Boyfriends with Girlfriends (14 page)

Lance’s pulse throbbed in his temples. He was thrilled Sergio was letting him go there, but it was feeling too fast again, too soon. He forced himself to pull his hand away.

“Can we just stick to kissing tonight?”

“Sorry.” Sergio backed off, feeling shot down.
This isn’t going to work
, he thought.
He’s just too inexperienced. I knew it wasn’t going to work.

Seeing Sergio’s hurt look, Lance wished he hadn’t stopped him. But he knew if he gave in to Sergio, he’d feel bad. And yet by not giving in to him, they
both
felt bad. Again he felt like he’d screwed up. He wished Allie were here to tell him what to do.

“I’m sorry,” Lance mumbled. “It’s just that . . . you’re so much more experienced than me. . . . It kind of scares me.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Sergio said and remembered Kimiko telling him to go slow. “I just don’t have as much self-control as you do.”

“Well, I don’t mean
scared
-scared,” Lance explained. “I mean: I’m just not ready to do more yet.”

“You’re right,” Sergio said. It wouldn’t be a total hardship to stick to only kissing. Lance kissed better than any other guy Sergio had ever made out with, and as good as Zelda, if not better. “We should take things slow.”

“You mean it?” Lance asked, trying to read Sergio’s mood. “I mean: I know sometimes I can be too controlling. Allie can tell you that.”

Sergio’s feet bumped into something on the floor. During their passion the little bear had gotten knocked off the console between them. He picked it up now, brushed it off, and set it on the dashboard.

“Can we at least make out some more?”

“I’d like that,” Lance said, relieved that Sergio wasn’t dumping him for being an immature dweeb.

Then they were kissing again, but differently: calmer . . . more gently . . . each putting aside his cares about the future and just enjoying the moment.

On his drive toward home after dropping off Lance, Sergio phoned Kimiko and recapped the evening, telling her about the teddy bear: “No guy ever gave me anything like that before.”

“Dude, I hear your defenses cracking.”

“Whatever,” Sergio mumbled. “Hey, remember how you said I should go slow? Well, I’ve decided you’re
right. I’m going to say no to sex for now—even if he throws himself at me.”

“You really think you can do that?” Kimiko asked.

Her skepticism made him suddenly have second thoughts. “Well, like how
long
do you think I’ll have to wait? And don’t tell me till I’m married.”

“No, just till you both feel ready. Since he’s less experienced, let him set the pace. He obviously likes you. If you need to wait a month or two—”

“A
month or two
?” Sergio interrupted. “My balls will explode by then!”

“I doubt that,” Kimiko said.

“You’ve got no idea how hard it is to be a guy,” Sergio insisted. “You know how you sometimes complain about your little brother bossing you around and getting in your way? Imagine him living inside your pants twenty-four seven!”

Kimiko cringed. “Is it that bad?”

“Worse, man. At least you can get away from him.”

Kimiko pondered that. For the moment at least, she was glad she wasn’t a guy.

When Sergio got home, he brushed his teeth, undressed, and climbed into bed, bringing the little bear with him and wishing it were Lance between the sheets.

“Y
ou were right,” Lance told Allie on their drive to church next morning. “I shouldn’t have given him an ultimatum. He says he’s not ready to be exclusive, so I’m stuck.”

“You’re not stuck,” Allie argued. “If being exclusive is that important to you, then maybe he’s not the right guy.”

Lance thought about that for a second. “Guess what? I almost got into his pants! Actually,
he
almost put me into them. We came
this
close—” Lance gestured with his fingers “—but then I chickened out. I think it might’ve hurt his feelings. But we sort of talked about it. Why am I such a sex wuss?”

“You’re not a sex wuss!” Allie reached across the car seat and squeezed his shoulder. “It’s good to take things slow. How did he like the teddy bear?”

“I think he liked it.” Lance told her about the Ethiopian restaurant and the rest of the date, circling back to almost getting into Sergio’s pants. “But what if he gets bored waiting?”

“Well, if he can’t wait, then he’s not worth it.”

“This is
so
mega-stressful,” Lance said as they pulled into the church parking lot. Thank God he could get his nervous energy out by singing.

On Wednesday evening, Kimiko struggled with her math homework and tried to work up the courage to ask Allie for help.

“I’m too embarrassed,” she told Sergio, “for her to find out how dense I am when it comes to numbers.”

“Just call her,” Sergio said, until finally she did.

“Hi,” Allie answered. “How’s it going?”

“Not so good—wrestling with math.”

“Well, let me help,” Allie offered. “Can you read me the problem?”

“Okay, but I need to warn you: I really,
really
suck seriously with numbers.”

“Well, we can’t all be good at everything. I could never write a poem like you. Let’s hear the problem.”

Kimiko read it to her and Allie walked her through the homework step by step.

“It seems like you’re not sure of some basic stuff,” Allie said. “If you want to hang out this weekend, I can go over it with you.”

“That would be awesome,” Kimiko replied, and they agreed to Friday night.

“Yee-hah!” Sergio cheered at lunch the next day when Kimiko told him about Allie’s invitation. “Kimiko’s got a da—”

She clapped her hand across his mouth. “It’s not a date! She’s going to help me with math. The dude is a mathlete.”

But when she removed her hand, he persisted: “Well, you know the saying. Sex is like math: Add the bed, subtract the clothes, divide the legs, and hope you don’t mult—”

She clamped her hand over his mouth again. “Can we change the subject, please?”

He nodded yes. But when she removed her hand, he revealed his crossed fingers. “So now pay attention to her body language. If she touches your
hand
that means she wants to be close friends. If she touches your
arm
that means she wants to be
more
than friends. And if she touches your
thigh
. . .”

“Paging new subject!” Kimiko stuffed her fingers in her ears, not wanting to hear any more of his goofy theories. “New subject, please pick up white courtesy phone!”

But Sergio leaned into her ear, his voice low and husky: “. . . It means she wants to get between your legs.”

“Thanks a lot!” Kimiko said, pulling her fingers out of her ears. “As if I’m not already a nervous wreck.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine,” Sergio said and laid his arm across her shoulder. “Hey, listen, I want to ask you: Would you mind if we made the homecoming dance a group thing and I asked Lance to go?” He’d previously asked Kimiko to go with him as friends.

“I don’t mind,” Kimiko said. She didn’t particularly like to dance anyway.

“I’m not sure, though,” Sergio continued. “He’ll probably think it means we’re engaged. . . . You want to know the strange thing? Even though I told him I’m not ready to be a couple, I don’t really want to date anybody else. Isn’t that weird?”

“No, dude. It sounds like you’re going slow.”

“I’m trying,” he said with a sigh.

After school that day, they went together to the mall so she could help him pick out new shoes for the dance. Plus, he wanted to get an eyebrow piercing.

At the tattoo and piercing shop, the attendant had just about every appendage pierced, including both her ears (several times), nose, bottom lip, tongue, and right eyebrow.

“We have a twofer special today,” she told Sergio. “Do you want to get something else done along with your eyebrow? Or your friend can get one too.”

“Yeah, yeah!” he told Kimiko. “Do it! Do it!”

“No way,” Kimiko said, recalling when she’d gotten her third and fourth ear piercings: Her mom had nearly had a heart attack. “My mom would completely kill me.”

“Oh, come on,” Sergio coaxed. “It’ll look totally, completely, absolutely, hugely, orgasmically butch.”

That convinced her. Afterward, Sergio draped his arm across her shoulder in front of the mirror while they each admired their shiny chrome eyebrow rings. She thought hers looked awesome; her mom was sure to have a meltdown.

Arriving at home, Kimiko pulled her cap down low
over her forehead and hurried to her room, postponing the inevitable. When dinnertime came, she steeled herself with several karate punches before heading downstairs. The house rule was that for meals she had to take her cap off.

“You got a ring on your eyebrow!” her brother announced the instant she pulled off her cap.

Her dad barely glanced at her and passed the broiled whitefish, but her mom’s tone turned icy. “What have you done?”

Even though Kimiko didn’t dare look at her, she could feel her mom’s stare drilling into her.

“It’s bad enough,” her mom continued, “that you make yourself look like a boy. And now you make yourself even uglier?”

Kimiko sat silent, feeling as though a knife were slicing into her.

“It makes me ashamed to look at you. Take your food to your room.”

Kimiko stood and put her cap back on. She carried her plate to the kitchen and left it there. She wasn’t hungry. In her room, she turned some music on, curled onto the carpet, buried her head between her knees, and wiped her nose as she phoned Sergio.

“I told you she was going to kill me.”

“Oh my god! Are you calling from the afterlife?”

Kimiko sniffled. “She said she’s ashamed to look at me.”

“And that’s supposed to be a bad thing?” Sergio asked.

No matter how much Kimiko tried to feel sorry for herself, Sergio’s comebacks were relentless. By the time she hung up, her mom’s cuts no longer felt as devastating as before.

On Saturday afternoon, as Kimiko got ready to go to Allie’s for dinner and math help, she stared at herself in the mirror, wondering if Allie would like the eyebrow ring.

“I love it!” Allie said the moment she saw Kimiko on the porch. “Here, let me take your backpack.” She slung the pack onto her shoulder. “Come meet Mom and Dad.”

In the kitchen, Allie’s parents were preparing dinner while her little brother watched from a high chair. Both her dad and mom were as tall as Allie.

“You must be the famous Kimiko,” Mr. MacBryde said, glancing up from the salad he was making.

“Am I famous?” Kimiko asked Allie, giving her a playful grin.

“Great to meet you,” Mrs. MacBryde called over from the oven. “I hope Allie hasn’t worn you out asking about Japan.”

“No, I don’t mind.” Kimiko shrugged. “I like it.”

“And this is Josh,” Allie said, kissing her brother’s forehead while he held a carrot out for Kimiko.

“Thanks, dude.” Kimiko took the carrot, admiring his brilliant blue-green eyes, just like Allie’s.

The girls prepared everyone’s beverages, set the table, and talked about favorite foods until everything was ready.

“I like your hair,” Allie said when Kimiko took her cap off at the dinner table.

“It’s too stiff,” Kimiko complained. “Zero body.”

“No, I like it,” Allie said, gently flicking her fingertips through it. Her touch made Kimiko recall Sergio’s kooky theory about body language.

“So, is baseball still the big sport in Japan?” Mr. MacBryde asked, passing Kimiko a plate of salmon with dill sauce.

“Yeah,” Kimiko said. “Also soccer and golf.”

“What about those huge sumo wrestlers?” Mrs. MacBryde asked, handing her the buttered broccoli.