Page 79 of Be My First

I don’t like the look on his face. My heart starts to pound. “What?”

“I overheard Justin talking on the phone – saying things about you,” he says, softly.

“What sort of things?” I ask.

He can’t make eye contact with me when he says this, “He wants to fuck you because you’re the President’s sister. Bragging rights.”

I blink a few times. “He said that?”

He nods. “I went out in the garden the other day when he was taking a smoke break. The day we made the focaccia. Justin was on the phone. He didn’t see me. He said other things too - things that I’d really don’t want to repeat.”

Of course. Why would he want to be with me? I’d like to say I don’t care, it’s not like I thought I was in love with him. It would have just been meaningless sex, but no – I can’t. I wouldn’t. Someone like that – he can’t be trusted. What if he goes to the press? Tells everyone the details of our time together? No, I want to have sex, but not like that.

“What else did he say?” I ask.

His eyes are pleading. “Juno, it’s not worth repeating.”

“Tell me.”

He closes his eyes. “He called you a whore and said he thought you’d like it rough – he might try to film it. He said fucking you would make him famous.”

My stomach sinks. How could I have misjudged him so badly?

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I whisper.

Bode’s body sags a little. “I was hoping you’d realize he was a douche on your own. I tried to warn you about him, but you didn’t want to listen. I didn’t want you know exactly what he said because it was mean. I figured it would hurt your feelings.”

I start walking again. I can hear Bode following after me. He calls, “He’s a dick, Juno. You deserve a lot better. You deserve a lot better than all of these guys you’ve been trying to hook up with.”

I stop walking. I’m not looking at him when I say, “I don’t have a lot of choices, do I?”

He starts laughing, “What are you talking about? You don’t have a lot of choices?”

I bite my lip for a moment considering what I’m about to say. I’m probably going to regret this, but I blurt out. “You were my first kiss.”

His head jerks back in surprise.

“What?”

Does he not remember?

“That night at the party – we kissed. Do you remember?” I say. God, I’m going to feel like a real idiot if he doesn’t remember.

His eyes widen a little. “Of course I remember.”

Thank god.

“You were my first kiss,” I repeat.

He runs his hand over his mouth and chin.

“I was eighteen, Bode.Eighteen.”

He’s looking at me like I’m speaking a foreign language.

“I was eighteen, and I had to hide from Eli just so I could kiss someone. I was determined that I wasn’t going to live another year without being kissed.”

He doesn’t respond.

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