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“You know what.”
Only then do I notice that we’ve gotten closer to each other without even realizing it. This couch is huge, but our bodies didn’t get the memo. We’re a bit too close to be talking about things like this. Especially after the numerous beers I’ve had.
I draw a breath. “I wish I was.”
“Ooh, dark.” He rests his chin in the palm of his hand and stares at me intently. “What happened?”
“Let’s just say hearts were broken and it got real awkward real fast.” I take a long sip of beer. I don’t want to get into this with him. Not now. Not ever.
“Bad sex, huh
?”
“Haze,” I say, a small smile covering my lips.
“What?” He puts his hands up. “Isn’t that like a universal rule that most first times suck?”
“You mean the romance stories where the girl’s been saving herself up for nineteen years only to end up having the perfect first time with the oh-so-perfect boy isn’t always real?” My mouth drops open in mock disbelief.
He laughs. “Go figure.”
Quickly, the harmless questions become more… personal. And as much as I want to think of myself as someone private, the embarrassment I usually feel every time someone asks me about sex is nowhere to be found. We end up telling each other about our favorite positions—not that I really have enough experience to know which one I like best—and I’m not uncomfortable at all. Not with him.
On beer number seven, I’ve officially had enough.
“Your turn. What about your first time?”
“It was…” He pauses. “Okay, I guess. It was her first time, too, so.”
I hate myself when a hint of jealousy burns within my stomach. They were each other’s firsts. It wasn’t just sex. They were intimate. She must’ve been really special to him.
Don’t do that, Winter. He obviously had a lot of “intimate moments” with girls, so if you start feeling bad about all of them you’ll be wallowing in bed until next year.
I remember what Blake said to me at the hotel about how Haze got a girl pregnant at sixteen. We never really got around to talking about that since, the very next day, I was out of town. Riley. That was her name.
“Was it Riley? Your first time I mean?” I ask.
Instantly, his smile fades. He sits straight and away from me.
“We never really talked about what Blake said that night…”
He doesn’t speak, staring at the hardwood floor.
“You know, about you being a father.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” His tone takes me by surprise. “Blake’s a fucking psycho, and she got an abortion. End of story.”
How’d he go from nice to cold as ice in minus two seconds?
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Can we change the subject now?”
Okay. Sensitive nerve right here.
“But why? Why won’t you talk about it, Haze? It’d be good for you to—”
“Damn it, Winter. I said no,” he snaps, raising his voice to the point of turning my blood cold.
