The Best Laid Plans(52)

“So, um. How should we do this?” I take another sip. “Do we need to take off our clothes? I guess our pants at least, but maybe not our shirts.” I feel jittery, like I’ve had twenty cups of coffee. “I brought some . . . condoms from the nurse’s office, but I don’t know if they’re the right size. Does that matter? Or is it more of a ‘one size fits all’ thing? Do you have a condom that you want to use instead?” I realize I’m rambling, but I can’t stop.

“We can use the ones you brought,” he says. “Or, I mean—one of the ones you brought.” He clears his throat. “It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, so we should put it on,” I say, taking a deep uncomfortable breath. “You should probably do it, because I don’t know how.” I finish the rest of my drink in one go and put the bottle down on the floor. He sets his beside it.

“Hey,” he says. “Slow down. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sure,” I say, smiling weakly. “Oh!” I jump up and grab my backpack. “I forgot. I brought some books. For reference.” I unzip the bag and pull out The Art of Love and Wings of Passion, setting them both down on the mattress. Andrew picks up Wings of Passion, smirking at the illustration on the cover. He leafs through it and begins reading aloud from one of the pages.

“‘Maryanne had made love in the sky before, but never with a pilot quite like Captain Reynolds. Their lovemaking was fast and intense, full of a passion she had never known. He was hard and throb—’”

“Hey!” I scramble to grab the book back from him, feeling my ears go hot. “I thought it might be helpful to read. This one’s better though.” I crack open The Art of Love, flipping through the pictures inside. “It’s got a bunch of positions and tips, like a how-to guide.” I find the table of contents and run my thumb down the page until I get to the chapter I want. Then I show it to Andrew.

“I think we should try this one,” I say, pointing to the first drawing. “It seems like the easiest. We can work our way up to numbers two and four maybe, but I don’t know. They look kind of . . . scary.”

He takes the book from my hands and folds it closed, setting it aside on the bedside table. “We don’t need a book. Okay?”

“Oh,” I say. “I guess it’s all intuitive. I mean, animals learn to do it, right?” I think for a second. “Do you think animals watch other animals first so they know what to do? Or do you think they just know?”

“I think they just know,” he says. “And we will too.” He takes my hand.

“Okay,” I say. “So what do you usually do with girls? Show me the first step.”

“C’mere.” He uses our clasped hands to pull me closer to him, close enough I can feel the heat radiating off his body. His fingers thread through mine, rough and familiar. “We can be natural about this.” His voice is a whisper. “No steps. No planning. No books.”

I nod, unable to speak or breathe.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop, and I will.” He lifts his other hand to my face, resting it lightly against my cheek, and then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I lean in to his palm, getting used to the feel of him in this new way. He leans closer to me and I close my eyes, my lips parting slightly. My heart is thudding so loudly I’m sure he can hear it.

And then his lips touch mine, soft and tentative, and I inhale in surprise. I press back, leaning into him, and his hand on my cheek moves back into my hair, behind my head, pulling me even closer. He tastes familiar in a way I didn’t expect, and I open my mouth to taste more, feeling his tongue glide against mine, deepening the kiss. I feel unexpectedly at ease, my nerves draining out of me as I melt and swirl, dizzy and light-headed. His fingers untangle from mine and he brings his hand up my arm, brushing his fingertips up and down my skin in soft patterns. I place my hand on his chest, realizing fleetingly I’ve never touched him there. This is new uncharted territory. He feels strong and sturdy, a contrast to the soft knit of his sweater.

He leans into me and I feel myself fall back, lying slowly down onto the bedspread, on top of the flowers. He settles his body onto mine, sinking me into the mattress, and I shift so we line up perfectly, touching everywhere. He gasps, pulling his lips from mine for a moment, and begins planting soft kisses on my cheek and over my neck. I giggle as I feel his tongue lick a sensitive spot below my ear, and he pulls away. I open my eyes for the first time, really looking at him, feeling dazed as he comes into focus, his green eyes soft and slightly glazed.

“Ticklish?” he whispers, and I nod. He smiles. “I never knew you were ticklish there.”

“Me neither,” I whisper back, and he leans down to capture my lips with his once more. I move my hands tentatively down to the bottom hem of his sweater and then reach inside, touching the soft skin of his stomach. There’s a trail of hair leading from his belly button down below his belt, something I’ve noticed briefly over the last few years but have tried not to look at. Now I take my time, running my fingers through it, feeling the hard muscle of his stomach underneath. He leans away from me and pulls off his sweater and then his shirt, throwing them somewhere onto the floor, and I study the muscles of his arms, taking my hand from his stomach to touch the triangle of freckles on his shoulder.