“Have you ever read this?” I hand him the book.

“Forever by Judy Blume,” he says. “Can’t say I have.”

I take a seat by the bay window and he follows me.

“I would curl up in this exact spot and read it over and over again. I was so curious and wondered if I would feel the same about a boy one day. You know, in love and wanting to have sex with him.”

He looks at me oddly and doesn’t say anything.

“Too girly of a conversation for you?” I tease.

“Not at all,” he quips. “It’s part of teen sexuality. That curiosity. And so then you obviously took the plunge one day?”

“I was seventeen and it was at some party. Nothing more to tell other than it was over in a minute and the guy moved away. His dad was in the military. And you?”

“And me what?” He stares at me, confused.

“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

“I don’t know…like twenty,” he mumbles.

“Twenty!” I raise my voice despite his embarrassed look. “I’m sorry. Twenty. Really? Isn’t that kinda old for your generation?”

“I wasn’t into girls at school. I had other things to worry about.”

“Like what?”

He quickly stands up and stretches his arms. “So what do you want to do now?”

Once again, I’m taken aback by the swift change in subjects. Something I said, or the topic at hand, appears to be deeper than I thought. Not wanting to cause another argument, I let it go, but make a mental note to delve in further another time.

“How about a walk around town, then maybe lunch by the lake?” I offer.

“Sure, lead the way.”

My parents live in a small town, east of West Virginia. It was the same place I grew up in, and much like me, they didn’t like change. Over the years, people moved on, and the generations that followed occupied most of the town now. It was small, friendly, and for the most of the part, trouble-free.

Gemma was the first to fly the coop by skipping college all together and heading out to California. From there she enrolled in a few classes and met Melissa. My parents knew I didn’t like change, but college was a huge deal and I knew if I wanted to pursue a career in publishing, I needed to head to the city.

“See that school across the street? That’s where I went.” I show him. “And that church, it was built by my great, great, grandfather. I always dreamt of getting married there,” I say loudly, forgetting that he’s standing right beside me.

“Is that where you and what’s-his-face was getting married?” With a bitter tone, he continues to stare at the church.

“Jason, and no. Jason wanted to get married at his priest’s church out in Jersey.”

Since he has decided to bring up weddings, I can’t have thought of a better time to ask.

“And you? Eloise says you’ll be getting married soon.”

“Did she?” He appears agitated. “I don’t know. I don’t get involved.”

“But it’s your wedding,” I state, slightly confused.

“I’m just not interested in the finer details,” he tells me, hesitating just a little.

“I know how you feel. I was excited about Jason proposing, but when it came time to planning, I just lost interest. I guess that’s how I knew something wasn’t right. I always thought that it would be the most exciting time in my life.”

He exhales, rolling his eyes like an immature brat. “That’s a stupid woman thing. Men don’t care. Plan all you want, as long we are told where to turn up, that’s all that matters. Oh, and the bachelor party.”

“Ugh, that’s such a guy thing. I don’t understand why you need to see strippers as a send-off into marriage. It’s not like you can do anything with the strippers. You’ve pretty much been tied down since the moment you asked someone on that first date,” I argue.

“You’re delusional. Do you know how many of my friends had sex with a stripper the night before their wedding?”

“Are…are you serious? First of all, I thought you weren’t even allowed to touch a stripper. Second, what’s the point of getting married then? Just stay single and play the field.”

He stops walking, and running his hands through his hair, he turns to face me. “Some people don’t have a choice, Presley.”

I look at him and laugh. “Everyone has a choice, Haden. It’s called decision-making. It’s part of being a grownup.”

Walking towards the park bench, we take a seat in front of the church.

“And now what? You’re going to have a baby. What about finding yourself someone?” he asks uncomfortably.

I hate this question, because even when I ask myself the same thing, it ends badly.

Cats. Cats…everywhere.

“I have no clue. I know why it’s good to be married while you’re pregnant,” I say without even thinking.

“Why?” He turns to me, resting his arm along the top of the bench.

“Why? We’re both adults. It’s not hard to figure out why. Pregnancy hands you a bag of hormones and somehow you’re expected to carry on and pretend it has no effect on you whatsoever. Plus everything is aching, swollen, and I swear, I am this close to getting a membership at the sketchy massage joint downtown.”

He shakes his head while grinning. “You have no problem being honest, do you?”

“We crossed the secrets bridge when you took your pants off.”

“I think you took my pants off.” He smirks.

“What?” My cheeks are flushed, but it’s also hot out (and below). “We were both drunk, but I swear it was all you.”

“I wasn’t drunk.”

I look at him. “Yes you were.”

“I rode my bike. I never ride my bike if I’ve been drinking.”

I let out a panicked laugh. “I saw you drinking.”

“That was root beer.”

“I don’t get it then, you weren’t drunk but you…”

The penny drops and I stare into his eyes to read the truth behind his admission. He wasn’t drinking, therefore he knew fully well what he was doing. Unlike myself; I kinda just went with the flow, or should I say Kitty’s commands? Does this mean he wanted it to happen? Did he plan for this to happen? Was what he said in my parents’ kitchen true?

“Presley…”

“Haden, what the hell does this mean?”

In a quick change of emotions, his sympathetic face turns defensive.

“I wasn’t drunk but I was pissed off at you. That was it.”

“If you’re pissed off at someone you throw a martini in their face, or bash them on social media. You don’t fuck them in the alley!”

I turn to face away from him. Just when I thought there was more to this, he reminds me why I am a hormonal mess. The tears are building up and I watch the people strolling past as a distraction.

He places his hand on my shoulder as a kind gesture, but I shake it off, not wanting him to touch me. And so, we sit in silence for a very long time while I try to calm myself down. A good hour later, my stomach rumbles and all I can think about is food.

“It’s done, okay? How about we grab some lunch and head to the lake? My treat,” I say, hoping to redeem myself.

He smiles cautiously, then stands up to take his ringing cell out of his pocket. Excusing himself, he walks towards the tree, and the moment he answers the call, his face lights up.

I can hear the words as he speaks, saying something about the wedding and honeymoon, but shortly after, his smile fades and an argument erupts.

“I told you I don’t want to go there. Why won’t you fucking listen to me?”

He is talking loudly enough for me to hear the conversation but I pretend to be engrossed in the kids running near the church entrance.

“Eloise, I don’t give a shit what you want. You said this wedding was going to be small and uncomplicated. Not the splashy affair you’re turning it into.”

He is kicking the tree with the toe of his shoe and utters more words. “I need to go, okay?” His face softens again and a small smile escapes him. “Yeah, me too.”

I remember the “me too” at the end of the conversation. It’s the reply to “I love you.”