History Is All You Left Me(15)

The puzzle is really a work in progress: the ship has holes in it, as if uninfected humans were wise to the zombie virus and had already begun shooting cannonballs. The ocean—which Theo has charged himself with completing—also has tons of holes, like a series of really deep whirlpools threatening to swallow the ship whole. There’s a pirate onboard who’s currently headless because Theo has the necessary piece on his side. The sky is dark and broken, my fault, as always. And I only mess it up further when I lean over to give Theo a thank-you kiss, resting my knee on it and accidentally sliding some of the pieces apart. My thank-you kiss was supposed to be a two-off, but Theo pulls me into his lap and locks me in, turning it into something more.

Theo stops, and we breathe. “Do you want to . . . ?”

“Want to . . . what?” This could seriously mean a thousand things: Do I want to put away the puzzle and take our kissing to the bed? Do I want to get completely naked, hurling my boxers across the room and have sex with him? Do I want to keep it simple, maybe let him jerk me off and I do the same for him? Do I want to take a nap because I’m freaking sick and shouldn’t be awake, let alone getting physical?

“Don’t make me say it,” he says.

Theo is blushing. I’ve made him feel awkward.

“I’m sorry, but if you don’t tell me what you want, I’m just going to go ahead and assume you mean crochet a new sweater for you.”

“You crochet, Griff?”

“Stop playing cute, Theo.”

Theo bites back a smile and shakes his head. “Do you want to practice repopulating the human race?”

“But I’m sick.”

“I know. All I ask is that you don’t sneeze on me.”

I roll off of him because he’s on the floor, and we both know from past sleepovers that it’s not a comfortable floor to spend the night on. It is how we fell into our system where we both slept in each other’s beds, heads facing feet, snuggled up in our own blankets. But we don’t have to do that anymore. I stand and close the door, even though my parents are both out shopping for Theo’s sister’s birthday barbeque this week.

I nod. “Let’s practice.”

Something I’ve never considered about my first time: it’s the middle of the day. I always thought this was an evening thing, something you do and go to bed afterward, maybe watch some TV if you’re not too wiped out. But my parents are supposed to be out for another couple of hours. My mom and dad are both very particular about what they’re looking for when they’re shopping. Theo and I have enough time to get our act together—maybe even get our act together twice if the first time goes well, or, you know, ends early.

“Do you mind if I close the curtains?” I ask.

“We’re on the sixth floor, Griff. I don’t think anyone is going to peek in.”

“I know, but I think I’ll just be a little more comfortable if it’s darker.”

“You know you’re handsome and beautiful, right?”

“I like that you believe that, but I don’t want you rethinking it.”

“No chance in hell, but whatever you want.”

Theo moves over to the bed, sitting on the edge while I turn off the lights and draw the curtains shut. I stand there. Theo is good with words, but he’s better with action, he’s better with getting things done. It’s the part of him that can make it awkward for him to say the word “sex” but be totally coolheaded when the cards are actually on the table. He waves me over with two fingers and his stupid monkeylike, scrunched-up expression that always cracks me up.

I hesitate. “Maybe we should play some music . . .”

“Griffin, we don’t have to do this if you’d rather wait.”

“No, I want to. I just want some music. Sorry if that’s stupid.”

I feel weird apologizing, but admitting that I’m trying to make this moment feel special just feels silly. I can’t rewind time and take it back. It’s been one week since I’ve been dating Theo, and there’s no alternate universe where I can envision myself not feeling embarrassed about our “anniversary.” I don’t want him to think I’m some loser for paying attention to stuff like that. I used to think it was lame whenever my parents celebrated yearly anniversaries. Look at me now: caring about one week. One week with someone I really like. One week with someone I’ve been waiting years for. I hope knowing what it’s like to spend one year with Theo won’t be left to my imagination.

“It’s not stupid, Griff.”

Theo throws out suggestions, like “Love Shack” for its pure ridiculousness, but we settle on his playlist with scores from action movies.

It’s epic.

The music playing on high will hopefully drown out any thoughts that may scare me from going through with this, and the drawn curtains make me feel just invisible enough that I don’t have to be self-conscious.

I sit down beside Theo, who immediately holds my hand and kisses me. We lie down. When our shirts finally do come off, it’s different from all the times we’ve gone to the beach, since we never held each other shirtless.

“Should we take off our pants at a countdown from three?”

“How about four?”

Theo smiles. “Right.”

“Four . . .”