None of the Above(5)

“I wonder if he does this a lot,” I said, momentarily self-conscious.

“What?” Sam murmured, and then his lips brushed against my ear and the world contracted.

“Never mind,” I whispered.

Sam nuzzled my neck and his boutonniere brushed up against my nose. I took in a deep breath to smell the rose, but it was the kind bred for looks and shelf life, and all I got was a mix of booze and aftershave.

Sam fumbled with the zipper on my dress, only getting it halfway down before it stuck. He pushed his hands up the bottom instead, and I had a burst of anxiety that he would rip my mom’s dress.

“Careful,” I said. My hands shook as I helped him.

“You’re cold,” he said, draping his suit coat over my shoulders.

I let the coat drop to the floor and leaned into his chest, sighing at his warmth. “No,” I said. “Not anymore.” The memory of Vee and her mannequin’s smile faded as I felt Sam’s chest rise and fall.



The first time Sam and I ever spoke, I looked like I’d just gotten in a fight with an alley cat. It was sophomore year, and I was on a high after winning my first race ever. My teammates had celebrated by dumping blue Powerade over me, and I hadn’t even had time to dry off completely before I ran my second race, where I clipped a hurdle and ended up crashing into the infield. But there’s no crying in track, so I brushed myself off and went with my friends to watch the men’s 4x100 relay with bruised, bloody knees.

There was this new boy running anchor, a guy with a stride so effortless it looked like silk. After he broke the tape—of course he came in first—a couple of my teammates went to scope him out and get the story. Was he a transfer? I hung back, watching him as he brushed his sweaty hair out of summer-blue eyes, and when my friends finished congratulating him he looked up and gave me a smile that made me shiver even as I felt a blush creep over my cheeks.

“Nice job,” I said shyly. I might have given a little wave, or something.

“You, too,” he said, holding out his hand. “You’re Kristin, right? Hundred-meter hurdles? I’m Sam.”

I was too stunned that he knew who I was to answer. But I reached out my hand anyway, and he shook it. For days all I could think about was the comforting strength of his grip, and the way his smile made me feel like a goddess even when I looked like a bedraggled rat.

We didn’t start dating until more than a year later. By Homecoming, it’d been five months. We hadn’t gone all the way yet, but in the limo, with the champagne bubbling through my system, I couldn’t remember why not. I guess I had been scared. Concerned about STDs or something.

Whatever it was I was nervous about, it didn’t exist in the limo. Blanketed by darkness, protected by tinted windows, the only sound besides our breathing was the soft piped-in jazz. Sam traced his finger up and down my neck before letting his hand stop just under my shoulder blade. He kept it there for a long time, and for the first time all day I relaxed. As soon as we started kissing I felt the need tingling down my spine, making the jumbled-up mess of thoughts about my accidental tiara evaporate. I reached for Sam hungrily. This time, I wanted more.

“You sure?” Sam whispered. I nodded, afraid that if I spoke my voice would shake. Sam untangled himself to get a condom, and when he turned back the feel of him on top of me was headier than any champagne.

And then, oh my God. Pain.

It felt like someone had taken an electric drill to my insides. I gritted my teeth and tried to power past it, but it was too much. Sam shifted, trying to go deeper, and I whimpered.

His weight lifted. “You okay?”

I nodded, and tried to blink away the tears. I was an athlete. I was used to pushing through pain. “Yeah. Just give me a minute.”

“Want me to try to . . . help get you ready?”

I nodded again, my eyes closed. A second later, my hips jerked. “Aaagh.”

Sam swore. “I’m so sorry. I barely . . . Usually—” He broke off.

I froze, wondering how many other girls Sam had done this with. He must have felt me shrink away, because he got up and sat on the seat, pulling his coat over his crotch.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, already feeling cold. I took a deep breath in, and let it out slowly. He’d been so patient. “I’m fine.”

So we tried again. He’d barely started before I made him stop. Sam wouldn’t try a third time.

After we’d cleaned up, Sam just held me for a little while, stroking my arm over and over.

“It’ll be better next time,” he promised.

I nodded, because that’s what I wanted to believe.





CHAPTER 2


In seventh grade, about a year after my mom passed, my aunt Carla decided to reinforce my understanding of the birds and the bees. My dad and I had left the church by then, to her great disapproval, so she stayed away from any biblical references. Instead, she just told me that the most precious thing a woman could offer a man was her virginity. Back then I was still in my Ugly Duckling phase, all skinned knees and straggly hair, and I couldn’t even imagine having a boy kiss me, let alone that.

“It’s like you were the keeper of the only diamond in the world, and when you gave it to someone, it disintegrated. You can never get it back, Krissy. And after that, you can never look at the world in the same way again.”