Okay. I couldn’t take this anymore. He was beating himself up over this, and it was partly my fault. I’d been the idiot, to go outside with him and allow what had happened to happen. I could have put a stop to it.
“I could have stopped it. I didn’t want to,” I said. I wasn’t going to tell him that I’d been fantasizing about having sex with him for years. That was the one piece of this secret I could keep to myself.
“Why? Why would you let me do that? You deserve so much more than that.” He paused and stared at me intently. “Tell me that wasn’t your first time.”
Did I lie here? Or did I tell him the truth? Lying would make us both feel better. Or at least, it would make him feel better. I would think about it all the time.
“I chose to do it. I wasn’t drinking. I was completely sober that night, and I chose to let it be you.”
Preston slung the car door open and got out. I sat there and watched him as he paced in front of the car. He ran his hands through his hair several times, and I caught myself wishing I could do that. I loved the way his hair felt. That night might be something I regret later in life when I meet the guy I marry, but right now I couldn’t make myself regret it. I had a really good memory of Preston. Even if he hadn’t kissed me and he’d walked away and left me when it was over.
I sat in the car and watched Preston deal with this information more dramatically than I’d expected him to. When he finally stopped pacing and looked at me, I opened the car door and got out.
“I was your first. That night. I took your virginity in a shitty storage unit on a bunch of boxes.” It wasn’t a question. He was just stating the facts.
I nodded.
“Did you know I was completely trashed?”
No. I hadn’t known that. I’d known he had been drinking, but apparently I hadn’t known he had been drinking that much. I shook my head.
“I’m never drinking again. That’s it. I swear. I’m done.” He put both hands on the hood of my car and hung his head. “I can never tell you how sorry I am. You should hate me for the rest of your life. That is no way for you to have lost your innocence. Damn, Manda. Someone needs to shoot me.”
I couldn’t be mad at him. Not when he was like this. I closed my door and walked over to stand beside him. Tentatively, I touched his shoulder. “I wanted it to be you. I realize now that in order for it to be you, the way it happened was the only way it would ever happen. I think I’m okay with it now.”
Preston lifted his head and looked at me. “Why me? Why would you pick me?”
The raw emotion in his voice was the only reason I decided to be honest. “Because I trusted you. I wanted you. I’d wanted you for a very long time.”
Preston shook his head and stood up. “You don’t want me, Manda. You do not want me. Do you understand? I am not for you.”
That hurt. I forced myself to nod. I got it. He didn’t want anything to happen between us. I needed to move on.
“I know,” I managed to say firmly.
“I’m not gonna be able to forgive myself.”
Hearing him say that hurt even more. He was much more upset about this than I would have thought. I’d known he didn’t want to cross any lines with me, but I’d just realized how sincere that desire was. He truly never intended to allow anything to happen with us. It was a painful realization.
“There’s nothing to forgive. I got what I wanted. It’s over,” I told him, then turned and walked back to my car. I was moving on from this now. This was my closure.
He didn’t say anything to stop me. He just stood there and watched me drive away.
Chapter Seven
Preston
It was off-season for me. Other than workouts, I was free after classes. Last year I’d started partying early every day. This year things would be different.
I pulled up in front of the youth football fields. According to the paperwork I’d filled out for Brent to play, his practices would be here every Tuesday and Thursday from five thirty to seven.
I made my way over to the side of the fence where parents were sitting on lawn chairs and watching. When I finally got to play baseball, parents had always shown up for our practices too. My mom, of course, never came. I knew she’d never come to Brent’s practices or his games. I didn’t want him to feel as unwanted as I had. I could change that for him. I could be here. Cheering him on. He wouldn’t know that kind of rejection and loneliness.
When I got to the gate, I watched the boys warming up and doing stretches and tried to figure out which little guy was Brent. Little boys in football pads and helmets all look the same.
“You don’t look old enough to have a son out there. You must be someone’s big brother,” an older female voice said from behind me.
I glanced back over my shoulder to see someone’s mom smiling up at me from her chair. She was close to forty, but she was dressed like she was in her early twenties. I could tell from her inexpensive, snug-fitting clothing that she couldn’t afford me. Besides, I wasn’t working right now. I was here for Brent.