“Hey, Corinne.”
Did I mention the voice? It’s low and deep and always sounds like he’s either just woken up or is ready for bed. I wish I knew why that made such alternating hot-and-cold tingles go racing up and down my body.
“Hi, Tommy.” I sound like I’m chewing glass.
When he flashes his smile, I can’t breathe. He’s beautiful. God, so beautiful. “I figured I’d find you here.”
He leans against the doorframe. Our bodies are close. Like, if I had boobs, our chests would be touching. Not that I’m thinking about it.
If I was braver, I would reach out to touch his arm in that flirty way I’ve seen popular girls do. But my boobs haven’t arrived, I’m not brave, and I’m definitely not flirty or popular. So I just stand there grinning like a fool. I don’t know what he wants, but whatever it is, the answer is yes.
“If I’m not in class, I’m usually here.” I should have said I was glad he came looking for me. But I don’t think of that until it is too late.
“Good. I like knowing where to find you.” And then he pulls the corner of his lower lip between his teeth, tilts his chin down, and looks down at me. Eyes that blue should be against the law.
As we stand staring at each other, my skin heats to ten degrees warmer than usual, and I can’t stop thinking how lucky his tongue is to be able to taste his lip. I’ve never had those kinds of thoughts before. Now it’s all I can think.
“You were looking for me?” With how inexperienced I am as a flirt, this is painful for me. My stomach actually hurts.
“Yeah.” He says it like it’s so matter of fact, as if that’s not an event of nuclear-level importance in my life.
“Oh. Right. Why?”
There’s the million-dollar question. Why is Tommy Dubrovsky looking for me? He is gorgeous and the star at the center of our close-knit little high school’s universe, even if he is a little on the wild side—the kind of kid who shows up with scuffs on his knuckles from fighting and mud on the knees of his jeans from racing dirt bikes on the outskirts of town.
Me, on the other hand? I’m a computer geek with no friends and no life outside of motherboards and gigs of RAM.
“Needed help on the health homework.”
Oh. Of course. I’m a nerd, right? And that’s what nerds are good for, isn’t it? Helping popular kids finish their homework. I sigh and all my hopes fly out the window. Dumb of me for ever thinking that there was a spark of possibility here.
I roll my eyes, frustrated with the unfairness of it all. So frustrated, in fact, that all the brain-melting ooey-gooeyness that was short-circuiting my normal personality just seconds earlier disappears in the blink of an eye. Before I can stop myself, sarcasm rolls off my tongue like a bullwhip. “Is this the part where you say you want to study my body as a biology project? Because, c’mon now, that’s like the oldest and lamest joke in the book. Even for a jock, it’d be pretty unoriginal.”
To my surprise, he bursts out laughing.
And goddammit if that smile doesn’t reignite the warm flutter in my low belly. I hate myself for loving that look. He’s a rascal and a troublemaker and I’m the exact opposite. But part of me wants all of him.
“You’re funny. You should talk more.”
I’m in the middle of turning to pack up my backpack and flee from this horrible moment so I can go cry in the girls’ bathroom when he says that. I freeze.
“Save it for someone who cares,” I mutter, but there’s no more sarcastic venom in my voice. Yes, this is the next step in that stereotypical, lame jock-nerd interaction. But there’s a reason they always show this happening in the movies—because it feels incredible.
He grabs my wrist in his broad hand. “I mean it,” he says. “Well, I really do need help with the health homework. But you should talk more.”
I’m still cautious. But there’s something genuine in his face. I shouldn’t trust it… I can’t trust it… but I do.
And thus begins two years that unfold like something out of my diary’s wildest fantasies.
I do talk more. And to my surprise, Tommy talks back. Just in class at first, and strictly about the assignments. Then in the hallways, and then in the parking lot before and after school.
From there, we go to the movies. And then ice skating.
I hear the whispers from the popular girls in the hallways—“What is he doing with her?”—and they always sting a little bit. I’d be lying if I said they didn’t.
But when I’m with Tommy, I don’t care. He is infectious like that. All charming smiles and devil-may-care-attitude. When we spend a day riding ATVs on a farm outside of town where my mom works, he shows me how to sit and hold on so I don’t fall off when I open up the throttle all the way. I scream, but I love it.
I feel like a different person with him.
Freer. Happier.
After the day at the farm, we go to the Boulevard Diner for dinner and when he brings me home, he walks me to the door and stands beside me while I pull out my key. There’s an apple tree growing in front of the door—my dad’s pride and joy. That’s what I smell. That, and Tommy’s cologne, his sweat, his scent that no one else in the world can quite match.
Before I can slide the key into the lock—and I take my sweet, sweet time; I want this night to last forever—he covers my hand and uses it to tug me closer. He brings one hand up to cup my cheek while he strokes my skin with his thumb.
I stare at him. This is a moment I’ve waited for all my life. My first kiss. And I want to savor every second while it’s happening, then write down everything I felt as soon as it’s over. Just so I never forget a single detail.
He stares at me, then he lowers his head and I close my eyes just as his lips brush over mine. Slow at first, then he kisses me with his hand just above my ass, urging me closer and closer as the kiss deepens, until I can feel how hard he is.
This is a lot. More than I was ready for. It scares me, and I don’t know what to do with it. Or about it.
But then I think about sitting on the back of the ATV as we tore down back roads. How I felt terrified, but also like I was flying. That’s how this feels—kissing Tommy and feeling his body, his heat, his hardness.
I’m scared. But I love it.
So my first kiss turns into more than that.
And then one night turns into two years.
Two years of loving Tommy at school and outside of it.
Two years of feeling his muscular shoulders under my fingertips, his fluttering kisses against my thighs.
I see forever on the horizon with him. He sees it too, I think. Loving him and making love to him—it’s perfect. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
By our senior year, the whispers have mostly died down. People can see it, I think—how serious we are about each other. My mom is out of town one night, so Tommy and I make plans for him to come over for dinner.
I’ve been avoiding it for as long as possible. But I have to tell him tonight. The secret I’ve been keeping from him. I make a promise to myself—“I’ll do it tonight. I’ll tell him. He has to know.”
But when he comes over and embraces me, kisses me, I lose heart. Soon, I compromise. In a little while.