- Emmett -
As soon as Clay drove away, I rushed over to Carrie's house to fill her in on the date. When I first told her I was spending my first night of freedom with Clay, she was disappointed. To appease her, I promised to tell her everything. Of course, I never got home to call her. She was probably livid.
"It's just me, Mom." I called out to let Dr. Herrera know who'd just entered. It had been three weeks since I was allowed to cross the street.
"Don't slam the door," Dr. Herrera yelled from the kitchen.
"Sorry." I was a little too overzealous.
Carrie was still asleep when I entered her room. I flipped on the light and took a running leap onto the bed beside her. She whined loudly and pulled a pillow over her head.
"Wake up!"
"Fuck off," Carrie said, half asleep.
"Fine." I lifted the pillow over her head and leaned in close to speak directly into her ear. "Then you won't get to hear about the amazing sex I had last night. And this morning."
Carrie gasped, her eyes flying open. She threw the pillow off and sat up to look at me. Her curls were a mess, half of them flattened against the side of her head. "With Clay?"
"Of course with Clay! Who else?"
"So he's good?"
I smiled wide. "Let's just say, I will never ever... ever, ever, ever be sad about losing Alfie again."
"Mmm. That good?"
"Alfie doesn't even hold a candle to Clay. He was very enthusiastic and eager to please. I didn't think it was possible to be more in love with this boy. But I so am."
"Tell me everything."
"First of all, there's this." I pulled my phone out and showed her the picture my mother took. "Is he not gorgeous?"
Carrie pinched her fingers on the screen and spread them wide to zoom in on Clay. "I love his new hair."
"Right?"
I started with dinner at the overpriced restaurant. "He bought me a forty-dollar steak. He wouldn't let me see the bill, but it had to be over a hundred dollars because he got the same thing as me, plus an appetizer and dessert."
"No wonder you put out."
I grabbed her discarded pillow and whacked her shoulder with it. "I'm not that kind of girl. I put out because my boyfriend is hot and I wanted to."
Carrie got up and went to her vanity to brush her hair out. "I can't believe you had sex right after eating, though. Such a bad call. I'd probably barf on the guy. Or God forbid you get gassy."
"It wasn't right after." I scooted to the edge of the bed to hang my legs over. "I took him to Vibrant first for a couple hours."
Carrie cackled with glee. She turned in her chair to look at him. "You took that shy little pop tart to a gay club. He must've lost his fucking mind."
"He loved it. He even got a phone number." My lips twisted up at the corner.
"And that makes you smile because..." She dragged out the last word, trailing off.
"Because he just wiped it off like it was nothing. And then he danced with me. Honestly, I should've known by the way he dances that he's good in bed."
Carrie went to her dresser to pull out some clothes. "I love a man who can dance."
"My man is amazing."
"Aw, Emmie." Carrie returned to me to poke my cheek. "You are adorable."
I swiped at her hand, leaning back on my elbows.
"Now, let's get to the good part." Carrie stripped her shirt off, totally unconcerned about being topless in front of me, even if I didn't care for it. I was grateful when she put on a sports bra.
"We went back to his house."
Carrie put her hands on her hips and grimaced. "Not exactly romantic, is it?"
"It was great actually." I grinned, thinking back to last night.
"So you just did it in his room?" She looked disappointed.
I wondered what she expected. Clay wasn't going to rent some lavish hotel room. And I certainly wouldn't want one of those rent-by-the-hour rooms at the motel down by the highway. Just the thought made me itchy.
"Pretty much," I answered. "We started out just kissing. Then the clothes started coming off. He was a little awkward at first, his hands were so shaky, and he tried to hide it, acting like he wasn't nervous, but I could see it. It was actually really sweet. After a few minutes, he really started getting into it. And that's basically it."
Carrie scoffed, exchanging her pajama pants for tight workout shorts. "I expected more of a blow-by-blow account. Where are the specifics?"
I let out an irritated groan. "Interesting choice of words, Care."
"You know what I mean." She slapped my knee before a mischievous smile stretched her lips. "But now that you mention it, did he?"
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't stop from smiling. I knew she'd guess by the look on my face, so I confessed. "He did. That's the part he was most awkward about, but you know how it is when you've never done it before. And like I said, he was into it. He just needs time. He was definitely more into it when I did it for him."
Carrie laughed. "Of course he was."
"Stop. Clay is totally not like that. He was just so nervous and cute the whole time. You should have seen his face when asked me to—" I pressed my lips together, realizing I'd almost said way too much.
She stared at me curiously. "Asked you to what?"
"I can't say. That's too personal."
"Since when is anything too personal for us."
"All I'll say is, like, give the boy a medal, because this morning, it lasted maybe five minutes, and I could barely get my legs working. And last night was one of the most intense times of my entire life. And he was really into kissing the whole time. Which was kinda weird for me—but like in a really good way—because Alfie would kiss me, but hardly ever when we were actually having sex. Unless he was super drunk or high. The whole thing with Clay was just amazing."
Carrie giggled. "Now that's the kinda stuff I want to hear about."
"Clay is so awesome, Care." I sat up straight, gripping my knees. "I've never had a guy treat me the way he does. And I'm not talking about the sex."
Carrie huffed. "Anyone is going to look like a saint after Alfie. I guess that's the silver lining of having your first boyfriend be an overbearing, unfeeling asshole."
"No." I shook my head. I didn't want her to think of it like that. "It's not that he's a good guy compared to Alfie; he's just a genuinely good guy. He really cares about me. He doesn't just say he loves me, he proves it in little ways all the time. He knows my favorite things. He always lets me play my music in his car, even though I know he doesn't like most of it, and he listens to me ramble about my opinions on everything. I mean, he actually actively listens. And he thinks I'm funny. Nobody but you thinks I'm funny. But he does."
"I'm happy for you, Emmie." Carrie said as she got down to lie on the floor and look under her bed.
"What are you doing?"
"I can't find my other tennis shoe." She pushed herself up into a crawling position. Her head swiveled around, scanning everything with a pensive look on her face. Her eyes lit up, and she jumped to her feet, rushing over to dig through the throw pillows in her window seat, only to come up empty-handed. "Shit!"
I scrunched my face in confusion, looking her over. "What the hell are you even dressing for?"
Carrie was not a workout clothes type of girl. The only gym clothes she owned were the sweat pants that she wore to veg out on the sofa during one of our binge-watching sessions.
"I had to fill the last three weeks without you somehow." she snapped, suddenly enraged.
"What does that mean?"
Carrie groaned and went to her closet. She dragged out a duffel bag and pulled out a set of pompoms.
My eyes went wide, shocked. "You didn't."
Carrie nodded, whimpering. "I joined the fembots."
I raised a hand to cover my mouth. "Honey, why? You hate cheerleaders. And you hate Whitley. Maybe even more than I do."
Carrie threw her pompoms down and crossed her arms over her chest. "They were the only team open for new members. Thank God Charity Howard fell off the pyramid and broke her leg or I wouldn't even have them."
I stood up and walked over, wrapping my arms around her, patting her on the side of the head. I chose to ignore the fact she was grateful for another girl getting maimed. "It's always the children that get hurt the worst in these trying situations. I'm so sorry, baby girl."
Carrie punched me lightly in the gut. "You should be."
I rubbed my stomach, returning to my seat on the bed. "So, what's with the getup?"
"Whitley insists on having team workouts on Saturday. She claims it builds camaraderie to spend time together outside of school and games, but I know she does it because she's on a power trip."
"Then quit." I said. "I'm back now. No more grounding."
Carrie shook her head. "As horrified as I am to admit this out loud, I kinda like it. Most of the girls are really sweet. Plus, I'm planning a coup against Whitley. I'm going to take everything she loves and leave her crying on the ground."
"You really have been busy without me, huh?"
Carrie shrugged, flipping a hand out to the side. "Somebody's gotta put Fascist Barbie in her place. If not me, then who?"
I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry I wasn't around for you, Care. But if you can squeeze in some time between cheer duties and your plot against the regime, I still want to be your best friend."
"Oh, Emmie. My sweet, stupid boy." She brushed her hand across my cheek. "You will always be my best friend. My confidante. The person whose sweater I steal to cover my ass when a dumb bitch rips my skirt off in front of sixty people."
"You know, every time you tell that story, the number of people goes up. I was actually there, remember? It couldn't have been over twenty. We were in a friggin' stairwell."
She gripped my face in one hand, squishing tightly until my lips pressed into a pucker. "My best friend who doesn't correct me on my recollection of traumatic memories."
"Gotcha." I mumbled, giving her a thumbs up. "It was totally sixty. Maybe more."
Carrie leaned in to give me a peck on the cheek. "That's my boy."