In Waves | ✔️

21 | clean slate

The knot in my stomach finally unravels. My memory of last night has rushed back in its entirety. Every wonderful, albeit embarrassing detail. 

"Yeah and then I left the note, locked the door, and slid the key under. You know, in case there were any creeps around who could've found you half-naked or something," Nate says from under the hood of his car. He's been working on it through his whole recap.

"So we didn't have sex." I can't pull back the smile stretching from ear to ear. "Thank god. That's such a relief."

Nate stops working, his eyes darting to me. "Um, ouch?"

My smile dissolves. "Oh, no I didn't mean it like that."

"You're relieved you didn't fuck me. Seems pretty clear cut."

"I'm not relieved because of you. I'm relieved because..." I freeze up, watching his interest grow from my hesitancy. "Nate, I've only kissed one guy before you."

He blinks, and I know I'm going to have to give him more than that. But I really, really don't want to have to spell this out.

"Only kissed."

I see the wheels turning behind his eyes, grinding to a stop when it clicks. "Oh. So you've never..."

I shake my head.

"With anyone?"

"No," I huff, my gaze following a kid riding past on their bike. I have a weird out of body moment, seeing myself standing here all rigid and tense in Nate Miller's driveway, confessing my virginity status to him. How did I end up here?

"Wow, that's... surprising."

I shoot him a look.

"Not in a bad way, you just, uh..." He unsuccessfully bites back a smile. "You really seemed to know what you were doing, that's all."

My faces floods with heat. "I was just drunk. I never know what I'm doing. Like, with anything. Pretty much on a daily basis."

He laughs, tossing a wrench into the toolbox on the ground. "If you say so."

"Really, I wasn't myself last night. I don't even usually go to parties, you know? That's the first one I've been to in forever, and I only went for one reason and when that reason left—" I cut myself off.

I've reached the next part of this. The sweeping under the rug part. And after remembering the night with Nate, it's going to be harder than ever to pick up that broom.

"What reason was that?" he asks.

I dig the tip of my sneaker into a grassy crack in the pavement. "Matt Benson. I went to the party for him because we're sort of... together."

A stretch of silence drifts between us for a moment.

"Benson? Really?" I'm not looking at him, but his voice sounds downright fascinated.

I meet his intent eyes. "Yes, really. You think there's something wrong with him?"

He shrugs. "Just doesn't seem like your type."

"You don't know my type."

"Well, I couldn't be more different from that guy, and since you were all over me..."

He laughs when I shove his arm. He's so sure of himself, and my eagerness last night certainly didn't do that ego any favors.

"People are complex, Nate. You can't honestly tell me you've been into the same type of girl your whole life."