“Shoot.”
She shifted in place and lowered her voice. “Well, the first time Renee and I kissed, it was on a dare. And I already liked her, so, you know, jackpot.”
“Right.”
“Right. Then it was suddenly a really easy way to kiss her. Let’s do it on a dare, let’s do it for this group of guys. I used to think it was funny. Actually, not even that. I thought I was twisting the whole ‘girls performing for guys’ thing. I was using them to get what I wanted.”
But she didn’t sound so certain. “And now?”
“Well … what if I was wrong? What if I betrayed queer women by doing that? Even if it was for me, and I didn’t give a shit what those guys thought, wasn’t I still basically reinforcing the idea that my sexuality is just there to get a guy off? I mean, think of the crap people say about bi girls only wanting attention.”
Oof. On the one hand, I felt like, as a guy, it wasn’t really my place to give my thoughts. But on the other hand, I could see why she wanted to ask a gay person for advice on this one. I went slowly, and picked my words carefully. “I think if that’s how you felt safe exploring your sexuality, that’s valid. It’s not always black and white for us.”
Lara was silent for a long time. “She’s never kissed me alone,” she said finally.
I thought about how much that must hurt. How crushed I would be if Will only kissed me for someone else’s entertainment. Even if he was only pretending that was why he was doing it.
The space between Lara and me felt heavy.
“Anyway,” Lara waved a hand right through the blanket of unease. “Screw that. I don’t exist for any guy’s pleasure, and I’m not playing that game anymore. If Renee wants to kiss me, she can do it one on one. And she can do it single.”
“Yes.”
“Come on,” Lara said. “We need to get back inside and show those two we can have plenty of fun without them. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you use me as a pole dancing prop, and you can show Will up.”
I burst out laughing at that, and stood up. “All right. Let’s do it.”
18
Sunday, 1:51 AM
Meet me in the lake. By the end of
the jetty, to the right of your house.
He meant by the lake, right? In had to be a typo, didn’t it? It was 2 A.M. He was lucky I woke up when he texted me.
But there was no one standing on the jetty. There was, however, a pile of clothes barely visible at the end of it.
I stole a quick glance around to make sure I was definitely, certainly, totally alone, and hurried along the jetty. Way to make me feel exposed, Will.
He was treading water just beyond the edge of the jetty, a small, stark face smiling up at me from the black lake. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Perfect night for a swim, isn’t it?”
“Don’t you have to drive home in four hours?” I asked. We’d already forced our way through our good-byes. I’d spent the night sulking, and hoping I’d see him again, and coming to terms with the fact that I most likely never would.
“I’m not the one in the driver’s seat. I can nap then. I wanted to see you again.”
“Will…”
“Come in.”
“But it’s dark,” I whined.
“I won’t let anything eat you. I promise.”
I hesitated. For nobody but him. I swear, nobody in this world but Will would be able to convince me to strip down and plunge into an icy, dark lake of death during the freaking witching hour.
But I did it, didn’t I?
As soon as I was in the water, his arms were around my shoulders, and his lips were on mine. He kissed me like he’d never get the chance to do it again. And that’s damn well how I kissed him back.
“Screw tomorrow,” I managed, when I pulled away.
“It’s gonna come, whether you want it to or not.”
“I know. And you’ll be gone, and you’ll forget all about me in a few weeks.”
Will laughed and shook his head. “I’ll definitely never forget you. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. That won’t vanish just because we’ll be—”
“On opposite sides of the country.”
“It could be worse. You could live in, like, Australia or something.”
“I might as well.”
He kissed me again. Good-bye kiss number seventy-six. “Promise me we’ll find a way to see each other again.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Then lie. Please.”
Will and I didn’t exchange a word until music class the next day.
He gave me a small smile when he sat down next to me. Like he was hoping I might act like everything was fine, and the dance hadn’t happened. “Hey,” he whispered.
Hey.
I was seething.
“I don’t want to see you anymore,” I whispered back.
He looked at me with the expression of someone who’d been told their new puppy had been brutally murdered. Just as he collected himself to try to respond, class started, and he slumped back in his seat with a clenched jaw. He stayed like that until Ms. Ellison paused to hand out some booklets she’d made. Then, still looking at the front of the class as casual as anything, he said under his breath, “Please don’t do this.”
I ignored him.
“Ollie.”
I ignored him.
“I’m so sorry. I feel really awful about last night.”
Not awful enough to call me, or pull me aside and explain, or to not do it in the first place.
“Can we talk about this later?”
I ignored him.
When the bell rang, I continued to ignore him, and managed to storm off to my next class without Will being able to do much in the way of begging. Made partly more effective by the fact that Will couldn’t say a word where anyone else could hear, and school halls weren’t conducive to privacy. At lunchtime, I was strategic, and used this to my advantage by going to the cafeteria instead of the music room so he couldn’t get me alone.
I’d expected the basketball guys to sit with us, especially after Niamh and Darnell’s consummation of sorts last night, but the roses had our table to ourselves today.
“It’s because Darnell and I had a … talk last night,” Niamh said once all three of us had sat down. “I told him I’m moving to New York next year.”
“And?” Lara asked.
“And, I think he had this picture of us staying here and raising a little family one day or something. He said he’s never wanted to live in a big city. So, honestly, I don’t know where we stand. I know he doesn’t want to come with me next year, but we haven’t really decided to call it quits, either. We’re in limbo.”
“Betwixt and between,” I said. “That’s the worst.”
“Is that a poem?” Niamh asked.
“Darnell is an idiot,” Lara said, pointing a french fry menacingly at Niamh. “Besides, the problem isn’t the city. If he got a job offer there I bet you he’d move in a heartbeat. He’s just intimidated by the thought of following around a strong woman while she chases her career instead of the other way around.”