with my hands.

Zach laughs and kisses the center of my chest. “I'm not sure I like this Eric Johns.” He looks up at me again. “And after that?”

The air in the room has shifted again, more serious and so still that I feel like I can hear both our hearts beating.

“It's all you,” I say.

Zach nods and kisses me gently. He is careful and keeps asking if I'm okay, if this is okay, if I'm still okay, and I bite my lower lip, nodding yes, when the truth is that we're both trembling.