I Know It's Over Part 8

"It's okay," I told her. "I get why you didn't say anything, but I don't want you to worry about that stuff. It's like what you said before about being on opposite sides and I don't want that. I just want us to be us."

"Okay, I'm glad."

"But," I prompted. That unfinished sentence from before was still twisting in the wind. I could feel it the way I'd felt her disappointment that day in English cla.s.s.

"But," she repeated, sitting up straighter, "I want you to come back to my house with me."

I leaned forward, sitting on my hands. "Now?"

"Yeah."

"Like as a test or something?"

"No." Her voice sounded small but clear. "Not really."

"So." She was really freaking me out. "What exactly do you want?" The hair on the back of my neck was standing up. I hadn't noticed that before.

"Just to see what happens." She clasped her hands together, rested them on my knees, and added, "We don't have to. It was just an idea."

"Okay," I said slowly. My mind had isolated the idea and was scrutinizing it from every possible angle. It didn't realize that I'd already agreed. "If that's what you want."

We made a production of reappearing in the bas.e.m.e.nt and Sasha and Lindsay did some more intense deliberating in the corner. Lindsay kept looking over at me, pursing her lips just like her mother had on the stairs. I wanted to go over, spread the tarot cards out in front of her, and say: "A good friend will dismiss your advice and you won't be able to do anything about it."

There were enough people at the party to disguise the fact that we'd left, but Lindsay had instructions to call us if her mother happened to notice our absence. Then I'd race back, using the allergies as an excuse for being outside, and Nathan would swear he'd driven Sasha home earlier. When we left, Nathan was talking to Jeremy Eastman and I had to interrupt them to tell him the plan. I hated to do it because they were probably discussing GSA business, but I didn't have much choice. We couldn't afford to leave any loose ends.

Sasha's house was only a fifteen-minute walk away and neither of us said much. I held her hand and tried to talk myself out of the anxiety rus.h.i.+ng through my veins. Some nerves are good. Like before a game when they get the adrenaline pumping. Other nerves refuse to work with you. They demand to be in control. They ruin everything and think it's funny. Ha Ha Ha. Look what happened to Nick. I couldn't afford those kind of nerves.

Sasha hung our coats in the front closet and said, "They won't be back for hours. Come upstairs." I followed her up to her room; of course I followed her. Who can resist a maiden of darkness? I did what I'd been wanting to do all night, I snaked my hand inside her skirt and touched her bare leg. The only thing she had on under that skirt was silky underwear and I touched that too. She stepped out of the skirt and looked at me. Ha Ha Ha. Instant hard-on.

Sasha noticed it right away. She unzipped my jeans and started touching me. She knew what she was doing. I tried to clear my head to make it last awhile, but I knew it wouldn't work so I put my hand down her underwear and touched her too. I hoped that's where we were going. Only there. I could do that.

Then Sasha said, "Do you want to try again?"

I stopped what I was doing and stared into her serious brown eyes. Yeah, of course I did. I was programmed for it, right? But my throat was vibrating and I couldn't breathe.

"Nick, do you want to?" Sasha repeated, and then I realized I hadn't answered, that I was standing in the middle of her bedroom, debating it in my head.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea," I said honestly. "I don't want it to turn out like last time."

"I know," she said. "And it's not going to be perfect, so if that's what you're thinking, then we shouldn't." What I was thinking was like an equation that I didn't understand. Also that I wanted to take off Sasha's underwear, lay her back on the bed, and kiss her somewhere new. My stomach flipped into my throat just thinking about it. "But it's like I have last time stuck in my head," she went on. "And now it seems like we're spending all our time avoiding this one thing and if we could just get it over with..."

"Imperfectly?" It was an effort to say that. Standing in front of her was an effort. I had no idea she'd been feeling like that.

"Imperfectly." She fiddled with her top. "But only if you want to." She sat down on the bed, pulled her knees up to her chin, and smiled nervously up at me.

"But I don't have anything on me." I grabbed my pockets as though that explained everything.

"Lindsay swiped some condoms from her brother's room for me," she said, smiling into her knee. "You know, you're making me really nervous standing there like that."

The hair on the back of my neck was standing at attention again. Either I was about to get hit by lightning or we were going to do it. I sat on the bed next to her and ran my hand up her bare leg. We kissed fast and hard. I pulled her top off over her head and touched her everywhere. I wasn't thinking anymore. I wasn't going to stop and say we shouldn't.

Sasha tugged off my clothes. She reached into her purse, pulled out a condom, and held it in the s.p.a.ce between us like she was holding her breath. I reached out and took it.

"Hey," she cried, flipping my arm over. "You're cured."

And sure enough, no more hives. I rolled the condom on and kissed her. She grabbed my hair and wrapped her legs around me and I didn't feel sick. I didn't feel anything except what we were doing.

"It might hurt less if you're in control," I said. "Why don't you get on top?" I didn't want to hurt her. That's what had ruined things the first time.

"I don't know what to do up there," Sasha protested.

"Right," I said, smiling. "Like I do."

"Okay, but help me," she said, climbing on top of me.

So I did. We did it together. And it wasn't perfect, but it was good. Her bed started squeaking and it made us laugh. Afterwards we wrapped our arms around each other and Sasha said, "That was nice. Can we consider that our first time?"

We could do anything. She was perfect, that girl. "Absolutely," I whispered into her hair. Her nipples were hard against my chest. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so happy.

Toby was lying face-first on the floor. I pointed him out to Sasha and she said, "He must've fallen off was when the bed was shaking." I grinned when she said that. It killed me that we'd made the bed shake.

We dove under the covers and lay there making out and talking. Sasha made me admit that I thought Lindsay's party was boring. "I knew it," she cried. "I knew you'd think that."

"Her parents were home, Sasha. And Yasmin was dressed as a cat."

Sasha snorted and licked the bit of skin between my nostrils. It was gross and funny at the same time. "You're such a sn.o.b sometimes," she said. "You complain about everybody at school being cliquey, but you want everybody to live up to your idea of cool."

"I can't help it if people look up to me as a model of coolness," I cracked.

She took a swipe at my nose again and I groaned and fought back. Nude wrestling in Sasha Jasinski's bed. Man, life is weird. I grabbed for her right hand and pressed it between my palms. I loved how her tiny hand made mine look freakishly enormous.

"Hey, I can't believe Lindsay stole condoms for you," I said suddenly. "I love her for it, but Lindsay! I thought I was on her hit list."

"She's a good friend-even when she doesn't agree with what I'm doing." Sasha poked my stomach, threatening to start the battle over again.

Okay, so I owed her brother one. And Nathan and Lindsay for covering for us. I owed Sasha's parents big time. Maybe I could send them a thank-you card with a big bouquet on the front. Thank you, Mr. & Mrs. Jasinski, for giving Sasha the opportunity to get on top. You have no idea how much I appreciate it. Love and kisses, Nick.

Man, I was giddy. It was a natural high, lying in Sasha's bed. I knew I wouldn't come down all night, that I'd be lying in bed at home, thinking about her, and knowing that made it easier to put my clothes on when she said, "You should probably go soon. They might not be home for a while, but I don't want to cut it too close."

Got it. Whatever she wanted me to do. Whenever. Wherever. That stupid Shakira song from Lindsay's Halloween Mix was playing inside my head and it didn't sound half bad.

My cell phone was dead so Sasha lent me hers for the walk home. She was paranoid that some bada.s.ses would jump me along the way. Courtland was pretty quiet, but weird s.h.i.+t happened on Halloween. Last year someone's dog got shot in its own backyard. The year before three guys threw a fourteen-year-old girl into their car and told her to take her clothes off, but the cops showed up while she was doing it. Some people are seriously f.u.c.ked up, but I knew nothing bad could happen to me that night.

"I want you to keep talking to me until you get home," Sasha insisted. "That way I'll know you're okay."

Whenever. Wherever. It took me nearly half an hour to walk home and we talked the entire time. I got so used to having her there in my ear that I didn't want to tell her I was home yet and when I said that, she laughed into the phone. "You're so sweet," she said. And you know, at that moment it was the truth. I felt like the newest person on the planet, more innocent than Lindsay, more innocent than anyone. I almost felt like bobbing for apples and singing along to Rihanna.

Well, I did say almost.

eleven.

Coach Howes liked to say, "The minute you guys feel unbeatable, we're in trouble." He said that a lot during our winning streak. "Overconfidence makes mistakes." It was his favorite warning and we tried to listen. The coach wasn't the type of guy that slapped you on the back or punched your arm. He didn't build you up or cut you down. When he said something, it was because he meant it and believed you truly needed to hear it. He was levelheaded but not very friendly. Like a machine really. All about the game.

So I was kind of surprised when he clapped me on the back after an effortless win, grinning from ear to ear, and said, "Nice defensive play lately, Nick. That's what we like to see." See, defense wasn't usually my strong point. I had speed, scoring ability, and could make crisp, accurate pa.s.ses. He was right though, lately I'd been on a real hot streak all around. I wasn't crazy enough to think it had anything to do with Sasha, but I loved it when she was in the stands, even though she didn't have a clue about hockey.

Anyway, like I said, the team tried to listen. I tried. But I could never quite swallow what Coach Howes was preaching. Confidence feels good. More is better. Better is better. Sure, moderation in all things, but you could never have too many good feelings. Not that I'm the guru of good feelings or anything; it's just common sense.

No one can ever really tell you anything anyway. They can try, like my dad and his fifty-dollar bills or Keelor's parents flus.h.i.+ng his weed, but in the end you either buy into their advice or you don't. Take Keelor. He was lying low, waiting for his parents to relax again, but he was guaranteed to score more weed and when he did, I'd probably smoke it with him.

Safe s.e.x was a different story. The condoms weren't a problem for me. We needed them. We had them. I put them on. No problem.

I actually felt calmer once Sasha and I started sleeping together. It was like confirmation that we were right together. Sasha would never have done it if she didn't believe that-not the first time and definitely not the second. The other thing is (and I know this sounds weird) that it kept the sweetness alive. That's honestly what it felt like. You'd think s.e.x would make you less innocent, but it didn't work that way for me. I felt new for most of November. We were closer in every way. We talked and texted each other constantly. I didn't even care about the hot girls who came into Sports 2 Go and touched my shoulder like it was something else. Seriously, they weren't a temptation.

I felt so calm that I didn't even worry about Sasha being around Holland or my mom anymore. Mom's birthday was near the end of November and Holland and I made fettuccine Alfredo and Greek salad. The old me would've avoided inviting Sasha, but the new me told her it'd be great if she could make it.

Mrs. Jasinski dropped Sasha off with a bottle of wine and Mom let Holland pour out a gla.s.s for everyone. Mom was in a mellow mood that day. She said she'd wasted too much time complaining about Mrs. Scofield and that she was making a birthday resolution to begin looking for a new job. We all cheered at that. Then Holland brought out the marble cake she'd bought at Loblaws and we sang off-key.

"This is lovely," Mom said. "Aren't you three sweet to do this."

Holland bent down and kissed her cheek. "Happy birthday."

"This is lovely," Mom repeated. "I feel so spoiled."

That's the kind of thing that would normally make me flinch. I'd stare at the wall or pretend I wasn't listening, but inside I'd be thinking that she was the opposite of spoiled. She never went back to school like she wanted; she didn't even talk about it anymore. She hadn't dated any other guys after Dad. Maybe he'd ruined relations.h.i.+ps for her or maybe she was just too tired or thought it would upset Holland or me. That had to be lonely and to make it worse, sometimes I didn't even want to talk to her.

But I didn't think that on her birthday. I accepted a huge piece of marble cake, devoured it, and asked for seconds. Then we went into the living room and watched her open birthday cards. Holland and I had sprung for a bouquet of lilies and a bottle of Mom's favorite perfume. Sasha had picked out bath beads and a salad recipe book that was nearly as thick as my law textbook.

Mom sucked in her breath as she unwrapped the book. "That's perfect, Sasha." She flipped through the glossy pages, pointing out recipes she intended to try. "'Tossed mushroom and walnut salad,'" she read, tilting her head to one side. "I think I have the ingredients for this one in the cupboard." I groaned jokingly and Mom tapped my knee, her lips zooming into a smile. "Thank you, Sasha. You'll have to come over and share one sometime."

The cards were mostly from people Mom had worked with at the library. She still went out with them for dinner on the last Thursday of every month. There was one from my aunt Deirdre and her family too and Mom's parents in Thunder Bay. They'd called to wish her a happy birthday just before we'd started dinner. There was only one true surprise in the pile. A card from Dad. It had a picture of a champagne bottle on the cover and said: Celebrate your birthday in style.

Dad had signed it: All the best, Cole.

Mom flipped back to the cover and then opened the card for the second time. "Funny," she said, more to herself than to us. "He didn't send one last year." Holland and I exchanged worried glances, but Mom just set the card down with all the others.

Sasha helped me load the dishwasher. We kissed in front of the fridge. Mom caught an eyeful when she walked into the kitchen but pretended she hadn't and squeezed by us. "It's so nice that you could come, Sasha." She patted Sasha's shoulder, poured herself another cup of coffee, and went back to the living room.

"You know you didn't have to get her anything," I said. "How much did you spend on that book?"

"My mom put some towards it too," Sasha said.

Mrs. Jasinski was okay when it came down to it, a little uptight but a good person. She didn't dislike me nearly as much as Mr. J. did, which was another point in her favor. She asked about my hockey games, although she knew even less about the game than Sasha did, and kidded around with us in the kitchen sometimes. There was no doubt in my mind what'd happen if she or Mr. J. found out that Sasha and I were having s.e.x, though.

So we'd make sure they never found out. We had my dad's one-hundred-dollar insurance policy waiting to be spent and we were careful. We were so careful that it didn't even occur to me to worry. Not even when we had the accident. Maybe because it didn't seem like an actual accident at the time, if you know what I mean. More like a blip. We were on round two when it happened and we fished out the condom, tore open a new one, and kept going, like it was no big deal.

Afterwards Sasha swung her legs over the side of the bed and said, "You're okay, Nick, right? I don't have to worry about that."

"I'm okay," I promised. "There hasn't been anyone else, you know that." Dani hadn't put her mouth on anyone but me. That was practically like zero s.e.xual contact.

"Okay," Sasha said, grabbing her underwear from the floor. "I know." She b.u.t.toned her top and then tugged her jeans on while I did the same next to her.

I walked her home and we talked about my mom sending out her first batch of resumes and how more people were coming to GSA meetings since Nathan had joined at the beginning of November. They were doing an awareness campaign with posters and stuff around school and Ms. Navarro stressed that she was always available if people wanted to talk.

I was thinking about that, wondering why it was so hard to talk about certain things even when people offered, as we turned onto Sasha's street. She stared down at the end of the street, her eyes as big as tennis b.a.l.l.s, and let go of my hand. "s.h.i.+t!" she exclaimed. "My dad's already home."

"So tell him you were at Lindsay's." I reached for her hand and squeezed.

"And if he saw you?"

"Okay, then we were at Lindsay's."

"Great, it's nice you don't have to worry about it anyway," she said curtly.

"Hey, I worry."

She looked straight ahead, her bottom lip wobbly. "Right, like before."

I stopped walking and started worrying. Just like that. One minute everything was fine and the next we were heading for a meltdown. "In my room?" I asked. She stopped next to me and bobbed her head. "Okay, you're right," I agreed. "We should be more careful. Maybe we should use something else at the same time."

"You mean the pill?"

"Or the patch or whatever." I knew we had to have that discussion sometime. I just didn't think it'd be so soon and now that we were getting down to it, I realized I was pretty wound up about how she'd react.

Sasha's eyes settled on mine and it was like her entire face had changed. I couldn't tell what she was thinking and that made me feel worse.

"What about today, then?" I added. I hated to say it, but now that we'd started down that road, I couldn't ignore it either. "Maybe we should go to the clinic on Fairmont-get those Plan B morning-after pills. Just to be on the safe side.

"It couldn't hurt, could it?" I continued. "We could go tomorrow morning before I go to work." The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like the right thing to do. Responsible. I should've thought of it before, but other things took over.

"Okay," she said in an almost whisper. "Call me when you wake up tomorrow."

I thought that's exactly what would happen. I'd get up at seven-thirty, shower, and take the bus over to Fairmont. We'd get it taken care of and catch a cab back. She'd probably feel sick later, but it'd be for the best. Then we'd get serious about other birth control. We could handle it. People dealt with this stuff all the time.

That's not the way it went, though. Nothing like that. Sasha called my cell two minutes after my alarm went off on Sat.u.r.day morning and said, "I forgot that I have to babysit Peter this morning. My parents are going to a home-decorating show." She breathed into the phone and waited for me to fully wake up.

"What time will they be back?" I mumbled.

"I don't know-you'll probably be at work by then."

My brain was starting to fire up and I could hear the tension in her voice. "I'll call in sick," I offered. "They can't be gone the whole day."

Sasha hesitated for a long moment. It felt like yesterday all over again, almost like she didn't even want to be on the phone with me, but then she said, "I wanted to talk to you about the whole thing first. I'll come over later tonight, if that's okay. I think...I think it would be good if we could really talk."