Never Enough (19 page)

As I served customer after customer, I came up with a few conversation starters: How Claire spent most of her time at home these days, no new boyfriend yet. Or what about photography? My camera had come from him, after all. Maybe he had suddenly realized how much we have in common.

*   *   *

The house was deserted when I got home, but I couldn’t sit still. I had to tell somebody about seeing Josh. Of course, I couldn’t very well tell Claire, even if she were home. And I couldn’t tell Marcus.

I picked up the phone and hesitated for a second, then dialed Deirdre’s phone number.

After three rings, I recognized her voice. “Hey, it’s Loann,” I said.

A pause followed, and then, “Oh, hey!” like she had to remind herself how to speak. The truth was, it did seem weird, me calling her. Neither of us had ever been phone people.

“I, um, was wondering how your summer’s been?”

She went on to tell me she’d joined the swim club at the local pool and had been working a few days a week at her mom’s office. “So pretty busy, really,” she said.

I picked at my thumbnail. It just seemed too weird to call her up out of the blue to tell her I had a date, which wasn’t even really a date. “I—got a job too,” I said finally. I told her about the Arts Club and she seemed impressed. By the time
I’d finished filling her in, she had to leave for swim practice.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in school, then,” I said.

“For sure,” she agreed, then said good-bye and hung up.

I stared down at the phone. It’s not like our conversation had gone badly, so why did it leave me feeling so alone?

*   *   *

After dinner, I took off my oversize LA Kings T-shirt in my room and looked at myself in my bra. Even being alone in my bedroom, I slouched forward to make my breasts look less obvious. My C-cup bra was getting too small and I bulged out of the sides and the middle. Asking Mom for a new one would be out of the question, both for money and embarrassment factors, and the thought of not being able to use my money for more film—well, maybe I’d think about that next month.

As I moved hangers back and forth in my closet looking for something to wear, I swallowed at the spark of an idea.

In my bottom dresser drawer, I dug with both hands until I felt the ribbing I was looking for. I tugged at one of the pink tank tops I’d gotten for my birthday, and studied it. It looked tiny, but it had some stretch, and I might as well make use of at least one of them. I walked over to the mirror, pulling the tank over my head and down so it almost touched my belly button. I glanced back toward the mirror.

No matter how much I slouched, my breasts looked enormous. I angled to the side and then back again. But maybe I
could see myself as pretty. Not just my boobs, but the rest of me too. I wasn’t so bad, was I? I wanted to believe, even for just a second, that Josh might really like
me
.

Claire’s soft footsteps sounded on the stairs. I snatched a button-down denim shirt from the closet, threw it on, and pulled it closed over the tank top. I let out a breath of relief as Claire closed her bedroom door.

I did what I could to tidy my hair, swiped a lip gloss of Claire’s off the bathroom counter, and headed out.

As I dashed down our driveway, my nerves came on in full force.
I was going to meet Josh Garrison!
What was I thinking? What if I couldn’t think of anything to say?

I should have brought my camera
, I thought, a block from the school. I couldn’t seem to keep anything straight tonight.

Before long, the detached classrooms came into view. They were new last year because of a sudden increase in freshman students. They looked like two big orange-and-white trailers from the local fair—like they should house a roomful of clowns. Though considering some of the guys in my Spanish class, that might not be too far off.

I didn’t see any evidence of a recent football practice, or any other signs of life, for that matter. Maybe I had the wrong place. Or maybe—more likely—I’d imagined the whole invitation this morning.

I heard a sound from within the trees beside the portable
classrooms and saw a flash of Josh’s light brown hair. I had a moment of boldness and unbuttoned my denim shirt, tying it at the waist to reveal the top beneath. Holding my shoulders back, I tried to feel as beautiful as Claire looked.

When he came into full view, I wanted to run away. I was tempted to slouch forward, button my shirt back to my throat, and hope Josh hadn’t seen me. But at the sound of my name, I knew it was too late.

“Loann . . . hi.” He spoke just above a whisper.

“Hi.” My hands started to sweat.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. “I didn’t know if you would. You look pretty.”

I laughed a little because, I don’t know, I thought he was joking. But he kept an even smile. “I, um, I was going to bring my camera,” I said, just to say something.

Josh nodded. “You should have.” He raised his eyebrows and the motion seemed filled with innuendo.

I didn’t quite get what he meant, so I went on. “I mean, you’re into photography too, right?” I wanted to get my footing before I said something stupid, like how cute he was, or how much I
loved
being here alone with him, or how much I wanted him to kiss me the same way I’d seen him kiss my sister.

“Yeah, I never could figure out how to work that old thing,” he said. “It was my dad’s. But I’m glad you like it.”

Before my disappointment could register, he reached over
and picked up my hand in his. He led me to where there was a blanket on the ground among the trees. It all seemed so romantic. I wondered back to when he and Claire had been together. Had they done stuff like this? All I’d ever seen them do was eat lunch together at school or head up to Claire’s room at home. For once I wasn’t jealous of what Claire had had. I thought maybe . . . maybe this was supposed to be romantic for
me
.

I considered taking off my shoes and plunking myself down when Josh laced his fingers through mine. He pulled me toward him, and I moved like a rag doll. His other hand lifted my chin.

It was all so surreal.
Could this really be happening?
With my face tilted toward his, Josh seemed so close, and before I knew it, his lips pressed hard against mine. His tongue thrust into my mouth.

He was kissing me! Josh Garrison was
kissing
me!
A real kiss, not like the little pecks from my aunts and uncles. I guess I didn’t know what to expect from my first kiss, but it was odd. Not like you think when you see it on TV or even when I was watching him and Claire. It felt hard and wet and a little like a dental checkup, him exploring my mouth with his tongue. My stomach flip-flopped and I kept reminding myself not to laugh or pull away. Reminding myself that
I was kissing Josh Garrison.

The words “You look pretty” swam in my head. Then:
Was it weird, that I was kissing Claire’s ex-boyfriend?

I couldn’t concentrate. It just felt so good to be wanted. That Josh wanted this too.

Both of his hands moved down and fiddled at my waist, and seconds later, my denim shirt fell in the dirt behind me. I pulled my hands over my stomach, but in one smooth motion Josh put them on
his
waist. I figured if I stayed close to him, my belly fat wouldn’t be as obvious, so I latched my shaky fingers onto the belt loops of his jeans.

As if he could feel my insecurity, Josh’s hands moved to the middle of my back and he drew me in so my stomach and chest were against his. He pulled at the back of my tank top, then through my tank top to my bra. The clasp released and the weight of my breasts dropped from the underwire. Josh kissed me more determinedly, with his lips and his tongue. I didn’t know how to respond. I let my tongue follow his lead, but was that right? Should I have been doing something else? Suddenly I wished I’d listened more to Shayleen, back when she seemed overeager to give me advice.

Josh’s hands stroked the sides of my waist. I wanted to pull his hands away and yank my tank top down, but I held strong and kept my fingers in his belt loops.

He whispered between kisses, “You’re so different from your sister,” and for some reason in that second, it felt like . . . a compliment.

“You’re beautiful,” he said next, and I kept letting the word ring through my head as his hands made their way up my front and under my bra.

Claire was right, girls needed to hear these things. Girls needed to feel this way. A dark curl fell in my face and I pushed it away, marveling over how he could think
I
was beautiful.

“I love your tits,” he whispered, as he felt their shape. “They’re so much nicer than your sister’s.”

When he said that, I couldn’t help myself. My tongue thrust into his mouth, suddenly doing its own thing. I kissed him back, feeling exhilarated at each new part of his mouth mine discovered. No one had ever told me I was better than Claire. At anything.

He stroked and fondled my breasts, and I felt out of control as he kept whispering about them. I loved the word “tits” when he said it. I loved how he touched them, and I loved how his mouth felt against mine.

I hardly noticed when he lowered me down onto the blanket. He took off my tank top and bra and I was surprised that my embarrassment about my body had faded. He stopped kissing me to fiddle with the button on my jeans.

“Wha—”

“I bet there’s lots of ways you’re better than your sister,” he said, and kissed me again. As he caressed my hips, pulling
my pants down, I had a wisp of an idea:
I could really be as beautiful as Claire
. For seconds, maybe even minutes, I let myself get taken away in my beauty and in my arousal.

I let out a gust of air when his whole weight moved on top of me. “It’s okay, I’ve got a condom,” he whispered.

My eyes shot open.
Was he . . . Were we . . .
A moment later, a sudden sharpness between my legs made me cry out. It was painful, like a knife.

“Shh,” Josh whispered.

I pursed my lips together to hold my sounds in. He was going inside me.
We were having sex. I was having sex with Josh Garrison.

In a small part of my brain, I knew this was exciting, this was what I wanted. Wasn’t it? If I wanted to kiss Josh, if I wanted to be his girlfriend, didn’t this come with it? So why did it suddenly feel like something else?

I had no idea how I had gotten here or what I was doing.

The sound of the cars in the distance echoed in my head. Ants crawled up my arm. I didn’t move. I lay there with him on top of me, not even believing what was happening. Josh had stopped kissing me and kept his face down beside mine in the blanket. I gritted my teeth, unable to process all the thoughts and emotions swarming through my mind. I did all I could not to cry. I tried to hang on to his words, the way he told me I was pretty, beautiful, even, but with him pushing
inside of me, they made my stomach queasy.

Funny, what you think of in moments like these. I didn’t think about Claire or about what my parents would think. I thought about Shayleen. “Romantic” and “tender” and “gentle” reverberated as though they were coming out of her bragging seventh-grade mouth. Although I could relate those words to the soap operas Claire was addicted to, I couldn’t relate a single one to this moment.

When it was done, Josh pushed himself off and dropped onto his back on the blanket. An immediate chill hit me as his sweat on my bare chest made contact with the brisk evening air. A throbbing pain filled my whole lower body. I kept my eyes down while I sat up and gathered my things, feeling extremely shy again about my breasts, my belly fat, my thighs. There was a splotch of blood on the blanket and I quickly tried to cover it while pulling up my pants, but nothing was going back on right.

Josh lay there, breathing heavily. I tried to look over at him, but couldn’t do it.
Why had I had sex with a guy I barely knew? A guy who used to date my sister?
I fumbled to get my bra back on, but my hands shook. I finally just left the clasp undone and wrapped my denim shirt across my front. Josh caught my hand and held it on the blanket. I wondered if he could feel the earthquake that was erupting inside me. He leaned in and kissed me at the top of my cheek, right on the
bone. It was the softest kiss he’d given me all night.

I was sure I was going to fall apart right there in front of him. But then he gave me this smile. It was the same cocky and distanced smile I’d seen him give his friends in the hallways so many times at school. He lifted his hand and patted my cheek twice, then popped up to a standing position like he was ready to run a race.

I didn’t know what any of it meant. I wanted to smile back, but was afraid that any movement on my face whatsoever would break the dam of emotions that I was holding back with all my might.

It wasn’t until he turned away from me and started walking, leaving me and his dirty blanket behind, that I realized what had just happened.

And what I was—or wasn’t—to him.