Ever since I started putting my hands on her I've felt grounded. For the first time in my life. Like this weird thready current in my blood has gone to earth. I'm always touching her somehow now, grounding, connecting. The touching makes everything ok. We've done some sex stuff, some serious kissing and touching each other through our clothes, and it's been amazing, but there hasn't been too much time. There's kind of a lot going on in our world, and people in this town are bananas right now. Getting alone time with your girl is a project.
In the booth at Pop's after my birthday disaster party, she showed me her wounded hands. My poor darling, my warrior princess. I couldn't believe she would hurt herself when stupid people are the ones to blame. I held her and she rested against me, slowly calming. Being able to be strong for her is the first time being messed up has ever been a bonus for me.
She showed me something else too, before we left Pop's that night. "Your birthday present," she said, holding out her arm. There was a little red mark and a kind of ridge above the inside of her elbow. She guided my fingers to it, and I felt a tiny little thing under her skin, the size of a wooden match.
"You're a cyborg??!!" I said, totally confused. "Is this a chip to find you if you run away?" She smiled up at me in the sweetest, sweetest, way. "No, dummy." She looked incredibly pleased with herself. "It's birth control. So we can be lovers, and you don't have to wear a condom." I was temporarily speechless cause my dick was hitting me in the throat. "I went to Planned Parenthood in Greendale," she continued. "Ronnie came with me, so you should try to appreciate her more. And Smithers drove us! It didn't hurt at all, and it's good for..." - suddenly she blushed. "--it's good for four years. You can come inside me--" and her face turned entirely pink, and I could see the pulse beating in her throat. "-- and we'll be perfectly safe." She licked her lips. "And there's no pills for my mom to find."
"Oh my god." I said. I wasn't feeling eloquent. All I could think of was how much I loved her, and that this wasn't why and probably not a good time to tell her for the first time, but I wanted to, so badly. Later when we were kissing goodnight one more time on the freezing porch she whispered more about what she was planning for me. "I want you inside me," she said. "I want to … suck you." I nearly had a heart attack. I was really not prepared for my fantasies to become reality at this speed. But like most kids from a sketchy background, I am highly adaptable! I can handle this!
I had a wet dream when I finally got to sleep that night. Thank god I was crashing on the couch downstairs and fully dressed and able to clean up before Veronica (!! jeez Archie, what a fuckboy you are!!) came downstairs. I had fallen asleep thinking logistics about how we'd get time alone together to "do it". Not that "doing it" was my big narrative with Betty, ever; all I ever dreamed was getting closer to her, being with her. But I'm a teenage boy and my body has its own agenda, and it turns out her body does too. She wants me, my heart sang as I lay there on the couch, she wants me and she wants my body. She wants to be close to me, naked with me. She wants me inside her. I fell asleep pressing my hips into the couch cushions, grinding my teeth as I imagined sucking her delicate neck and cupping her breasts.
When I saw her waiting to walk to school on Monday I thought, she wants me to make love to her. I was scared to death, and then so mushy and in love with her, and then imagining her naked, all before I'd even reached her door. She gave me a peck on the cheek, and said, "Planning sesh, B&G office, after third." Everything seemed shiny, the air extra vivid, some kind of vibration under my skin. Each time our eyes met there was a click in the mechanics of the universe.
Getting dressed that morning I'd surveyed myself in Archie's bathroom mirror. I tried to guess what she'd think of my body, if she'd like it. It's symmetrical, like my face (except for the moles, or beauty marks as my mom calls Jellybean's). Symmetry is supposed to be a sign of genetic value to females.
