The Boy From Hot Ice

I didn't think of Jeremy as anything less than a cool band kid. To me, everything about him screamed awesome. He was a punk and a tough guy, but he had a sweetness about him. If life was Breakfast Club, he would be Bender and I would be Claire.
But there was something different about Jeremy that I never really thought about. I guess he was a little different, but I knew that - he was different from any guy I'd ever known. But to the kids at school, he was a loser. He was the oddball. He was the scrawny kid who grew up awkward and had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. I loved that he didn't know about his future, or even care. In a school full of rich kids, it was nice to have a guy who wasn't obsessed with his career.
Outside of me and the bandmates, Jeremy didn't really have friends. Neighborhood girls who didn't go to our school thought he was cool, but that was it. I wondered all the time if Jeremy only liked me because I was the only girl who liked him, but now I know that's not how it was. I saw Jeremy not just in a different way than anyone else, but in the right way. I saw him as the sweetheart he was.
I had just come back to the locker room after practice one night that week to find Jenny Zelner talking to Allison Mason. The two were inseparable, and it didn't strike me odd that Jenny should be there even though she wasn't on the team. Just as I stepped into the shower, I heard their voices getting closer, and suddenly the curtain was opened, and the two girls stood in front of me, intimidatingly, starting to talk like it was no big deal that they approached me this way.
"Is it true you and Jeremy Renner are a thing now?" Jenny asked me as I stood there, cold and naked.
"Guys, I'm freezing! Could you shut the curtain?"
"I mean it makes sense," she continued. "You're both a loser freaks, but I think it's weird since he has such a huge crush on me."
"Please, Jenny, can we talk about this some other time?"
"You shouldn't be with him," Allison spoke up. "I mean, it's not like you're any prize, and I feel like maybe you should stick to your own species."
I didn't want to ask anymore so I tried pulling the curtain shut. Allison held it back.
"Look, Patch," Jenny said (I used to like the nickname, short for my last name, Pachiatorri, but I didn't like it so much right now), "You stop fucking Jeremy, ok? His best friend is my boyfriend, and it looks like he'll be spending time in our group now, and we only have room for one weirdo. So stop, okay? I can't have you being seen with me."
I nodded. What else could I do?
"That's a good girl," Allison smiled in her bitchy way. "Now you enjoy that shower. You need it."
After the initial shock wore off, I think I cried a little. They were so intimidating, even though they were each almost a full foot shorter than me. But then I guess that's what made me so uncomfortable. I was a freak and a loser and a weirdo, and they were very beautiful girls. I couldn't date Jeremy, because I couldn't be seen in their group, and rather than contemplate it, I accepted it as fact and decided to break the news to Jeremy the next time I saw him.
Turns out, he wasn't having a very easy time himself.
Jeremy wasn't really the athletic type. Sure, he had a strong build and of course those infamous arms that have always been so epic, but he didn't like sports too much. He could watch the games, but it was the idea of being on a team that he wasn't comfortable with. And I don't think that was because he wasn't able to participate in the team's spirit, but because he couldn't stand the trash talk that was so encouraged. While most guys his age were making jokes about each other's moms and girlfriends and sisters, Jeremy wasn't one of them. In a tough situation, he walked away. He wasn't the violent type or the angry type, but he was so scared of becoming that way that he had learned to just leave in a sticky situation. And you just can't do that in team sports.
But as a result of participating only in the minimum required amount of athletic activities, he had earned the lovely nicknames of fag-boy, queer-bait, and pussy-pants. On the outside, he acted like he wasn't phased. But I could always see how much it hurt him to be called those names.
"It's just not right," he would tell me. "I hate this school, and I hate those guys."
One of those guys was the boy who was supposed to be Jeremy's best friend, David.
On one particularly rough day, He was being called faggot because he couldn't get the right spiral on the football. And this just coincidentally was the day I was supposed to break it off with him.
I took him to the bleachers and started the conversation by saying how glad I was that he and David were friends again. Then I consoled him about how sorry I was that Jenny was with David now, I knew that must be really tough. Then came the hard part.
"I know that you guys are all in a sort of higher level than me when it comes to your status at school," I started.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you're the cool ones, you know. The band guys. And you have your own thing going on, and I just don't think I belong around that."
"What are you saying?"
It was like the weather knew I was breaking it off, whatever it was, that I had with Jeremy. As soon as I started speaking again, the rain began to fall.
"I think I shouldn't hang out with you anymore," I said.
His face fell as I spoke, and I hated myself for saying these words.
"You can't do this," he said. "Why?"
"Well, I came to realize I don't really fit in."
"Who told you that?" he asked. I couldn't lie.
"Jenny and Allison," I answered. "They told me I couldn't be seen in their group."
"And you just said 'okay' and did as you were told?"
I started to realize I'd hurt him, but I told myself it was for the best. "It's just better to do this now than before we get to attached to each other," I said.
He looked at me. "Too late."
I didn't believe I was capable of breaking a heart, but that's exactly what I was doing. And to someone who would never lift a finger to hurt me. "I'm sorry," I told him. "This has to be over."
He jumped up without another word and drove off. I had to drive back home with that on my mind.

I was surprised as I arrived home and exited my car to see him sitting on my doorstep.
"What are you doing here?" I asked him.
He stood up and pulled his jacket off, wrapping it around me. "I gotta get outta here," he said. "You wanna come?"
Did he even have to ask?
We got into his car and drove to the woods. But we didn't get out. As soon as he stopped, he shut off the car and stared at the wheel. I couldn't tell if he was crying or if the dripping off of his chin was from the rain that had been pelting his face the entire road there. Maybe it was both.
"I can't do it anymore," he said finally. "I can't stay here."
"What are you talking about?" I asked. I'd never seen him upset in this way before.
"I hate everything," he shook his head, "I hate school and I hate my friends and I hate everything in this goddamned town.
"I'm sorry," I apologized.
"I don't hate you," he corrected himself as he lifted his eyes to see me. "You're the only thing keeping me sane."
I patted his back because I didn't know what to do. I felt like a mom when I wanted to feel like a woman.
"You know I love you, right?" he muttered as I comforted him.
"I know. I love you too."
He reached his hand up, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer to him in one swift motion. He stared at me for a second, passionately embracing me, his ever-changing eyes looking into my soul as he breathed heavily under the weight of his sorrows.
"Kiss me," I whispered. I begged.
He pressed his lips to mine. Surprisingly, they were gentle, soft, tender. His hand traveled behind my head and pushed me closer into him. He tasted like ketchup and French fries, and he smelled like aftershave and leather.
I pulled away after our lengthy kiss, leaning my forehead to his, feeling his emotions rush through me. This was a connection. This was love.
His left hand traveled up the front of my shirt and began to undo my buttons. I just looked into his eyes as he opened them slowly, one after the other, his glance occasionally migrating to my face but continuing to study my body. My shirt was open, and he slipped his hand inside, cupping my breast.
His lips pressed against mine again, this time incorporating the use of his tongue, running it along my lips, slipping into my mouth, wrestling with mine, fighting for dominance. I ran my hand through his hair, tugging it lightly without even realizing it at first. He shifted his body and pulled me onto his lap so that I was straddling him, both of his hands now inside my shirt, feeling me.
I pulled my shirt back and struggled to focus enough to unlatch my bra. He put his hands behind me, holding my arms behind my back, and halted his kisses.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Of course I'm sure," I kissed him. "Are you?"
He nodded. "Let's take it slow, though," he whispered as we continued.
I tugged at his shirt, finally lifting it over his head. His skin against mine gave me feelings I'd never known I could reach. The cool of his rain-soaked skin against my warm, dry body created a clash of the elements and sent a shiver through me. I'd been horny before, but this wasn't that. This was a desire to make love. I wanted him like I'd never wanted anything. I couldn't picture anyone else in this moment. It was just us, me and Jeremy, and no one else in the world mattered. Or existed, as far as we were concerned.
His kisses trailed down my neck, licking me, sucking on the softest parts of me. His hands grazed my thighs as I reached in back to unhook my bra. I was ready to move forward.
He let out an audible moan when he saw them. He kissed one, then the other, cupping them, feeling them, sucking on them gently, inexpertly. I grabbed his head and laid my chest against his face, falling into the passion that had engulfed us in this moment. He looked up to me briefly and smiled. It was like he was thanking me. He planted a sweet kiss on my lips, and laid me down.
As his body crouched over me, I reached for his zipper, pulling it down and reaching inside to touch him.
"Not yet," he said with a shake of his head. "Let me enjoy you for a while."
I didn't want to disagree, but I wanted to enjoy him, too. I wanted to see him as intimately as he was seeing me. I wanted to savor every inch of his skin, feel the roughness of it against me. I pulled him down on top of me and grabbed his butt, wrapping my legs around his waist, kissing him with a passion I had no idea I was capable of.
He pulled my jeans down slowly, kissing my stomach and my legs as he did so. I now laid there, naked, with a boy I loved on top of me, staring. I was completely vulnerable now, and he knew it. He sat up on his knees and pulled down his pants, bearing not only his body, but his heart and soul to me. He pulled me by my hips onto him.
"Are you ready?" He asked. I nodded. I couldn't speak.
He fumbled a bit trying to put everything in the right place, if you know what I mean. But once he was there, he took his time. Every push and pull was slow and deliberate and careful, every thrust eliciting a moan from both of us. I cradled him in my arms as he entered me. I held him and kissed his face and let my body take me to another world as I enjoyed the feeling I was having in this moment. This was different than sex. This was different than Vic Corletti. This was something I'd never felt before. My body was twitching involuntarily, my thighs tightening, my toes curling, and a feeling between my legs I'd never felt before.
"Oh god!" I shouted. I never used God's name in vain. Why was I shouting? I couldn't control myself.
With a strong, final moment, Jeremy fell into me, letting out a sound unlike any I'd ever heard, mumbling something indistinct against the seat of the car beside my ear. He laid there a moment, before lifting his head and looking into my eyes.
We stared for a moment. I brushed the stray hairs away from our faces and smiled. He smiled back, giving me the reassurance I needed.
I reached up and kissed him, pulling him to my face and for several moments, refusing to let him go. We'd kissed before. We'd talked about sex. We'd touched each other before, but it was never like this. And it felt so right. It felt like love. It was perfect, and I didn't have a single regret, then or now.
"I'm sorry," he told me as he sat up and handed me my clothes.
"For what?"
"I should've lasted longer, right?"
To be honest, I don't know how long he lasted. It could have been seconds. It could have been days. All I know is that I enjoyed it. Also, I knew I'd had my very first orgasm, but I was embarrassed to say that for some reason.
We sat there after we dressed, silently thinking on what had just occurred so suddenly. He shyly reached his hand over and grabbed mine, bringing it up to kiss my fingers gently, one by one.
When we finally left, he was still holding my hand as I slid beside him into the girlfriend seat. We didn't say a word, but with every squeeze of my hand, every kiss I planted on his cheek, and every time he looked over at me, we spoke volumes.
He dropped me off at the end of the block, and he kissed me goodbye. "Thanks," he smiled.
"My pleasure," I returned. "And I had a great time."
"Did you?"
I laughed, but then stopped so he wouldn't get the wrong message. "Jeremy, it was never like that. That was Amazing with a capital A."
He squeezed my hand once more and let go, driving away only once he knew I'd gotten inside okay.

People who hear me say that I took Jeremy Renner's virginity always ask me the same series of questions: How big was it? Was he good? How long did it last? And honestly, I don't answer in detail. I know he satisfied me, and I know he lasted long enough to get the job done properly. But there are some details I just prefer to keep between him and me.
But you wanna know the honest-to-God truth? I remember the things that happened in the moment when I think of what we did that afternoon. I don't think about girth or duration. I think about how he made me feel. I think about how I had nothing to regret in what we did. I think about how good he made me feel about myself. The other details, you know, the raunchy ones, just aren't the ones that are prevalent in my mind.
And I guess that's the difference between love and lust.