He grins. “You’re welcome. Now you can hook up with Noah the basketball ignoramus.”
“I think it’s you he wants. Remember earlier? Levi Lucassen rocks my world!” I mimic, and we crack up until he drops me off at my house.
I go inside, hang my jacket in the foyer, and head into the kitchen where I find a note from Mom saying she and Dad won’t be back until after the sixteenth birthday party they’re catering. She left me some lasagna to heat up, but I’m not hungry.
I climb the stairs to my room and sit down on my bed. From my nightstand, I pick up the picture of Levi and me that Dad took at the Speedo Classic in Daytona last year. Our arms are wrapped around each other and we’re smiling like we’ve won the Olympics. I run my fingers over his happy face, then place the photo back in its spot and lie down on my bed.
See? I knew this would be fine. We hooked up and now we’re done. I know what an orgasm feels like now; I bet I could even give myself one. I have more experience.
Nobody got hurt.
So why do I feel like crawling under the covers and not coming out?
Wildflowers
Later that night I’m forced out from under the covers because Georgia texts me, saying she’s coming over.
When I let her in my house, the skin under her eyes is puffy and pink.
I give her a hug. “You okay?”
“My mom was being terrible, as usual. She pointed out everything I did wrong in my routine today.”
“You did great! And the team came in second. That’s all that matters, right?”
“Not to Mom. I didn’t smile enough apparently.”
“I saw your whole performance and you were totally smiling.”
Georgia shuts her eyes. “I don’t know how to make my mom happy so she’ll leave me alone.”
It’s hard to relate because my parents aren’t controlling at all. They want whatever I want, and I want to swim. I can’t imagine doing it because someone else demanded it of me, like how Jason’s father gets pissed when he comes in second, or the way Georgia’s mom critiques her every move when it comes to cheerleading.
“You love cheering, right?” I ask.
“More than anything.”
“Then doing your best and having a good time is all that matters.”
“It sucks having to listen to Mom tell me I’m not good enough.”
“You should tell her that.”
Georgia makes a guffawing noise. “As if she listens to a word I say.”
I don’t know how to respond. “We need ice cream.”
“Oh my god, yes. I’m starving. Mom’s still on the no-sugar diet.”
Georgia helps me raid our fridge and then we climb the stairs to my room. There, I kick the clothes littering the floor out of our way, and move my gym bag, clearing a spot for her on my bed. Once we’re settled and listening to music, she doesn’t beat around the bush.
“What’s going on with you and Leaves?” she asks through a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie dough.
I wrap my arms around my shins and prop my chin on my knee.
“You can talk to me.”
“I know.”
“So go ahead. ‘Levi and I…’” she starts.
I take a deep breath. “Levi and I… I asked him to teach me how to fool around.”
Her eyebrows shoot up toward the ceiling. “You just came right out and asked him that?”
“Yup.”
“And he said yeah?”
“We talked about it first, but eventually, yeah, he said yes.”
“That takes courage… How long have you been doing this?”
“A few weeks.”
She squeals. “Are you guys dating?”
“No.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Georgia cocks her head. “Don’t you want more?”
Am I supposed to want more? I don’t know if I do. Why does my relationship with Levi have to be one thing or another? The way Georgia is questioning me, it’s like I’m doing something bad. But it’s my body, my life, my needs. And I’ve been happy.
“I like what I had going with Levi.”
“Had?”
“Today after Hunter found out, Levi said we should probably stop.”
“That stinks.” Sighing, Georgia scoops a big bite of ice cream into her mouth.
“Hunter’s probably right. One of us will end up hurt.” And I’m afraid it might be me.
“Seriously though. How was it?”
I smile, remembering what it’s like to curl up with Levi. He makes me feel fun, sexy, and wanted all at once.
“It was great,” I tell her, and she squeals again, wanting to know all the details. I give her a few—he’s a great kisser and knows what he’s doing with his hands—but the memories feel special, and I want to wrap them up in tissue paper and hide them deep in the memory box in my closet.
She glances at me tentatively. “So you think it’s okay to experiment with a guy and not date him?”
“It was working okay for us…and it felt amazing.”
“God, my mom would kill me if I did that. And could you imagine what the people at church would say? I don’t understand how Hunter and Shelby have been doing the casual thing either. I guess I never figured it was an option for girls.”
I get what she’s saying. There’s definitely a double standard. It seems guys can do whatever they want sexually because boys will be boys. But girls have every right to experiment too. Can’t girls be girls?
I scoop a bite of ice cream. “I think you can experiment. But you both have to be on the same page, or I bet somebody will get hurt.”
“So you and Leaves aren’t going to hook up anymore?” Her forehead crinkles.
“I guess not.”
“But think of all the cute, future Olympian babies you’d have!”
My mouth falls open.
Georgia rambles, “I’ve always thought you guys were perfect for each other but that you weren’t ready yet. Like, you needed to grow a little more.”
She’s not wrong. I think I could definitely come to feel more for him. I mean, I already love him as a friend, but maybe I like him more than that. But there’s no guarantee he would feel the same.
One time at Junior Nationals, I swam against Deanna Rodriguez, a fifteen-year-old who had made the overall US National Team. Right before the start, I questioned whether I should even bother swimming the race, because there was a high probability I would lose. What did I do?
I dove in.
If I were to look deep inside myself and figure out I want more with Levi, I would tell him. But do I?
When Georgia goes home later that night, I swipe on my phone to text Levi.
Good night, I type.
Immediately he writes back Good night M.
• • •
Monday morning while waiting for music appreciation class to start, Hunter and I are messing around like we’re back in elementary school.
Hunter plays “Twinkle, Twinkle” on the xylophone, and I’m going to town on the triangle. Our music teacher dresses like a hippie who never left Woodstock and wants us to become one with ourselves, whatever that means, so generally we spend most of class listening to different kinds of music and describing how it makes us feel.
“Your song makes me feel like shit,” Levi calls from across the room, and Hunter and I start playing louder and louder. Other kids groan at how bad we are.
“Hey, listen,” Hunter says. “I’m sorry if I upset you the other day.”
Ding, ding, ding, I play on the triangle. I don’t think anyone can hear us talking thanks to our horrible music. “It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. I’m wrecked about Shelby and took it out on you and Levi. Did I mess things up for you guys?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “At first I didn’t think it would be hard to stop, but now I’m not sure how I feel about him.”
“Do you think about him when you wake up in the morning?”
“Well, yeah. He’s my ride to practice.”
Hunter gives me a look. “You know what I mean.”