The Boy From Hot Ice

Break was pretty uneventful. I got a car from my mom for Christmas, and that was cool. I guess I would have been more excited if she hadn't done it only to one-up my dad's gift - a Tiffany bracelet. Honestly, at this point in my life I gave so few fucks about how much money we had, that I didn't even care when I got something awesome. I guess you could say I was kind of a spoiled brat, but I learned my lesson later in life when layoffs and bad investments put me in a state of near poverty. But that's not what this story is about.
Anyway, I think I saw Jeremy every day except for Christmas itself. I guess he had a big family get-together of some sort. And unlike my parents, his were still on very good terms after the divorce.
He used to tell me all the time that the divorce didn't really affect him. Not just because his parents stayed close, but because they loved him and always put the family first. But I saw the look he'd get in his eye when we were around people who were talking about their mom and dad, or their parents' perfect marriage, or I guess the whole idea of getting married in general and living happily ever after. He looked at it the way I did. Like it was all bullshit and pretty much just a nice fairy tale for tiny children to believe in.
I guess my mom hadn't figured it out. When she wasn't completely ignoring me, she was bragging to me about her new boyfriend. His name was Scott, and I guess he owned some sort of fishing, manufacturing, boating something-or-other. He was rich, too. My mom would accept nothing less.
And I'd be lying if I said I hadn't gotten accustomed to the way we lived. But the only time it really mattered to me was when I wanted new clothes or an elaborate perm or designer makeup. I never really felt comfortable in my body, and I felt like the only way to look like the girls in the magazines was to dress like them.
Jeremy didn't really share these values. He had enough money to buy nicer things, but he wore tee shirts he'd buy at rock concerts and tattered jeans and those big ugly black biker boots. And of course, there was that leather jacket. He was starting to grow up now, and it was getting too small. But he just rolled up the sleeves or walked around with it flung over his shoulder. He wouldn't give it up for anything.
It was the day before the new semester, a Sunday, when I drove out to the woods with him again. It was chilly that day, and I remember I wore a sweater. And of course, there he was in his usual outfit, that haircut I was starting to get tired of, and the look on his face like he really believed one day he'd take over the world.
And I guess in a way he did.
We parked on the grass and stayed there a while. I complained that it was too cold to get out, and he offered me his jacket, which actually fit me quite well. I don't know what it was we were talking about originally, but he finally looked at me and put his arm around me. That's when I remember the conversation we had after.
"You a virgin?" He asked.
I was completely taken aback. "Why?"
"Well," he started to explain as if it shouldn't be a big deal, "I know you don't really have a lot of friends, and you haven't had a boyfriend since you got here. And I guess I'm just wondering if you ever had a boyfriend before. And you know, if you're a virgin."
I didn't really like talking about it, but I was comfortable enough with Jeremy to where I couldn't keep anything from him for long. Something about the way his eyes looked at me, through me, mesmerizing me and sending a subliminal message that everything would be alright.
"I'm not a virgin," I told him.
"How many guys have you been with?"
"Just one. Vic Corletti."
"You only date fellow Italians?"
"No," I smiled. "He's just the only one so far."
"So," he started fidgeting, and I knew he was about to ask something personal. "Um, so, how was it?"
"What?" I asked. "The sex?"
"Yeah. What's it - what was it like?"
"I don't know. It hurt at first. The first few times we did it, it was uncomfortable and weird and embarrassing for both of us, but it got better."
"How long were you guys together?"
"The whole time I lived with my dad," I told him. "Although we only had sex during the last six months."
"You ever regret having sex?"
I hadn't really thought about it before. "I don't regret it, I guess," I said, still pondering. "I guess I don't really see what the big deal is, you know? I mean, sex isn't THAT great. It's just a couple of people flopping around, lot's of touching, lots of heavy breathing. It's exhausting, but it's not that great."
He was listening to my words like I was telling him the key to happiness. "Really? 'Cause I hear it's really awesome."
"Maybe it's better for guys," I said. "Girls, not so much."
"Did he get you off?"
"Off of what?"
"You know, did he... make you... you know..."
"What are you talking about?"
He lowered his voice like it was a secret, and like there was anywhere for miles around to hear what we said. "Orgasm?"
"Oh," I answered. "Can girls have orgasms?"
"Yeah, I think so. Don't you ever watch porn?"
"Um," I blushed at the thought, and at my ignorance. But you need to understand that even though this wasn't all that long ago, there was still little common awareness (for lack of a better term) about the female orgasm.
"It's not like I watch a lot of porn," he interjected. "But you know, I've seen some before, and it looks like the girls are having orgasms to me."
"Why are you asking all this?"
He tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. "I just wanted to know what it's like," he answered sheepishly.
"Are you a virgin?" I asked. I guess it made sense, since he had about as much luck with girls as I did with guys.
"It's not like I've never done anything," he pleaded his case. "I mean, I touched Jill Frank's boobs once during spin the bottle. And I've made out with lots of chicks."
I smiled at his innocence, but I suddenly felt so vulnerable. All this time he had been the cool band kid I was friends with, but here he was asking me questions about sex. "Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of," I told him. "It's nice, actually."
"I always heard the first time should either be with someone you've been going out with for a while, or it should be with a best friend."
"What are you saying?" I asked him.
"I'm just saying that if you ever want to do me a favor, that could be it," he smiled. "You know, you didn't get me a Christmas present."
I slapped his arm as he joked with me. But truthfully, I'm not sure he was joking. "You're an idiot," I laughed.
We sat together another moment, the uneasy conversation still lingering in the air. "Have you ever had a really perfect kiss?" I asked him. "You know, one that just like, totally caught you off guard and surprised you and sent shivers down your spine... in a good way?"
He chuckled. "Not really. Why? You haven't?"
"Well, with Vic it was either sex or it was just holding hands. He wasn't exactly passionate. And I always wanted that passionate kiss."
"Well, I guess we all have something we want to experience before high school ends," he smiled. "For you, it's the perfect kiss, and for me, it's sex."
"Hey, well if you want to get me a Christmas present, you could do that for me!" I joked back.
"You want me to kiss you?" He asked, his face and voice turning serious. Truth be told, kissing him at this moment was very tempting. I didn't exactly find Jeremy attractive physically, but there was something else about him that made him so unbelievably sexy. Maybe it was his easy way of talking. Maybe it was his naivety or his respect for me. Maybe it was how he was for some reason attracted to me in spite of my insecurities. Or maybe I was just horny because I hadn't had sex in almost a year, and maybe I would have kissed a porcupine if it asked me.
"No, thanks," I answered. "It wouldn't be the right way to do it." Like I had said, it needed to be one of those compassionate, surprising, take-my-breath-away kisses, and you can't have that when you talk about having it first.
We discussed the fact that it was too cold to go out on the lake, and we ended up heading back home shortly after that.

The next day, it was like everyone got a fresh batch of bitchy for Christmas. Except Jenny Zelner, who got it for the eighth day of Chanukah.
I wasn't looking forward to the game I had that evening, especially since my mom picked that night as the night she would spend with Scott at his cabin in the mountains. I had to play the whole game thinking about my mom and Scott, their cabin, and all the sex they would be having while I busted my ass on the court. She never showed up anyway, but the usual excuse was that she was working late. She never made arrangements for me to get home either, so I guess giving me a car served as a favor to her as well as a gift to me.
At halftime, we were losing 30-19. Never had I sucked so badly as I did that game. I marched, last in line, of course, towards the locker room, my mind racing. I hadn't been driving for very long, and never had I driven at night. Also, it was raining again, and I'd never driven in the rain. I didn't want to take Wentworth home since it was under construction, but if I took the expressway, I had to deal with traffic, and that didn't exactly seem like the best idea for a nervous driver. I kept on down those stairs, trying to focus on the game, but finding my mind in other places.
Suddenly, I felt a tug on my arm, my back flat against the wall, and a set of lips against mine. I melted into this... what was it? A kiss? Yes! The most amazing kiss I'd ever experienced. There I stood dripping with sweat and probably smelling like B.O., and I was having the most romantic moment of my life. I knew it was him. My hands found their way up his chest until they were curled around his neck, and he was pressing me against the bricks, his hands cradling my face as he Frenched me like a champ.
When he released me, I stood looking into his eyes, whatever color they were. Catching his breath, he smiled. "Happy Christmas."
I shook myself a bit, and I continued to the locker room without a word. I could feel him watching me, and I couldn't stop smiling.
"Hey, dyke!" Allison Mason yelled at me as soon as I entered. "Stop scratchin' your balls and do some blocking out there!"
I didn't even care. I just had the best kiss of my life.
He kept staring at me during the game, and every time I looked his way, he would wink. I needed him to stop so I could focus on the game! But I also needed him to keep doing it so I wouldn't focus on all the other distractions. If I was going to be distracted, at least it would be by something I would be smiling about.
We lost 76-38.
After the game, he met me at my car.
"Hey," I smiled.
He took my hands and pulled me close to him. "Hey."
"Thanks for that," I smiled.
"My pleasure," he winked. That wink. "Nice ride," he smiled. "How do you like it so far?"
"It's not bad. I'm a little scared to drive it tonight, though." I explained all my various and sundry fears about driving.
"Let me drive you home," he offered. "I can pick you up tomorrow and get you here so you can drive during the daytime."
"Ok," I smiled as we walked to his car. "Or..."
He looked at me.
"You could stay at my house tonight," I smiled.
He kicked his feet around in the dirt as he stared at the ground. "You don't have to do that. I kissed you because I wanted to, not because I expected you to take me home."
"I want to take you home," I told him. "Just come stay with me tonight. I don't want to be alone."
He hugged me tight, something I realized he did when he wanted to express himself. He didn't need to say anything.
When we got to the house, we went straight up to my room. "Wow," he said. "I've never see the downstairs of your house before."
"Not much to see," I said. "Or maybe it's too much."
He sat on my bed, and I dimmed the lights. I approached him and gently grazed the side of his face. He leaned into it like a puppy.
I fell to my knees in front of him. Kissing him softly, I pulled back his jacket. His hands, unsure what to do or too nervous to do it, simply sat at his sides, propping his awkward body in front of my kneeling frame as I tugged on his tee shirt.
"Liz," he said, putting his hand on my arm, preventing me from going any further.
"What?" I knew he was trying to slow down, but I hoped I could still change his mind. I wanted him now, and I couldn't undo that.
"I don't think I can do this," he said quietly.
I didn't know how to react. I didn't want to push it. I remembered how Vic talked me into having sex my first time, and the last thing I wanted was for Jeremy to feel that kind of pressure. I pulled myself even closer and placed a long, slow kiss on his lips. "Okay," I said, backing away. "But you can still stay tonight."
"I probably shouldn't," he said.
"Please," I begged. I know I came off as desperate, but I was.
He thought for a moment. "Okay," he smiled. " I'd like that, too."
I stepped inside my closet and changed. He was already lying in the covers, his shirt off and his shoes placed neatly by the door.
I slipped in with him and turned out the lights. "Goodnight," I whispered in his ear.
He turned around and cradled me, kissing me repeatedly and passionately.
"You're not acting like you don't want to do it," I said.
"I just want to fall asleep kissing you," he said, and though I couldn't see, I know he was smiling.
I really do think we fell asleep kissing each other. It was like something I'd never felt before and haven't felt since. It was an intimacy I've never been able to quite put a label on, or even an accurate description. I can say without any doubt in my mind, we had fallen in love, and neither of us had a clue.