Page 75 of Something in Between

Now he’s lying on top of me, his body heavy on mine, and I like its weight, like having him on top of me. I start to unbuckle his belt, but suddenly, and with a drawn-out groan, he stops me. Puts his hand on mine.

“We shouldn’t,” he says hoarsely. “Not like this, not here.”

I wiggle underneath him, and he catches his breath again. I can make him change his mind, I know I can. “But I want to.” I want to show him how much I feel for him, how much closer I want to be. Yet I’m a little nervous too, and maybe he senses that because he shakes his head.

“Jas,” he breathes. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” I say, my heart pounding, my breath shallow, but feeling relief as well.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says. “But...”

I know what he means. We’re not ready. We just got back together. Itfeelsright, but it’s way, way, too fast.

He pulls away a little and we both settle down. That’s when I realize the seats in the car go all the way down.So that’s how we got in this position, I think, and laugh to myself.

Royce pushes up on one elbow and looks down at me. His dark hair is plastered to his forehead, and I push his bangs away so I can see his eyes.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, looking worried.

I smile to show him there’s nothing to worry about. “The seats. I didn’t realize until just now that they recline all the way down.”

“They have to,” he says, with a serious look on his face. “Otherwise how else are we going to have sex in this thing one day?”

“Oh my God,” I say, hiding my face in my hands. I almost hadsexwith him. I wanted to, so badly, but I’m glad he stopped us.

When he gently pulls my hands away from my face, I know he’s telling me there’s nothing to be ashamed of, and I know he’s right.

I want to know all of him, and I want him to know all of me. One day we will.

Everything is beautiful in the moonlight.

23

Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.

—CLEMENTINE PADDLEFORD

IT DOESN’T TAKElong for Mom and Dad to catch on that I don’t want to be at home. At all. Since Royce and I got back together, I just want to spend as much time with him as I can to make up for all that time when we weren’t together. We take it slow though, and go back to kissing a lot. He sends me love letters (okay, love emails) and writes me poetry. I take endless portraits of him with my phone. I used to be really into photography, and I am obsessed with capturing every angle of his handsome face. I want to show him how I see him, how beautiful he is to me.

But every moment we’re together is an anxious one too. Who knows how long we have to be together? If my family does end up having to leave America, I don’t want to lose out on any time left that I might have with him. Tonight, I’m halfway to the front door, trying to sneak out for the evening, when Dad stops me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out,” I say.

Dad puts his arm across the doorway. “With who? Kayla?”

“You know who, Daddy.” I inch closer toward the door. It’s not that I don’t want to spendanytime with my family anymore, but come on, I’ve spent eighteen years with them staying home almost every single night.

“But Lola Cherry’s coming over for dinner. You know she’ll want to see you.”

He had to say that. He knows I love Lola Cherry.

It’s probably a trick though. “I already made plans,” I say.

“Bring your white boy in for a while,” Dad says, resolute. “Lola wants to meet him.”

I recall how I wanted Royce to know more about me, about my family. But I know how Lola Cherry can get. Royce has no idea how loose-tongued older-generation Filipinos are.

I try a new tactic. “We have reservations,” I say. “And his mom is Latina, by the way. He’s not a white boy.”

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