The Charlotte Chronicles (Jackson Boys 1)

I feel his body depress the side of the bed, and he rolls me toward him.

“What’s this all about?”

“Nothing, just go away.” I keep my eyes covered so he can’t see my hurt at his instant rejection. He didn’t even have to think twice about it. He can kiss—and more—any number of girls at school or other schools or, heck, even a couple of girls who live in our building, but the idea of kissing me results in curse words and discomfort.

“I’m not going away,” he insists. His palm is on my shoulder, and I feel electrified just from that small touch. I wonder what it would feel like if he touched me other places.

“All that talk about me being important to you seems like just that—talk,” I mumble, still refusing to look at him. He pulls on my wrist that is covering my eyes, but I resist. It would be easy for him to overpower me, but instead he just lets go . . . and even that makes me sad.

“It’s not just talk, but you’re fifteen, and I think we should wait.”

“I’ll be sixteen in five months, and it’s not like you weren’t kissing girls when you were fifteen.”

“You stay here, and we’ll kiss when you’re ready.”

My heart sings at the words “we’ll kiss.” He wasn’t rejecting me! I drop my arm and sit up abruptly. Nate reaches out to steady me, and we are only inches apart. If I leaned forward I could kiss him. Instead I say slowly and clearly, “I’m ready now.”

“You’re not.”

“How do you know? You were like twelve the first time you kissed Molly Masterson at her birthday party. And you had sex when you were fourteen with Olivia Petrzelka in her parents’ rec room.”

He gapes at me. “Goddamn Nick. I’m going to beat him until he can’t remember his own name let alone anything about me.”

“Nick? If you want to shut down the gossip pipeline, you better start picking better partners.”

Nate does a double take. “Are you saying that it’s the girls?” He draws out the word girls in shocked disbelief.

“What do you think we’re talking about?” I drop to the bed and stretch out like a starfish. “I’m going to kiss someone someday. Do you want that first kiss to be yours?”

He glares at me and presses his lips together, but behind his glower I can see something else, something that maybe if I was more experienced I could identify. I just know it’s there, and it’s something other than anger.

I stretch farther, making tiny linen angels in my bedsheets. Nate’s attention is diverted, and at first I think he’s staring at my chest, where my IV port is but then I realize his gaze is lower, much lower. A devilish impulse comes over me, and I drag one foot up my leg, around my slender calf, up to my thigh and then allow my knees to fall apart. Despite my illness, I am still limber from years of gymnastics training. As I watch beneath my eyelashes, Nate does not look away. He’s riveted, and my gaze falls down his body past his chest and down to his sweatpants that hide absolutely nothing.

I’ve seen erections before, on the Internet, but I couldn’t decide whether I thought that penises were disgusting or attractive. I prefer looking at the naked chest, the abs on a male model, or even his back. Somehow I know that Nate’s erection would be different, amazing. Girls in the locker room talk about blow jobs and oral, but I haven’t done any of that. I pretend like I know what they are talking about, but the closest I’ve ever come to anything remotely sexual is a few Tumblr gifs. No one is willing to brave the Jackson brothers to get to me, and I haven’t been too interested in breaching the line either.

Saliva pools in my mouth as I think about taking Nate inside me, and I wonder what it would feel like if he touched me between my legs. As quickly as the wanton spirit had spread over me, it leaves, and I lock my legs together, rolling to the side, embarrassed at my thoughts.

Nate groans, my motions awakening him from his trance. He turns to face the wall, and presses his forehead against a palm. Shame sets in, and I’m sorry for what I’m doing to him, what I’m doing to myself.

“I’m going to Switzerland. I’m leaving after the first of the year and I just don’t want my first kiss to be with someone other than you.” I bite my lip and then touch him tentatively on his back and wait for his response. I’d like him to be my first everything, but he’s skittish and I don’t want to scare him off. His hard on, though, must mean something.