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She made tiny noises of encouragement, which was helpful to know what I was doing well, but then I wondered whether I should make noise too or whether she thought it’d be weird. In mainstream porn videos, the guys never make noise. But personally, I like it when the guys moan. It’s hot. In the end, I stayed silent, but then she asked me whether I liked it, so maybe I made her feel like I didn’t like it.
Sex was way more tiring than I expected. I could only go for so many minutes before I needed to take a break and catch my breath. Maybe Lucas is right. Maybe I should go to the gym.
I think the whole thing lasted an hour. Cleo laughed that she’d never heard anyone lasting so long for their first time. The truth was, I spent half of the time worrying I’d lose my erection from anxiety, and I spent the other half willing myself to come so I could get it over with, but chanting “just finish already” in my head doesn’t really help — it just made me feel more panicky.
Finally, I managed to come, but it didn’t feel good. Usually I feel relaxed after finishing, but instead I felt like I had to get out of there. Cleo didn’t come, but she said it was okay, because she enjoyed the sensation, which I suppose was reassuring, but maybe she just said that to be nice.
We both went to the bathroom, cleaned up and brushed our teeth. We didn’t speak much. I couldn’t tell what Cleo was thinking, but her cheeks were pink, so I think she must have liked it a little. When we returned to bed, she fell asleep immediately. And I just lay there.
“It just felt like exercise,” I say. “But naked. And with someone else. Honestly, I prefer jerking off.”
That startles a laugh from Lucas — a genuine laugh, without a trace of cruelty or mockery.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit early to be asserting that?” he asks. “It was your first time. No one’s first time is amazing.”
“What was your first time like?” I ask.
Lucas goes quiet.
“Sorry. You don’t have to answer.”
I only asked because, for a moment, hanging out on his bed in the middle of the night…it felt like the way it used to be. Just two best friends talking.
“No, it’s okay,” Lucas replies. “It wasn’t fantastic either.”
“How old were you?”
He looks at me. “Seventeen.”
“Oh.” I’m a little surprised. Given how popular Lucas was in high school, I thought he’d have done it earlier.
“I did it with a…with a stranger.” Lucas starts drawing on the bedding too, our fingers moving around each other. “Someone from another school. It was on a sports trip.”
At our high school, certain students went on overnight trips to compete against other high schools. Lucas was on the soccer team, so he might have gone then, but he also did well in athletics.
“I snuck out of the hotel room and…and we did it in their car. It was so cramped.”
“Why did you do it with a stranger?” I ask.
“I just did it to do it. To get it over with.”
“But why not someone you liked?” Why not a girlfriend? God knows Lucas had heaps of them.
His eyes meet mine, and the sudden flash of grey-blue makes my stomach flip. “That’s what I planned at first. There was this person I was waiting for. I waited for ages, because I had decided that when I do it for the first time, it had to be with them. But I eventually realised that…that it wasn’t going to happen. That it’d never happen.” He closes his eyes.
My finger stills on the duvet.
“Anyway,” Lucas continues, “I went and did it in that tiny car, and it was messy and awkward, and the whole time, I wished that I’d waited, that I did it with someone I loved. In other words, it was crap.” He musters a smile. “So, don’t worry, Charlie. Loads of people’s first times suck.”
I stare at him. This room is so quiet. It’s pitch-black outside, and there are no sirens or echoes of shouts or traffic. It’s like only the two of us exist.
Lucas’s shoulders are sloped — not slumping, exactly, Lucas could never look as inelegant as that — but they lean slightly forwards, and his back isn’t the stiff straight line it usually is, instead a loose scrawl. As if he’s exhausted.
“What makes you so sure that it was never going to happen?” I ask.
His brow creases.
“The person you were talking about,” I explain. “That someone you were waiting for…what makes you so sure that it’d never happen? Who would ever reject you?”
