Page 18 of Teach Me How

I expected beige. White, maybe. And if I really stretched my imagination, black.

But there’s something so playful and unexpected about a green lace bra that my cock is instantly awake. Interested. And that is very, very wrong.

I’d tell her to put her shirt back down, but my lips aren’t working.

She slips her fingers under the side of her bra and lifts it higher, exposing her ribcage, and a tempting crescent of side boob.

I shove my hands under my thighs to keep from running a finger along that soft skin.

I swallow, trying to keep my voice even, but it comes out husky. “Why a snake?”

“The serpent was Eve’s original B.F.F.”

I drag my eyes up to hers.

“Kidding.” She grins, dropping her sweater. “It was an impulse, but I love it. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the one. The snake symbolizes rebirth, you know?”

I don’t know anything.

I don’t know up or down, anymore.

This girl, the one I grew up with, isn’t who I thought she was.

She’s grown into someone who is infinitely more complex, more interesting than I could have fathomed.

I feel like I’m meeting her for the first time. And she’s leaving me speechless.

11.

Reese

I can see that I’ve shocked Skyler into silence. Not a big accomplishment, since he’s the strong, silent type. But still.

A response would be nice.

Something along the lines of ‘cool tattoo’. Or, you’re out of control.

Something. Anything.

The silence is worse than a rebuke. It makes me feel like I’ve gone straight past the deep end right to the center of the earth.

“I guess it’s pretty lame to have an identity crisis now, but I feel like I was on a conveyor belt, just doing the next thing. When Jonah broke up with me, it sort of knocked me off the track.”

Skyler shifts away, still ominously quiet.

That’s just as well. Maybe I just need to monologue with a captive audience. “I grew up with these values ingrained in me, and I’m just starting to realize… that’s not me. It’s my parents. It was Jonah. But it’s not me. I want more freedom. I want to decide what kind of person I’m going to be. And I’m sick of all the fucking rules. They haven’t served me. Like… at all. So, it’s like, fuck it. I’m going start living and stop being so afraid of making mistakes.”

He clears his throat, still stiff as a board. “What kind of mistakes are you talking about?”

“The dating kind.” I tilt my head. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Date and all that?”

He clears his throat again, sitting up taller. He straightens his jeans, adjusting again like he’s sitting on a bed of nails. “I don’t really date.”

“Lies.”