My lips tip up at the corners flashing my teeth. “I opened the fucking door and waved her out.”
“Colt,” Emerson scolds. “You hurt her feelings. She’s your girlfriend. We’ve talked about this. You need to be nicer and at least pretend to care.”
“She was never my girlfriend.”
Em gives me a hard stare. I swallow and sigh. “Fine. Now she’s my ex and I don’t care. Besides, it’s not my problem. She knew I was leaving and things wouldn’t go any further.”
She wanted bragging rights and the chance to prove to her friends she managed the impossible. To date me for longer than anyone and bang my brains out. Not that I care. I hoped to lose my virginity before college, so if she was happy to take it, it was hers. She tried. She tried hard but failed terribly. So, she’s pissed and I’m still a virgin.
“But—” I hold my hand up and press my fingers to Emerson’s lips.
“Eliza is out of my mind. Forgotten. You should forget her too. We have one more night before we leave; let’s watch a movie.”
Having Emerson beside me is the only way I can sit through an entire movie without getting bored.
“I had a date today,” she blurts. It’s always a strange topic with both of us. Neither of us have any experience. Me, because I can’t give a chick the attention she wants. Em, because she doesn’t trust any fucking asshole. I don’t blame her, after the way her father treats her mom.
“You did?”
“With Jeffrey.” She nods and chews her lips.
“Why? We leave tomorrow.”
“I’m aware, but he’s been asking for months and I felt bad, so I agreed to one date as a way of saying goodbye.”
“And?”
“Well, the most experience I have with a guy is you playing with these.” She cups her breasts and squeezes them together.
I groan and my dick stirs in my shorts. Fucker. Now he wakes up. Where was he an hour ago when I needed him?
“Okay. I’m still not seeing where this is going?”
“I panicked when he tried to kiss me and gave him a bloody nose.”
“You punched him?”
She winces and nods. “More like rammed the heel of my hand into his nose. It crunched really bad.”
I burst out laughing. Jeffrey is a tool, so I’m sure he deserved it, anyway. The dude wears sweater vests and more hair product than an Elvis impersonator. I swear his hair is as hard as a helmet.
“It’s not funny.”
“It is.”
She sighs.
“What?” I ask, shifting on the bed until I’m lying on my pillows pulling Emerson down beside me.
She rolls onto her side to face me. Her green eyes sparkle in the light coming through the window. “I just wanted to lose my lipginity before we go to college.”
“What the fuck is lipginity?”
“You know. Virgin lips. I haven’t kissed anyone.”
“Who cares?” Neither have I and I don’t plan on it.
Some people save their virginity until marriage. In Em’s words, I’m saving my lipginity.
“I do. I will be the only girl in college who hasn’t kissed a guy.”
I shake my head and chuckle. “You worry too much. I’m sure there are plenty of guys who will be happy to take your lipginity.”
“If I don’t punch them in the face when they try.”
4
Emerson
“Yeah, you should work on calming that anger first,” Colt says.
“I’m not angry. It’s more...” I pause trying to come up with the best way to explain it.
“Self-preservation?” Colt offers.
I tilt my head to the side and study him. He is the most erratic, loud-mouthed, unfocused, no-fucks-to-give person I’ve met, yet he’s smart, insightful and sometimes full of wisdom.
“Self-preservation?” I purse my lips and nod. “Something like that I guess.”
“You won’t let anyone kiss you because that means feelings and feelings mean trust.”
My mouth drops open.
“And trusting someone,” he continues, entwining his fingers through mine once again. “Means you open yourself up to hurt. You’ve watched your father destroy your mom over the years. You’ve been victim to his psychological abuse your whole life. If you don’t kiss someone, you won’t develop feelings for them, you won’t trust them, and you won’t get hurt.” He grins and clicks his tongue like he’s solved the unsolvable.
He hits the nail on the head with that revelation. It never occurred to me that’s the reason I can’t get close to anyone except him.
“But I want to kiss someone.”
I do. I want to experience what it’s like to be held, cherished, have sweet nothings—whatever that means—whispered in my ear. I want to feel loved. I want to know what it’s like to be kissed, caressed, touched, and more...one day. More than want. I crave it. But Colt’s right, I’m too afraid of being hurt. It isn’t worth the risk.
“And I want to go train surfing, but instinct and self-preservation kick in and tell me it’s not a good idea. The subconscious is a powerful thing. Also, the fear of you castrating me puts a damper on the desire to do something reckless. I’m somewhat attached to my balls.”
I study our joint hands and think about his words. Had Jeffrey tried to hold my hand, I would have tucked them into my pockets because I don’t trust him, and I don’t want to trust him. The only boy whose hand I’ve held is Colt’s and that doesn’t count because hand-holding has become second nature with us.
The first time he held my hand I was twelve and Colt and I were convinced I was dying a horrible, painful death.
No exaggeration.
I truly thought I would die.
I’d woken up during the night to use the bathroom and discovered blood in my underwear.
I screamed.
Colt came running.
He found me on the bathroom floor hugging myself as I cried silent tears and prayed my death wouldn’t be too painful.
He sat with me, comforted me, held me to his chest and cried with me. Then when I had calmed down, he woke his dad and told him. Mr. James came rushing into the bathroom. He sat on the floor with us, smiled and said, “You’re not dying.”
Colt reached for my hand and squeezed it to his chest as I took a deep shuddering breath, too afraid to hear what Mr. James had to say. Turned out I wasn’t dying. I had gotten my period, which Mr. James assured me was normal and not life-threatening. My pathetic self-absorbed alcoholic parents had failed to teach me the basics about growing up.
Mr. James became my hero that day. He is more a father to me than the asshole who donated his sperm to the drunken incubator.
Colt became my savior. The boy I came to rely on more than I should. I trust him with my life and my first kiss. He’ll never hurt me.
“Help me?” I ask Colt after a few minutes.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not kissing you, Em.”
He’s a stubborn bastard sometimes. Not like he hasn’t kissed me before. I raise a challenging eyebrow.