It should have scared her, really. Her mind should have been on his big teeth and his big eyes and on the clock, always ticking away—her father would expect her home by four. Yet she thought of barely anything until she was lying in the grass with him, his mouth on hers and his hand in her hair, stroking and stroking.
And even then the first words that popped into her head were not a comfort. They were not sensible. They just made her want to run a hand down his body until nothing but carnal delights remained, instead of the nonsensical thing she thought over and over.
I love you. I love you, love you, love.
“Evie,” he said, and for a moment she thought he’d somehow heard the words in her head. The ridiculous ones that she absolutely did not feel. He’d said her name like a warning, like a little stop sign before she fell any further into something stupid, and though she knew the thought was irrational it still shoved its way through her.
It still made her blurt out something she didn’t want to, just as he was probably going to say something sweet and good. She could almost see it in his eyes, that sweet goodness.
But she said the words anyway.
“I have to be home by four.”
God it came out clumsily. It came out like him saying, I really, desperately need the bathroom, only about some other, new thing that they now had to avoid. Love, she thought, It’s love, and then studied his face for signs that he knew.
He just looked disappointed, however. Disappointed with a side order of the bitterness she saw on her own face, almost every day. The expression made her want to reach a hand out for him as he pulled slowly away, but in the end she didn’t.
She had to hear what that expression was about first.
“It’s not enough,” he said, finally.
And then she kind of didn’t want to hear, at all. He sat back in the long grass, legs crooked in front of him. One hand on his forehead, as though a pain had started up right in the middle.
“What’s not enough?” she asked, then didn’t know how she’d dared. What if he said something terrible, like you?
“The time we have. It’s not enough.”
She thought of him getting up and getting up, a million times over.
“But you always want to go,” she said, too abruptly. God it sounded stupid, once she’d gotten it out—but really what else could she say? Yeah, you’re right, let’s not see each other again?
“Evie, I don’t want to go. I want to be with you, I do, but lately I’ve just been thinking that maybe…”
She held her breath. Tried to imagine the words before he said them. But lately I’ve just been thinking that maybe you’re too fragile. But lately I’ve just been thinking that maybe this is all a mistake. But lately I’ve just been thinking that maybe you’re a girl with a curfew, and there’s this other chick I know, Vicki—
“My parents are going away for the weekend.”
Of course she kind of hated herself for saying it. It came out almost like a placatory sort of gesture—don’t go off with Vicki. I’ve got something to offer too. But once she’d said it he just seemed confused.
“What?”
“My parents are going away, this weekend.” She paused. Wondered if she should spell it out. “You could come over, if you wanted to.”
“Evie…”
“I mean—to stay. With me.”
His mouth opened, then closed again. She’d have given her right eye to know what it was he wanted to say. Somehow she suspected it wasn’t what he finally came out with.
“Okay. If that’s what you want.”
She nodded, resolute.
“It is.”
She made sure all the drapes were closed. Shut and re-shut them a thousand times. Put on the television, then turned it off. Thought about making some dinner for them to share, then decided against it. She’d already done the weak, offering something sort of thing. If she made dinner the effect might seem even worse.
As though she’d tried to make herself into an actual girlfriend, instead of…this thing.
Though as it turned out, the dinner didn’t matter. He arrived at seven on the dot, with a big bag of something that smelled like warm heaven. And while she stood in the middle of the kitchen, feeling as if her skin had grown bristles, he asked her idle things like, Where are your plates?
It took all of five minutes to wind her back down again. He just did it all in such a relaxed sort of way, everything easy and not like the conversation they’d had in the grass. If he had any further thoughts about not wanting to be with her, he didn’t show them.
He just kissed her cheek and handed her a plate of completely alien food, until her body filled with warmth and her mind filled with a clear and certain knowledge—this was what real couples did. They sat at the counter in the middle of their kitchens, and shared out food, and then asked normal questions like, “Hey, you okay? You seem a little…”