“Keely,” he whispers again, his voice so soft I can barely make it out. “You drive me crazy.” He moves his hand from my cheek and trails his fingertips down my neck, and then to the delicate skin of my collarbone. I shiver, my eyes fluttering closed of their own volition. We’re on the brink, standing on the edge of the cliff, about to jump. And once we’ve jumped, there’s no turning back. I know what we’ve done has already changed everything, but maybe the strings could still be untangled. But not if we keep going—not after this.
“Do you have the condom?” I whisper, my voice catching.
“It’s in your bag, right?”
I pull away from him and scramble for the backpack, which is on the floor on the other side of the bed. My hands are shaking so much I have trouble with the zipper, but finally I get the little square package out and hand it to him. I feel slightly dizzy, the room sliding in and out of focus as I try to get my bearings.
“Okay, so,” I whisper. I don’t know why I’m whispering, considering we’re all alone in the house, but it seems like speaking in a normal voice would interrupt something. “I guess you should open it. Or no, actually maybe I should try to put it on you. Good teaching moment, right? Do you think Dean would be into that? That would look—”
“I don’t think it matters.” His voice is strained.
“He might be impressed if I knew how to—”
Andrew kisses me again, lying over me, and I kiss him back, forgetting about the condom for a moment at the feel of his lips and tongue. “Keely,” he says, and I feel the word against my lips. “Let’s just . . .” He doesn’t finish, instead brushing fluttering kisses over my jaw. He pulls away and looks at me, his face barely an inch from mine. “I’ll put it on,” he says.
I nod, unable to speak.
“Are you sure about this?” His voice is scratchy and low. “I need you to tell me that you’re sure.”
I nod again, surprised how much I want him to continue. I ache in a way I didn’t expect. Now we’ve come this far, it’s hard to stop. I want to go through with things—feel suddenly there’s a small piece of me missing.
It’s so different from how I felt when I was in this same position with Dean. I remember the anxiety that flooded me then, how my brain was moving in a million different directions and I couldn’t get it to slow down. It feels slowed down now—calm and sure. It’s probably because I’m comfortable with Andrew; he’s not someone I’m trying to impress.
“I think with Dean, I felt—” I start to say, but Andrew pulls away from me, his forehead wrinkled.
“What about Dean now?” He runs a hand over his face and sits up, leaning away from me on the bed.
“I was just going to say,” I feel my voice waver with emotion, “I’m not as nervous as I was with Dean. I mean, I’m still nervous obviously, but Dean was like . . . another level. You’re different.” I laugh awkwardly, expecting him to laugh too, but he doesn’t.
“Could you . . . just . . .” He turns back to me. “It really sucks you’re talking about another guy right now.”
“We’re doing this because of another guy though. I can’t not think about him.” My voice feels unsteady. “I mean, Dean’s the whole point, isn’t he?”
“Okay,” he says. “Yeah. But you keep bringing him up, and it’s really hard to get . . . I can’t just turn myself on and off like a light switch. It’s more complicated than that.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “You’re really messing with my head.”
“Oh,” I say, flustered. I hadn’t thought of it that way, hadn’t thought this could be anything but easy for him. Why is Andrew having a hard time? Is it because it’s me? I feel a lurching horror at the thought. I lean up too, sitting beside him on the edge of the bed. “You could pretend I’m Cecilia or Abby or something,” I say softly. “If that makes it easier for you.”
“I don’t want you to be—” he starts, but I keep going.
“I don’t want to be doing this either, Drew. I just thought it made sense. And you agreed, right?” I feel tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I realize then I’m still naked from the top up and I cover myself with the blanket. “I know I’m not as hot as the girls you usually—”
“You’re completely misinterpreting everything I’m saying.”
“Then what are you saying?” I ask, letting out an irritated sigh. He’s silent for a while, just looking at me, the expression in his eyes unreadable. He runs a hand through his hair and then wipes his face as if in exhaustion, and takes a deep breath.
“I’m . . .” he starts, then pauses again.
“What, Drew? If you don’t want to do this, then just say it.”
He sighs. “I don’t think we should do this.”
I feel something inside of me crumple.
“Okay. I’m sorry I asked.”
I feel like I’ve been dumped in a bucket of cold water—all the warm, cozy feelings wash out of me, replaced by something icy and hard. I don’t know how I let myself get so carried away. I shouldn’t have asked Andrew for help in the first place—that much is obvious now—but besides that, how did I let myself start to enjoy it? This wasn’t supposed to be fun; it was business. It was just practice. The biggest mistake was letting myself feel warm and cozy at all.
“I want to, Keely,” he says, his voice pained. “It’s not that. It’s just, you’re making this . . .” He drums his fingers on his bare leg and I look away. “I thought I could deal with you using me. But I can’t.”
I pale at his words. “I’m not . . .” I begin, stumbling over the words. “I’m not using you.”
My phone rings from somewhere on the bed. I don’t want to answer it, don’t know how I could talk to anyone right now. He fishes around in the blankets for it and then sighs, handing it to me.
“Speaking of James Dean,” he says, reading the words on the screen, his voice tight. I take the phone out of his hand, but I can’t answer it. How could I possibly talk to Dean right now, sitting on Andrew’s bed? My shirt is still somewhere on the floor, mixed in with his—and it suddenly hits me how messed up this whole thing is. Would Dean be mad if he knew? Or worse, would he not even care? I imagine the situation in reverse—Dean with a half-naked girl in his bed—and feel an unpleasant swoop in my stomach. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it? There have been lots of naked girls in Dean’s bed and that’s why I’m here.