Page 55 of The Other Side of Together

Motorcycle, Mei, motorcycle, Mei, motorcycle.

Mei.

Now.

The silky skin under her ear melts beneath my mouth, and I rip off my jacket, my shirt following with her help. Her hands are on my bare chest, and I close my eyes, wishing there wasn’t a huge tape barrier between the rest of my skin and her fingers.

Her hands make their way to my back, and she pulls mecloser, her fingernails digging in. Everything goes into overdrive and I’m frantic—need her so much, I’m shaking.

When her hands go to the button of my jeans, I almost choke, pull back. “Stupid proverb,” I pant. “Bad joke—anything.” But her mouth is on my neck and she’s pulling me closer. If something stupid doesn’t come out of her mouth right now, I’ll do something stupid. But Dad’s gotta know how amazing this feels. Why has he kept me from this? Why did I ever decide to wait? The world could detonate around me, and I wouldn’t notice because it would match the white-hot fire in my body.

I’ll buy my own motorcycle.

I lower her to the couch, my hands gripping her thighs, a siren blaring in my head. It mingles with the crackling in my brain, and I force myself to diagram the moment at lightning speed:

Mei—red hot. Me—in flames. No space between us, just a tangle of arms and legs and enough oxygen being heavily breathed to keep multiple cardiac arrest patients alive. Flaming arrows point out all the hot spots and the percentages of me messing everything up blinks in red:99.99999%

A picture of Mei from the night I watched Nick eating the bottom half of her face flashes in my mind. Another of her bruised face, Nick’s signature all over it.

No.

I don’t wanna be like him. Don’t wanna take and don’t want this to end the way these things always end. Guys on the soccer team brag all the time about who they got with the night before, laughing when they tell the guys what they said to the girl to get what they wanted. Jeff and Ty both lost their girls after they did it. Same story for every guy on the soccer team. Dad. My mom. Too many endings.

But how is that even possible? My hands know exactly what to do. And she’s telling me without saying a word howmuch she’s feelin’ it and I’m feelin’ it and it feels better than any motorcycle and—

I lose it, crawl over her, lacy bra and everything under it pressed against my chest. Heart against heart, mine pounding a warning.

I drop my forehead to hers, squeezing my eyes shut and thinking of the ugliest thing I can. A landfill…steaming, filthy landfill. And rats. All over. Flea-infested, rabid rats. Or a report card riddled with Bs, Cs…Ds…Tiny baby Marcuses everywhere. The end of us.

I pull away, dropping my head to her collarbone. “Just…give me a minute.” I rub her arms, willing myself to cool down.

Cool. Cold. That’s it—glaciers. Glaciers everywhere. Ice cold water lapping at my feet. And I’m shivering. In my underwear. No—not my underwear. Fully clothed. Layers and layers of clothes. Shivering fully clothed. In Antarctica.

“I’m sorry.” I breathe, raising my head to meet her eyes as I shift her knee off my ribs. “I almost wrecked everything.”

“You could never wreck anything,” she whispers, her words trailing down my neck. “Everything with you is perfect.”

Her hands grip my hair and somehow, her body’s even closer. I grit my teeth as I try to shut down my senses. My hands grip her waist.

“Mei.” My voice is gone, my resolve shattered in tiny, heroic pieces around us. “This isn’t me just saying no for the fun of it. If we do this now—and trust me, I want to—I just…don’t want us to end like my mom and dad did. I don’t wanna rush any part of anything with you. I do, but I don’t.”

She catches her breath and sits up, then presses her lips together before talking to her hands. “Or this isn’t the way you pictured it happening. Not perfect enough.” She looks up, holds my eyes.

I swear. “This has nothing to do with perfect, obviously. Ijust…why does it have to be here? On my couch, when my dad could walk in any minute?”

She swallows and looks at me, then slides off the couch, her back to me.

“Can we talk about this?”

She shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have come over tonight.”

“Mei…” I swallow the heat scorching my throat. “I wanna take things slow so we don’t mess everything up. I don’t wanna keep lying to my dad and really earn my motorcycle.”

“I can’t compete with a motorcycle. Or be perfect for you.” She looks away, shaking her head. “This was never going to work.”

Her words roll over me, circle like a hurricane. My mind slams on the brakes, skids, tries to understand what she’s really saying. “Wait. So you’re out?” The words are so heavy, they drop between us like boulders I have to scramble over. “Is this all you wanted from me? And you didn’t get it so you’re done?” I swear and shake my head. “I happened because my mom took what she wanted from my dad and left. And yeah, he’s not blameless, but I don’t wanna make their mistakes.” Frustration, anger, and confusion tangle in a frayed ball in my chest and press against my aching ribs until I’m on my feet.

“And you think I’m like her?” She turns, shaking her head and swiping at a tear, but when I can’t find a response, she scoffs, “You do. You think I’m her even though you don’t even know her. And obviously you don’t know me, either.”

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