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I let out a breath, thankful that she wasn’t looking to challenge me or question the very idea of Simon being into me. I was doing enough of that myself.What does he see in me? Does he really think I’m beautiful? Is any of this even real?I was self-doubt central, so I certainly didn’t need anyone else chiming in with more skepticism
“What is it like?”
“What iswhatlike?”
“What is it like when Simon kisses you?”
I told her inconsequential things, let her in a little but not much. And Daisy was easily entertained because she knew nothing of boys. I used some generic word like amazing, selling it by whispering the word as I moved in close so that no one else could hear. But I didn’t tell her what itreallyfeels like. That was mine, something I wanted to lock in a special box and hold close to my heart. And how can you explain the feeling anyway? It sounds crazy and dreamlike because it feels that way too. A feeling in your chest, a tingling sensation that extends out to the farthest point of every limb and beyond. Light, like your body is hovering above ground. Weightless, carefree and…happy. How can you explain it to someone who’s never been there herself? You just can’t. After that first kiss I was older than Daisy, years older. And we could never go back.
I floated away from Daisy and Sarah. I sat at the same lunch table but couldn’t focus on the conversation. One day Sarah called me out for smiling while she was talking about the very real possibility of her failing Spanish. I’d been in my own head yet again, thinking of the person responsible for making me smile more than I ever had.
In the weeks that followed, we spent nearly every free moment we had together. I was Simon Wade’s from the moment his lips first touched mine, and from that moment on, no one else mattered.
“Are you sure you’re not disappointed?” He looks pained and I don’t want him to be. “You know I’d take you if I could.”
“For the one hundredth time, Simon, I am not disappointed. I’d much rather be hanging out with you at the river tonight than cooped up in that sweaty gym for prom.”
“Thanks for saying that.”
There’s a lot we aren’t saying. For one, I get the feeling Simon would love to be driving towards the school gym right now instead of in the opposite direction. These past few weeks it’s as if brooding, serious Simon has changed places with a new and improved, lighthearted version of himself. He jokes around more, smiles, and wants to spend time with his friends with me tagging along. Nearly every night they met up, and Simon will ease me onto his lap whenever we sit around a bonfire out in the woods or in the field behind Tyler’s place. The closer he gets to graduation, the more a sense of nostalgia takes hold. Garth will sometimes pass a wisecrack, something along the lines of me casting a voodoo spell over Simon. I know that’s his way of saying he thinks I’m good for Simon, and I hope he’s right.
He should be there with his friends tonight. I want that for him, and I want to be dressed up for him, standing right beside him. Offering to loan him the money had crossed my mind but I knew better than to voice that proposal. And how would I have pulled it off, anyway? This is a relatively small town. Charlotte Mason shopping for formalwear and showing up on Simon Wade’s arm would have gotten back to my family somehow, and that had disaster written all over it. I envision my brother storming the gym with shotgun in hand.
As it stands now, far as I can tell, Christian is oblivious to my newfound happiness. He goes on ignoring my very existence, same as always, and I’m glad for it. I just want to keep on existing in this bubble with Simon, even though I’m acutely aware that we are on borrowed time. There are barriers that stand between us and the things we want, but in my mind this is only a temporary situation.
Simon has plans, but so do I.
In my version of Simon loves Charlotte, our love will grow stronger with each passing day, distance be damned. We will speak on the phone every day and write letters like those first ones—letters where we bare our innermost thoughts and dreams. I’m already hatching plans to sneak away to visit him every few months. Not exactly clear on how I’m going to manage that, but I’m floating some ideas along the lines of class trips, dance team competitions and college tours. I’ve been forging my own absence notes and permission slips since the fourth grade anyway, so it doesn’t seem all that far-fetched. And then I’d finally graduate, accepting the full ride offered to me by the very same university Simon attends. I even had a fully furnished image of the tiny but cozy one-bedroom apartment we’ll share off campus. There’s a small round table tucked into a nook off the kitchen. Our books are spread across the surface, the two of us studying late into the night after a dinner of ramen noodles or the leftovers I take home from my job at the diner near campus. Life isn’t easy in my fantasyland, but I am blissfully happy. We both handle a full course load and work part-time jobs, struggling to make the rent each month. But in this life, in our bed that is a simple mattress on the bedroom floor, Simon curls up next to me every night and holds me close.
Sixteen and in love, you couldn’t tell me there was no such thing as forever.
Part Two : Plan B
Chapter Thirteen
Charlotte
The brown paper bag taunts me from across the room. Perched on the dresser next to a picture of my mother, it’s staring me down. It’s been sitting there for weeks.
A parting gift from Simon.
A cold, impersonalfuck offis what it feels like.
Just yesterday I stood in the family planning aisle, shaking as I looked over my shoulder every two seconds, praying I wouldn’t be spotted in a pharmacy twenty miles away from home. I quickly filled my basket with nonsense to obscure the pregnancy test I’d buried at the bottom. Shampoo, dental floss, nail polish—yep, just another day, nothing to see here, folks. My eyes took in the water stained ceiling tiles, the candy display, the headlines on the tabloids—anything to avoid the eyes of the twenty-something year-old guy ringing up my purchases. I might have read more into his tone when he handed me my change and asked,Is there anything else I can help you with?But I’m pretty sure a knowing, sympathetic look accompanied those words.
Take within 72-hours after unprotected sex to prevent unwanted pregnancy.
That ship had sailed.
I took the bag from Simon that morning, still half asleep and confused. Why was he banging on the door so early, and when exactly had he slipped out? He fell asleep curled around me last night, the two of us crowded into my twin bed. I didn’t care that all hell would have broken loose if my dad or brother caught him in my room, didn’t care about the risks. He needed me last night and I was there for him.
Simon wouldn’t look me in the eye. “You need to take this.” When I didn’t answer, he squeezed my free hand. “Promise me.”
When I looked up, his eyes were fixed over my shoulder. “Don’t worry,” I assured him, “my brother’s not home.”
“I don’t give a fuck about Christian.” When I flinched, he pressed his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose and looked off to the side as he let out a breath. “I’m sorry.”
Look at me, I begged silently.Say my name. But when he did finally look at me a chill ran through my body. I knew what this was, knew what he was doing before he even said it.
