My Soon-To-Be Sex Life (15 page)

A while later Gavin and I were getting along like a Christian band house on fire. Shirts off. Jeans unbuttoned. Bodies entwined.

Don't worry, we'd moved far from the madding crowd. My soon-to-be sex life wasn't fodder for the masses, or their post-it-on-YouTube cell cam trigger fingers. I'd learn my lesson the hard way thanks to Ty.

Gavin had ensconced us in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The stuff we were doing, rubbing, tugging, groping and kissing was…okay. Nothing made me want to pull from Gavin's embrace, or jump out of his arms screaming,
I don't do that sorta thing
, but on the flipside – nary a goose bump in sight.

Testing the waters had progressed to full submersion. Things were getting close to the point of no return. Flickers of unease gradually intruded. Flashes of another face looking up into mine. Other hands sliding over my skin.

Eric's face.

Eric's hands.

My movements slowed. I worked a bit of distance between my flesh and Gavin's.

I realized, there, on that unforgiving futon mattress, that this was what I'd been waiting for. All my criteria were being met. At. This. Moment. Zero emotional involvement? Check. Passably hot guy? Double check. Opportunity without pressure? Bingo on that one too. Gavin hadn't said no when I'd climbed into his lap, but he certainly hadn't expected such a bold move.

He'd just followed my lead.

Everything I thought I wanted was being handed to me on a futon platter and I wanted no part of it. Because the guy I really wanted was Eric.

From the beginning I'd wanted full ownership of losing it, but now I realized, I wanted more. I wanted to be fully alive and loving every second. I wanted to feel more than lust. To give myself, to be vulnerable. Raw. Real.

I paused for air.

Gavin stared up at me, waiting for his next cue, as I kneeled over him. Half his face was in shadow and the other half glowed a psychedelic blue, thanks to a lava lamp on the bedside table. Impressive that his gaze stayed fixed on mine and not my boobs.

“You're a virgin, aren't you?” He propped himself up on his elbows.

Was I wearing a neon sign?

“Is that a problem?” I fussed with my hair, arranging strands to strategically hide my nipples without all-out hiding behind the bed sheets.

“I'm sensing it might be…you want to stop, right?”

I flopped down, stomach first, burying my face in a pillow. “I'm sorry.” My words were muffled, but I knew Gavin heard.

He pulled the sheets over us. “It was too soon anyway.”

I turned to face him. “I didn't think it could ever be too soon for a guy.”

He laughed. “The body was willing, believe me, but…I broke up with my girlfriend right before the show. Usual story, she was jealous of the attention I got from girls. You know, because of the band.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I'm their sound tech.” Gavin explained. “It's not just the Brothers the girls go crazy for. The roadies do alright.” He shook his head. “But me? Never. Not once. I love Sara. Tonight was supposed to be special. We were going to watch the meteor shower.”

I nodded sagely. “Of course, isn't every girl into space anomalies?”

“Okay, sarcasm, I know it when I hear it.” He sighed. “But that's just it. Sara is into constellations and worm holes and, well, it was sort of our thing.” Another of his low, dry laughs. “I'm half naked with this sexy girl, and,” he held up a hand, “don't take this the wrong way, but all I can think about is
her
. I had every intention of forgetting Sara existed. Just get totally shitfaced and get…” He trailed off.

“Laid.” I finished the sentence for him.

“Yeah.”

“Then we should get back out there.” I sat up, reached for my bra abandoned at the foot of the bed. “The night is young. You can find some other girl to make you forget the lovely Sara.” I pulled my hoodie on.

“No way.” Gavin swung from the bed. “I've got a better idea.” He dressed, and then pulled me off the bed. “Want to see some real rock stars?”

A bunch of us gathered on the roof, huddling around the railing of the house's widow's walk, staring up into the night sky. Gavin had convinced Brother Rory to kill the Christmas lights to make the display easier to see.

“Warm enough?” Gavin asked, grasping the railing for support as he leaned his head back to observe the skyscape.

“Sure, who needs toes, right?” Honestly, who cared about the weather when we were witnessing something so…profound? Hundreds of shooting stars fell from the heavens above us, streaking through blackness. Couples huddled together, giving hushed oohs and ahhs as the sky flickered and pulsed.

Amazed, I held out my arms, trying to catch the streaks in my gloved hands. They seemed so close.

“Thanks,” Gavin said, nudging me with his shoulder. “This is kind of almost perfect.”

I met his gaze. “Next time, Sara will be with you and you'll really get your rocks off.”

Gavin groaned. “You are the most foul mouthed, dirty minded…”

I grinned. “Don't waste such flattery on little ol' me.” Movement out of the corner of my eye had me leaning over the railing and staring down at the snow-covered lawn. Was that…? Shitcrap. It was.

“Hey, is that chick puking?” A girl said, and soon everyone had turned their attention to an earthly display of teen rebellion gone wrong.

Roach had exited the building and promptly emptied her guts on the fresh snow. I bolted for the rooftop door.

“Where are you going?” Gavin called at my back.

“Gotta help a friend.” I shot him a wave. “Call Sara. Or else I'll come back and kick your ass.”

With a bemused and, I have to say it, slightly sad smile, Gavin watched me go.

By the time I dug through the piles of jackets and boots, located our stuff, pulled my boots and coat on, Roach had toddled off to a less ripe area of the yard. When I finally tromped to her side, she'd dropped onto the snow, to make snow angels.

“Isn't it beauutifuuul,” Roach sang as she stared up into the sky. Gavin and his friends were still watching, I could hear bits of their rooftop conversation with the drifts of the slight breeze. Keeping my head down, I pulled Roach into a seated position and shoved her arms through her coat sleeves.

Next came her boots. “Hold still.” Awful damn difficult to do with her legs still making angel motions. Appropriately clothed, I hauled her to her feet. She draped herself over my shoulder to keep upright.

“Charlie, you gotta get me home. I don't feel so good.”

“I know. You
didn't feel so good
once already.” We weaved past said vomit. I guided us back toward the house and plunked Roach down on the bottom stair at the base of the porch. “I want you to wait here while I go get Preston.”

“No, you can't.” Roach grabbed my coat hood in a death grip, cutting off my air supply. “
You
have to take me. Preston can't know.”

I pried her fingers loose. “Know what?”

“Where I live.” Roach's bottom lip trembled the way I hadn't seen since we had
the talk
, back when I'd informed her Santa and Satan were the same letters, just rearranged, and that probably meant something really nasty was in store for her at Christmas. But, come on, she still believed in
Santa
at the age of thirteen. What kind of friend would I have been if I hadn't shattered that illusion?

“And why can't he know this elementary fact?”

That lip tremble again. “Because I told him we lived on campus.”

I mulled over that one. Boy, she was out of her mind intoxicated. And then it hit me.
Campus?
As in we were college students? “Roach,” I whined. “Seriously?” I wheeled her around and started us down the sidewalk while meteors disintegrated in the atmosphere.

Bernie waited less than a block away, shining like a beacon of hope under a streetlight.

I held out my hand. “Give me the keys.”

Roach baulked at first, but after a few dry heaves, she forked them over.

We got in the car, with me behind the wheel, and Roach sprawled out in the back seat, already half asleep. I put the keys in the ignition, started the engine and blasted the heat.

We both seemed content to sit in the near-silence of Bernie's muted sputters and clanks as she churned warmth.

“Are you okay?” I asked, glancing at Roach in the rear view mirror. The mussed hair and smudged makeup could have been from the snow angels, but I had to be sure. What if, while I'd been stargazing, Roach had been drunk, and vulnerable, and… “Do I have to go back in there and do some damage?”

“Just drive.” Roach lifted her head. For a few seconds her eyes were clear and focused. “Need bed.”

My second time driving Miss Bernie held far fewer jerks and stops, but still enough to induce the odd moan of agony from Roach. My years as a passenger served me well, I knew I couldn't risk getting stopped by the cops, and managed to locate the old highway that skirted all the traffic. I was driving without a license with a drunk in the back seat. Somehow I didn't think claiming designated-driver status would get me out of a hefty ticket, or worse.

However, the route I took was twice as long than if we'd been able to go straight through town, and in that time, Roach sobered up some. Enough to crawl into the front and bolt herself into the passenger seat.

She tugged on the seat belt. “Ugh…I can't do it. I'm so wasted.”

“Nope, it's not just you. I've been telling you for weeks that thing needs to be fixed.”

“I've never been in this seat before, so how was I to know?”

“Because I told you. Multiple times.”

Roach sighed. “I messed up, Char.” She sniffled. “You're not going to believe it when I tell you.”

Oh lord. “What happened?”

“No,” she slapped the dashboard. “You first. I saw you go upstairs with Gavin. Deets. Now.”

It all came flooding back. “It was the perfect chance, Roach.”

“So you did it too.”

“No,” I shook my head, still stunned at how the night turned out. “I didn't. We didn't. But I'm fine with it. Because tonight I realized sex isn't going to change my life in some phenomenal way, or help me to control what's happening with my mom, or make me a stronger person, or fix Monty. I mean, look at the guys I chose for the list. It's like I deliberately—wait a fucking second.” I slammed on the breaks. When we recovered, I twisted to face my best friend. My religious,
saving-herself-for-marriage
best friend.

“What do you mean, I did it
too
?” I punched on the interior light so I could see her better.

Roach flushed. “I should never have judged you about your list, Charlie.”

“Judged me? You didn't,” I said, totally confused. “You helped me update it.”

“But I thought you were wrong.” Roach sniffled. “The whole time I've been saying you were making a huge mistake and in my heart, thinking you were being
sinful
.” She half laughed, half cried. “What a joke. There's only one virgin in this car and it ain't me. The kicker? I've been with Preston four times now.
Four times.
And we haven't always been careful if you know what I mean.”

“Jesus.” I swiped a hand down my face. “You're not pregnant are you?” My mind buzzed. Roach had been drinking tonight. Wouldn't that affect the baby? I sucked in a breath. Oh, man. How the hell was she going to tell her parents?

“THE DEVIRGINIZERS”

OUTTAKE #4: IMMACULATE DECEPTION

INTERIOR. DUNMORE RESIDENCE. LIVINGROOM.

DAY / NIGHT / WHO CARES, THERES A BABY ON THE WAY!

MR. and MRS. DUNMORE perch on the couch as a ginormously knocked up ROACH paces / waddles before them. CHARLIE stands nervously beside a portable whiteboard upon which a confusing array of graphs and symbols have been written with a dry erase marker.

ROACH

(stops dead in front of her parents)

So you see, it depends entirely on how you define
immaculate
.

END OF OUT TAKE

No, Roach wasn't pregnant; in fact, Aunt Flo had made her presence known shortly after we'd arrived at the house party. Exactly why Roach went ahead and drank her face off.

She'd been having a bit of an I'm-not-preggers celebration.

The rest of the ride home she told me how she and Preston had consummated their relationship two days after she'd met him. All that time I'd been going on and on about losing it and Roach had been scared to tell me because she didn't want to burst my bubble about already popping her cherry.

I'd safely dropped Roach off at her house, snuck her inside without waking her parents, and then walked the few blocks to Monty's - in the freezing snow. The chaos that met me when I dragged my boots along the sidewalk only added to the what-the-fuckness of the evening.

I froze about twenty feet from the house, my heart pounding.

A fire engine was parked on the curb, lights flashing. An ambulance too. The raucous cry of a fire alarm screamed through the front door propped open by one of Monty's heavy wood dining room chairs, and then fell eerily silent.

A crowd of bathrobe-clad neighbors stood on the street, watching the movements of a few firefighters walking around the front lawn. Keeping the spectators at a safe distance.

“Hold up, there,” one of men in uniform made a grab for me as I tried to dart by.

“That's my grandfather's house. He's at home and his dog—”

The fireman relaxed his grip. “Your grandfather's fine, come inside, the EMTs are with him now.”

An excited bark made me pause, and I spied Mona huddled under the snow and shrubbery at the edge of the front yard, illuminated by the light spilling out of the house. She edged toward me.

“Come here, girl.” I held out a hand, beckoning her closer, but her wild eyes darted to the fireman and she crept back into her hole. “I'll be right back for you.” I told Mona.

I ran up the front steps.

“Monty?” I called as soon as I was inside. Now I could smell the smoke, and the ominous scent grew stronger as I walked down the hall. I was barely aware of the fireman who'd accompanied me into the house. Finally, I made out the rumble of his voice over the drone of others and I bolted for the kitchen.

And there he was, sitting at the kitchen table while an EMT took his blood pressure. Monty looked up when I entered, watching me like a frightened child about to be scolded.

The kitchen window was wide-open, the lace curtains black and singed. A frying pan rested in the sink with gusts of smoke billowing up from its blackened surface.

“He'd had a grease fire and tried to put it out with water,” the fireman at my side explained. “Got to the drapes when a neighbor noticed the flames in the window and called 911. When we arrived, they'd managed to cover the pan with the lid and put it out.”

I nodded, but couldn't take my eyes from Monty. I could have lost him.

Quick strides took me to his chair. “Monty, are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you burned anywhere?” Monty couldn't respond. I knelt beside him and after checking his hands and face for injuries, and finding none, I wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tight.

I opened the door as the last of the EMTs left. Mona burst from her hiding spot, bolted between my legs and scrambled down the hall, her nails clattering. When I caught up to her she'd skidded across the kitchen floor and jumped into Monty's arms. He pressed his face into her fur.

“We're okay, Mona,” he said, voice muffled by Mona's wriggling body. “Charlie's here now and we're just fine, see?”

I dropped into a chair. I couldn't so much as blink as I watched M&M. They were safe. We were all safe. This time.

I jerked my head to the sink. “There's a black layer of crusty goop an inch thick on that pan. What were you making?” Call it morbid curiosity, but I wondered what meal was worth dying for.

Monty's eyes were wide and pale. “I don't know.”

When I finally convinced Monty he should go to bed, I couldn't hold the truth in any longer. I was in over my head. Monty was asleep in minutes with Mona curled at his feet.

There was only one thing left to do.

I picked up the phone.

“Grace?” Her name was a sob. “I need you.”

I pulled on another of Monty's heavy coats, killed the porch lights and sat on the front steps, watching the meteors rain down. I cried for each and every second of the fifteen minutes it took for Grace to pull up to the curb.

Then she sat with me on the stairs and I told her everything.

Then Grace put her arm around me and said it would be alright. That we'd figure something out.

Together.

Fuck that's a beautiful word.