I remember the touch of his large, calloused hand pressing the paper into my own as I was leaving the rink. His body brushed past mine—he smelled so good.
I didn't need much convincing as I sat on my bed later, staring at his number scribbled on the paper. I dialed it almost immediately.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he sent a text.
That should've been a red flag. But I was fourteen and colorblind—so my chances of noticing toxicity, given how I was raised, were slim to none.
He also didn't live too far from me. So I'd "sneak out" at night to see him.
And by sneak out, I mean the same way I always did—quietly, without resistance.
We'd sit outside in the cul-de-sac, just talking. Getting to know each other.
"So where were you raised?" he asked, sipping a Four Loko, leaning against the green electrical box.
I remember smiling shyly. It wasn't often I talked about my upbringing.
"I… was raised in a small town. Near the countryside. You wouldn't know it if I said it."
He laughed lightly, setting the can down.
"I knew it. In some of the words you say. I can tell you a country girl."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
I couldn't help the sharp defensiveness in my voice—but you know me by now.
He reached out, touched my hand, pulled me a little closer.
"Chill. It's not a bad thing. I think it's cute. You sound like a little girl on the prairie or some shit."
He leaned in and whispered,
"I think it's real cute."
My heart was racing.
This was my moment.
My first real kiss.
My body shook as my mind spiraled into the usual first-time thoughts.
Should it be quick?
Should it be intense, like how Mercedes kisses guys?
Should I close my eyes?
Is my breath okay?
You know. The usual worries.
I didn't have time to sit with them long. He leaned in—but stopped just short of my lips and whispered,
"Say, 'That yellow ride is mighty fine.'"
My eyes flew open. I caught the mischievous grin on his face as I pulled back, flushed, pushing him away while he cracked up laughing.
"Come on. Just once?" he pleaded.
I rolled my eyes, crossed my arms, and looked up at the moonlit sky, fighting a smile.
Finally dropping that curated city girl voice.
"That yellow ride is mighty fine."
He clapped his hands excitedly and pointed at me, grinning.
"Aye! Prairie girl!"
He rubbed my braids and I smacked his hands away playfully.
"Nuh-uh! I just got this done. Don't mess it up." I covered my head, and he grinned.
"True, my bad," he said. "It looks nice. Don't wanna mess up the hard work." He smiled apologetically.
That became our routine.
Meeting each other in the dead of night.
Talking, laughing, getting to know each other.
And I just knew I was falling in love with him.
Terrance was a good man.
I… was a bad friend.
As the days passed, I started to grow distant from my friends. It wasn't intentional. My head was just always in the clouds—usually about a certain guy. I'd drift off smiling, thinking about our secret rendezvous while sitting with my friends at lunch.
Or in the gym.
"Yeah, so it'll be a little party, nothing big. You coming?" Mercedes grunted, launching the volleyball up into the air. She glanced over at me, but I was staring past the net—into the eyes of my man.
Her cousin.
My secret.
A ball to the face snapped me out of it. I hit the floor hard.
"Rhe! Rhe!" Mercedes rushed over, hands flying to her mouth. She helped me up slowly, worry painted all over her face.
"Girl, you got a ball imprint on your face. Are you okay?"
I blinked hard, trying to clear the white spots from my vision as I stood, clutching my face.
"Y-yeah. I'm good."
"You need the nurse?" she asked.
I shook my head slowly.
Now, you might be wondering where all that fire I had went—why I didn't beat down the girl who threw it. But Terrance had subdued something in me. And I could tell by her face—she felt awful.
It wasn't worth it.
I was the one not paying attention.
"Liverpool. Nurse." The gym teacher ordered casually. "Jackson, take her."
Mercedes nodded and pulled me toward the exit. I stopped short.
"Nah. I said I'm good."
Coach Leslie was always unfazed—strict, intense when she wanted to be. She reminded me of those military instructors.
My only reference being movies, but that was her vibe—That or a lesbian. Maybe both.
Without looking at me, she pointed to her nose.
"It's bleeding. Go to the nurse so she can fill out an incident report."
I looked down and saw it. Dizziness washed over me.
Maybe the adrenaline was wearing off.
Or maybe my body was being dramatic because there was blood and witnesses.
I don't know.
My weight sagged into Mercedes and she panicked.
"Coach! Coach!"
Coach Lesbian sighed, and walked over. She looped her arm under mine, shouldering most of my weight. "Laps," she told the class, casting a look over her shoulder. "Until I come back."
She helped me to the nurse's office.
I lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, grimacing as the light flickered.
I never understood how a light could be dull and bright at the same time.
I glanced toward the nurse's desk where Coach Leslie explained what happened.
"Jackson, stay with Liverpool. You're both excused."
Mercedes nodded vigorously and dragged a chair over, the legs screeching against the floor. As soon as the door shut, she leaned in and whispered,
"Girl, what the hell happened? You've been out of it lately. Something going on at home?"
I tried to sit up, but she gently pushed me back down.
"No. Not really," I said softly. "Just… been thinking about some things."
"Like what?" she asked, her face scrunched with worry.
It's clear now how much she cared about me.
But all I could think was—
If she found out…
TJ and I would have to break up.
"I-it's nothing," I mumbled. "Just falling behind real bad."
Hoping she'd take that answer.
It wasn't a lie.
But it wasn't the truth she was looking for either.
I could feel her staring at my back.
"I get it," she said. "I've been the same. After the party maybe we can start studying together. Gabby is good as fuck at everything but literature." She rolled her eyes playfully. "She says she's dyslexic, but she's never actually been diagnosed. So that just means she hates reading."
I looked back at her and smiled.
"Good thing that's the one thing I'm not failing."
My smile faltered, confusion creeping in.
"W-wait… party?"
"Yeah!" she said. "A party. My birthday's Monday, but we're having it Saturday. You coming, right?"
I sat up, smiling.
"Yeah. Of course. You're my girl. You know I'm coming."
Mercedes threw herself onto me with a squeal, wrapping me in a tight hug. She pulled back just long enough to look at me, eyes bright.
"Oh my God, I'm so happy. I know we haven't been friends that long, but I see you as my sister."
She hugged me again, whispering,
"You don't understand what this means to me."
I relaxed into it. That warmth filled my body—the kind you get eating chili in the winter. I felt loved. Appreciated.
And I hugged her back.
Told her I felt the same.
Even though my mind was fixed on one thing: how cute I'd look when I saw him at her party.
Jesus.
What was wrong with me?
I'm fine.
Just—let me continue.
I showed up to that party the exact moment Mercedes said it would start. They'd barely finished setting up.
She was placing a big clear bowl of tortilla chips onto the table when she spotted me and rushed over.
"Wow, you're early. You could've come later—wait, what do you have on?"
She looked me up and down.
It was a blue sundress, a little above the knee, tied at the neck.
She shook her head.
"Girl, you're gonna get wet. Did you forget? It's a pool party."
I didn't even hear her say it. That's how far gone I was.
I looked at her outfit—shorts, a mesh crop top, pink swimsuit peeking through. She put her hands on her hips.
"Please tell me you've got a swimsuit under that."
I shook my head slowly.
She groaned, sighed, then grabbed my hand.
"Come on. I've got spares inside."
She pulled me into the house. It was dark but clean, neat. Beaded curtains blocked the hallway. Black Panther statues framed doorways. Afro-Gothic paintings lined the walls.
She dragged me into her room and tossed me a white two-piece.
"I'll be outside. Come find me when you're done."
She shut the door, leaving me alone.
Once I changed, I stood in front of her full-length mirror.
A string bikini.
On me.
It was… a sight.
Part of me wanted to throw on a T-shirt, cover up. But another part thought—
If TJ's here, he'll see me like this. He'll think I'm attractive.
So I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and walked out.
Just.
Like.
That.
I was so caught up in the house the first time through that I didn't notice the guys on the couch.
TJ was one of them.
They were watching TV, talking. When the screen went dark for a second, I saw my reflection—and his.
His eyes widened.
He shifted on the couch, turning fully to look at me. Taking me in. Up and down. Like he wanted me.
I smiled, gave him a small wave, and kept walking outside.
Behind me, the guys whooped and made playful catcalls.
I knew I'd succeeded.
Once outside, I exhaled hard, slumping against the wall.
I hadn't expected him to be there.
But I pulled it off.
Now this part of the party, I— I have a—
It's not bad per se—
It was me.
Terrance was good to me.
I just didn't know what I was signing up for.
It was confusing. I was confused.
I didn't get it…
Later… at the party. When almost everyone had gone home.
He beckoned me over to the side of the house, glancing around to make sure no one saw.
He smiled at me. "You look real good, Rhea."
I smiled back, heart fluttering from the compliment.
He took my hand, pulled me closer, and for the first time—he kissed me.
My whole body went warm, like I was the sun itself.
And when his tongue slipped in, that soft romantic heat turned into something scorching.
His large hands tugged me flush against him.
His hands slid to my ass, cupping firmly, pulling me tight against him.
I could feel him… hard, pressed right there.
He kissed my neck, groped my chest.
And God, I felt wanted. Loved. Desired.
Nothing else mattered.
Not even that I was about to fuck my friend's cousin at her house.
He licked a slow trail up my neck and whispered, "Can I hit it from the back?"
It was my fault.
I didn't understand what he meant.
Even though my only experience was with John… it still counted. It was still experience.
Don't… don't look at me like that. Like you already know.
Terrance was good.
Terrance was a good guy!
" …Was he?"
Yes! He was.
It was my fault. I misunderstood.
"Yeah… sure," I whispered, clutching his neck. "I want it. I want you."
He turned me against the wall, yanked my bottoms down, and shoved it in.
The wrong… hole.
I tensed, nails digging into the wall as I whimpered, "W-wait, that's not—"
He leaned in, breath hot against my ear. "It's already in… it's already in. Just relax."
So I did.
I tried.
Tried to drift somewhere else. A better time. A better future.
I pictured it so clearly —us married. Together forever. Two kids. I'd be a great mom. A nice house. Two dogs. A pool. Growing old, still in love, into our nineties…
I gasped as he thrust deep—warmth flooding—then suddenly empty.
My legs gave out. I dropped to my knees.
I could feel it… leaking out.
I stared at the grass, the wind brushing it against my knees like it was trying to wipe me clean.
He grabbed my hips, gently easing me back onto my feet.
"Hey, you good?"
He hugged me, kissed my cheek.
"I thought you were okay with it? I didn't hurt you, right?"
I looked over my shoulder—saw the apologetic look in his eyes.
I sniffled, turned around.
This was part of being mature.
I was sure all my friends had done it.
I nodded. Smiled.
I had to play the part.
Plus… it didn't hurt that bad.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wasn't prepared…"
I patted his chest weakly, forcing the smile.
"You gotta tell me next time that's what you meant."
He smiled back, cupped my face.
"I'm sorry," he said, kissing me again.
He pulled away.
"'Cedes is probably looking for you. I'll tell her you went home."
I nodded, fixing my clothes.
"Thank you, TJ."
Hobbling home, knees buckling like a newborn calf.
Hoping no one would notice me.
I peeled off my clothes fast, stepped into the shower.
To get rid of that feeling.
This wouldn't be the last time.
The first of many.
And Terrance wouldn't be the only one.
I remember letting the warm water beat my skin, loosening the tense muscles.
The cloth slipped from my hand, leaving only my fingers.
Three.