“I don’t have any power.”
“Those knockers!”
I shook my head. “You’re funny.”
“You’re naïve.”
It hurt because it was true – I was naïve. My ignorance was one of the reasons I’d felt so powerless. It was a side effect of not having anyone. Who was going to teach me how life worked? I’d had no friends. No father. An addict of a mother. A mediocre education.
There wasn’t any way to hide my naïveté. It was who I was. But I’d hated that Amber had figured it out so quickly. It embarrassed me, more than my abundant chest size and my cheap clothing.
All of a sudden, Amber was on top of me, her weight propped up with her hands at either side of my head. “Hey,” she’d said. “I wasn’t saying that to hurt your feelings. I like that about you. That you’re green.”
Before she’d ever spoken to me, I’d been enamored with her. She’d been a falling star that I’d been lucky enough to catch sight of – far away. Too beautiful and fantastic and special to engage with or touch or truly look at. Too special to notice me.
But here she was, her face just inches above mine, saying that she liked the thing I hated most about myself.
It felt like the light had just gone on. Like the black-and-white story I’d lived in all my life had an Oz. It was a remarkable moment, completely different from any other I’d had before. So if it was odd that she leaned down and placed her mouth on mine, I didn’t notice. It just added to the singularity of the occasion.
At first, her lips only dusted against mine, soft and full and cherry-gloss flavor. Then they nudged my mouth to open so they could wrap around my bottom lip and press. Less than five seconds later, she’d pulled away and it was over. Short, but unabridged. Complete. Exactly as long as it should have been.
And while it was somewhat arousing, that was only one component of the kiss – a kiss that had so many layers, all of them dependent upon each other, none of them significant when dissected alone. It didn’t leave me questioning my sexuality or hers. It didn’t leave me questioning anything. It was the kind of kiss that answered. Everything.
After, she sat up, straddling me, and smiled triumphantly. “There. We’re bonded now because I was your first.”
Then she rolled off me, lit a cigarette, and flitted on to the next item on her brain.
In the next few weeks, we became nearly inseparable. She opened my eyes to so much, but she let me keep them closed a lot too. She let me be naïve so she could be powerful, and I was attracted to her for that, like I was attracted to so many powerful men after her.
We never kissed like that again, not just the two of us. Our sexual interactions were always about the men involved, not each other, and almost five months would pass before that phase of our life began.
But she’d been right – we were bonded. Because she was the first girl I’d ever kissed. Because she was my first everything.
CHAPTER 22
I stood outside my bedroom door for several minutes, centering myself. The words I needed to say to Amber – the ones I’d needed to say for so long – were no longer stuck in my throat, but they were still jumbled and thick on my tongue. There were so many ways I could start, so many different narratives I could deliver, and I didn’t know how to decide which way to go.
Just tell her you love him.
That was what it came down to. Telling her I loved Reeve. Everything else was just decoration and excuses.
So, after several deep breaths, I put on a smile and went inside.
“Hey,” I said, then immediately frowned at the scene. My suitcase was open on the bed. A stack of my T-shirts had been dumped inside, and now Amber was returning from the dresser with a handful of shorts.
She glanced up at me as though I’d interrupted her, adding the clothes in her hand to the shirts in my bag. “I haven’t seen you in a one-piece since the summer we met.”
“Yeah, I thought conservative would be most appropriate for this trip.” I folded my arms across my chest and watched as Amber, back at my dresser, opened up a drawer and pulled my suits out, one by one, seemingly impressed that there was only one bikini.
“Thoughtful of you.” She crossed back to the suitcase, where she heaped them on top of my shirts. “There’s no hiding that body, though. You’re still every man’s wet dream.” Her tone was both complimentary and accusatory.
“I’ve been trying to do my laps when no one was around.” My defensiveness was automatic, but it was also a stall tactic. Even if the tension in the air was in my head, the packing was not. I had barely been prepared to come in and upset her with talk of Reeve. I had definitely not been prepared for her to already be upset.
“I know you have. You can’t help being born to look like sex on a stick. You’d think I would have learned already.” My mouth opened, but I didn’t get a chance to say anything before she turned from her task and asked point-blank, “Where were you?”
“Just now? Sitting outside. Thinking.” Again, I was defensive. It had been true. It just hadn’t been where I’d been last. And, though I meant to talk to her about it, I didn’t think Reeve should be the first item of discussion.
No, the first item we needed to address was the underwear she was now stuffing into the outside pocket of my suitcase. “Amber, what are you doing?”
She sighed, a deep, remorseful sigh that seemed to empty her completely. “You have to go, Em. You can’t be here anymore so I’m helping you pack. I’ll arrange to have you on a flight back tomorrow.”