Thinking about that kiss, about him and Izzy and how they’d be kissing that night—maybe in the very same laundry room, maybe with the very same quiet words—made me feel suddenly so desperate to do something, anything, that could help ease the sharp, burning pain even just a little. I looked over at Gracie, a small smile on her lips as she dreamed on the sofa, and then back at Jesse.
“Hey,” I said, struggling to push gracefully off the couch. I silently cursed at my belly for making me so completely unbalanced and unsexy. “My phone’s in my room and I want to call Hannah to wish her a Happy New Year. Can you come with me?”
Jesse looked up at me. “Do you just want me to run up and get it for you? I don’t mind.”
I shook my head. “Nah, I want to move around anyway. The baby’s antsy, too.” He followed me up the stairs, both of us stepping carefully so that the creaking wouldn’t wake Gracie.
After we were both inside my bedroom, I closed and latched the door behind us. Jesse stared at me, confused, but I pretended not to notice as I pulled back my curtain to let in the moonlight. I felt so bold and so reckless and so helpless all at the same time, as if my nerves were screaming at me, and I was powerless to do anything but obey. They wanted me to let it all go, every last rule and boundary I’d built up for myself—for once to be just in that moment, that minuscule fraction of time that existed right here and now, never before, never again after. There was no tomorrow and no yesterday, no Izzy and Nate, no college plans, no impending baby bills, no threatening calls from strangers or cruel Virgin Mina posts online for anyone in the world to see. There was no planning, no right or wrong, no perfect.
I wasn’t perfect, not anymore. And I didn’t want to be.
I took a few shaky steps toward Jesse, who was still standing by the door, his puzzled face pale in the moonlight.
“Mina, what are you . . . ?”
I tapped my finger to his mouth, and the question dropped off. His lips felt so soft and so warm, I suddenly wanted them to touch every last part of my body. I felt him as he swallowed, his throat tensing at my touch. We stayed like that, hovering in front of something bigger and scarier. My finger, his lips—nothing more than that one simple gesture. I couldn’t tell which one of us moved first, who tilted their head and crossed over that space between us. Because all of a sudden we were kissing, our lips moving together in a way I’d never imagined possible, so effortlessly in sync, shaping and reshaping. We were on my bed then, and Jesse delicately lowered me, so careful and aware of my stomach. I was surprised that I didn’t feel more self-conscious about my belly, the awkward bump that was always there between us, reminding us both that there was a third person to be considered.
I ran my fingers along the top of his jeans and his waist, and then reached up under his shirt, his back so hot and solid beneath my hands. I was pulling his shirt up without even realizing I was going to do it, tugging it up inch by inch to bring our skin even closer.
“Mina,” he whispered, his breath warm in my ear. “Mina, I don’t think we should . . .”
I pressed my lips harder against his, pushing the words back into his mouth. I felt so in control for once, so free, and I didn’t want to let that go so soon.
“Mina, seriously,” he pushed himself up on his forearms, suspended above me. “This probably isn’t a good idea. Gracie could wake up at any minute and come looking for us, and . . . and you’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t want this. At least not right now. Not with everything else that’s going on.”
“Maybe I’ve changed my mind,” I said, circling my arms around his neck and trying to tug him back down.
“Really?” He looked hopeful, and nervous, too, and I wanted to close my eyes and go back to just feeling, no more thinking. “Why tonight, Mina?”
When I couldn’t respond, I saw something click in his expression, the confusion replaced by disappointment as he pulled away from me.
“Because of Izzy and Nate. Of course.” There was disgust in his voice, and I wanted to undo that last moment, I wanted to say the right answer, the one that he needed to hear. The one that I was so afraid to say out loud.
“No, it’s not like that,” I said, my voice shaking. “It’s not like that at all.” I love you, Jesse, not Nate. Don’t you see? But the words caught in my throat. I couldn’t give in.
“It’s not? Then what is it like? Because you’ve rejected any possibility of us since I first put it out there, Mina, and suddenly, the night you see your ex-boyfriend kissing your ex–best friend, you’re bringing me up to your bedroom and practically throwing me on your bed. So please, explain to me what’s really happening then if I’m so completely wrong.”
His words stung, more so because I knew part of what he was saying was right. I had feelings for him, of course, though my motives for tonight, in that moment, had been questionable. But I couldn’t stand feeling so wrong, so worthless and rejected. It was easier just to feel angry instead—enraged.
“Everyone thinks that I’m a whore anyway, that we’ve already slept together, so why not just do it, Jesse? If everyone’s going to think it’s true, we might as well just give in to it, right? I might as well enjoy being slutty.”
He leaped off my bed—he couldn’t have looked more stunned if I’d slapped him straight across the face. Already I wanted to beg him to forget what I’d said, to plead for his forgiveness, but instead I just yanked at the blanket under me, wrapping it around my body like armor. I needed to hide. I needed to disappear.
“I c-can’t . . .” he stuttered. “I can’t believe you just said that to me. I can’t believe that’s what this meant to you.”
“It’s not,” I said, pleading. “I didn’t mean that. I care about you, Jesse, I really do, I just—”
“I can’t talk about this right now, Mina. I can’t even look at you right now.” His feet fumbled as he backed away from me toward the door. “I just need to go.”
“Don’t . . .” The word cracked on my lips. He stepped out of the room, leaving me, his footsteps quiet and cautious down the stairs.
I was mad at myself for yelling at him, but at the same time—didn’t I deserve to be angry? Didn’t I have that right?
I’d never asked for any of this, and now I was rebuilding my entire life. For a decision that had never really been mine to make. I hadn’t gotten drunk or been knocked up by some stupid one-night stand. I hadn’t even had sex—let alone unprotected sex—with a serious boyfriend.
I’d be fast-forwarding through the college years, the years where it was okay to be a little bit irresponsible, reckless. Selfish. There’d be no becoming best friends with my freshman roommate, no flirting with the cute boy sitting behind me in English Theory 101, no getting too drunk and making careless, awful decisions, and spending the next morning laughing over all of them with my new friends, glad—proud even—to have made them.
I’d spent my whole life walking a narrow line, trying not to make mistakes—not to make a single fucking mistake. Was that why I was chosen? Because somebody up there thought I was so goddamn perfect?
“I’m not perfect, Iris!” I screamed, shaking off the blanket and grabbing at the first thing my eyes landed on to throw—Nate’s anniversary watch, still on my nightstand, though I’d stopped wearing it weeks ago. I hurled it across the room, gloating at the satisfying thump as it hit the wall. “I’m not fucking perfect, and I want my fucking life back!”
Silence. Nothing but the dark, empty house to answer to me.
“Did you hear me?” I yelled, louder this time. My throat burned. “Take it back, Iris! Take it all fucking back! I know you’re there. I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you, Iris! Stop hiding!”
“She won’t come back, Mina, not when you talk to her like that.”