Beautiful Together (7 page)

Mason stopped about halfway in. "I'm so sorry," he said. "That looks like it hurts too much. I feel bad."

"No, keep going," I pleaded. We
couldn't
stop now. No way.

I was worried I would have permanent wrinkles around my eyes after we were done. I took deep breaths, which actually relaxed my muscles, reducing the strain. I fought to suppress the groans that formed in my throat, not wanting to send any more bad vibes. Finally, he was all the way in, and I started to acclimate to the newfound sensation. I felt stretched and exhausted and well,
pretty good.

We melded together in the most exotic of ways, his body weight holding me down, owning me. It was a beautiful feeling.

This is probably why Arielle does this so much,
I thought abruptly—and a little weirdly.

Mason started to thrust and initially, it reignited the earlier pain. But soon it became something else, something that felt quite remarkable. He rocked back and forth, and I tried to encourage his movements, tried to encourage him to just let go and live that beautiful moment with me.

Contrary to what I had expected, he
didn't
finish early. In fact, he didn't finish at all. After probably twenty minutes of awkward, yet enjoyable motion, I started to feel sore. At times, it had felt really good and started to grow toward something bigger, but that sensation was fading.

"You should just finish," I said to him, hoping to end my discomfort.

Sweat was beading on his forehead as he mechanically rocked back and forth, over and over. "I can't," he said. "Nothing's really happening down there."

"Well, it's starting to hurt," I admitted weakly, regretting the words as I said them. "I think we have to stop."

Abruptly, he quit and pulled out, holding me tightly again. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm not really sure what else to do. That probably wasn't very good for you."

I kissed him, suddenly feeling waves of emotion rushing over me. "No, Mason, it was perfect. Our first time. At least you weren't a one-minute man," I whispered.

He smirked at me, finally showing some glimmer of happiness. "I'll get better, I promise."

"Sure," I said. "But you already did great."

Mason unrolled the condom and tossed it in the trash. He climbed back into bed with me, cuddling back into position.

It shocked me how wise I suddenly felt, how I instantly identified the human, realistic elements of our failed sex attempt as the very reasons why it had been so great. I mean, neither of us had finished, but then again, sex wasn't
only
about that. It was about
us
.

The experience had brought us even closer, and I knew it would only get better from there. Mason still looked upset though, even in the tender afterglow.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"Mason, why are you apologizing?" I asked.

He swallowed hard and gazed into my eyes. "Because I love you, Naomi. And I wanted it to be perfect."

If I hadn't been lying down, I probably would have fallen on the floor. "I... love you too," I said breathlessly. I kissed him firmly, with incredible intent.

We stayed in that same position until he drove me home shortly after midnight, the perfect Friday night coming to a close. The kiss goodnight suddenly felt so different, so transformed from what it had been every time before.

I surreptitiously entered the house as a woman instead of a girl, deliberately stepping in the known quiet spots on the creaky floor to avoid detection. After a brief stop in the bathroom, I got into bed, my head spiraling with thoughts of love, and sex, and the
future
.

I didn't sleep a whole lot, but that was okay.

6

Things
did
get much better after that, and sex quickly became very regular in our blossoming relationship, the "serious" replacement for making out. I finally understood why sex was such a big deal, why it was mentioned in nearly every TV show or movie ever made.

I got it.

In the days that followed the first time, I legitimately worried that my mom would somehow be able to magically tell that I had committed the ultimate sin and send me away. That she could see on my face that my "innocence was gone forever," and that "nothing more could be done to save someone as awful as me."

I thought I would have a sex look, a look of sudden maturity—and
impurity
—that I couldn't hide. I felt like it was obvious, but apparently only I noticed it.

Nothing happened, however, and that fear quickly left my mind. It wasn't like I was going to tell her, so it just meant my transitional phase was over—I was sexually active and happy about it.

Arielle had been so excited when I told her, echoing the same
at least he wasn't a minute man
sentiment I had initially shared with Mason.

"That's so awesome," she had said. "It's only going to get better. Well, as long as Mason's not an asshole like Daniel."

And Mason
definitely
wasn't an asshole.

We strutted around together at school, proud as hell, our smiles beaming with confidence, our hands welded together semi-permanently. I mean, we felt
great
after crossing that line.

Mason started reading articles online about sex, and yeah, he quickly figured out what to do.

I felt a little awkward at church sometimes, but I couldn't figure out what was so bad about it. We were being responsible and caring, doing our best to make each other happy. Our sex didn't hurt anyone.

I felt better than ever about life generally, even about the situation with Jesse. It was just no more. Months had gone by with zero contact, and I assumed it would stay that way.

Arielle and I stayed close after delivering an A+ presentation, and although I was never as explicit as she was, our sex talks became fairly routine. I kind of loved it.

Not long after these exciting developments, Mason and I actually agreed to go to one of the punk shows she kept inviting us to, one that was in a smelly dive bar about twenty minutes from home that she had to sneak us into through the back.

The insane loudness made our eardrums ring and fried our brains. But watching Arielle's insane dancing made the hearing damage worth it.

We forgot the band was even there once she started whipping her limbs around like some human death machine. She tried to get us to join her, but as usual, she didn't seem offended when we declined. We cowered in the back while the wild crowd proceeded to basically make mincemeat of itself.

Not having any tattoos and not wearing any leather or spikes, we felt pretty out of place. So the back seemed safest for a number of reasons.

"Daniel's the bassist," she screamed to me during one of her periods of respite. She pointed at the stage to ensure that I looked at the right person.

I glanced up—Daniel was tall and heavily tattooed all the way up to his neck, his hair spiked into a blue mohawk. He was skinny as a rail, and clad in torn up girl jeans. Here, he looked totally normal. But outside, you'd spot him from a mile away.

"I think I'm going to dump him soon!" she shouted.

I nodded and smiled. "Whatever you've gotta do!" I yelled. I pointed him out to Mason and tried to explain, but I don't think he could hear me, and after repeating myself three times, I finally gave up.

Arielle went back to dancing. We waited for the band to finish—thankfully that didn't take long since all of their songs were really short and fast—and then tried to sneak out.

"God, I need a cigarette," Arielle said before I could tell her we were going.

"We'll come out with you," I said, nodding to Mason, seizing the opportunity.

We followed her outside into the bitter cold, watching her shiver as she puffed away, silently planning our escape. "I can tell you guys aren't really punk fans," she said. "But that's okay. I just wanted you to experience the vibe. It's all about the vibe." She nodded and shivered some more.

"It was really cool and intense," Mason said. He wrapped his arms around me and we huddled close as freezing air assaulted us from all sides. "I'm always up for something new."

Suddenly, the front door swung open and Daniel came charging out into the night, drenched in sweat that would probably freeze in a matter of seconds. "There you are!" he yelled at Arielle, rushing over to her.

"Hey, Dan," she said through chattering teeth. "These are my friends—"

"What the fuck was going on in there?" he snarled, his words slightly slurred. "I saw you with Markus! I told you that I don't want you hanging out with him."

We had been with her from the start, and aside from about ten minutes when I
did
see her talking to another guy, that was
all
I saw. Talking. Not even flirting or hugging or touching. Normal, platonic interaction.

She finished her drag. "Nothing happened," she said abrasively. "And I'm not your fucking property, Dan. I'm sick of this paranoid bullshit. You can't blow up like this every time I talk to another guy. It's not like I fucked him."

"You'd better not fuck him," he hissed. "Or else I'll—"

"Or else you'll
what
?" she shouted back at him. She was right in his face. Mason and I stood like statues as we watched things unfold. "Are you
threatening
me?"

"You're such a fucking bitch, you know that?" he pushed her up against the front of the building, knocking her lit cigarette onto the ground. It fell into a small hill of snow and quickly fizzled out. I glanced over at Mason and noticed a very uncomfortable look on his face.

I didn't know what to say.

"We're fucking over, Dan! I'm not taking any more of your bullshit. I'm leaving. Don't call me ever again." She wriggled out from under his tensed arms and started briskly walking toward the parking lot.

"No," he said through clenched teeth. "We're not done here!" He quickly grabbed her arm and she fought to break loose, slipping on a patch of ice and falling on the ground.

I heard her yelp in pain. "Fuck you, Dan!" she whined. But despite her fall, he was still tugging at her arm.

"Leave her alone," Mason announced coolly. "Now."

I couldn't believe how tense everything had become. Mason was twice this guy's size, so I hoped it would be resolved quickly. Something
had
to be done. Daniel was clearly drunk or on drugs—
and
he had the worst jealousy issues on the planet.

"Who the fuck are you? And what the fuck are you doing here?" Daniel immediately got in Mason's face the same way he had Arielle's.

He didn't even flinch. "I'm Mason. Arielle invited me and my girlfriend to the show. She would have introduced us if you wouldn't have stormed out here and started treating her like shit. So now you need to let her leave."

"Excuse me, buddy, but you don't get to call the shots around here. I mean, what's a fucking high school jock doing at a punk show? Jesus Christ, man, you're pathetic. Think you're
cool
or something?"

Mason was totally unfazed. "Let her leave," he repeated. "I'm not kidding."

"Fuck off, man." Daniel ignored him and again turned to Arielle, aggressively grabbing her arm. Mason shoved him, breaking the contact. It all happened in slow motion, but my heartbeat seemed to be unaffected by the sluggishness of time.

"You fucking cocksucker!" Daniel shouted. He punched Mason in the side, taking him by surprise. He recoiled backward, faltering only the tiniest amount, but immediately straightened up like nothing had happened. By that point, Daniel was charging toward him again.

Mason hit him directly in the gut and he gasped and keeled over, right at Mason's knees, like he was preparing to beg him for mercy. Despite his obvious pain, he tried once more and received a vicious punch to the face, sending him hobbling backward against the front of the bar, where he slipped on the same patch of ice that had toppled Arielle.

Daniel collapsed on the ground and settled in a fetal position.

The whole thing happened so fast I barely even saw it. It was just a blur of manliness and heavy confrontation.

"I warned you!" Mason shouted.

Daniel groaned and clutched his gut. "F-fuck off."

"Don't ever call me again!" Arielle screamed. "And your band sucks!" She spat on him, and then walked off toward the parking lot. We followed behind her to make sure nothing else happened.

I held Mason's arm for support; I wasn't ready to become another victim of the ice. We met Arielle at her car.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. But you didn't have to do that, Mason," she said indignantly. "I could have handled it."

"I didn't like how he was treating you," he said. "And he hurt you."

She rubbed her forehead and stared off into nowhere. A look of humility formed on her face, one that she had hidden before. "Well, thanks for stepping in. I mean, he probably won't bother me again, so that's good. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. He's not very strong," Mason said.

Arielle laughed. "He's also not much of a fighter."

"Does he always act like that?" I asked.

"He's gotten worse. He had this notion that I was cheating on him, but that's just his own self-delusion and paranoia. I
never
cheated on him. Never."

I gazed up at Mason proudly, so thrilled that he had been here to defuse the situation. As much as I hated violence and fighting, he did all that he could, defending a girl he barely knew. He looked so strong and brave. I was totally ecstatic that I could call him my boyfriend. I felt safer than ever.

"I'm sorry if I made things awkward," Mason muttered. "I just acted on instinct."

"No, no," she started, "I'm sorry. You did what you had to do. Who knows what he would have done to me in the parking lot. I just like to think I know how to deal with every situation, and when I'm wrong, I get defensive."

"It's okay, Arielle," I said. "Thanks for inviting us and everything."

She nodded and pulled out another cigarette, resting it between her lips. "Shit, I'm so tired. And it's so fucking cold." She put the cigarette back into the pack and then replaced it in her pocket. "I should go. I'll see you in history, okay? And thanks again, Mason." Her hand gripped the door knob and cautiously wrestled it open.

He smiled back at her. "It was nothing."

"Yeah, see ya," I said.

Arielle smiled as she climbed in and settled into the seat.

We stood there until she safely pulled out of the lot. After that, we headed back to the car and drove home prudently, not wanting to crash on the icy roads after all the other madness that had already taken place.

"That was so awesome of you," I said after the hot air finally started flowing and I could stop my chattering teeth.

"I wasn't sure what to do," he said, gazing thoughtfully into the night. "But I couldn't let him treat her like that."

Every time there was a lull in our conversation, I gazed over at him, admiring the man he was becoming. Hell, the man he
already was
. He protected Arielle without getting anything out of it. He cared so deeply about his mom, cared so deeply about me. Hell, he even treated
my
mom with respect.

And on top of that, he was so affable and lovable—
and
he was all mine. I didn't know if it was just because my teenage mind was cloudy with infatuation, but our relationship was becoming really serious, and I was perfectly okay with that.

Mason was the kind of guy you dreamed about, the kind you idolized and worshipped with posters on your wall.

I was so lucky.