happened the week
before, though—the thing that got me completely bananas and gaga for
him—it happened like this:
My mom was sick one day— really sick. So she sent me in her place
to clean Ryan’s house—just do the mandatory stuff. She gave me a
list—not that I needed it. I’d helped her tons of times, so I knew pretty
much what had to be done. Though usually Ryan would steal me away to do my
“dutiful” hour, and then he would do mine, whatever I wanted (which was always
riding his horse). Both our mothers seemed pleased with the arrangement. His,
because I kept Ryan entertained. Mine, because it pleased her boss. (Mom really
liked her job. Ryan’s mom was way nicer than anyone else my mom had ever worked
for.)
The day Mom sent me to Ryan’s alone
was a Monday. Ryan and his mom were never home on Mondays, so that’s when Mom
did most of her “deep” cleaning, so I was stuck doing it.
But once I got to Ryan’s, I
discovered Mom wasn’t the only one that was sick. I started to feel sick too.
Ryan came home early and caught me puking in his toilet.
Shocking me, since I didn’t know
he’d come home, Ryan was at my elbow. He gently held my hair back for me. He
did it soooo tender.
Then he made me get into his bed,
though I kept protesting. “I have to clean,” I told him. “I have this list.”
He snatched the list from me. “I’ll
clean,” he said. “You get into the bed.”
So, I did. And immediately fell
into a deep, sweaty sleep.
When I woke, Ryan had done all my
chores.
And he also lied to his mom and
said I did them.
I heard them talking when I woke,
through his bedroom’s closed door.
His mom was not pleased I was in his bed. She was like—upset. Very.
“Mom, she’s sick ,” he said. “She finished all her work, and then she needed to
sleep.”
“I do not want her here alone with you, Ryan. Not ever.”
He sounded exasperated. “I didn’t plan it. Soccer practice got cancelled
and Keith’s mom needed to take him to some school thing. So, I came home
early.”
I creaked the door open.
Ryan’s eyes washed over me. He
looked embarrassed that I’d caught them talking about me—and that I heard
what his mom was saying. Her emphatic concern about me being alone in the house
with him—in his bed.
“Where’s your mother, Lexi?” Ryan’s mom sounded hostile. It was the first time I
heard her sound that way. Ever.
“She’s—she’s at home,” I
stammered. “She was really sick. So she sent me, since she knew you’re having a
party tomorrow and she wanted your house to be nice for it. But when I got
here—I got sick too.”
Ryan’s mom’s eyes instantly
changed. Turned ashamed, and sympathetic. Totally softened. She pursed her
lips. “Tell your mother I hope she gets feeling better. And thank you for your
hard work, Lexi. The house looks beautiful.”
My eyes cut to Ryan.
He shook his head slightly, giving
me a look that said: ‘Don’t tell her, Lexi.’
So, I didn’t. But I hoped my eyes
told him, ‘Thank you.’
After that day, I couldn’t get how
tender Ryan had been while he was taking care of me out of my head. How he had
gently pulled back my hair. Had tenderly wiped my face.
And now here he was—twelve
years old—suggesting we kiss. It was just like out of my dreams. (The
steamy ones I had just started to have of him—of him doing exactly this:
wanting to kiss me.)
Ryan did a weighing motion with his
hands. He grinned, “Zombie Attack or kissing?”
I started to choke again.
“Kissing,” I coughed.
He smiled. Huge. “Yay,” he murmured
happily.
… we didn’t get around to riding
horses that day. The timer went off, but we just kept eagerly getting our
mouths acquainted. It was even better than my dreams. Way better. Ryan’s warm eager kisses had me breathless.
I was swooning. Big time.
CHAPTER 6
So, Ryan became my very first
boyfriend. And though we did a LOT of kissing that day (Tons!!) it
before, though—the thing that got me completely bananas and gaga for
him—it happened like this:
My mom was sick one day— really sick. So she sent me in her place
to clean Ryan’s house—just do the mandatory stuff. She gave me a
list—not that I needed it. I’d helped her tons of times, so I knew pretty
much what had to be done. Though usually Ryan would steal me away to do my
“dutiful” hour, and then he would do mine, whatever I wanted (which was always
riding his horse). Both our mothers seemed pleased with the arrangement. His,
because I kept Ryan entertained. Mine, because it pleased her boss. (Mom really
liked her job. Ryan’s mom was way nicer than anyone else my mom had ever worked
for.)
The day Mom sent me to Ryan’s alone
was a Monday. Ryan and his mom were never home on Mondays, so that’s when Mom
did most of her “deep” cleaning, so I was stuck doing it.
But once I got to Ryan’s, I
discovered Mom wasn’t the only one that was sick. I started to feel sick too.
Ryan came home early and caught me puking in his toilet.
Shocking me, since I didn’t know
he’d come home, Ryan was at my elbow. He gently held my hair back for me. He
did it soooo tender.
Then he made me get into his bed,
though I kept protesting. “I have to clean,” I told him. “I have this list.”
He snatched the list from me. “I’ll
clean,” he said. “You get into the bed.”
So, I did. And immediately fell
into a deep, sweaty sleep.
When I woke, Ryan had done all my
chores.
And he also lied to his mom and
said I did them.
I heard them talking when I woke,
through his bedroom’s closed door.
His mom was not pleased I was in his bed. She was like—upset. Very.
“Mom, she’s sick ,” he said. “She finished all her work, and then she needed to
sleep.”
“I do not want her here alone with you, Ryan. Not ever.”
He sounded exasperated. “I didn’t plan it. Soccer practice got cancelled
and Keith’s mom needed to take him to some school thing. So, I came home
early.”
I creaked the door open.
Ryan’s eyes washed over me. He
looked embarrassed that I’d caught them talking about me—and that I heard
what his mom was saying. Her emphatic concern about me being alone in the house
with him—in his bed.
“Where’s your mother, Lexi?” Ryan’s mom sounded hostile. It was the first time I
heard her sound that way. Ever.
“She’s—she’s at home,” I
stammered. “She was really sick. So she sent me, since she knew you’re having a
party tomorrow and she wanted your house to be nice for it. But when I got
here—I got sick too.”
Ryan’s mom’s eyes instantly
changed. Turned ashamed, and sympathetic. Totally softened. She pursed her
lips. “Tell your mother I hope she gets feeling better. And thank you for your
hard work, Lexi. The house looks beautiful.”
My eyes cut to Ryan.
He shook his head slightly, giving
me a look that said: ‘Don’t tell her, Lexi.’
So, I didn’t. But I hoped my eyes
told him, ‘Thank you.’
After that day, I couldn’t get how
tender Ryan had been while he was taking care of me out of my head. How he had
gently pulled back my hair. Had tenderly wiped my face.
And now here he was—twelve
years old—suggesting we kiss. It was just like out of my dreams. (The
steamy ones I had just started to have of him—of him doing exactly this:
wanting to kiss me.)
Ryan did a weighing motion with his
hands. He grinned, “Zombie Attack or kissing?”
I started to choke again.
“Kissing,” I coughed.
He smiled. Huge. “Yay,” he murmured
happily.
… we didn’t get around to riding
horses that day. The timer went off, but we just kept eagerly getting our
mouths acquainted. It was even better than my dreams. Way better. Ryan’s warm eager kisses had me breathless.
I was swooning. Big time.
CHAPTER 6
So, Ryan became my very first
boyfriend. And though we did a LOT of kissing that day (Tons!!) it
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