Page 14 of A Match Made In Evan
Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop me from feeling that way.
Maybe I need to break our agreement and get on Tinder.
My stomach twists with guilt, which I can’t quite pinpoint the source of. It must be just the idea of breaking a promise we made —a promise made with Mia’s enrolment in mind— because why else would I feel bad for wanting to hook up with someone for a night?
***
“Mister D?”
I open my eyes groggily, wondering when I dozed off. There’s just something about the smell and crackle of a fire that I find relaxing. Add to that the warmth drifting on the cool evening breeze, and I was doomed from the start.
“Hmm?” I ask, looking around for the rest of our group. I find them on the other side of the bonfire, and I’m not sure how tointerpret the strange flutter in my chest when Ev catches my eye through the flames and winks at me.
“Mister B made everyone sit over there so you could nap,” Joey tells me, settling onto the plastic outdoor chair beside mine. “But it’s almost curfew, so I volunteered to wake you up.”
“Right.” I yawn and try to get my brain to re-engage. “Mia didn’t want to?”
Joey laughs and shakes his head, a lock of light brown hair falling into his eyes. He brushes it back as he says, “She and Mister B both said you’re super grumpy when you get woken up.” His smile turns soft and wistful, and he looks towards the middle of the fire. “What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“Any of it. All of it. Having a boyfriend. Kissing a boy. Fuc—”
“Stop there,” I hold out my hand, glaring at him. “You are sixteen. You shouldn’t be…” He arches an eyebrow, and I think back to being sixteen and sigh. “Fine. But I’m not comfortable talking about sex with you.”
Or anyone. But especially not a sixteen-year-old.
I mean, having the safe sex talk with Mia was hard enough, and that was as clinical as I could possibly make it. This kid wants me to tell him how much I enjoy sex —withEvan, which I haven’t actually had— and that’s not only awkward, but inappropriate.
Still, I can’t help my curiosity. “You’ve never kissed anyone?”
His cheeks are pink and he’s resolutely avoiding my gaze, staring into the fire as he shrugs.
“You’re only sixteen,” I murmur. “You’ve got years ahead of you.”
“You remember being my age, right? All I can think about is” —I clear my throat and he rolls his eyes— “guys. And I don’t really have anyone else to talk to about it. Like, there’s the girls, but they don’t really get where I’m coming from, even if we arechecking out the same people. And my parents…” His little scoff is heartbreaking. I never want Mia to feel that way about me.Or Evan. “So, yeah. I just…I hoped…”
My brain flashes back to being a teenager. To the angst and hormones and frustration bubbling beneath my skin.
To jerking off in Evan’s bed as he moaned in his sleep…
I try not to cringe at that memory. It’s resurfaced a lot over the past few weeks, making me squirm inside. We promised we’d never talk about it, mostly because Ev believed —and still believes— that we both just had wet dreams, uncontrollable and driven by our stupid, rampant hormones.
He was the only boy I ever thought of that way.
After that, I focused on girls. Ilikedgirls. I still like girls. Women. That’s never changed. Over the years, I put what happened that night down as an anomaly.
But if I can use the experience to help this kid now, maybe I can start to reconcile it in my mind. Maybe it can become something good, not just something I’m a little ashamed of.
I find myself nodding and telling him, “My first kiss was…awkward. It was a first for both of us, so it was all tongues and weird neck angles and…” I laugh, cringing at how disappointed she and I both were when we parted. “It wasbad. I thought, y’know, it would be like on movies and TV, but…yeah, nah. Terrible. So don’t go into anything expecting fireworks and magic, okay? It takes a bit of experience to get there. And chemistry.”
I’ve enjoyed kissing some girlfriends and hookups more than others. I’ve enjoyed sex with some more than others, too. I put that down to chemistry and comfort levels.
“But with Mister B? You’ve got the chemistry, right?”
My heart speeds up at the question,thump-thump-thumpingso quickly and loudly that I’m surprised he can’t hear it. I don’t want to lie to this kid, but I also don’t want to burst his bubble,either. “We’ve been best friends for decades,” I answer vaguely. “We love each other, so it’s different.”
“How’d you know?”
