Catching Tatum

Chapter 4

WE DID IT.

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't what I expected either. I guess up until then I kind of imagined it on my wedding night, or on a blanket on a white sand beach in the middle of the night with the moon and stars shining in the sky above me, or, I don't know, something special and romantic. Honestly, though, I never gave the moments leading up to it any thought and then, just like that, it was done and over with. And then it was too late. I would never be a virgin again. Cole was a skillful lover because he had plenty of experience before me. He made sure I had an orgasm before he took his own; he wouldn't have won his game if he hadn't. Then it was done. No fireworks, no promises of a forever kind of love, nothing to make it special. It was just done.

My first time.

Cole Jackson; the first, the worst.

Despite the orgasm, the whole thing was very anti-climactic. When we were done he cuddled me for a while, kissing my neck and cheek while we spooned. I liked that, but he got bored and asked if I wanted to play a video game with him. When I said no he turned on his console and played without me. I felt like I was in the wrong kind of dream. Weren't we supposed to spend the rest of the night in each other's arms? Or at least weren't we supposed to do something together that consisted of more than staring at a TV screen and driving imaginary cars? Or was I being too dramatic? My parents always said I was a passionate kind of person; that was their nice way of saying I made too much out of situations than they were worth.

I tried to tell myself to calm down. He was into me or he wouldn't have asked me out. I convinced myself I was expecting too much. This was not a romance novel; we were not star-crossed lovers. Neither of us was dying or moving a thousand miles away or anything tragic like that. He wasn't a vampire; I wasn't the hero of a ruined society. We were two ordinary kids that did it one Friday night—that was it.

Then the most horrible thought of my life struck me.

What if it was worse than plain and ordinary sex on a Friday night? What if it turned out to be a one-night stand or turned into his booty call girl? I didn't know him, he didn't know me. It was an accidental encounter in the hall and I had sex with him less than a week later. I couldn't be that kind of girl. I needed reassurance there would be more to us than this one night. I crept up behind him and wrapped my arms and legs around him, nuzzled his neck and kissed it.

"Hey there ..." he said, looking over his shoulder, kissing me quickly, before turning back to the screen. That was good: he acknowledged me in the middle of a game. That had to mean something.

"Hey," I said into his neck, "Wanna go finish the movie?"

"Yeah, hang on a minute. Lemme finish this first," he said.

A minute was more like fifteen, but eventually he obliged, finished his game, and took me back to the couch. We made it as far as the next sex scene before we started seriously fooling around again. By then my drink was gone, so much for not drinking it all. I didn't have anything left to lose. We did it again, only this time when he carried me down the hall my arms and legs were wrapped around him, holding us together while his hands worked feverishly to undo my bra. I'd like to think it was the alcohol that made me so easy, but I was desperate to keep him for more than one night, and I wanted him to keep me. When it was over he lay on top of me, satisfied and spent, not declaring his undying love, not promising forever, but he did say I was awesome and wanted me to be his girl. The biggest wave of relief flooded over me. Success! I would not be that girl. I laughed a little too dramatically and demanded his Letterman's jacket, and then it would be a deal.

I fell in love with him in that moment and breathed it in.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a memory." Then I taught him what my mom taught me. He made a memory, too. Together we remembered everything about each other—the room, the feelings we gave one another. I thought it was perfect. It would have been if he wasn't a lying, cheating jerk, but in that moment, I couldn't see how he was all the things Theo accused him of being.