Punk Love

“Am I okay to turn around?” he asked.

“Sure, creeper.”

“How am I the creeper?” He plucked his shirt from between my fingers, sliding it on the way hot guys put on a shirt. Pushing both his arms into the sleeves at the same time.

“You wanted my pee on your shirt.”

“I want your everything on my everything,” he informed me, dead serious.

I was pretty sure I was turning into a puddle of emotions.

“Ainsley’s pissed.” I bit down on my lower lip.

He shrugged. Darkness had washed over the woods and the cliff, and there was no industrial light or lamppost in sight.

“Ainsley’s always pissed,” Alex said tersely.

“I didn’t know you guys were hooking up.”

I wanted desperately to learn more about their relationship, even though I knew it was going to hurt like a mothertrucker.

“We aren’t anymore.”

“When’d you stop?” I swallowed.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “A few days before I picked you up that first time? Though, that last time, she showed up unannounced at my house to a rehearsal with Ryan even though she low-key hates him. Weird.”

“Yeah. Weird.” I mulled the information over, making the obvious connection and feeling a little seasick.

We made our way back to the park. Alex did not elaborate, so I continued. “Does she know that? That you’re no longer hooking up, I mean?”

“If she’s not a complete goddamn moron,” he said shortly.

Silence.

“Have you hooked up with a lot of girls?” I couldn’t help myself.

Alex frowned, giving the question some genuine thought, then said, “No.”

“Are you…?” I trailed off. I couldn’t ask this. I couldn’t.

I didn’t have to.

He laughed softly. “Uhm, no.”

“Well, I am.”

“Figured,” he said.

“How could you possibly figure that?” I felt somewhat attacked by my own state of virginity.

He shrugged. “Just did. Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah.”

“Did Ryan give you trouble?”

I shook my head, still thinking about what Alex told me. About Ryan bringing Ainsley over to his house. That was such a weird thing to do. Did he know about us? Did he guess?

“Good.”

“He seems pretty certain it’s not going to last,” I commented. Because, hey, I was a bag of insecurities and iron pills, and he needed to find out sooner or later, right?

Alex didn’t seem fazed by that. “It will.”

Yes, I thought. Until Sweden.

Until you move away and leave me behind.

Then I smiled to myself as we emerged from the woods and joined the others.

That was not going to happen.

Alex was going to stay.

It was official. I had a boyfriend.

Things changed after the picnic.

Yes, Alex and I still talked on ICQ every night, but we also saw each other three to four times a week, and spent time with each other every weekend.

We texted. A lot. All day, every day.

And talked on the phone into the night. Until someone else from our household would pick up the phone and ask, “Aw, you guys are still talking? Hang up. I need the phone” (this is a struggle I suspect Gen Z folks will never be able to relate to, since landlines, like our tailbones, aren’t something we use anymore).

I was really, obnoxiously, deliriously happy.

A month had passed since that picnic.

A month in which Ryan and I cooled our relationship down pretty drastically at school. He was still nice to me, and I was still nice to him, but he no longer sought me out, and vice versa.

To be honest, I was mildly pissed at him for naturally assuming my relationship with Alex was going to detonate. Especially seeing as Alex and I were going from strength to strength.

Which reminds me, Alex really was pretty perfect as a boyfriend, human, and a punk rocker.

One time, I texted him that I was famished between classes, and he happened to skip school, so he went and got me a vegan falafel meal and brought it to my school, along with a Diet Coke, AKA the nectar of the gods.

Another time, my dog (yes, the one that barks his life away) had a vet appointment and my mother was running late at work, so Alex volunteered to take my stressed-out dog and me to the vet, which resulted in his Volvo smelling like a very angry dog for two months (and don’t get me started about the hair that got stuck to everything).

After my dog’s appointment was done (am I saying dog too much? It feels like it), Alex bought us vegan Subways and ice-cold beers. We ate them watching the sunset, with my dog sleeping at my feet, exhausted but happy to be far away from the vet.

When I had fights with my parents, Alex would listen to my whining for hours on end, and offer his input. He always told me the truth, never sugarcoated things, and never got tired when I went around in circles, rehashing the same things over and over.

Alex was attuned to my needs and my wants, and pretty fantastic altogether. Contrary to my initial assumption, he didn’t play games. He wasn’t mean (not to me, anyway). And he never gave me any reason to suspect he even breathed in another girl’s direction.