Love and Other Theories (7 page)

F
rom out Nathan’s back window I can’t see anything. It’s so dark. All that’s visible is his face right in front of mine, and all I can feel are his hands, moving under my shirt.

Thanks to urban sprawl and suburban spread, the best place to park your car, if your intention is to fool around in the backseat, is in a vacant housing development still under construction. All the roads have been paved, but the houses aren’t built yet because the developers are still selling off the lots. I could have taken us to the actual lookout point, where we’d have to share the parking lot with other couples, or into the woods along the outskirts
of town, but I’m not sure his car can handle the back roads.

Just like yesterday, Nathan finds it incredibly hilarious that this is the location we
park
at. And, just like yesterday, I kiss Nathan like I’ve been doing it for weeks instead of days.

We spent a good twenty minutes inside my house talking to my parents but rushed through dinner at the Italian joint Nathan picked out. Nathan wasn’t craving chicken parmigiana as much as he was craving me.

I press my hands into Nathan’s bare chest and grind my hips into him. He slips his hands under my bra straps, lets them dangle around my shoulders, but doesn’t take off my bra.

With my parents, Nathan was courteous and charming. They were impressed, naturally. Especially that he’ll most likely be attending Barron next year. Nathan wants to be a civil engineer, which is what my father is, and, surprisingly, the insta-bond they established just seconds after they shook hands pleases me. Nathan also succeeded in distracting my father from that whole I’m-the-guy-hooking-up-with-your-daughter thing that Trip could never pull off. Even my younger brothers loved him, because unlike Trip, Nathan didn’t try to get them to go outside and play catch. Nathan asked them to explain the video game they were playing—which is all Gregory and Jason are capable of talking about anyway. Gregory
is twelve and Jason is nine, so video games are still their number one priority. And better yet, Nathan actually seemed to understand what they were saying. He was even able to give them advice for advancing to the next level. My mother liked Nathan too; her loose smile and lax posture made it obvious she was relieved he was so easy for everyone to talk with. I know what she must have said to my father after we left:
I like him—he’s so well mannered
. And my father said back to her,
Anyone who knows about structural design is A-okay in my book
.

Nathan’s hands are in my hair. Nathan’s hands are on my hips. All I can think about is how impressive he was with my family. I kiss him as hard as I can. I bite his lower lip.

“You’re amazing,” he tells me in between kisses.

“I know” is what comes out. Shelby has always told me to be cocky in bed, and apparently I’ve been listening.

He laughs into my mouth and it’s the best feeling ever. His hands travel up my neck and he grabs my face, pulling back a little so he can he can look into my eyes. “I’m serious,” he says. “I feel like I can talk to you for hours. And
this
. I could do this for hours too.”

My heart starts to hiccup as his lips move down my neck.

“I’m so glad I met you.”

He’s not lying. I’m straddling him and practically topless.

I pull his head up so I can reach his lips and I kiss him hard, but I don’t say anything. I know better. It’s perfect that he’s here, now, when I finally have the time and freedom to live out these wild and blissful moments before I have to be a serious Barron freshman. And it’s the same for him, which makes everything about him feel wonderfully familiar. It makes all this even better.

Nathan cups his hands against my cheeks again. I watch his eyes tick back and forth over my face. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The last boy to tell me I was beautiful—and actually use the word—was Trip. I forgot how much I loved hearing it.

T
here are several reasons Nathan Diggs is adorable. He spends his lunch hour catching up on Spanish so he’s fully prepared come fifth period. He wants to bet before Drama about what kind of potato chips Mrs. Seymour will be eating while she teaches. He flies back to San Diego for his best friend’s birthday because, according to Nathan Diggs, when your best friend turns eighteen you don’t miss it. While it’s adorable, it also means he’s gone for the weekend, leaving straight after school on Friday.

My head spins a little with questions, specifically: While you’re seeing your best friend, will you be
hooking up with other girls? As in, girls you could talk to for hours and make out with for hours and who you think are beautiful?

I practice the art of suppression. I restrain these questions, and after a while they exist only in the form of a mild stomachache.

Luckily, it’s the beginning of the weekend and I do not have to work this month. My friends and I have big plans.

After school we all go to Shelby’s. It’s the best place to go because Shelby’s mom, Sandra, is never home on the weekends, especially since she started dating Phil three years ago. Sandra spends her weekends out of town with Phil, venturing north to the casinos or south to the lake.

“There you are!” Melissa shrieks when I walk through the front door. “I was starting to forget what you look like.”

Shelby and Melissa were the first to arrive since they drive together every day. They’re in the kitchen mixing drinks, and I join them after ditching my heavy winter coat in Shelby’s room.

“Sooooo . . . spiiiillll!” Melissa says, dangling a freshly mixed glass of vodka and diet tonic in front of my face as though she’s not going to give it to me until I do what she says. I snatch it out of her hands and a little drips on the counter.

“Is that Brey?” Sandra appears in the kitchen wearing a black dress and heels. Must be a casino kind of weekend. The diet tonic is sitting out on the counter, and Sandra must know what we’ve mixed with it. She doesn’t say anything. She never does, but I always expect her to.

“In the flesh.”

Shelby giggles.

“I hear there’s a new man in your life.”

I blush the way I always do when Sandra Chesterfield talks to me about boys. It’s like I’m thirteen all over again.

Phil walks into the living room and greets Sandra with a peck on the cheek.

“Get a room,” Shelby teases, looking only mildly disgusted.

“Hands where we can see them!” Melissa chants—something we used to say to embarrass Sandra whenever she had a guy over.

“You girls have fun,” Sandra says, rolling her eyes. “And don’t drink all of Phil’s beer!” she calls to us as she’s shutting the door.

We laugh because we would never. We like Phil. He’s not creepy like some of the other guys Sandra dated. Sure, he doesn’t have a whole lot of hair left, and Sandra is two inches taller than him when she wears heels, but, as Shelby puts it, “Sandra doesn’t lose as many points with Phil.” We certainly like Phil more than Shelby’s
dad, who only comes by to drop off money, which means he’s never around.

“You’ve been holed up in the back of that BMW for, like, two days—what the hell?” Shelby holds out straws for each of us. Melissa is quick to grab the pink straw and I’m stuck with the yellow one. She smiles like she’s won.

Shelby’s phone rings. Saved again.

As soon as I hear Shelby yell, I know she’s on the phone with her older sister, Sienna. “But we don’t want to leave that early—since when do you go to the bar at nine? Fine! Whatever—at least I’m not twenty-three and still completely dependent on my
mother
to pay my rent.”

Melissa and I laugh as Shelby slams her phone onto the counter.

“That was harsh,” I say in between giggles. Really, it’s not that harsh. It’s true. Sienna is twenty-three and constantly borrowing money from Sandra. And always to pay rent even though she works three days a week filing for the records department at the plant and is also a waitress at a restaurant by the highway.

It’s Sienna’s on-again-off-again-so-many-times-it’s-impossible-to-keep-track boyfriend, Allen Lysander, who’s the problem. Shelby says he’s a mooch, and that he only comes back to Sienna when he needs money. “It’s like she’s learned nothing from Sandra’s past male-misdemeanors,” Shelby says, and we all agree.

“She’s back with Allen,” Shelby informs us. “Minus twenty points.”

We’re keeping score. Because when one girl is stupid, it affects girls everywhere. Boys tell all their friends—anyone who will listen, really—when a girl does something foolish or degrading or crazy involving them. Pretty soon the idea that girls act ridiculous spreads like a rolling snowball.

And if boys think girls are stupid, that’s how they’ll treat them.

Our theories stop boys from thinking girls are crippled by their emotions, and needy, and dramatic, and dependent. We like to think that our evolved behavior is saving girlkind. Because let’s face it, we need saving.

“So how many points does Brey lose for hooking up with Nathan on his first day at Lincoln High?” Melissa says, bumping me with her hips.

“We didn’t have sex,” I tell them, my hands up, surrendering.

“Yet!” Both Shelby and Melissa say at the same time. They say “cheers” to this even though their drinks are still too full. Clear liquid splashes everywhere.

“She’ll gain ten points for being the first one to bed Nathan Diggs.” Shelby winks at me.

This makes us laugh, and we’re still laughing when Danica breezes through the front door. Her hair is wild and she’s got a ridiculous smile on her face. “What’s so funny?”

“Well, well, well, where have you been?” I ask, even though it’s so obvious. Danica has a poker face, but her hair always gives her away. Down and wild and obviously
handled.
She’s been with Robert.

“Whaaaat?” she says. Her smile fades slightly when she looks at Shelby.

“God, Danica, couldn’t you have waited until after the party to hook up with him?” Shelby frowns. “Sienna ditched us and we need a ride.” I’ve learned recently that it’s always easier to get a ride from Robert if he’s getting something in return, i.e., Danica.

“Maybe Nathan Diggs can give us a ride?” Danica says. “I saw him in the library today looking all studious and sexy.”

“He’s out of town,” I tell her.

“So what did I miss?” Danica takes a huge sip of her drink, then purses her lips together to keep a straight face. “Did you spill the dirty details about Diggs yet?”

“If someone says the word
spill
one more time, I’m going to lose it.” I press my fingers against my temple.

“Spill, spill, spill,” Melissa says, knocking into me, and once again, some of my drink trickles out of my glass.

A smile creeps onto my lips. “What do you heathens want to know?” Usually we just cover the basics: what was done, how long it lasted, and of course, how big it was. I didn’t tell them that Trip actually blushed the first time I saw him naked. Or that the first time he put his
hand up my skirt, it felt so good that I thought if he was going to stop touching me I’d have no choice but to rip out all my hair.

“Tell us everything!” Shelby slams her hand on the counter, impatient.

For some reason I don’t want to share. Nathan’s still a mystery at Lincoln High. This isn’t like when I started hooking up with Trip and everyone already knew what he was like between the sheets.

The first thing I think of to share is that Nathan was also accepted to Barron; that he was just as nervous about skipping school and getting called into the office as I was. How he insisted on meeting my parents and tried really hard to impress them. And that he succeeded. But this isn’t what they’re after. If I exposed this, they would assume I thought Nathan was different, when I’m smarter than that. I love that right now I’m the only one who really knows anything about Nathan, with or without his clothes on. I’m not ready to give that up. Not while it’s still mine. It’s not going to be mine for long.

“Let’s just say it was awesome,” I tell them, clamping down on my straw.

They all cheer and laugh and give me high fives. I always feel like a lame frat boy whenever we do this, but whatever. ’Tis better to be the lame frat boy than the sorority girl getting used.