We moved around my porch, getting over the awkward how-does-my-mouth-fit-yours-should-I-lean-this-way-ok-now-how-about-that-way as I found myself thoroughly enjoying the way we kissed. We went through a variety of poses, all immensely satisfying. He only stopped to tell me how amazing I was, and how he'd had a crush on me for years.
"Jake Ryan. You can't say things like that to me," was all I managed to blurt out. So much for playing it cool.
"You don't have to call me Jake Ryan." HA! That's what you think.
We went inside and made out more. My hands never left his body; touching him made it easier to believe that it was actually happening. Our mouths parted only when he paused to tell me how beautiful I was. I don't consider myself emotional, but goddamn was I swooning. I decided to embrace whatever sexiness Jake Ryan saw in me and seize the moment, all insecurities thrown aside.
I wasn't particularly keen on my sister waking up to see Jake Ryan and shrieking "OH MY GOD HE'S STILL HERE!" so we decided to hightail it out to his place as quickly as possible—after making out just a bit more.
Sneaking into his room undetected—the same room I used to peek around in my younger days—we caused enough of a commotion that Tom came in to investigate. Looking startled to see me in his brother's room at nearly 3 a.m., Tom started laughing as he watched me try to blend in with the wall.
Jake pushed a still-laughing Tom out the door as I stood there mortified, imagining the taunting I would have to deal with in the morning. I needed to relax and get to the important stuff. I finally had Jake Ryan all to myself, and nothing short of a nuclear fallout was going to ruin this for me.
We started stripping each other of our clothes, but took care not to rush; I was having too much fun kissing him... making him moan. I teased him, trying out my new hipbone-biting trick, until he grabbed me and pulled me down. The preposterousness of the situation dawned on me as I peeked at Jake, and I had to stifle a giggle.
After fooling around to the point of madness, I asked Jake if he had a condom.
"No… I could go ask Tom."
"ABSOLUTELY NOT." The tormenting will be bad enough without that, thank you. The Condom Commandments
We didn't end up having sex, but both of our needs were taken care of extremely well. The next day, he left to go back to grad school, and I was left with wonderful memories, as well as dread for the inevitable fallout with his brother.
But things weren't so bad with his brother. Maybe he couldn't help but respect the new swagger in my step. I don't know. We don't talk about it.
That magical night continues to affect my day-to-day life. Girls acquire an insecurity complex in middle school that follows them throughout life. But now, the boy I had once worshiped had assured me that I was definitely cute back then, and am certainly easy on the eyes now, putting to rest my self-conscious past and replacing it with a much more confident reality.
And did I mention my new sex-goddess status among the girls of my grade? The few girls I still keep up with peppered me with intimate questions and passed along the details to other middle school friends, cementing my legendary standing. One girl insisted, "Tell me he was a good kisser. God, lie to me if you have to. Just tell me he was a good kisser." Could something this built-up really be bad? Could Jake Ryan really disappoint me even if he was a sloppy kisser? I suspect not. It didn't matter though; no lies were necessary. I got to tell her that it was everything we used to dream about.