Actually, there were a few other rules, namely, “don’t splash Mom in the pool,” and “don’t pee on the floor.” Every rule had been broken multiple times, by just about everyone.
Also, in other news, my parents were the coolest.
“Need any help?” I asked her to be polite but wanted to escape to my room.
“I’m fine, thanks, hon. What about you? Are you getting excited about graduation? Everyone’s coming, you know.”
“Can’t wait.” My tone was distracted because my phone vibrated, and I checked it hoping it was Audrey. But it was this girl, Jade.
Jade: Have you seen? Mr. Peterson posted the grade on our final project
Me: No
She and I had been paired for a Drama project, and ever since she got my number, she hadn’t stopped texting me. I tried to respond as little as possible.
Jade: We got an A-!!
Me: Awesome
Jade: I know, right?
Jade: <celebration gif>
My mom continued talking, a wistful tone to her voice. “You don’t know how much it means to me and your dad that you chose our alma mater. You’re going to love it in New York City. It’s the center of the universe. The arts. The culture. The restaurants. The food. All those interesting neighborhoods.”
And Audrey coming with me. If she’d chosen studying in Anchorage, I’d have gone there with her instead.
Jade: See you tomorrow!!
I didn’t bother to respond, because I didn’t want to encourage her to keep texting me. I didn’t know why she wouldn’t leave me alone.
“Something makes me think I’ll wake up one day in New York to you and Dad lurking in my living room.” I reached around my mom and stole a cookie.
“Hmmm. Maybe.” My mom looked at the clock on the oven and shooed me away. “Have you done your homework?”
I had, but I had a date with my computer. “I’ll be in my room.” I refilled my water, grabbed my backpack, and went down the hall, leaving my brothers and mom talking about recipes.
When I got to my room, I opened my laptop, pulled out the Anti-Bucket List from my pocket, and started Googling. Let’s say we started with London. Audrey needed a passport, so I researched application requirements. Then she’d be able to jet off as easily as me.
I created a Google doc with links for fun things I knew she’d like—classic sights and special restaurants. Eventually, I had a working plan to spoil her with everything she’d ever wanted.
That was the easy task on my to-do list.
But I had another one.
I checked the time on my laptop. Still a few minutes before dinner.
That peck on her lips? Not enough. But I didn’t know what I was doing in the bedroom. At all.
Which was my deep dark secret.
It embarrassed me and was another reason why I’d put off touching Audrey. For years, I’d paid attention only to her, which meant I hadn’t fooled around with anyone else. I’d only ever kissed other girls in junior high, so I’d had a long dry spell. Very long.
I was a virgin.
Pathetic.
I needed sex education. Sure, Mrs. Sanchez’s Health class gave me basic information, and my parents were never shy about answering questions. But I didn’t want answers to the mechanics of how to have sex. I wanted answers of how to have good sex. How to make it amazing for her.
I’d pay a lot of money for a how-to guide for being the best in bed. Something that would avoid trial and error. Audrey didn’t deserve me fumbling. I wanted confidence. And to take care of her. And to, well, be a total sex god.
The trouble was, I had no idea how to do that.
Even worse, I needed to start with the basics, because my kissing technique needed work. Today being a classic example. So, I had some research to do. But where?
The way I saw it, my choices sucked.
Choice one, I could watch porn. But it was unlikely to tell me the truth, and from what I’d seen, I didn’t think Audrey had a big-dick nipple-clamp fake-secretary kink. Or whatever.
Although if she did, that would be interesting.
Setting aside that digression …
Choice two, I could ask Bert and Perry. Ditto as to the problem of them not telling me the truth. Oh, they’d get around to it eventually after telling me that I had to suck her toes first or something. Assholes. Same for asking friends at school, but they were a worse choice since I didn’t trust them not to blab to everyone that I was a virgin. So, no.
Or choice three, I could ask the internet. There had to be some websites teaching guys how to do this right. Right?
Information was just the first problem, though. Because once I had said info, how did I put it to use? I couldn’t practice on anyone but Audrey, which was inconvenient when I wanted her to be the object of my sex godliness.
An itchy feeling crawled on my skin. I had to figure this out. I had to be the best at this. For her.
“Dinner! Tate!”
“Coming!” I called. Then I snickered.
I hoped I’d be coming soon enough.
After dinner, I returned to searching on my laptop, hoping to find resources to help me not be a virgin.
To be clear, I realize I can’t lose my virginity on the internet—I needed another person, not my own hand.
Much to my not-surprise, the internet didn’t want to help me. Either the articles came straight from health class, scaring the fuck out of me about pregnancy and STDs—not the way to entice you to get your sexy on with your would-be girlfriend—or they were clickbait that told me nothing. Like, 25 Ways for Her to Give You Good Head. Or Sixteen Places to Fuck Outside before You Die.
These how-to articles were geared more toward women than men. Sexism, much? They weren’t at all for beginners like me.
Okay, maybe I copied the link to that second one to our Google doc.
Was it stupid that I wanted to make love to Audrey? I wanted her to feel sexy and loved and to know how I felt and—hell—to come. I wanted to find the female orgasm. Was that too much to ask?
After a few more internet searches, I gave up. It was late, and we had school tomorrow, but that didn’t stop me from seeing what was up with my favorite porn site.
My cursor hovered over a thumbnail featuring an actress with long, curly auburn hair and slim pale legs. I clicked on it and found the post with the video. She resembled a certain someone I was in love with.
Shoving down my boxers and reclining in bed, laptop next to me, I knew how I’d be ending tonight’s research.
But when it came to getting my sexy on for real, I just wished I knew what I was doing.
So it could be special for her.
Three
Popcorn and Pork Chops
Audrey
Ever since I met him, talking with Tate had always been as easy as petting a dog—both he and I liked it, and we had no incentive to stop.
It wasn’t easy today.
Right now, the last period before lunch, the handsome guy occupied the desk behind me in English, pen in hand, taking up too much space compared to what he’d been given. Tate’s long legs extended into the aisle on either side and crowded up close to me, feet in black Chuck Taylors under his dark jeans. He could hook his feet on the metal chair legs and pull me to him. But he didn’t have to touch me or make a move to affect me.