Puddle Jumping(24)

So I, once again, had to stop it from going further than we were ready for. I mean, I don’t know if he was ready or not. I wasn’t. It was when he realized we’d been so close to doing something major that he jumped off the bed, his eyes wide and hands in his hair again before he bee-lined for the bathroom.

I think a cuddle would have been better than falling off the mattress as he slammed the bathroom door.

But it is what it is.





We stayed in separate rooms that night. I figured maybe it would be best to have our space. He seemed to agree. It was easy between me and Colton when it came to things like that.

Opening presents with his mom and dad wasn’t nearly as awkward as I thought it would be. And their gift to me made me blush and smile because I knew what it was for. They had purchased two tickets to the Museum of Art in downtown Philly. All access, or whatever they were. Year round. Every exhibit.

One part of me was thrilled.

Another part of me gave Mrs. Neely the side eye because I thought maybe she was relieved not to have to go all the time herself.

Though, I’m sure after years of listening to the same facts about painters, it could have gotten a little old for her.

Not me, though. Everything about Colton was magical and I wanted as much time as possible to soak him up.

My parents returned that evening and I left Colton’s house feeling lighter than air. As soon as I got there, our painting went up on my wall.

Due to what had happened in the guest room Christmas Eve, I had a brief thought that maybe I needed to talk to someone about birth control. Because if we had gotten that close as fast as we did, who knew if the actual thing would happen if we got carried away.

I tried to get the courage up to talk with my mom about getting put on the pill.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

By the fourth time I started to open my mouth to ask, I got so flustered I just ended up leaving room and I swear I heard my dad say something about ‘freaky teenage girl hormones’.

He had no effing idea.

I went to Harper. And Marissa. Even Quinn. Because, with as cool as Mrs. Neely had been about sticky towels and things, I wasn’t about to ask her about condoms.

Harper was predictable, wanting to know about the experience itself but I was embarrassed to tell her I wasn’t prepared for the actual act because touching him had freaked me out. Why had she never told me that the skin moved?

She should have told me that, at least.

Marissa was way more helpful.

“Wait. You said he won’t wear gloves on his hands because of his ‘sensory’ issues, right?”

“Yeah. So?”

She shook her head like I was as shallow as they came. “So, if he won’t wear rubber gloves on his hands, what makes you think he’ll wear one there?”

Why the hell didn’t I think of that? He was my boyfriend. I knew enough about his ‘specific nature’ that condoms, much like gloves and balloons, were probably not going to be something he would touch, or allow to touch him. Especially in that very sensitive . . . region.

I was screwed without being screwed. A virgin looking for birth control for sex that wasn’t going to happen yet.

Inevitably, I had to go to Quinn. She had some hook-ups at the Planned Parenthood office and she also did some volunteer work at the hospital twice a month. I guess . . . she never really said . . . but I think she stole samples. She had essentially taken a year’s worth from the hospital, handing them over to me like it was no big deal. I just needed to remember to take them every day.

I noticed weird things within the first month. My skin looked amazing. Also, I was a cranky, crazy bitch. Like being a teenage girl wasn’t bad enough. Lastly, my boobs were huge.

No joke. My bunny slopes turned into Mount Vesuvius practically overnight. I had to buy new bras but used the excuse my old ones were just ratty. My mom never even asked. I just told her up front they were gross so she wouldn’t pry.

Colton certainly didn’t seem to mind the changes in my body. In fact, he would become so engrossed in my chest I would have to steer him in another direction to be able to proceed with anything else.

We spent a lot of time studying and my GPA went up a whole point. So did Harper’s. I guess it rubbed off on her, too. But I think it freaked her out because she was used to being the pretty girl and the easy girl, but she never thought about being the smart girl.

In time, she started to see herself as more than a pair of boobs in heels and I think hanging out with our group of friends made her a little more discerning with the guys she hooked up with.

Well, that and one of the girls on the Pep Squad got Chlamydia on her cheek because she laid the wrong way in a tanning bed and everyone started rumors about Chlam-eyes and Chlam-face. So who knew how many degrees of separation there were and if you’d somehow end up with it, too?

* * *

I worried about graduation. Because Colton was so much more acclimated at that point, and having to start something new could have been harder on him than most. It was only a few months before he was supposed to turn eighteen, and he’d already started to blend in more, while still standing out for being gorgeous and smarter than most of our classmates thanks to his tutors and his focus.

I found that, while Colton couldn’t always catch on to my attitudes through body language or certain phrases, much less sighs and annoyed huffs, he could pretty much get what kind of mood I was in by paying attention to the music I would listen to. It was just another way we could communicate without talking about stuff, because, well, we’re teenagers and terrible communicators to begin with which only meant another hurdle to overcome.