My Life After Now - By Jessica Verdi Page 0,16

feel that magnetic pull toward them, to think it impossible that your bodies could ever be close enough.

Evan’s hands were in my hair, pulling me toward him as we kissed. My hands were on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt. I pushed the shirt back off his shoulders, and we parted, gasping, for the briefest of moments while we each yanked our t-shirts over our heads. Then we were back to kissing, and running our hands all over each other’s bodies.

He was shirtless, I was in a bra, and we toppled over onto the bed together.

But as he moved to unbutton my jeans, I froze. Out of nowhere, I was flashing back to the last time someone had undone my jeans—Lee. Memories from that night—drunken, lost memories that I thought I’d never see again—were charging back to me.

Stumbling down Spring Street to an apartment building with a red door.

Lee’s callused guitar-player hands.

His stubble leaving red marks on my skin.

The tequila/cigarette mixture on his breath.

The sound my boots made as I yanked them off and dropped them to the floor.

Having sex several times throughout the night. Not once with protection.

Wait…what?

As that last image blazed across my memory, my entire body tensed up, and I stopped responding to Evan. Evan reacted to the change immediately and pulled back.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worried.

I nodded, my eyes squeezed shut. But I wasn’t okay, not really.

“Did I do something wrong?”

I shook my head no. “It’s not you,” I whispered.

“Lucy, it’s okay if you’re not ready.”

I took a few deep breaths, completely failed in my attempt to force Lee out of my brain, and sat up. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t.”

He studied me. I had no idea what he saw. “That’s cool,” he said finally, handing me my shirt.

I hadn’t told Evan about the Lee night. It was probably the only thing I hadn’t told him about myself, but I didn’t want him to think I was the type of person who did things like that. So I didn’t explain anything further now. And for the first time since I’d known him, he didn’t ask any questions.

“You should go,” was the last thing I said to him that night.

10

Consider Yourself

How had this happened?

I’d had unprotected sex. With someone I didn’t even know. The thought was incomprehensible.

I felt like I’d let the whole world down. Ever since I was old enough to know about this stuff, the importance of safe sex had been drilled into my brain. Health teachers with their condom demonstrations, reality shows about teen pregnancy, television commercials for herpes medications, billboard advertisements for Planned Parenthood…and my dads. You’d think they were paid spokesmen for Trojan. At first, their casual tossing around of words like “prophylactic” and “spermicidal lube” embarrassed the hell out of me, but after a few years their open-forum approach to these topics became just another reason our relationship was so close.

Here’s how the big “responsibility” talk went last year:

Dad: So, Lu, you and Ty seem to be getting serious.

Me: Yeah, I guess.

Papa: He’s a cutie.

Me: I know, right?

Dad: (hands me a paper bag)

Me: (after peeking inside and finding the jumbo box of condoms) Daaaad!

Dad: It’s important to be safe, sweetie; we can’t stress that enough. Remember, no glove, no love.

Papa: There’s also a drugstore gift card in there with a hundred dollars on it for when you need to stock up again.

Me: (my face still blazing with embarrassment) You know, none of my friends talk to their parents about stuff like this.

Dad: Well, none of your friends have parents that lived through the New York gay club scene in the nineties.

End scene.

I sat at my desk, twisting and untwisting a lock of my hair around my finger, weighing the potential consequences of my stupidity.

Pregnancy? No. I was on the pill, and I got my period right on time a few days after the night.

Sexually transmitted infections? I didn’t really think that was much of a possibility, either. Lee and I had just been together that one time, and it didn’t burn when I peed or anything. But on the other hand, I knew myself, and I knew my mind would be never be fully at ease—not to mention that I would never be able to move forward with Evan—unless I found out for sure. And this, at least, was something I was going to do right. So I did a ton of research.

Let me tell you something: the photos of various STIs on medical websites are not pretty. Those images