Where We Belong Read Online Free PDF Page A

tonight. And probably tomorrow night, too. And if you’re not careful … maybe even the one after that.”
    I felt myself shiver, even as perspiration trickled down my back, and decided that I would let him. Or more accurately, I acknowledged to myself that I wouldn’t be able to say no. But I pretended to be in complete control, reaching up to adjust my long, blond ponytail, the humidity having the reverse effect on my straight, now limp hair. “Now why would you do such a thing?” I asked, my heart pounding as I gave him a coy look.
    “Because I like you.”
    The word was juvenile, but he made it sound otherwise.
    “Since when?” I said, my voice stronger than my knees.
    “Since always. Since day one.” He said it matter-of-factly, as if he were telling me a trivial piece of information like the time of day or the temperature—which was likely still in triple digits, nightfall providing no relief from the stifling heat. He then rattled off a catalogue of memories, dispelling any lingering doubt about his sincerity, if not his motives: the location of my locker over the last four years; the scar on my left knee that he had studied whenever I wore skirts to school; the purple dress I wore to the homecoming dance, silk pumps dyed to match.
    “I don’t remember you ever going to a dance,” I said, breathless.
    “I didn’t,” he said, holding my gaze. “I saw the snapshot in what’s his name’s locker.”
    I stared back at him, remembering how I had taped it in my boyfriend’s locker, right over an annoying photo of Rebecca Romijn and Angie Everhart lounging on the beach in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. “Todd,” I said.
    “Yeah. Him,” he said, rolling his eyes.
    “We broke up,” I said.
    “I know. About time.”
    “What about your girlfriend?”
    “We broke up, too,” he said. “What a coincidence.”
    He took another step toward me and we began to slow dance to Sade, his hand on my back, and his breath in my ear, the distinct smell of pot wafting toward us. A few minutes later, amid many stares, we made our way inside, nestling into the corner of the tweed sectional in Janie’s family room, sweaty bodies gyrating all around us. For over an hour, we sat together, making light conversation that still felt heavy. There was an electricity between us, a sense of fresh discovery, but also a profound familiarity—the kind that comes when you grow up with someone, passing each other in the same halls, day after day. I found myself wondering why we had never talked like this before—and yet I knew exactly why.
    “Let’s find somewhere more quiet,” he said at one point, after the first lull in our conversation.
    I nodded, leading him to the foyer, then up the stairs, then down the hall to Janie’s parents’ bedroom, past the sign she had posted that said DO NOT ENTER !!! We no longer spoke, both of us nervous yet intent, as we locked the door, kissing, peeling off our clothes, then crawling under the covers of the four-poster king bed. At some point, he reached down on the floor, finding his jeans, pulling his wallet out of the back pocket. I knew what he was doing even before he produced the square, foil package, fumbling in the dark. I closed my eyes, letting it all unfold, waiting for him, wanting him.
    What happened next is predictable, except that it is never entirely predictable when it is happening to you, for the first time, after you’ve said no a hundred times before. I thought of all the times I had come close with Todd, trying to pinpoint what the difference was now, deciding that it all came down to a desire I had never felt before. A desire so intense that it felt like need.
    “Are you sure?” he asked, even though we were nearly past the point of no return. I looked into his eyes, then up toward the ceiling, dizzy from my feelings and the fan whirring above us, trying to make a final decision as Conrad held himself steadily over me, breathing, waiting.
    My mind raced,