Anatomy of a Boyfriend (15 page)

―Wow, Wes, you really seem to know what you‘re doing.‖

―I had a lot of practice in Paris.‖

―What did you say?‖

―April Fools‘!‖

I‘m laughing and wheezing at the same time. ―You know…‖ I peel off the condom and slap him on his arm with it. ―So
not
funny!‖

He laughs. ―In health class they made us practice putting these on dildos. I just never knew it‘d come in handy so soon.‖

I shake my head as I search my purse for a tissue to put the condom in. It looks like Saran Wrap.

It feels like it too, except a little thicker. And slimier. It‘s mind-boggling to think this flimsy-looking apparatus is going to be inside me, that it‘s the only thing between me and pregnancy.

Meanwhile, Wes is rubbing his forehead with his fingers. He looks exhausted.

―You okay?‖

―Yeah,‖ he breathes. ―It‘s just been a crazy day.‖

―Yeah, I know, right? Intercontinental travel, college acceptances, a little third base, and now condom dry runs.‖

―It‘s enough to wear a guy out.‖ He closes his eyes and settles into the pillow. Then he says drowsily, as if he were reading my mind, ―I want our first time to be incredible, Dom.‖

I turn on my side to hold him as he falls asleep. I lie awake admiring his perfect face and body until it‘s time to go home.

24

S
even different guys ask Amy to prom this year, but she ends up asking Wes‘s friend Paul so she can throw ―the most kick-ass after-party EFM‘s ever seen‖ at his beach house. I tell my parents I‘m helping her with the cleanup and will probably spend the night at her place since it will be late by the time we‘re done. They say that‘s fine and that they just want me to have a good time. They even offer to treat me to a spa day beforehand. I hate how parents whip out their best, most generous qualities right before you have to lie to them.

Prom morning, I ask Mom if I can borrow the station wagon so I can go to the mall to buy panty hose and makeup. Instead, I drive all the way out to the Sanibel Regal Resort, where I have already reserved a small room with a view of the beach. Wes‘s grandparents are in Captiva now for a two-week vacation, but I‘m actually glad we can‘t use their condo tonight. I don‘t want our first time to be in a place where we have to worry about leaving it without a trace, even though the hotel room is costing Wes a month‘s allowance money and me most of my bratsitting earnings.

After checking in, I go up to the room and stash my toiletries and a change of clothes so I‘ll have something casual to wear tomorrow morning. In the nightstand drawer I drop in a package of extra-strength condoms and a lubricant Amy read about that‘s supposed to make sex less painful the first time. Finally I drive to the spa where I get a full-body massage, trying not to think how I have to make my final college decision by next week.

Wes and I actually haven‘t seen each other in six days since he‘s been away in Tallahassee for the state track championship. So even though I‘m dying to hug him when the doorbell rings at five sharp, I have my parents stall for a few minutes so I can make a fashionably late grand entrance into the living room.

We both bust up laughing when we lay eyes on each other. Wes looks so distinguished in a tux and bow tie, and he has never seen me look this glamorous. My form-fitting gown is dark green silk strewn with tiny rhinestones, and spaghetti straps cross the low-cut back. Topping off the ensemble is Grandma‘s emerald ring, which Grandpa had given her on their first wedding anniversary and which she‘s lending me for the night. It was strange taking off Wes‘s mood ring today since I‘ve been wearing it almost nonstop for the last two months, but admittedly it‘s not prom material.

When we stop giggling, all Wes manages to say is, ―Wow!‖

I pin a red rose boutonniere on his lapel, and the roses in the corsage he slips on my wrist are yellow except for the tips of the petals, which are red. It‘s perfect since yellow signifies friendship and red means romance, and we have both.

Dad breaks out his digicam and takes almost a hundred photographs of us striking poses in the living room and on our terrace. Normally, Wes‘s smile rarely exceeds a tight-lipped grin, but tonight it‘s ear to ear. On the elevator ride down to the parking lot he says his cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

Unfortunately, prom is anticlimactic after our romantic four-course candlelit dinner at The Kings Crown. The dance is supposed to have an outer space theme, but the EFM gymnasium looks less like the Moon and more like where black and silver crepe paper goes to die. When I use the restroom I notice a Marvin the Martian poster next to the tampon dispenser, which reminds me of Wes‘s bedsheets. For a second I wonder if the prom committee knows tonight‘s the night and did that to tease me. I also feel a little lost since Amy‘s the only other EFM-er I know well, and she and Paul leave early to prepare for the after-party.

After we get professional pictures taken against a kitschy backdrop of a little green man and a tinfoil rocket-ship, Wes says to me, ―So, uh, I think this is the part where I ask you to dance?‖

―Your enthusiasm is overwhelming,‖ I tease. ―It‘s okay, I know you don‘t like dancing.‖

―So what?‖ He offers me his arm. ―It‘s prom.‖

I‘ve actually been dreading this moment because I hate the way people slow-dance today. I wish we were still taught real dances, like the waltz or swing, so we could look coordinated and graceful. Instead, couples just sway back and forth and lurch in an awkward circle as we girls stiffly grip the guys‘ shoulders and the guys cup our waists in a display of mutual rigor mortis.

Amy calls this the Dance of the Dying Cockroach.

But slow-dancing with Wes exceeds all expectations. On the dance floor he holds me so close I can rest my head on his chest, which makes the obligatory swaying actually feel really sensual.

Occasionally he eases his fingers under the straps of my dress and strokes my lower back, which turns me on so much it takes all my self-control not to grab his ass and grind up against him. I love that people are looking at us, wondering who that lucky girl is.

We spend two hours at Amy‘s after-party, which is longer than we planned. I think we‘re both nervous about tonight and are trying to delay the inevitable, but we‘re also having a fantastic time. Amy and Paul brought in two dozen cakes from The Bubble Room. They also set up Dance Dance Revolution and karaoke, and it‘s hilarious watching all the drunk EFM-ers attempt to dance to the beat and rap in time with the music. But when one of the girls starts belting out Donna Summer‘s ―Dim All the Lights,‖ Wes and I both start to get antsy.

I ask Wes to get the car and pick me up in front of Paul‘s house so I won‘t have to walk the five blocks in my heels. Meanwhile, I find Amy to say goodbye. As we hug she whispers, ―Don‘t get discouraged if tonight‘s no good. Doing it for the first time rarely is for the girl. And remember you don‘t have to go through with it. You can always change your mind at the last second.‖

―I know, I know. I won‘t do anything I don‘t want to.‖ I‘m still stunned I‘m about to go further than Amy ever has. I guess she is too since her eyes are starting to overflow.

―Oh, Ames, don‘t.‖

―I‘m sorry,‖ she laughs through her tears. ―I just can‘t believe how fast the time‘s gone, you know? It‘s almost May.‖

―I can‘t believe it either.‖ Suddenly the prospect of having sex seems almost like a death sentence for the person I‘ve been all my life up until this night. A part of me wishes I could be an innocent brace-faced freshman again, just for a few minutes, anyway.

―Now don‘t you start crying either,‖ Amy admonishes me while dabbing her eyes. ―You‘ve got a long night of bronco riding ahead of you, cowgirl.‖

I sniffle and grin. ―Way to kill a tender moment.‖

―You know I‘m hopeless,‖ she says, shaking her head in mock shame.

We hug again before I leave to walk down the beach and up the wooden staircase to the street.

As I come over the dune, I see Wes is already waiting, his eyes and the Explorer glowing the same neon blue in the moonlight.

―Hey,‖ he says.

―Hey.‖

25

W
e start going at it in the tiny hallway of our hotel room. Within seconds my lipstick is all over Wes‘s face, and I have to order him to stop for a minute so we can delicately take off and hang up our expensive outfits—the last clothes we‘ll wear as virgins. As soon as I close the closet doors he lifts me up high over his head, carries me to the bed, and throws me on it. We‘re both laughing, but I‘m amazed to see him this brazen and aggressive. I remember one of the first things I wondered about him the day we met was if he could bench me. I guess he can.

I spot the chocolates the maid left on our pillows. After popping one in my mouth, I pierce the outer shell with my teeth and let the runny hazelnut filling wash over my tongue.

―Kith shme,‖ I say.

He looks at me askance.

―Pleeeeshe?‖ I give him puppy eyes.

―All right. Why not?‖

And it tastes so good. It gets all over our chins and drips onto our chests. Some dribbles onto my breasts, and Wes tries licking it off, only to get us both dirtier. I wonder if all couples get this kinky this fast.

―That is the only way to eat chocolate,‖ Wes says. ―I think we‘re going to have to shower together.‖

―Oh yeah?‖

―Uh-huh. But later.‖

Wes climbs on top of me. We‘re kissing almost brutally with our tongues and teeth, sucking each other‘s lips and chins as we grab at each other‘s torsos with clenched fingers. Then I mutter through my kisses that the stuff is in the nightstand.

Wes sits up, opens the drawer, rips open a condom, and rolls it on quickly even though his hands are shaking. When he gets back on top of me, I feel some of the lube he coated the condom with rubbing off on my thighs. I wrap my legs around him and raise my hips, but he doesn‘t move.

―This is the point where I was hoping my masculine animal instincts would kick in.‖

―This all feels fine so far. You know, normal.‖

―Dom, I‘m really scared this is going to be painful for you.‖

I am too, but more than that I‘m excited. ―I‘m sure all the, you know, fingering stuff we‘ve been doing already kinda broke me in. I‘ll tell you if it hurts.‖

―Okay,‖ he says warily.

―Hey, Wes, are you having any doubts about this?‖

―No, are you?‖

―No. This feels so right to me.‖

―I love you, Dom.‖

There,
the final piece of the jigsaw.

He shakes his head. ―It‘s insane how much I love you. I never knew I could feel this way.‖

―I love you too,‖ I say quietly, holding back my tears. It feels
so
good to have said it, finally, and to be this honest and exposed. It‘s like I‘ve discovered the meaning of life—to love and be loved.

Sure, my parents and I love each other, but we have no choice. We‘re family. Love seems so much more special when it comes from someone who has no obligation to feel it.

The next few seconds are pretty awkward as I try to reposition my pelvis to accommodate his angle, and Wes is careful not to put excessive weight on me. Finally, I feel him enter me slightly.

―Yeah, it‘s fine,‖ I say. ―It doesn‘t hurt.‖

―Okay.‖ He slowly eases in a little more. It doesn‘t feel that much different than if it were his index and middle fingers. But then he shoves into me at full force.

―Ow! Get off!‖ I shout.

He jumps off the bed. ―Oh crap, I‘m sorry.‖

―No, don‘t be,‖ I say as I curl up in the fetal position. ―I‘m sorry I yelled.‖

―Shit, did I hurt you bad?‖

Yeah, it hurt like hell.

―Just a little.‖

I turn on the nightstand lamp and pull the blanket up over my knees to shield my lower body from Wes‘s view. I don‘t see any blood on the sheets, but there are a couple of red drops on my inner thighs. I smear them away with my fingers and sink back into the pillow. Then Wes lies down next to me. We are silent for a minute.

―Wes, we just had sex.‖ I laugh and groan at the same time.

―Well, it was kinda crummy.‖

―It wasn‘t crummy! The first time is supposed to be weird—if it were great on the first try, we‘d have nothing to aim for later.‖

―Uh…you want to try again?‖

I do, but I also want to wash off my heavy prom makeup and remove all the bobby pins from my hair, so I tell Wes I‘ll just be a few minutes in the bathroom.

Once there, I let the faucet run and study myself in the mirror. I‘m not sure what to think. My body doesn‘t feel any different. I gaze down at my arms and stomach and legs, and I don‘t look any different. But I am different. I just had sex. My vagina had a penis inside of it. I wonder if my Shorr friends and teachers will detect it somehow, or my mom and dad for that matter. It‘s going to feel so weird being sexually active, living in the same apartment with the two people who had to have sex to create me.

I turn the water on higher as I cry a little. A part of me does feel like I‘ve just lost something precious—I think of Grandma equating virginity with a white wedding dress, and I wonder if Wes will be the one I marry. He has to be. Who else could it be? I bet Wes would be a great dad one day, very hands-on and loving. His parents would be fantastic grandparents too. I imagine them in their pastel sweatsuits babysitting, giving our kids piggyback rides and showing them how to build with blocks.

I take my Grandma‘s emerald ring off my right hand and put it on my left ring finger for a minute. As I hold out my hand and admire it, I think how funny it is that of all the people I know, I—little Miss Science Quiz priss—am the least likely to have lost it on prom night, with a state champion sprinter jock, of all people.

After peeing, washing my face, and brushing out my hair-sprayed hair, I crawl back into bed with a sleeping Wes. I kiss him on the mouth until he awakens.

―You were really out,‖ I say once he opens his eyes.

―It‘s no surprise.‖ He yawns. ―I ran harder in the last week than I have all semester. My legs are so sore I can‘t feel my feet.‖

―Oh, really? Well, that means you won‘t be bothered if…
I tickle them!
‖