Lying Out Loud(58)

“What about me what?” I asked.

“Have your applications yet?”

“Um, yeah,” I lied. “Most of them.” I turned back to the mirror, checking my outfit one more time, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. I still hadn’t figured out what I was going to do after graduation, or how I was going to tell Amy that college wasn’t an option.

Honestly, I couldn’t believe she thought it was.

“Good,” she said. “Because there’s not much time left. Where did you apply?”

“Oh, you know,” I said, tugging on the hem of my sweater. It was the one that the Rushes had given me for Christmas. “Mostly the same places as you.”

“Great,” she said. “We’ll definitely get into at least a couple of the same schools. Wouldn’t it be great if we could be roommates? I’m not sure if I could share a dorm room with anyone else.”

“I know what you mean.”

“We should go shopping soon,” Amy suggested. “We could go ahead and pick out some stuff for our future dorm room. I was thinking we could decorate the room in green and —”

“That sounds great,” I said, even though every word she said was killing me. “But I better get going. I have to pick Ryder up in a few minutes.”

“Why isn’t he picking you up?” Amy asked.

“Got to challenge those gender norms,” I said. “Also, if I have to see a foreign film, he has to be seen riding around in Gert.”

“I guess that seems fair.”

“Have fun with your applications,” I said, grabbing my purse and heading for the door. “Don’t wait up, darling.”

“Yeah,” she said. Her voice was quiet as I headed out the bedroom door. “You have fun, too.”

*

I may have begun my relationship with Ryder with limited kissing experience, but I was most certainly making up for lost time.

For the next few weeks, Ryder and I could hardly keep our hands off each other. We were making out in his car, in mine, at his house — occasionally in the hallways at school. Sitting behind him in AP history was torturous, because all I wanted to do was lean forward and press my lips into his neck.

I had a feeling Mr. Buckley wouldn’t take too kindly to that.

There was only one thing that could distract us from kissing when we were alone together.

“We’re not making out to a Goats Vote for Melons song,” I said, turning my head so that Ryder’s lips hit my jaw instead of my mouth.

We were horizontal in Gert’s backseat, parked out beneath some trees on Lyndway Hill. Ryder’s car may have been fancier (and cleaner), but Gert boasted a larger backseat. Victory for Gert.

He groaned and sat up a little, propping himself on his elbows. “What’s wrong with Goats Vote for Melons?”

“It’s not sexy. We need to get some Boyz II Men playing up in here.”

“Who?”

“Ugh. I’m surrounded by uncultured idiots.”

“Funny. I often feel the same way.”

I shoved at his shoulders, forcing him up and off me. He moved too quickly, though, and his head slammed into Gert’s roof. “Ow!”

“Serves you right,” I said as I reached for his iPod. “Let’s see. What else do we have on here? Hipster band, hipster band, hipster band … Oh, grunge. That’s a nice change.”

Next to me, Ryder seemed to deflate slightly. For a minute, I was confused; then I realized that, to him, I wasn’t the grunge girl. Amy was. That was her music, and she was the reason he’d given it a chance.

Part of me wanted to correct him on this. To tell some story about how I was the one who loved grunge and had pulled Amy into it. But really, Amy was the last thing I wanted to talk about right now.

So I cleared my throat and went back to skimming through the songs on his iPod. Eventually, I gave up on finding anything decent and selected “Of Lions and Robots,” the only GVM song I didn’t hate.

Ryder, having regained his composure, gently removed the iPod from my hand and tossed it into the front seat, out of reach.

“Make you a deal,” he said, kissing just beneath my ear. “I’ll add some better make-out music to my collection, if you drop it for the moment….” His lips traveled down my neck, sending chills up my spine.

“Fine,” I said, as if this was some great sacrifice on my part.

He eased me back down onto the carpeted seat, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. He kissed his way up to my mouth, tugging slightly on my lower lip with his teeth. I giggled and arched my back, pressing myself tighter against him.

But then Ryder shifted slightly, and I was suddenly less focused on his mouth and more keenly aware of his hand, which had begun creeping beneath my shirt.

Despite the constant making out, we hadn’t quite reached second base yet. Not that I was at all opposed to it.

But the higher his hand crept, the more nervous I began to feel. What if he managed to get my bra off only to be disappointed? What if my boobs were too small or weird looking or something? Amy’s were much bigger than mine and probably perfect. Though, admittedly, I wasn’t really sure what made boobs perfect or weird. It didn’t stop me from worrying.

“Hey,” Ryder said, pulling away a little. “Is this all right?”