looks at me. “When is your mom coming back?”
“I can’t really say for sure. She just met this guy last night, but she seems to like him a lot. She gets kinda clingy when she likes a guy that much, so she may not be back for a while.”
Saul doesn’t hesitate. His eyes lock on mine, and he leans slowly over, bringing his face to mine. I can feel the whisper of his breath on my chin. He lifts his left hand and wraps it around the back of my neck. It feels rough and strong, and it makes me shudder. His face comes closer. He closes his eyes. I close mine, and I hold my breath, and I shudder some more.
And then his lips touch mine.
I can’t describe how great that feels. Someone should come up with a new, special word for the moment of your first kiss, with a boy you really like.
Chapter Seven
W E ’ VE BEEN kissing and touching on the sofa forever. I’m so hard it hurts. Saul throws his big arms around my neck and lies back on the sofa, pulling me on top of him. When I’m lying between his legs, I can feel that he’s hard too. He groans and kisses me again and again, urgently, as if his life depends on how many times he can press his lips to my face.
His hands are busy too. He slips them down between our bellies, and he begins to unbutton my jeans.
I grab his arm fast. “Wait….” I want him to take off my clothes, even though his body is a hundred times better than mine. I want to feel his naked body against mine. But Mom could come back any time now. She’ll have a fit if she catches me having sex in the apartment. Mom having a fit is never a good thing for me.
“It’s okay,” Saul says, pulling his hands away without waiting for me to explain why I stopped him. “We don’t have to rush into anything.” He pushes the hair away from my face with his fingers and reaches down to grab my waist. “God, for a tall guy, you’re so little. I can almost wrap my hands completely around your waist.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. What did you expect? You think a guy who looks like him is actually going to be attracted to a scarecrow like you?
“What’re you sorry for? I think that’s sexy. I like how your body fits in my hands.” To prove it, he squeezes me by the waist and kisses me on the lips.
I’m grinning now, liking Saul more and more. At the most crucial moments, he always seems to know the perfect thing to say.
It’s getting late. The little digital clock on the wall over the television reads 6:37 p.m., and that is darkest night at this time of year. As much as I don’t want it, the time has come for Saul to go. There’s no telling what kind of mood Mom will be in when she gets home. If her mood is an ugly one, I don’t want Saul to see the effects of it.
Just as I’m working myself up to send him off, he gives me a sweet little peck on the forehead and announces, “I should get out of here.”
I rise slowly off him and stand up. Our clothes are a little twisted on our bodies from the explorations of our hands. He gets up. We each adjust our jeans and sweaters. I get my notebook, and he writes his phone number on a blank sheet at the back. Then he grabs me and kisses me one more time.
“Thanks for the movie,” he says. (There was a bit of a friendly argument at the ticket counter as to who was going to pay. I won.) “I had a good time. See ya.”
I stand in the hall and watch until he disappears down the stairs.
T HE SOUND of the door wakes me up.
I roll over and look at the clock next to my bed: 12:08 a.m. I climb out of bed and walk up the hall in my T-shirt and boxers.
Mom is standing by the door, still wearing her jacket, her shoulder bag dangling from one hand. She looks dazed. I stand in the living room for several seconds before she finally turns her head my way and looks at me. “What are you doing up?” she asks in a distracted manner.
“I was asleep, actually. I heard you come in.” The state of her mood is hard for me to gauge. That means I have to be
“I can’t really say for sure. She just met this guy last night, but she seems to like him a lot. She gets kinda clingy when she likes a guy that much, so she may not be back for a while.”
Saul doesn’t hesitate. His eyes lock on mine, and he leans slowly over, bringing his face to mine. I can feel the whisper of his breath on my chin. He lifts his left hand and wraps it around the back of my neck. It feels rough and strong, and it makes me shudder. His face comes closer. He closes his eyes. I close mine, and I hold my breath, and I shudder some more.
And then his lips touch mine.
I can’t describe how great that feels. Someone should come up with a new, special word for the moment of your first kiss, with a boy you really like.
Chapter Seven
W E ’ VE BEEN kissing and touching on the sofa forever. I’m so hard it hurts. Saul throws his big arms around my neck and lies back on the sofa, pulling me on top of him. When I’m lying between his legs, I can feel that he’s hard too. He groans and kisses me again and again, urgently, as if his life depends on how many times he can press his lips to my face.
His hands are busy too. He slips them down between our bellies, and he begins to unbutton my jeans.
I grab his arm fast. “Wait….” I want him to take off my clothes, even though his body is a hundred times better than mine. I want to feel his naked body against mine. But Mom could come back any time now. She’ll have a fit if she catches me having sex in the apartment. Mom having a fit is never a good thing for me.
“It’s okay,” Saul says, pulling his hands away without waiting for me to explain why I stopped him. “We don’t have to rush into anything.” He pushes the hair away from my face with his fingers and reaches down to grab my waist. “God, for a tall guy, you’re so little. I can almost wrap my hands completely around your waist.”
“Sorry,” I mutter. What did you expect? You think a guy who looks like him is actually going to be attracted to a scarecrow like you?
“What’re you sorry for? I think that’s sexy. I like how your body fits in my hands.” To prove it, he squeezes me by the waist and kisses me on the lips.
I’m grinning now, liking Saul more and more. At the most crucial moments, he always seems to know the perfect thing to say.
It’s getting late. The little digital clock on the wall over the television reads 6:37 p.m., and that is darkest night at this time of year. As much as I don’t want it, the time has come for Saul to go. There’s no telling what kind of mood Mom will be in when she gets home. If her mood is an ugly one, I don’t want Saul to see the effects of it.
Just as I’m working myself up to send him off, he gives me a sweet little peck on the forehead and announces, “I should get out of here.”
I rise slowly off him and stand up. Our clothes are a little twisted on our bodies from the explorations of our hands. He gets up. We each adjust our jeans and sweaters. I get my notebook, and he writes his phone number on a blank sheet at the back. Then he grabs me and kisses me one more time.
“Thanks for the movie,” he says. (There was a bit of a friendly argument at the ticket counter as to who was going to pay. I won.) “I had a good time. See ya.”
I stand in the hall and watch until he disappears down the stairs.
T HE SOUND of the door wakes me up.
I roll over and look at the clock next to my bed: 12:08 a.m. I climb out of bed and walk up the hall in my T-shirt and boxers.
Mom is standing by the door, still wearing her jacket, her shoulder bag dangling from one hand. She looks dazed. I stand in the living room for several seconds before she finally turns her head my way and looks at me. “What are you doing up?” she asks in a distracted manner.
“I was asleep, actually. I heard you come in.” The state of her mood is hard for me to gauge. That means I have to be
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