Trailer Trash(39)

He wondered how it would feel to spread their legs, to put the tip of his erection in that place—would he even know where to put it? Well, it couldn’t be too difficult to find the right spot, could it?—and push slowly inside.

It had to be wonderful. It had to be life-changing, given the way the boys in both Texas and Wyoming talked. It had to be far better than his hand, of that much he was sure. After all, that spot—that place, that secret little opening he’d never seen and could barely even imagine—had been designed, either by God or by biology or both, to wrap around a man’s penis. It had been created to give pleasure, and then to give life.

And Cody? Well, Cody didn’t have any of that, did he? Cody would look—

Nate stopped himself there. Cody was male, and that was all there was to it. Nate wouldn’t think about whether or not Cody’s penis looked any different than his own. After all, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t think about if Cody’s might be bigger or smaller or somehow shaped different. He wouldn’t think about how it might feel to wrap his fingers around it—

Nope. Not thinking about that at all.

It was better to think about girls. Better to contemplate his chances of finally losing his virginity.

Luck seemed to be with him, because the following Monday, a week after the embarrassing encounter with Cody in Jim’s cow pasture, Christine found him. They were between third and fourth period, and Nate was pulling his English book from his locker when she suddenly appeared next to him.

“Are you busy Friday night? My mom will be in Cheyenne for the weekend, so Larry and I are having some friends over. You wanna stop by?”

Did he? Not really. He and Larry Lucero hadn’t ever been friends, and things certainly hadn’t improved after Nate’s one trip to the bowling alley, but Christine’s invitation seemed like a sign.

This was exactly the kind of opportunity he’d been hoping for.

“I’d love to.”

She seemed to smile the rest of the week. She waved at him and giggled with her friends every time they passed in the halls, and Nate tried to convince himself he’d done the right thing. Christine was nice. She was friendly. She was pretty, he supposed, even if she wore a bit too much makeup and her teeth weren’t quite straight. She also wasn’t from Orange Grove, and that seemed important for no reason he could put into words.

And everybody knew she was easy.

This last thought gave him pause each time. He wanted to lose his virginity, yes, but he couldn’t stop hearing Cody’s words in his head. “Show me a girl who can’t say no, I’ll show you a girl who’s spent too many birthdays staring out the window, waiting for her daddy to show.”

It wasn’t as if Nate intended to force himself on her. On the contrary, he was desperately hoping she’d be the one to make the first move, because he wasn’t sure he could. But even assuming she was willing, Nate worried he’d be taking advantage of her.

Maybe it was wrong. Maybe his plan was stupid. Maybe going to her house in hopes of having sex with her was the worst thing he’d ever done. It certainly gave him a dark, sinking feeling, like he was letting somebody down. It made him feel dirty in a way that was new. Masturbation, pornography, his secret thoughts about both women and Cody—none of those things made him feel as icky as the thought of trying to seduce Christine.

Well, sex or not, he’d already told her he’d be there. He wouldn’t back out of it now. And besides, maybe it would be fun. It’d be one Friday night he didn’t have to spend avoiding the Grove clique, or going along with them only to wish he hadn’t, or wishing he could spend it with Cody.

No. He wasn’t thinking about Cody.

That’s what he told himself all week, at any rate. But no matter how hard he tried not to think about Cody, he failed. Night after night as he lay in bed, he found his mind straying to that forbidden, shameful possibility. He was obsessed with the idea of kissing Cody again. Of touching him and being touched by him. Of seeing him come. On Friday morning, Nate gave in as he masturbated under the hot spray of his morning shower and let himself imagine Cody. He imagined it was Cody’s hand stroking him. He imagined Cody there, in the shower with him, and the result was undeniable. He was glad his dad had already left for work, because he was sure he’d cried out at the end. His knees feeling like rubber, his body shuddering over and over, his loins still aching.

Jesus, there something wrong with him.

He wondered who he could talk to. His family didn’t go to church, so there was no youth pastor or confession booth. There was no counselor at school he trusted. He sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up with his father.