Chapter 6 I Needed to Know You #2
“The surfing, mainly.”
She paused. “Shit, what time is it?”
I looked at my watch. “Nine fifteen. Why?”
“I wanted to be back by nine thirty.”
“What happens at nine thirty?”
“This beautiful dress turns into a shabby rag.” She twirled around. I bent and threw her over my shoulder. “Oh my god, put me down!”
“No, princess. I’m getting you back by nine thirty.”
I busted through the door of Senior House and ran up the stairs, with Grace hanging over my shoulder and punching my butt. I heard someone behind me say, “Dude, that chick’s wasted.”
I set her down right in front of her door, looked at my watch, and put my hands up. “Nine twenty-nine, baby.”
She high-fived me. “You did it! Thanks, buddy.”
I looked behind Grace to see a scantily clad girl in a jean miniskirt and heels. Grace turned around to follow my gaze. When she looked back, I smiled innocently at her.
“You like that? Is that your type?”
I leaned against her door and crossed my arms over my chest. “Not really.”
“Were you a player in L.A.?”
“Not at all.”
“How many girls have you been with?” Her expression fell serious.
“Is this a trick question?”
“I’m just curious ’cause you’re a good looking guy and . . .”
“You’re beautiful. Does that mean you’ve been with a lot of people?”
She huffed. “Fine, don’t answer the question.”
“I’ve been with a few girls, Grace. Not a lot.”
“Have you ever been with a virgin?”
I jerked my head back and noticed that her lip was quivering and her eyes were wide and earnest. “No. I’ve never been with a virgin,” I said. I lowered my head to meet her gaze, but she quickly looked down and stared at her shoes.
I was very close to asking Grace if she was a virgin but I already knew the answer and I didn’t want to embarrass her.
“Well, I better get to practicing,” she said.
“Hold on one second.” I ran into my room and dug around before returning with Surfer Rosa the city harnesses this collective love and admiration.
Grace and I were falling in love with her together.
Almost every afternoon for the next couple of months, I would find Grace studying in the lounge, waiting for me.
Our friendship had become so comfortable that brushing up against her, twirling her around, grabbing her hand, and giving her piggyback rides felt totally normal.
Sometimes there would be quieter moments when it seemed like she wanted me to kiss her—and Lord knows I wanted to, but she would always break the silence or look away.
I didn’t care, I just wanted to be around her.
I found myself less interested in dating or even looking at other girls.
“It’s late, huh?” she remarked on one of many nights we spent together, just hanging out.
“It’s two,” I said, glancing at the clock.
“I should go back to my room.” Grace was lying across my bed horizontally, on her stomach, with her head hanging over the edge. She was in sweats and a Sex Pistols T-shirt, with her hair twirled up in a messy bun. I knew she didn’t really want to leave, even though we were both exhausted.
“Wait, let’s play Never Have I Ever.”
“Sure. You go first,” she mumbled.
“Never have I ever stolen something.”
She looked sad for a moment and then put a finger on her hand down.
“What did you steal?” I asked.
“Well, there have been a few things. The worst, I’m too embarrassed to tell you about.” She rolled over and buried her face in the comforter.
“Come on, tell me. I won’t judge you.”
“I stole forty dollars from my neighbor,” she mumbled into the blankets.
“For what? Come on, tell me. It’s part of the game.”
“I don’t like this game anymore.”
I rolled her over to face me. “What was it?”
She looked up into my eyes. “I stole it to buy my senior yearbook, okay? I feel like a total asshole and I have every intention of paying her back.”
My heart ached for her. I had no idea what it was like not to be able to ask my parents for forty dollars. She had stolen money to buy herself a yearbook, of all things—something most kids take for granted. How sad. “Let’s play something else,” I said. “How about Fuck, Marry, Kill?”
She perked up. “Okay. Yours are . . . let me think, um . . . Courtney Love, Pamela Anderson, and Jennifer Aniston.”
“Ugh, kill, kill, kill.”
“Seriously, you psychopath, you have to answer.” She bonked me on the head with her palm.
“All right, kill Courtney—that’s a given—fuck Pamela, and marry Jennifer. There! Your turn. Bill Clinton, Spike Lee, and me.”
“Ha! That’s easy. Fuck Bill, marry Spike, and kill you.”
“You’re a terrible, mean girl.”
“You love me.” She sat up to leave.
“Grace?”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing.” I wanted to ask her what was going on with us. I wanted to know if we could be more than friends. I turned back and looked out the window.
She plopped down onto my bed and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “I guess I’d marry you.”
“Really? I was hoping it would go more like, kill Bill, marry Spike . . .”
“Ha!” She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “You’re a good guy.”
I wanted an award for the insane amount of restraint I had shown so far. My lips flattened. “That’s it?”
“What are you fishing for, Shore?”
“I’m not fishing for anything, Grace. I feel like sometimes this”—I waved my hand between us—“it’s unnatural.”
“This what? Us being friends?”
I laughed. “Yeah, kind of.” I worked very hard to avoid the sex question but I would often catch Grace staring when I changed my shirt or when I put a belt on.
It was hard for me not to think she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
And I was becoming secretly possessive of her.
I could see how men looked at her without her even knowing it, and I was terrified that she was going to give herself to some dickhead with no heart.
She stood and headed for the door. Just before she reached for the knob, she turned and leaned against it. Her eyes fell to her feet. “Don’t pressure me.” She looked up and met my gaze. “Okay?” She wasn’t irritated. Her expression was sincere, almost like she was begging.
“I haven’t.”
“I know.” She smiled. “That’s why I like you so much.”
“Did something happen to you? Is that why . . .”
“No, nothing like that. My mom had me when she was eighteen. I don’t know, I guess in some ways I felt like I ruined her life.”
“That’s terrible that she made you feel that way.” I got up and walked toward her.
“She didn’t make me feel that way. I just didn’t want that life. I always felt like my dad resented her. I don’t know, Matt, I guess I’ve been focused on school so I can stay on track. That’s why I don’t really date. I like what we have, though. There’s no pressure.”
“I get it.”
She might say these words, but I knew she was feeling the increasing tension between us as much as I was. Half the time, I was trying to hide a raging hard-on while she tried to avoid staring at my arms. Who were we kidding?
“Thanks for understanding,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” I bent and kissed her cheek. “You’re a good girl.” I felt her shiver, and then I whispered, “Maybe too good.”
She pushed me back and rolled her eyes. “Night, Matt.”
I watched her saunter down the hall and then I called out to her, “You’re smiling! I know you are, Gracie.”
Without turning around, she held up a peace sign.