I think that touching Maya is unlike anything I’ve ever done. When the seniors compete in their Academic Team match, we usually sneak out. Everyone knows what we’re doing, but nobody says anything. It’s like an unspoken code. Sometimes we go to the football field, or sometimes the basketball courts. High school campuses are great places to make out when no one is there. The hidden spaces are endless. I wonder if people think about that when designing them.
I’ve learned all the ways she likes to be kissed, and I’ve mastered the appropriate amount of tongue, which was not as easy as I thought it would be. Adding tongue to kissing is delicate business. I wasn’t sure how to do it until I felt hers in my mouth, slowly examining my tongue, then retreating back into her mouth, inviting me in.
The kisses on the neck seemed to get an immediate response, but here’s something I didn’t know—it’s the ears that drive her crazy. Gentle nibbling. Nothing too aggressive. Lightly. It almost feels better to know that she likes something than to have her do something I like. At some point, she always stops me, then we have to wait until I can stand again.
When we get back to the match, no one asks about where we’d been. Turns out, Dwight has even been making excuses for us with Sister Helen.
He’s a good guy.
DOSAGE: 4.5 mg. Increased dosage.
FEBRUARY 20, 2013
St. Agatha’s choir raises money for their DC trip by charging $5 for a singing telegram on Valentine’s Day. This means that class came to a screeching halt every time they burst into our classroom. Rebecca loved it. She danced along to the music as if nothing could possibly be more glorious. Meanwhile, Jason stood next to me and kept muttering, Be cool, try smiling. I know this is lame, but try not to look like such an angry giant.
Both Marys got a telegram in English. Rosa from Academic Team got one in biology from her boyfriend on the cross-country team. Clare got one from her secret admirer, which was Dwight because he told me he was going to do it and wanted to know how lame that was on a scale of one to ten.
Seven, I told him.
I asked Maya if it would make me a bad boyfriend if I didn’t send her a singing telegram for Valentine’s Day.
“Please don’t,” she said seriously. “I’ll die.”
I laughed and agreed not to. We spent the rest of the morning watching the parade of red and pink balloons wander the halls between classes, and I gave her the heart-shaped cookies I’d baked her, which turned out to be so much better than the telegram. Her words, not mine.
Ian happened to be walking through the hallway at the same time. He saw the cookies and said, “Are those an apology because you’re too cheap to get her an actual gift?”
I was going to respond when Maya kissed me pointedly, and inappropriately, in the middle of the hallway, causing people to whistle and catcall. She raised an eyebrow at Ian and pulled me into class.
“Nicely done,” I said.
“I know,” said Maya.
In honor of Valentine’s Day, Sister Catherine made a big deal about discussing chastity and the virtues of saving yourself for marriage. She did this while one of the Marys in the front row scratched unconsciously at the birth control patch on her back. Don’t ask me how I know this.
There are, of course, the religious types whose parents have convinced them that sex is a nasty invention of the morally depraved, whose only unsavory purpose is to create tiny, mucus-covered infants. But they’re weirdos, and everyone knows it.
I’d like to tell you that my Valentine’s Day went by without incident, but I guess stuff is starting to slip through the cracks. Either the dose is too low or my body has gotten too used to it. That can happen, right? Either way, something feels off, and I could feel myself losing control fairly early in the night.
It’s not like Maya and I had never been on a date before. We’ve had meals together and gone places together and done all the things most couples would label “date-like” activities, but I guess there’s something about Valentine’s Day that makes it official. No amount of late-night study sessions and fondling can replace the sight of two other couples from school seeing you out with your girlfriend. It’s a rite of passage.
Maya drove. I had a headache when I got in the car but didn’t say anything. She looked beautiful. Like, really beautiful. Something about the way she was smiling. She didn’t seem worried about anything. And she was wearing blue. I like her in blue.
She was the kind of beautiful that makes other guys jealous. There’s something kind of awesome about having something that other people want. That’s messed up, I know, but that isn’t the only reason I was glad she looked so great. It was nice that the rest of the world got to see her that way.
“So it’s our first Valentine’s Day,” she said after we sat down at our table. “Is this the part where we stare into each other’s eyes and say what we like about each other?”
“That sounds pretty lame,” I said. “How about we stare into each other’s eyes and say what we know about each other. A recap, if you will.”
She laughed, scooted her chair closer, and fixed me with a laser-focused stare. “Okay, you start,” she said.
“You still can’t swim.”
“I can too! I took the lessons you got me! At least now I won’t drown.”
“I doubt you’ll get arm floaties when the ice caps melt, Maya.”
“Well, you’re a really slow runner.” She grinned.
It went on for a while. This picking on each other. Completely inappropriate for Valentine’s Day, but we couldn’t stop laughing.
She bites her nails. I don’t walk straight. She hates bananas. I can’t pronounce Spanish words. She’s afraid of hippos. I love Star Wars.
“You’re a lot sweeter than you look,” she said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked playfully, eyebrows raised, with my mouth full of ravioli.
“I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that some people might be intimidated by you because you’re so big and you look kind of stern sometimes. But you’re kind. And actually really thoughtful.”
“Thanks,” I said, pretending to blush. “How do I look stern?”
“You get headaches a lot more than you should,” she said finally. “I think they make you a little twitchy.” I thought about this for a second and nodded.
“And you notice things that other people don’t,” I said.
Actually, Maya’s perceptiveness is really inconvenient. It’s gotten a lot harder to hide things from her, and I don’t want her to dig any deeper into my headaches or “twitchiness.” I’ll have to start making a bigger effort to distract her from that.
So we finished dinner and even managed to catch a sunset by the beach, which I thought was cliché but she seemed to like. It was when we got to the theater playing black-and-white movies that I really started feeling sick. It was one of those old theaters with burgundy plush-cushioned seats. There weren’t that many people there, which was good because it wasn’t stadium seating. Meaning that I would easily block the view of anyone sitting behind me.