How to Ruin My Teenage Life by Simone Elkeles Page B

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    My hands. What should I do with my hands? I place them on his chest, which feels unusually hard for a guy like him, and tilt my head to attempt a more intimate kiss.
    Nathan isn’t responding. His lips are soft and inviting but he’s standing stiffly with his arms at his side. He’s not shoving me away from him, but he surely isn’t acting like a guy who’s being kissed by a girl. His lips are parted slightly against mine, his breath is warm and smells sweet. But he’s not all here. He’s not into it and I’m the one doing all the work.
    When the elevator dings and the doors open, I lift my hands off his chest and lean back.
    â€œWell, that was pleasant,” I say as I lift my purse and step out of the elevator.
    â€œFor who?” Nathan responds, walking right past me.
    We’re in the hall on the fortieth floor of the building with nobody else around. Nathan is in front of his door and I’m in front of mine. I look down the hall at him while he fishes for his keys. “For nobody, Nathan. That was a joke. You obviously don’t like girls.”
    He gives a short, cynical laugh. “Whatever you say, Barbie. Did anyone ever tell you you smell like fruit?”
    â€œStop calling me Barbie!” I yell, ignoring the fruit comment for the moment. Nathan doesn’t respond as he opens the door to his condo and slams the door shut behind him.
    The door quickly opens to my condo and my dad rushes at me. “What’s wrong? Who are you yelling at?”
    â€œNobody, Dad.”
    â€œI heard you yelling. Are you okay?”
    â€œDon’t spaz on me. I’m fine,” I say, then brush past him.
    My dad follows me to my bedroom, my private sanctuary where I go to be alone. “I’m your father. I have a right to spaz. Why are you acting like this? And why do you smell like bananas?”
    I give him my famous sneer. “Acting like what?”
    â€œLike you’re angry with the world.”
    â€œI’m not angry with the world; the world is angry with me. And for your information, I sat on a banana. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like some privacy so I can change.” That gets him to leave pretty quick.
    After I shimmy out of my now crusty jeans, I dress in pj’s and head down the hall to brush my teeth and scrub my face. With all the stress I’m under, I’m bound to get a zit or two … or twenty. I’m in the bathroom, scrubbing my lips and that kiss away with a washcloth. Back in my room, I look up and see my dad standing in the doorway.
    He leans against the door frame. “I admit I’m not used to teenage girl problems. But I’m here to listen.”
    I can tell he’s mentally preparing for some heavy discussion. He’s not used to heavy teenage girl problem discussions. My dad is such a guy. He needs some feminine influence in his life. “Why don’t you want a girlfriend?”
    â€œBecause relationships are a time commitment.”
    I roll my eyes and say, “It’s no secret you have commitment problems. Let’s just get that out in the open. Are you refusing to date because you’re in love with my mom?”
    â€œI’m not talking about this with you.”
    â€œWhy not? You’re obviously not talking about it with anyone else. And if you think by working yourself to death you can hide from the truth, you can’t.”
    â€œI’m committed to you, Amy. I hardly have time to spend with my own daughter these days, which is killing me inside. How can I add something else to take me away from my family?”
    â€œYou call two people a family?”
    â€œYes.”
    My poor dad doesn’t get it. “What about when I go to college? You’ll be all alone while Marc and Mom have more babies together. And what about after you retire? You’ll be sitting at home by yourself with nothing to keep you company but a set of dentures and an old,