Free Firsts by Laurie Elizabeth Flynn Page A

sex is a gift. For some people, it’s special. Even sacred. I stopped thinking of it that way long ago. For me, it’s just science, formulaic elements combined together for an end result.
    “What makes you think I’d be interested?” I say. I want to sound calm and collected, but my voice is rising. This guy is on the soccer team. Charlie is on the soccer team. If Charlie ever found out what I did, he would tell Angela. And if Angela found out, the one friendship that has gotten me through high school would be over.
    “I hear about you from my friend. Trevor.”
    I narrow my eyes, resolving to give Round Two a talking-to if we’re ever alone together again. Apparently he has a different concept of discretion than I do.
    He bites his bottom lip, causing it to turn a cherry red shade. Despite my objections, this guy is attractive, and I wonder what it would be like to kiss those lips.
    “Tell me in one word why I should help you,” I say.
    “One word. Isabella.” He sounds out each syllable, making the name sound impossibly exotic. Is-a-bell-a . “I love her. But I did not tell her she is my first kiss. And my first girlfriend. When Trevor tells me what you do for him, I have to seek you out.” He lowers his voice. “I love her.”
    I look into his eyes. He does love this Isabella. He would be number twelve. Twelve . I can no longer pretend I haven’t crossed the ten line. But I can’t bring myself to walk away from this guy. Trevor shouldn’t really count. Round Two was a mistake, a mistake made when I was feeling especially vulnerable. I let my own agenda get in the way. I can make up for it with the guy standing in front of me, chewing his lip.
    “Go home and shower, then come and see me.” I give him my address before getting into the Jeep, before I can chicken out. As I drive home, my hands are shaking and my heart is pounding. I’m exhibiting all of the telltale signs of being excited about something. When I first started doing this, I felt wary before each encounter, almost scared. My hands would tremble when I unbuttoned a guy’s fly and my legs would shiver when I climbed onto a lap. But somewhere between five and ten, this started happening. The sense that it’s not just for them anymore. The knowledge that I like it, too. The fear that I want more out of it than all of them combined can give me.
    And if all of them combined can’t give me what I want, I’m scared to find out what will.

 
    10
    “I showered,” he says when I open the door to him waiting in full-on formal wear: a dress shirt, dress pants, and a tie, almost like this is a date. “And I brought you these.” He pulls a bouquet of red roses from behind his back.
    He smells like too much cologne, but that’s better than pulling down a guy’s underwear right after he was at practice. I know from experience, unfortunately. The Nervous Giggler neglected to tell me that he “didn’t have time” to shower, which led me to gently inform him that I “didn’t have time” to tell him all the reasons why he would stay a virgin forever if he said that again.
    “You’re charming,” I say, taking the flowers. “Charming works on your girlfriend, but not me.” My voice is sarcastic, but I’m a little bit touched. I have never received flowers from a boy before. Actually, I have never received flowers from anybody before. I want to put them in water and inhale their scent, but this would weaken me, so I toss them at the foot of the stairs instead as I lead him to my room.
    His name is Juan Marco Antonio, which makes me a bit wary. His three first names and lack of a real last name make me nervous. Unfortunately, after my experience with William Malcolm, aka the Biter—who had two first names and zero idea that biting is not considered appropriate unless discussed beforehand—I don’t exactly have high hopes. I try not to put any bias on one guy due to a negative encounter with another, but it’s difficult to shake off the