chapter seventeen
“Walking down memory lane with an old flame will do one of two things. One, it makes you remember only the good times, causing you to fall into another stupid relationship that should have always stayed in the past. Or two, it causes you to put all the shit behind you, and try again. It’s fifty,-fifty. Then again, those are the odds of crossing the street right? Wrong. I was testing you. You failed. Stop nodding your head dumbass, and listen. ONLY embark with an old flame if a dating guru says it’s okay. Geez, amateurs all around me. I’m getting itchy thinking about it.”
~From Max Emory’s Guide to Dating and Other Important Life Lessons
Maddy
It was the ultimate bad idea: stir up feelings, pretend like we didn’t have all of this pain and rejection between us, and just ride into the sunset, or in my case, toward downtown as if nothing had happened in ten years, when everything had.
I blamed myself.
But I also blamed Jason.
I was angry at him for not understanding when I’d tried talking to him about it, for not getting how the logistics didn’t work — wouldn’t work — and I wasn’t willing to risk our friendship, our love, even if he was.
I cleared my throat and tried to ignore the way my palm heated against his thigh, and how close I was to places I used to touch while he was driving; things I would do that would make me blush if I thought too hard.
How were we never caught?
Or arrested, more than twice?
It was truly a miracle.
Especially with all the shenanigans that had gone on in this truck. I knew, without a doubt, that if I slid my hand into the back pocket of the driver’s side, I’d find a bag of M&Ms, just in case, right along with a box of condoms.
I swallowed and kept my eyes forward, as images of Jason peeling off his shirt and tossing it outside the truck flashed in the forefront of my mind; him unbuttoning his jeans while I gasped into his mouth, the truck idling in the dark at the football field near the bleachers, his body hovering over mine as our mouths connected, bodies synced…
Sex with Jason had always felt right.
Not like I had done anything wrong.
Even though we’d been young…
He’d felt like my forever.
And nothing was ever awkward; it had only been perfect.
“I love you, baby,” Jason sighed against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, causing me to let out a little moan as I fumbled for the front of his jeans. His dark laugher filled the clear night air as he helped me along, and then pulled me into his lap so I was straddling him. “We don’t have to rush.”
“I know.” I didn’t tell him I was afraid of what would happen after graduation — what would happen to us. I didn’t tell him I was terrified of staying, of what our lives would look like if we just stayed. I didn’t want to be that person, and a part of him knew that, but we didn’t talk about my fears because I didn’t want him to think I didn’t love him enough to stay local. “I love you.”
His face relaxed as he stole another kiss.
The sound of a condom opening paired with our mouths all over each other, dying for another taste; teenage bodies aching for release far beyond their realm of understanding. He pulled my cheerleading skirt up, then dug his finger into my black Spanx. I let out a gasp as he moved me to my knees and slinked them down my thighs. I stood in the truck bed, under the stars above the football field, and looked down at his hungry green eyes. He kissed the inside of my thigh and tugged the Spanx over my knees. I gulped when they were at my feet, when I stepped out and lowered myself back onto him.
Wrapper discarded.
Just us.
Joined where he’d thrown another touchdown under the bright lights. Why couldn’t it always feel like this? Just us, no harsh whispers, no judgment, just me and the boy I loved?
“You are my everything.” Our foreheads touched as he made promises I wanted him to both break and keep.
I kissed away the words. I lost myself in him as he moved inside me, as the fall air reminded me time was running out. As I spotted his jersey in the bed of the truck and felt tears well in my eyes. His skin was hot to the touch, and with each slow movement, each thrust, I thought to myself.
This. Is. Perfect.
And the wind blew as I clung to him for dear life, moving with his body as we both cried out — as his name fell from my lips.