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“Hard time, huh?”

“That’s what I said. Hard time. And then I got out and realized I’d gone home to nothing. No friends. No freedom. No car. Nothing. I pretty much lost everything, as you know.”

“You were the saddest girl in the world those first few weeks of school,” Mark said. He was teasing me just a bit.

“Be nice. It was hard.”

“I know, Cadence. And that’s why I really tried to make it better for you,” Mark said.

“Hmm. You ended up making it worse because you were so confusing,” I admitted.

“I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t” I countered. “You’re not sorry at all.”

Mark grinned. “You know what I’m excited about?”

“What’s that?”

“The fact that I have you all day. And all night again.”

I blushed. “We can’t exactly go anywhere. Sorry you have to hole yourself up in your apartment with me.”

“I don’t wanna go anywhere. I have big plans for us that include board games and movies and cooking.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to help you cook,” I said.

“I was just teasing you earlier, Cadence,” Mark replied.

“But I really don’t know how to cook.”

“That’s okay. I’ll just dress you up in an apron and let you fetch me things.”

I looked at him flatly.

“Oh, and you’ll be naked under the apron. Just so you know.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“Are you excited for today?”

I blushed again and nodded.

“Good.”

“I had this song on a continuous loop in my head the first time I saw you.” Mark sat on the couch and watched me finger his records.

We were listening to DJ Premier’s “Gettin’ Closer to God,” and I stopped rifling through the albums.

“You did?”

Mark smiled. “I thought you were an angel. The sun was to your back. It lit up your hair. Your face. Remember that light I was telling you about?”

I nodded. I still didn’t understand.

“You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And when you came into my classroom that first day of school, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

“Heaven for you, maybe. It was hell for me,” I said. I tried to make it sound casual, like I really didn’t care.

“I know that day was rough for you, Cadence.”

“You didn’t help by yelling at me,” I reminded him.

“You’re right. I had no business yelling at an angel,” Mark said. He stood up and turned off the record. I watched him scan his CD collection and pull a case from the shelf. “You made my heart feel like this the first time you winked at me.”

He played a new song—a bright explosion of beats—cheerful and funky and fun.

“When I winked at you?”

“That Saturday we volunteered to clean up those houses,” Mark said.

Oh, yes. I remembered now.

“What’s the name of this song?” I asked.

“‘Boom’.”

“The name of the song is ‘Boom’?”

Mark nodded.

“Of course it is,” I said, smiling. “Did I really make your heart explode?”

“Yes, you did. You still do.”

He sat on the floor beside me and crossed his legs Indian style.

“So what do you wanna be when you grow up?” he asked.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” I said. “I guess I should though, huh? I don’t wanna wander aimlessly through the first years of college.”

“Smart girl.”

“I really love flowers,” I said. “One of my favorite times during the day—apart from seeing you, of course—is working at Millie’s.”

“Then maybe you should consider a career as a florist. Own your own shop,” he suggested.

I smiled. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

“Then you can be my flower girl,” Mark said.

It sounded like he was including me in his future plans, and it made me feel safe. I don’t know if I was supposed to feel that way, or if I was supposed to want independence, but either way, I liked hearing him claim me for his own.
His
flower girl. No one else’s.

I realized in that moment that I was one hundred percent female. Sounds silly. I knew it all along when I looked at my naked body, but for the first time I was seeing my naked mind, open and vulnerable to me, revealing that feminine wiring so distinctly different from men’s. Not anything of weaker value. Just different. Maybe softer. And that wiring showed me my desires. I wanted him to cradle me in his arms, tell me I was beautiful, and take care of me. In return, I thought I could do the same.

“Will you lie on top of me?” I asked. It came out of nowhere.

“You want me to lie on top of you?”

“Yeah. Right here on the floor. I wanna feel your full weight on me,” I replied.

“I’ll crush you, Cadence,” he said.

“I don’t think I’d mind.” And that was the truth. I thought I’d like to feel the air pushed out of my chest, the heaviness of male muscles pinning me to the floor, driving me into it. The weight of someone my exact opposite.

“Please?”

Mark crawled on top of me, and I lay back on the carpet, spreading my legs to accommodate him.

“I really don’t wanna crush you,” he said, hovering over me with most of his weight on his elbows.

“I’m not completely fragile,” I argued.

He smirked and leaned into me, and I immediately felt the gentle expulsion of all my oxygen, like he stole it away with a kiss, though his lips never touched mine.

“I can’t breathe,” I said, but I didn’t panicked.

Mark propped himself up on his elbows immediately.

“I didn’t say to do that. Lie on me again.”

“You said you couldn’t breathe, Cadence.”

“Just do it,” I demanded, and he fit his chest over mine once more. Immediately, most of the air was forced out of me, and I reveled in the feel of complete powerlessness. I tried for words, though I knew they would eat up the little reserve of oxygen in my mouth. “You could do anything you wanted to me.”

“I know,” he said into my ear.

The aching started between my legs.

“But I’ll never hurt you, Cadence. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” I said, and felt the last of my breath go, creeping past my lips in no particular hurry. And then he put his full weight on me for the first time, and I panicked, jerking my arms and legs. He sat up on his heels and looked down at me. His facial expression said, “See? That’s 190 pounds.” I stared at him with new appreciation for his strength.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I nodded dumbly, and then I grabbed his shirtfront and pulled him down on me again. I kissed him roughly, wrapping my legs around him, daring him to put his full weight on me once more.

“No, Cadence,” he said into my mouth.

“Make love to me.”

“Not yet,” he replied, kissing my forehead and cheeks and nose.

“Why?”

“Be patient, Cadence,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I want it now,” I complained.

“I know,” he replied. “But you’ll be happy we waited. And anyway, I don’t want my first time with you to be on the living room floor.”

“Then let’s go to the bedroom,” I suggested.

“No.”

“I hate that word.”

“You hate it coming out of your father’s mouth. Not mine.”

“I hate it regardless,” I pouted.

Mark leaned over and kissed my neck. “No, you don’t.”

I felt real sexual frustration for the first time—an intense, almost unfair aching between my legs that screamed at me, “Put something in it!” How could I ache for something I’d never before experienced? It was unsettling and forced me confront my animal nature. I always thought men were the animals—raw, rough sexuality. That’s bullshit. Women can be just as rough and raw. And suddenly, I didn’t think I was ready to witness myself in the throes of “rough and raw.”

“You’re right,” I said quickly. “Get off me.”

Mark burst out laughing. “Sure thing. After we make out.”

***

Saturday was a dream day. I didn’t want it to end and kept checking to see how much time I had left. It was never enough, and I panicked, going through his things, trying to learn as much as I could before tomorrow morning when I would have to leave early to be home in time for church.

“Cadence, you act like this is the only time you’ll be over here,” Mark said, banging around some pans in the kitchen.

I don’t know why I had the unsettling feeling that it might, and I voiced it aloud.

“You’re paranoid,” Mark said. “Now get in here and help me.”

After we ate, we listened to records while I worked on a short English assignment. Mark graded papers. He gave me a taste of his beer when I asked, then laughed when I screwed up my nose.

“Gross,” I muttered. “I prefer wine.”

“Yeah, I know you do. But I’m not giving you any while you do homework.”

“You’re gonna help me with math, right?” I asked. “I mean, that’s really the whole reason I came over. To get some help with these limits.”

“I knew you were only using me for my brain,” he said. “Maybe I’ll help you, but what’s in it for me?”

“An exchange of services, huh?” I asked. “Well, what do you want?”

“Plenty,” he replied.

“You’ve gotta narrow it down a bit,” I said.

Mark’s eyes sparkled with a childlike mischievousness. He arched his eyebrow, and my instinct was to place my hand over the bulge between his legs. His eyes went wide with disbelief. “No, Cadence! That’s not what I meant!”

“What? You have a problem with it?” I asked. “Why do you think I don’t wanna touch you?”

“I just don’t want to scare you,” he said. I think he realized how stupid or completely conceited he sounded.

I burst out laughing. “Are dicks normally scary?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what women think.”

“Well, I don’t know what women think either, but
I
think I’d like to touch you.”

I tried not to laugh when I thought about the exchange of services: a hand job for calculus help. I said it aloud, and Mark flinched.

“Let’s leave anything to do with school out of this,” he said.

“What? It’s funny,” I replied. “Stop being so uptight.”

He relaxed then and watched me carefully as I unbuttoned his jeans. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I’d never touched one or seen one in the flesh. My limited knowledge of penises extended to the sex ed class at school. But a flat picture in a book is far different from the real thing. I couldn’t pretend to have a clue.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said, and it came out a mixture of fear and irritation. And maybe a sprinkle of fascination thrown in, too.

Mark sighed. Not out of frustration, though. It sounded like a sigh of helplessness. Did he not know how to direct me?

“Cadence, I feel weird about this,” he said. I unzipped his jeans but stopped when he grabbed my hand. “Let’s just wait.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Something feels strange to me about it,” he said.

I cocked my head. “Really? You ate me out this morning.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. It just is.”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” I said.

“I don’t wanna be the one teaching you how to do that,” he blurted.

“Why?”

“Because it makes me feel guilty.”

“Why?”

“Jesus Christ, Cadence! I don’t know.”

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” I replied automatically.

“Oh, man. Okay,
that’s
why,” he said, and pushed my hand away, zipping and buttoning his pants.

“What? Because I’m a Christian? I can’t touch you or blow you because I’m a Christian?” I wasn’t mad when I said it. I was confused. I really wanted to understand where he was coming from.