During the last few days of Christmas vacation, I decided I was going to ask Marissa Hayes out. I was gonna do it. Would I humiliate myself? Probably, but to some extent I always knew that it was a risk. It was these two weeks of Christmas vacation, this endless procession of bleak winter, day after bleak winter day, without Marissa, that made me realize that any risk I took would be well worth it.
I had realized I didn’t like living without her.
I had been lying on my bed one winter evening, looking at the snow illuminated by the streetlights, when I suddenly understood the way happiness worked in my life now, how it was divided up…there were times when Marissa was there, and there were times when she wasn’t. I mean, even an honor roll kid like me doesn’t like school so much that he feels lethargic on Saturdays and happy to get up at six a.m. Monday morning, just for the chance of a smile or new inside joke between us.
She was it, she was everything, and if I didn’t risk it all for her now, I had an aching feeling I’d regret it for the rest of my days.
I wake up in a panic as I realize that the Starship Enterprise, the TARDIS, the Millennium Falcon, and the rest of the fictionalized spacecraft that usually adorn my bedroom ceiling are gone, flown off to somewhere else. Instead I’m staring at a plain white ceiling, and in a panic, I suddenly remember.
I turn over and see Marissa curled up next to me under the red silk sheets, smirking contentedly in her sleep. She rolls over, inadvertently revealing her breasts, and I’m so overcome with a strange mix of shock and arousal at the sight of her light pink nipples that I can barely move.
Oh yeah. Marissa and I slept together last night. That happened.
I’m terrified to make any noise or touch her, as if I’ll shatter the illusion…or, non-illusion, I suppose. The sixteen-year-old version of myself is practically screaming…but what about present day me? What do I think about this now?
I carefully stepped out of bed and tip-toed into the kitchen area, keeping my eyes on Marissa as she slept. I carefully turned on the coffeepot and froze as I heard it hiss to life. The next few hours, no doubt, would be interesting. What would Marissa say when she woke up? Would she regret what happened? What did she want?
More importantly, what did I want?
I barely noticed when Marissa walked in behind me, yawning and wearing a red and black silk nightgown.
“Morning,” she practically slurred, smiling at me sleepily. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes,” I said, stirring milk into my coffee. “How about you?”
“Very well,” she said, her voice practically dripping with suggestiveness. So not regretting it, then. “There’s some cereal in the pantry if you want some.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking down a box of Cheerios. There’s nothing more awkward than waking up in someone else’s house and trying to casually eat their cereal like nothing happened. The events of last night hung over our heads, and we stared back and forth at each other nervously, wondering who was going to bring up the subject.
“So,” Marissa said, turning on her tea kettle. “We had sex last night.”
“…Yes,” I say, suddenly intrigued by my Cheerios.
“And I don’t know about you, but I thought it was pretty good.”
I try and hide my grin. “Really?”
Marissa moved towards me to sit on my lap. “Really.” She wrapped an arm lazily around my shoulder and kissed me. I loved the warmth of her, the feeling of another person so early, the easy-goingness of me and her, eating breakfast together like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“I want this.” I said without thinking, looking into Marissa’s eyes. “You and me, in the morning, being together. I want it.”
“Huh,” Marissa said, curling her head into the crook of my neck. “Kirk and Marissa. The sequel. I think I like it.”
“The rare sequel that’s better than the original,” I point out with a laugh, and the words reverberate through my head…the rare sequel…
“I’d see that movie,” Marissa says with a wink, as she jumps up to pour her tea. “Again, and again, and again…” I return the wink. It looks like we might go for round two this morning, and I wasn’t complaining.
“Come get dinner with me this Friday,” I say, unabashedly gazing at the flow of her curves underneath the silk nightgown. “Let’s make this official. You. Me. The Jag. Someplace Zagat-rated uptown.”
“I’m in,” Marissa said, twirling around lightheartedly as she stirred her tea. “I think I’m going to like being your girlfriend.”
I laughed. “Girlfriend? Frankly, darling, we only made something of this last night?”
“Well, you just asked me on a date,” Marissa said, “Implying that you’d like this to be something more, correct? So why not cut to the chase?” She approached me again, keeping her bright green eyes on me the whole time, creating a strange bubble of desire in my gut. “We’ve known each other forever. We know how this ends. Let’s do it, then.”
I stared at Marissa, stunned at her brazenness, and perhaps a bit turned on by it. The past was in the past after all, ancient history…those roses were well pressed in a book with their thorns withered off. It was okay. I could move forward, I could spell out my answer in thick wooden tiles emblazoned with big capital letters.
I found myself saying yes.