I don’t know when everything between Nash and me got so real.
Nash looks at me, eyes wide. “Whoa, hey. Why are you crying?”
“It’s beautiful,” I say. “You’re beautiful.”
Then I lean forward and kiss Nash because I want to remember this moment, this feeling while I still live in a world where Kels isn’t real. It always starts off innocently, our kisses. Slow and sweet, until I’m tired of slow and sweet. Then I deepen the kiss and twist my fingers in his hair—did I ever mention how much I love his hair? His hands slide down to my hips and we rotate so I’m now straddling him and his lips are on my jaw, my neck, and oh my God I want.
I want, I want, I want.
Every week, I find that I’m the one initiating the next move, I’m the one pushing the boundaries closer and closer to the point of no return. I’ve kissed boys—I’ve even fooled around with some boys. Temporary flings with other temporary doc kids. We’d just make out and okay, maybe my bra would come off at some point—but that’s as far as it’d go. I never let it go further, because I never wanted to.
With Nash, I want to. And it’s so unfair, because I kiss him and touch him like I’ve known him for years because, well, I have. Sometimes when I’m like this, I forget that for him, it’s only been six months, that we’ve only been officially a thing for thirty-four days.
Caught up in the moment, in Nash showing me, Halle, REX, I take his shirt off for the first time.
“I’m—I mean, I haven’t …” Flustered Nash babbles, unable to find the word.
“Me either,” I say.
I’m not exactly surprised, but I am relieved.
“Should we slow down?” I ask.
“Probably,” Nash says.
We don’t.
In between kisses, Nash slips my cardigan off my shoulders.
Then he pulls my T-shirt off over my head.
It’s cold, so I pull one of the fleece blankets over us. I’m still on his lap, kissing Nash, his skin hot against mine and oh my God this is so good. Nash’s fingers graze my lower back and his hand slides slowly up, up, up to the clasp of my bra. I don’t even feel self-conscious, not for one second.
But then his hands are gone and his lips are too far away from mine. I push forward to kiss him more but he pulls away.
“Oh my God.” Nash pulls the blanket off and it’s too bright. I blink to readjust to the florescent basement lights. When I do, Nash is putting his shirt back on. Inside out.
“Nash?” I ask.
He doesn’t say what? or offer, like, any sort of explanation.
He just throws my shirt at me.
I’m not even joking. It lands on my head.
“My parents,” he says. “They’re, like—right upstairs. What if they—and we were … ?”
“Oh,” I say. Oh.
I got so wrapped up in Nash, in us, I totally forgot about that. Andrea and David upstairs while we were … well, Nash is right. Oh my God. I pull over my T-shirt and button every single button on my cardigan. Brush out my tangled hair with my fingers. Sit up straight against a chair, like how we started, and let my breathing steady. I look at him, my cheeks flaming.
It’s okay, though, because his are also on fire.
“That was the opposite of slow,” I say.
“I wanted to.”
“Me too.”
“I just don’t want our first time to be in my parents’ basement while they’re upstairs watching Seinfeld reruns.”
Oh my God, you can legit hear Jerry’s voice through the ceiling. I cover my hand with my mouth and laugh so hard.
“So romantic,” I say.
Nash joins my laughing fit and we are okay. More than okay.
We restart the episode of Stranger Things and cuddle until I have to be home for curfew. I can’t focus on the show because I can’t stop thinking about Nash and me. How did we get so intense, so fast? I’m not sure.
But I am sure that I want to keep kissing Nash forever. Getting carried away with him forever.
I’m sure that I’m falling for him, and not only for a moment.
And I’m sure, I am finally sure that I can’t keep this up. Nash shared REX sketches with me, Halle—and I said I know because I do know. Because I’m Kels. And as much as I’d like to continue to compartmentalize and pretend it doesn’t