I walk into her bedroom. It smells like nagchampa incense. A reading lamp beside her bed glows low and yellow. She’s sitting up with the sheet over her lap and her bare knees hanging out the edge of it. “How’d you know I was a cheerleader?”
“I didn’t Holly told me, she said I should talk to you about it.”
“I hate most cheerleaders, but all my cousins were on the team so I joined too. I’m more of a gymnast.”
“I bet.”
“No! I really am!” her voice is low and pouty. I sit beside her on the edge of the bed. “ I had fun tonight. I thought Tim would never leave.”
“Yeah he was in a weird mood tonight; I think his girlfriend is cheating on him or something.”
“Ah that might be it.”
A thin black ribbon draws a line across her hip.
“Why did you ask me to ask you out?”
“I don’t know really”
“Have you ever been with a girl?”
“No, but I like the idea, it’s what I think about when I masturbate.”
“You should probably not talk about that if you want me to leave.”
“Did I ask you to leave? I want you to stay.”
She fingers the edge of the sheet. Her eyes are so bright and blue. She kisses me. Her lips are a little pink bow, and so soft. She holds my face in her fingertips. My body is electric. I feel like I’m on my tiptoes. She pulls me into her. My conscience hits me and knocks me off her body. The covers come with me leaving her bare.
This is more than lust. Something is radiating from her body and pulling me in. I fight my better senses and kiss her again. She rolls on top of me. My fingers dance around the bottom of her wife beater. Everything in me screaming, stop don’t do it. The warmth of her mouth finds my neck. I slide my hands up her ribs and down to her hips. She puts my hand on her breast, “it’s ok to touch.” “Is it?” I try and laugh it off, but she scares the hell out of me. Dave Matthews croons his hippiness into the dark. I slide my hand inside the ribbon that traces her hip. She grabs my hands and puts them above my head. Her blonde hair tickles my eyelids. I shake my head and laugh a little. She pulls away and sits Indian style between my knees. I sit up and catch the edge of her panties with my pinkie finger. The silky fabric slides softly along my first digit. Her lips slowly curl up into a big cheshire grin. “Are you wondering if I’m wet?” I can’t help but clear my throat. Two fingers on my collar bone push me back into submission. Her eyes smile more than her mouth does. Her arms folded, she lies on my chest staring at me. She says, “Why are you so nervous with me?”
“I don’t know, you scare me.”
“What about you, scaring me?”
“If I am I can’t tell.” Ani Difranco’s song Overlap starts sliding out of her speakers. “So are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Wet?”
“Why don’t you already know?”
“Because I’m afraid.”
