Home > Coming Up for Air (Hundred Oaks)(23)

Coming Up for Air (Hundred Oaks)(23)
Author: Miranda Kenneally

Before we first kissed, Levi asked how far I wanted to go. I wasn’t sure at the time, and if we’re being honest, I’m still unsure. But when we kiss, my thoughts disappear along with my clothes. It’s just me and him, our bodies, and passion.

I understand why Coach Woods says it’s important to be prepared for anything.

I put the car in reverse.

Which grocery store should I go to? Food Lion and Walmart are generally very busy, and several of my classmates work there. With my luck I’d run into everybody under the sun if I chose either of those stores. The Quick Pick is small. But would they have a good variety of condoms? It’s the kind of place you go if you need to pick up staples like milk, orange juice, toilet paper, and lottery tickets. I’m sure plenty of people consider condoms a staple.

After debating whether to travel to another town, I decide that is not worth the risk of me crashing the car, and head to the Quick Pick.

When I arrive, only five cars are in the lot, and none look familiar. Whew. I can do this.

With a deep breath, I unbuckle my seat belt and head inside. I beeline for the toiletry area, searching the shelves, discovering a condom selection in the “family planning” aisle. Why is it called that? Shouldn’t it be the anti-family planning aisle?

I look left and right to make sure I’m alone before I start shopping. The Quick Pick has plenty of latex condoms to choose from. There are also nonlatex condoms available for people who have a latex allergy. In class, Coach Woods said that a latex allergy is no excuse not to use a condom.

The store also has lambskin condoms, which I find creepy; plus, according to Coach Woods they don’t protect against STDs. Not that I think Levi has an STD, but again—you always want to be prepared. Then there are condoms called “Ribbed for her pleasure.” Just reading those words makes me blush. I blush even more furiously when I find a forty-condom variety box called the “Ecstasy Package.”

They even have condoms with designs—there’s plaid, polka dot, glow-in-the-dark, and more. I guess some women like decorated penises?

I snort at the idea of asking Levi, “Could you wear this camouflage condom please?”

Levi says he’s normal-sized, but what if I insult him by getting the regular ones? I decide on a ten-pack of extra-large condoms that cost $7.20 because it seems like a better deal than only getting three for $2.50.

I grab some deodorant and a new toothbrush so I won’t only be buying the condoms and head to the front of the store. A man is in line ahead of me, buying a bunch of lottery tickets. I check the time on my phone. It’s taking longer than I’d like. Is he buying tickets for all his friends and family? I tap my toes on the floor.

“Tadpole?”

Oh. My. God.

I slowly turn around. It’s Dad.

I should make a break for it. But that would be shoplifting and the last thing I need is to get arrested for stealing condoms. That kind of stuff stays on the Internet forever. USA Swimming probably wouldn’t care to have a condom thief on the national team.

“Maggie? Are you okay?” Dad asks. “What are you doing here?”

Oh my god, oh my god. Most embarrassing moment ever.

I improvise, shaking the box of condoms. “Um, I had to pick these up for health class.”

Dad sees what I’m holding. His face turns white, and his eyes balloon.

“We’re using them on bananas,” I add.

Dad’s Adam’s apple shifts as he swallows. “Uh, I figured the school would supply them…?” He scrubs a hand through his hair, eyes darting around the store. Is he scoping out the exits?

“Coach Woods said I need extra practice,” I ramble. “I kept busting them in class.”

“Well, good. Your mother and I have always been pleased at how seriously you take your schoolwork.”

I hold up the box. “Do you think I got enough?”

Dad coughs into a fist. “Ten. Hm. Seems like you’ll get plenty of practice. Extra-large, huh?”

I might die.

“Bananas are pretty big, you know.” I clear my throat. “What are you doing here, Dad?”

He stares blankly. “Oh! We had a toothpick emergency.”

“A toothpick emergency?”

“Yeah, we ran out of toothpicks for the hors d’oeuvres at the nursing home reception. So you came to buy the condoms yourself? Why didn’t you put them on your mother’s shopping list?”

“I couldn’t put something like that on the list, Dad.”

“Why not? It’s just like any other school supply. You need pencils and paper, you put ’em on the list.”

“Oh my god,” I mumble.

“Next,” the teller says, and I place my deodorant, toothbrush, and condoms on the counter.

Dad steps forward and adds his items to mine. “I’ll pay for hers. My treat.”

And that’s when I die of mortification.

• • •

After swim practice at school one day, Levi gives me a ride. “Want to hang out at my house tonight?”

“I don’t know why you’re even asking,” I reply. “We always go to your place.”

“We can start going to your house when you start cleaning your room.”

“Ugh, okay, Mom.”

He chuckles.

“You’re my best friend. That means you should love me, messes and all.”

“I do love you, just not your messy room. I can’t walk in there without stepping on something. I could twist an ankle.” He points at me. “Coach would say going in your room is an unsanctioned activity.”

“Levi,” I warn, making him laugh again. “You really don’t want to come over because of my room?”

“No, it’s not that. Oma said she was making a Bundt cake today.”

I grin widely at him. He is so cute. He’s desperate to get home for a slice of his grandmother’s cake.

At his place, however, he says we can’t have cake until his laundry is in the wash. He’s completely out of clean swimsuits and sweats, and unless I want him to wear dirty clothes tomorrow, he needs to start a load before doing anything else.

We go downstairs to the laundry room, where Levi unzips his athletic bag and shakes his swimsuits and sweats into the washing machine. He scoops detergent to pour on top of the clothes.

“Wait!” I cry as he dumps the detergent. “You’re supposed to put the soap in first, then add the water, and then the clothes.”

“Oh yeah?” Levi pulls out the nozzle to start the water, disregarding what I said.

“Levi! That’s not how you do laundry.”

He dips his mouth to my ear. “I’ll show you how to do laundry.”

With surprising ease he lifts me onto the washing machine and slips between my legs. Our faces at the same height, he begins to kiss my lips.

“What about your Bundt cake?” I whisper between kisses.

“Later. You taste sweeter.” His hips grind against mine, totally turning me on. “You are so hot,” he murmurs.

“Your lessons are paying off.”

“You can’t learn this,” he says. His bangs fall into his eyes, and I brush them away, catching his blue gaze. Intense moments like this make me glad I picked up those condoms at the Quick Pick.

Footsteps clomp down the stairs. With a gasp, Levi pulls back from me right as Opa appears. I scramble down off the washer. When he sees us, his grandfather stops in his tracks.

“What are you doing in here, boy? Smooching?”

“No-no,” Levi stutters. “Laundry.”

Opa squints at us. “You got some mail.”

“Where is it?” Levi asks.

Opa looks down at his empty hands and frowns. “I just had it. Oma! Where’s the UPS package?”

Oma yells back down the stairs, “You left it in the kitchen! And it’s a FedEx.”

“That’s what I said!” he hollers back.

“It doesn’t matter,” Levi groans.

Oma appears in the suddenly-crowded laundry room with a white box. “What are you kids doing in here?”

“Laundry,” Levi and I say together.

   
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