I breathe in the soap and pine scent of him. He’s wearing a T-shirt and I’m in a tank. The feel of our bare arms shocks me. I want—no—I need more of his skin on mine. I don’t let go of him—I don’t dare lift my mouth from his—but I pull him out of the kitchen, into the hall. I don’t know where we’re going so we stand in the darkness, the walls close, as if to catch us if we fall. His hands are in my hair. Mine are on his back, at his waist, on his abdomen that shivers under my touch. I gasp and Alex shudders and then we’re moving into a room, his bedroom. I yank his shirt up toward his head. He eases free to shrug out of it. He gently closes the door. He studies the mass of gray cotton in his hand, like he’s deciding whether to fold it. I’m staring at him, at the raw beauty of his shoulders and arms, the muscles that course over him, the subtle pound of his pulse at his neck. It brings on an ache inside me. His eyes lift and study mine. They’re rainforest bright, a jungle. His chest works like he ran up five flights of stairs. But he waits. He searches my face, the question plain in his.
When it’s just us, just our bodies, I’ve got nothing to hide, nothing to pretend. My lips, my hands, the whole of me speaks in ways my words can’t. And I want this. I want him. I’ve wanted him since that very first kiss on the train. I’ve never wanted anything more.
I smile and back toward the bed. I slip a small square of foil out of my pocket and tuck it into my hand. I reach up and pull off my top.
Alex’s chest halts midrise. His throat bobs.
We’re both nervous, then. But we’re nervous together. We’re bared to each other and honest, completely honest, for the first time. That’s all that matters.
SUNDAY, MAY 28
ALEX
I want to remember you,
standing by my window,
the gray of a clouded city sky brightening as it hit your shoulder,
your back,
the blanket of your hair.
I couldn’t breathe,
Watching you.
When you touched me,
I was blinded.
After, you sat beside mi mamá,
You laughed at her stories of Baní,
You wolfed down her asopado.
You glanced at me and sideways smiled,
reminding me who was responsible for your appetite.
Our knees kissed under the dining room table.
FRIDAY, JUNE 9
ISA
Chrissy races me down the steps. We’re both shrieking. I dash out of the stairwell first. Chrissy releases a great sigh of disgust.
“Catch!” She throws her bag at me then bolts through the front doors. Outside, on the terrace, she opens her arms and does a slow twirl. Her face lifts to the sun. She fans herself, accepting her victory.
I use the revolving door like we’re supposed to. “First of all, you said, and I quote, ‘Race you to the bottom of the stairs.’” I pull the blue-and-red strap of her bag higher on my shoulder. “Second, even if the finish line were outside, tossing your belongings at me to slow me down is totally cheating.”
Chrissy takes her bag. She unzips one of the five outer pockets and takes out two lollipops. She hands me the one with the red wrapper. I accept the peace offering. She knows cherry is my favorite. We stroll over to the fountain and sit on the wide granite bench encircling it. Neither of us minds getting wet.
“Sore loser.” She snickers.
I lean over and flick water at her. She squeals, clamps down on her lollipop, and splashes me back. Our shirts are soaked by the time we call a truce. Chrissy lies down on the smooth black stone, stretches out her legs, and rests her head in my lap. I pull damp curls from her face, careful not to knock the stick protruding from her mouth.
“I’m so effed for tonight. Who ever heard of ninety-five degrees in the beginning of June? Mom asked our super, but they can’t get our window units in until next week. I’m going to sweat to death.”
Chrissy complains about this every year. In the past, she’d sleep over when it got too hot. Our co-op had central air. Our rental does too, but there’s no extra room. Chrissy hasn’t been to my new place. I haven’t even told her about Merrit getting kicked out of school.
“You can always stay at Kevin’s. He has AC, right?”
She slaps my leg. “I can’t do that. His parents will be there. It’s one thing to do a sleepover when they’re out of town. It’s another to do it right under their noses. Gross!”
“You told me you ran up to Kevin’s place during lunch the other day.”
“That’s different. His mom and dad were at work. They didn’t even know.” Her T-shirt rides up, showing her flat, pale stomach. She pulls the lollipop out of her mouth again. Artificial orange flavor wafts up to me. “God, I wish my mom worked. It would be epic if her schedule were more predictable. My place is so much closer than Kevin’s. We could probably get away two or three times a day, which, honestly, is what my body needs. I keep having to remind myself to keep it in check so I don’t blow my newbie cover.”
I think about telling her. About me and Alex. She’ll want every detail, from the color of his walls to the feel of his sheets and what happened between them. But I’m not ready to let go of the secret of what Alex and I shared.
Chrissy stretches and groans. “But thank the gods, Kevin and I are making progress. I don’t know how I lasted so long without a pe—” She snaps the orange sucker back in her mouth. She lifts her sunglasses and peers up at me all bashful.
Now even saying the p-word makes her blush?
“Were you going to say p—?”
She shrieks even before I can get it out. I wait for her to quiet, then yell, “¡Pepino!”
A few guys walking on the other side of the fountain turn to look at us. They’re probably wondering why I shouted the word cucumber across the plaza.
Chrissy sits up and play-slaps my arms. I play-slap her back. We grin at each other around our lollipop sticks.
She slumps onto her back again. I pull down her shirt. “You’re going to get burned.”
She yawns, unconcerned. “How are things going with your hottie by the way? Haven’t seen him in a while.”
“Me neither,” I admit. It’s been twelve days. TWELVE. What I feel for him dwarfs everything else. I can’t forget that. And I can’t let anything threaten it—especially not the stress I’ve been feeling lately. I want to be happy when I’m with him, to make the most of our time together. I don’t want to show him my cracks. Which is why I missed his game last week. Merrit had a bad night—a bad four nights, really. He hadn’t slept at all, and he wound up in the hospital. The doctors kept him there for a full day to adjust his meds. He’s doing better now. But I didn’t want Alex to see my worry. I didn’t want to risk it affecting his playing.
Chrissy knows about Mom’s and Merrit’s histories. I could tell her what’s going on. How this college thing pushed Merrit into another rough patch and that he’s having a tough time climbing out of it. How that and my dad’s job and the move are sending Mom into her own tailspin. But I don’t want to talk about any of that with her either. It’s hard enough convincing myself everything is going to be fine. I’d rather talk to Chrissy about Kevin, about dance and kisses and cucumbers. I’d rather just talk about Alex.