My Teenage Dream Ended (2 page)

After that, my parents barely said another word about Derek. I know that they read the same news stories and watched the same TV reports that I did. Yet they acted like he had never existed. We had been caught sneaking around too many times and they thought he was a bad influence on me. I felt like they were relieved that he was out of the picture—forever. Their hatred of him seemed to make them blind to my grief. The few times I tried to talk to them, they dismissed the subject. My mom would say, “Some things happen for a reason. Maybe him not being here is better for you and your baby.” Or my dad would chime in with, “Yeah, you never know, you could have been in the car with Derek and then you both would have been killed.”

So I stopped talking to them about him.

I stopped talking to anyone about him. Words felt useless anyway. There was no way to describe the grief that had settled over my world. Nothing I could say would make the pain go away. So I locked my memories of Derek away and focused on getting my life on track for our baby—she was all I had left of Derek now.

I MET HIM AT A BASKETBALL GAME

Derek wasn’t my first boyfriend, but he was my first love. I still remember almost every detail about the night we met. I was fifteen and had my first “real” boyfriend—though it wasn’t serious. I was at that age when I was curious about the opposite sex and wanted to find out what guys were like.

I knew exactly the kind of guy I wanted: preppy, with a job and a car, who would take me out and be my best friend. I wanted what most teen girls dream of—that ideal boyfriend who would whisk me away into a world of love and happiness. When I met Derek, I thought he would be that guy.

The night I met him, a friend called to say she was going to a high school basketball game and wondered if I wanted to come. I had recently switched schools and hadn’t seen her in a while. I was looking forward to catching up and arranged to meet her there. I told her I was trying to end it with my boyfriend, but that we still might come together. She said she had just started dating this new guy and wanted me to meet him.

When we arrived at the game, my boyfriend immediately ditched me to go sit with his guy friends—typical jock. This was one of the reasons I wanted to end it with him—I didn’t feel like he really respected me or appreciated

being with me. Instead of getting mad, though, I kept my cool and went to find my friend.

I found her hanging out with a bunch of friends from my old school. She introduced me, but I could tell none of them was the boyfriend she’d mentioned. “So, where’s this new boyfriend?” I asked.

She laughed. “He should be on his way. I don’t know why he’s late.”

This detail should have been a red flag. Guys who are late, guys who say they will show up somewhere and then don’t, or come late—that’s not a good sign. But I was too young and inexperienced to know any better.

I went back to watch the game and at halftime wandered over to see my friend again, and there he was. She said, “This is Farrah,” and when I looked up at him she said, “and this is Derek.”

I didn’t say anything. I just smiled, but it felt like a jolt of electricity was running through my body. He was good looking—light brown hair, hazel eyes, tan—and wore light jeans with a beige cotton coat over a button-down shirt and a simple chain around his neck. A super preppy guy—just what I liked.

I was taken aback by my strong reaction to him. I liked him immediately, but he was dating my friend, so I kept my mouth shut. I have a strict policy about going after friends’ boyfriends. But I was aware of him the whole game, sitting a row behind me with his buddies. I had never felt like that about a guy before.

Even though he wasn’t available, just meeting Derek changed my life. For one thing, I totally got over my boyfriend and broke up with him.

BEST ST. PATRICK’S DAY EVER!

Though I knew Derek was off-limits, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. We went to different high schools, so it was unlikely I would see him again if I didn’t take matters into my own hands. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and called my friend to find out how serious she was about Derek. She had a short attention span when it came to guys, so it was possible they had already broken up. I tried to sound casual as we chatted, but all I really wanted to know about was Derek. Finally I slipped in, “So what happened to that boy at the basketball game?”

She snorted. “You mean Derek? Oh, that was short-lived. I’m into someone else now.” Derek was available! I got off the phone as fast as I could without seeming rude and immediately logged onto Myspace and found his page. I messaged him, but played it cool, saying something like, “Hey, nice meeting you at the basketball game. We should go out sometime. What are you doing for St. Patrick’s Day?”

It took him two days to message me back, but when he did he said he was going to a St. Patrick’s Day party and asked me to come with him. So I gave him my number. I was so excited, I could barely stand it. Of course, when Derek and his friend came to pick me up, I still played it cool. I just said, “Hey” and acted like I was all about being chill and hanging with him
and
his friends.

We drove to a party way out somewhere in Omaha. On the way we saw cops everywhere, and the guys were freaking out about random police checkpoints because they had alcohol in the car.

We pulled up at the party house and there was music playing and lots of kids from my school were hanging out, playing Guitar Hero and drinking games, all happy that it was a holiday. It was a fun atmosphere and we joined the party. I was still playing it cool with Derek and his friends, just hanging out, like maybe I wasn’t that interested—even though I totally was
.
I didn’t flirt with him; I always maintain class in front of other people and I wasn’t going to hang all over him like a groupie, no matter how into him I was. Plus, I wanted to see how he treated me and other people before I decided for sure if we should date.

Derek must have been on the same wavelength, because he didn’t flirt with me much, either. We mostly chatted with other people at the party, but every once in a while our eyes would meet. It was like a fun, sexy game that made me want to date him even more.

At the end of the night we headed home in Derek’s friend’s car. Derek and I sat in the back together. My head was spinning, whether from the alcohol I drank or from being so close to Derek I wasn’t sure. The next thing I knew, though, Derek and I were making out, right there in the backseat, for straight-up an hour. It didn’t seem like an hour had gone by, but I checked my watch and time doesn’t lie. That’s what it was always like with Derek, an hour would feel like a minute.

Suddenly the car stopped and we were in front of my house. Derek kissed me one last time and said, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

As I walked through my front door, I was floating on air. The night had gone even better than I could have imagined.

That was the best St. Patrick’s Day ever!

SEALED WITH A KISS

We went on a few dates after that—dinner, the movies, and a few more parties—and started spending all our free time together. We would go on long walks in the Old Market, ConAgra Park, or along the river, talking for hours. This felt way different from what I had experienced with my first boyfriend. Derek was thoughtful and romantic—he would text me all the time when we weren’t together and surprise me with flowers. Sometimes he would just show up at my house late at night and throw pebbles at my window to wake me up and surprise me when he got off work. I was so into him and I could tell he really liked me, too.

A couple of weeks after that St. Patrick’s Day party, on April 1
^st
, Derek asked me to be his girlfriend. One night, after a long session of hanging out, playing Guitar Hero and beer pong, we had ended up crashing at his friend’s sister’s apartment. We were cuddling in bed and talking randomly when all of a sudden he asked, “Do you want to be my girlfriend?��� I didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes!” I answered immediately and snuggled into him. It wasn’t ideal, he didn’t get down on a bended knee or anything, but I was so happy that he wanted us to be “official” that it felt as romantic as a marriage proposal. That was the first night we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Whenever we hung out we would hold hands and hug, but I wouldn’t kiss him if I wasn’t tipsy. I always felt so nervous and shy around him. Eventually, he mentioned the awkwardness of us only kissing when we partied. Derek seemed as nervous around me as I was around him and I wanted to prove to him that I really liked him.

I tried talking to my sister about how nerve-wracking it is to kiss someone for the first time. I worried about it not happening perfectly. I would think about things like,
If I shut my eyes will I miss his lips and kiss his cheek? How long should we kiss? Should I pull away first, or wait for him to end the kiss?
Being tipsy took the stress off because if you made a mistake you could always blame the alcohol. My sister just laughed and made fun of me. She didn’t understand how much I liked Derek and how perfect I wanted our first sober kiss to be.

The next time we went out to a party I deliberately didn’t drink and I kissed him anyway. We were standing by the stairs in the middle of the party and I just went for it. I didn’t care who saw.
I had intended to go in for a short sweet kiss, which was what I thought I could handle. But Derek wasn’t having it and pulled me in for a long, passionate one. It felt like our mouths were magnetized and I was helpless to resist. I was too scared to pull away so it went on for a while. Eventually, I heard our friends yelling, “ew” and “quit kissing.” I didn’t let it bother me, though. I was so proud that we were having our first real kiss I felt like saying,
You all wish!