“Um . . .what . . .” Dan fumbled for words.
Matt took pity on him. “She came in here drenched from the rain so she’s sitting in the back in a towel until her clothes dry.”
I raised a brow. Never mind that we were about to make out.
“Oh.”
“Hi, Dan!” I yelled.
“Hi, Grace. I think we should talk.”
“Can it wait until class on Friday?”
“Yeah, I guess.” There was long pause. I wondered it Matt was staring him down. “Let’s do that. See ya.”
They said good-bye to each other very kindly and then I heard the door jingle once again. A minute later Matt was back and I was still standing in my damp jeans with a white towel wrapped around my shoulders like a spiffy shawl.
“I have to close up in a few.” He clapped his hands once. “So what did we decide again?”
“I think we decided that we’re just going to do what feels right.” He nodded as I spoke. “Just with each other . . . until you leave.”
All the sounds from the machines stopped. It was completely silent and still.
“Friends forever, though, right?” He studied my face carefully, and it looked as if he were cataloging the memory.
It was impossible to look away from him.
Friends forever might have been a tired expression, but when he asked, it was like music or poetry. I knew it meant something else. I knew it meant I need you in my life. I tried to detect some humor in his voice, but there was nothing . . . just a request. We stood there, so young and so sure about each other. The cold, dank room suddenly filled with light. Matt’s eyes twinkled and I felt dizzy as warmth spread from my head to my toes. His hands were open, reaching out to me, inviting me in for a hug, but I couldn’t move; I had been reduced to a puddle of emotions just from the look on his face.
You can’t re-create the first time you promise to love someone or the first time you feel loved by another. You cannot relive the sensation of fear, admiration, self-consciousness, passion, and desire all mixed into one because it never happens twice. You chase it like the first high for the rest of your life. It doesn’t mean you can’t love another or move on; it just means that the one spontaneous moment, the split second that you took the leap, when your heart was racing and your mind was muddled with What ifs?—that moment—will never happen the same way again. It will never feel as intense as the first time. At least, that’s the way I remember it. That’s why my mother always said we memorialize our past. Everything seems better in a memory.
“Yes, forever,” I said, finally.
12. Everything Seemed Right
Grace
Two weeks later, we were packing to go to California for Christmas break. We had seen little of each other since the night at the PhotoHut, with both of us totally drowning during finals and Matt working overtime to pay for my flight to California.
“Where are we staying when we get there?”
“We’ll stay at my mom’s. She has a tiny house in Pasadena but there’s a spare bedroom. It’s better than my dad’s; they actually have staff there. It’s ridiculous.” He was sitting on a big purple beanbag in the corner of my room, flipping through National Geographic, his jean-clad legs spread wide and his shoes kicked off. He looked comfortable and relaxed in his Sonic Youth T-shirt and paperboy hat.
“What do you mean by ‘staff’?”
He waved his hand around vaguely. “Like maids and shit.”
“Oh.” I suddenly felt nervous. Even if we weren’t staying there, I knew we were going to have to meet his dad, brother, and stepmom at some point, and I wondered what they would think of me. Poor, pathetic Grace in her piecemeal, thrift-store wardrobe.
“Don’t freak out Grace, it’s all an act with them. Just be yourself. You’re perfect.” He put down the magazine and looked up at me. “By the way, what did Pornsake want the other day when he came looking for you at the store?”
“He’s still trying to talk me into going abroad. Now Tati’s going, so he’s dangling that carrot.”
“Oh,” he said quietly. His eyes were distant for a few moments. “He acted like it was urgent.”
“He’s just like that,” I said.
“He’s pushy.” Matt looked down and continued flipping through the magazine without looking up at me.
“He cares.”
“He wants to get in your pants.”
“So do you.” I walked over, grabbed the magazine, and tossed it aside.
“That’s true,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye.
Standing between his knees, I bent and kissed the top of his head. He ran his hands up and down the back of my bare legs.
“Do you wear short dresses like this to make me crazy?” His voice was raspy. We hadn’t done anything but kiss since the night Matt had proven his skills. We had slept in the same bed a few nights, curling up into each other, exhausted after marathon study sessions, but nothing beyond that. Frankly, his self-control was saintly. We were ready, I was ready, and Matt knew it. Now that the stress from finals had been relieved, the only tension left was the kind that wracked our bodies and begged to be released every time we touched each another.
“I’m almost done. I’ll come over after I shower. Do you have wine in your room?” I asked.
“A little, I think,” he mumbled into my stomach as I continued playing with his messy hair.