Chapter 17

Take the Wheel and Drive

(Unedited)

Photosynthesis of my first kiss in my eighteen years of existence had embedded itself in my cranium; seemingly, it had pushed every nervous muscular endurance I wasn't sure I was ready to feel. The epiphany of a teenage orchestrated ecstasy remained unhinged in an awkward balance, leaving the fate of a dramatic teenage love plotline up to the audience.

The audience being us.

An ashen figure of guilt washed over me as I broke away. I shouldn't have kissed him, and my parents induced religious coma had finally come into gear. Though, come to think of it, had I gotten dared to kiss Dryden or any other boy at the party in simple teenage authentication would I have given in so easily?

"Christian," I find his name slipping out of my mouth as easily as the regret of placidly placing my lips on his as the heavily played out grungful lyrics seems to freeze time between us. In that time I sustainably wonder if he's going to kiss me back. Each moment passes when he doesn't as the congressional white noise starts to take control.

"The question is; do I like you?" Christian asks, as he tries to make the moment more serious, leaving me questioning how to answer something that should be as simple as submitting my college application and I was sure somewhere in my brain I had heard this reference before, but couldn't figure it out.

"Damnit Christian it's not that simple," I tell him as I wish I hadn't placed my lips to his, and instead wish I could go back to my docu series on Netflix. "I never meant to kiss you," I add as I flex my frustration out on him. Maybe I had. I wasn't sure anymore, and I was certain that a goodnight sleep would diminish any conflict I had on the issue.

"What the fuck are you so afraid of? Why don't you take the wheel and drive?" Christian asks, obtaining every ounce of frustration he had to show. Giving me the big grand finale of a fuck you that he could give.

"I'm confused. Okay?" I tell him as I slide out of the jeep as he parks in front of my driveway. Leaving me to hope that my parents aren't watching. I didn't have a cover story ready in case they were.

"What exactly are you confused about?" Christian scoffs as we remain sitting there in front of the house. My thoughts clouded as I worked out what to say.

"I don't know," I start to tell him. What could I possibly tell Christian that I hadn't already told him before? My thought process is a complete upset, as the anxiety sets in, eating at my mental health. "I need to figure it out," I add as I turn to look at him before placing my hand on the driver side door making an attempt to get out.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he tells me as he lightly grabs me by the wrist, pulling me towards him. My head crashed into his side and I didn't want to move; despite how much tension we had just gone through when he ran his fingers through my hair. If I had wanted to confirm we were boyfriends now would be the moment.

Just not now. Not here in front of the house where my parents could clearly look out the window and see us together in this position.

***

"Gloria wants to know if," I hear the opening statement of my mother as I close the door behind me. Gloria, a name I hadn't heard in so long I had to map out who she was in the back of mind before I could register what my mother and her had common ground with; and what it had to do with me. "You wanted to volunteer at the food cupboard this weekend," my mother finished. Not a simple hello or where were you?

Maybe this was the take the wheel and drive moment Christian had told me about. Henceforth of common character development that the media says teenagehood is about.

"Yeah. That sounds great," I tell my mother as I find myself secretly wondering if it would help me reexamine how exactly I felt towards Christian. "I'm going to go do homework now," I add as I feel the vibration of my phone go off in my pocket, leading to an interstellar feeling in my stomach.

Christian:

Whatever tomorrow brings.

I'll be there. 🙊🙉🙈🤩

With pizza. 🍕🍕

Jesus Christian, what the hell are these congregated feelings that you're giving me? How do you do it? Making me feel the way I do? As I lay on my stomach on my bed, I contemplated what to text.

Me:

That metaphor was terrible.

If it was a metaphor.

Was it a metaphor?

The wavering anxiety as I wait for his text leaves me wondering if I should just tell him yes at the locker tomorrow. In the demoralized fantasy I say yes, we take each other's hands as we walk towards class just before the stereotypicalized first kiss happens before we enter Olsten's class. In reality, it would be the opposite. The politics of high school and senior year would definitely be opposed.

Christian:

You'd be a horrible steamy romance novelist.

That was indeed a metaphor.

Don't you have homework to do?

Me:

Yeah, I should get that done.

High school literature waits for no one.

I'll see you tomorrow.

***

Uncharted territory ‌remained between us. Did I really want him as my boyfriend? My encampment of teenage manifestation of not getting my bedsheets sprayed with Lysol before I went to sleep reminded me of the sticky sheets from earlier, and I should change those soon. I would not be ready to recite this subject to my parents anytime soon. Peeling the sheets off, I throw them in the corner of my room. I'd throw them in the laundry first thing tomorrow morning.

While bored, I scroll through the LGBTQ forums on Reddit. I spend all my time thinking about First Time Sex advice, prom tips, asking said crush to prom, Five Seconds of Summer, and being in love with Luke Hemmings with glitter and curly hair. I swear I wasn't nervous about being an eighteen-year-old who was about to say yes to having a boyfriend.

Not at all.

With lack of sleep and getting ready for school, I quietly rehearse my speech I am planning on giving him. My only hint that would lead him to knowing I'm saying yes to the proposal yesterday.

No doubt my very bit of nervousness is showing; and the only category I didn't look up on Reddit. My undeniable resource is at my fingertips, but I don't ‌look into it.

As much as I disliked thinking about it, I was sure I could ask Dryden for advice, and pretend it's about a girl. My constant anxiety told me ‌he wouldn't ask if it was a boy, girl, or non- binary. I was sure he'd offer advice and tell me not to forget the condoms and lube with free access to condoms via Ember River Academy health classes, supposed confidentiality, and Ms Lo.

Instead reality kicks in telling me that he'd give me stress by asking too many questions. I seriously needed to get this crush- like- boyfriend feeling together before I saw him standing at my locker. If I don't I was sure this would only become worse.

***

Feeling like the main character with a huge flaw that needed to be fixed, I obsess with the time as I check what time it is as Dryden changes the radio station looking for something to listen to. Something I was sure that would get us in the mood to talk.

"Are you okay? I mean after drinking," Dryden retorts, breaking the silence first as a Taylor Swift song plays in the background; making the first track of a soundtrack to school.

"I'm never drinking again, if that's what you're asking," I tell him. Somehow I feel relieved he's asking. It was something Christian hadn't done. Leastwise, not the way Dryden just asked.

"I'm honestly surprised you did in the first place," Dryden tells me. Had he really been surprised? It was his party after all, and I was only there because of Christian. So the beneficial storyline goes, and I fell into the cliche.

"It would have been a dare. I was the only one not drinking," I told him as I saw it, even if I wasn't sure it was the truth, despite how the game was sure to go. If it were, I would've wanted to tell the truth; not sure how traumatising it would be.

"I was dared to kiss," Dryden starts but then pauses, as though he had to think of who it was that he dared to kiss. I wasn't sure I was ready to hear who it was supposed to be. Maybe I would be lucky enough to hear Hannah's name. The sinking reality of that was very unlikely by the way that he was acting. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter now," he adds as he looks at the time on his dashboard as the radio changes to some pop band I didn't recognise before he turns it off then gets out of his car, and disappears into school.

***

"Pizza?" I hear the welcoming voice of Christian. The tension between us seems to have vanished from yesterday. The words I had prepared for him to hear seemed to have gotten glued to my thoughts. What was it I had prepared to say to him? Something about Luke Hemmings and how I found him attractive?

That most definitely wasn't it.

"This mysterious Christian is attractive," I told him, and I was most definitely sure students walking by had heard it, and like the cheesy lines of hot attractive boy bands that I may or may not have been checking out at three thirty in the morning I regretted nothing. A speed of rush in my underdeveloped characteristic measurement.

"I'm pretty sure I've always been attractive," Christian tells me. "Twenty four - seven I could run this town," he adds as I take the greasy slice of barbeque chicken flavoured pizza. How could I respond to that? He was accurately on point. He had in fact, always been attractive.

"That makes my self confidence level go down a bit," I tell him honestly as I start taking bites of the pizza. Grease, cheese and the chicken making my taste buds and mental health want more of this scenario. Not the entire school now knows that I'm calling Christian Day attractive. The one where I could eat my feelings in pizza.

"Luke, again, grab the wheel and drive," he tells me, his newest neverending metaphor. Without thinking I grab his hand, leading him to the nearest bathroom as I'm sure he's wondering why.

***

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