frowns at the boy. Danica glares at him. Shelby rolls her eyes, but as soon as we’re away from him, she turns to me and says, “Speaking of getting lucky.”
She points across the party to Tommy Rizzo. His curly black hair is tucked under a white baseball cap and he’s teaching some skinny blonde wearing dark red lipstick how to pump the keg.
There’s a moment when our eyes meet. He’s got his arm around the girl and he’s leaning into her, and I’ve spent the last few days making out with someone else. There’s an unanswered message from him on my phone from two days ago. But that doesn’t matter now.
“That’s over,” Shelby says, but she still glances at me, waiting for confirmation.
Tommy Rizzo raises his glass in my direction, freeing his arm for the moment. He motions to the keg. An offering. But since we’ve brought our own vodka, I shake my head. He nods and turns away.
We’ve detached. Just like that.
“That’s over,” I tell her, looking away from him.
“Kiss that Wintermint breath good-bye.” Danica giggles. We’ve all made out with the Riz at one time or another because he’s an amazing kisser and always chews Wintermint gum. I was the last one to kiss him.
Full disclosure: I spoke to Tommy Rizzo via text every day over winter break, and the day after Christmas we went to second base. I was semi-using him to distract me because Trip hadn’t called, even though he’d been in town at his dad’s for Christmas. I’m fairly certain Tommy Rizzo was using me, too.
Sometimes I’m still amazed at how easy it is to move from hooking up over winter break to being distant acquaintances at a party. Like after Shelby had sex with Forest Lester, he stopped calling her, but he would still high-five her during football games and give her piggyback rides to Spanish class and pick her up for parties. It was like, no harm, no foul. He still wanted to hang out with her, he just didn’t want to be with her—and that wasn’t her fault. He was a high school boy: he didn’t want to be with anyone. At the end of the day there was no awkwardness, and Shelby could say she’d screwed Forest Lester.
I know that with all the frat-boy high-fiving and how the four of us pass Tommy Rizzo around like a good sweater, it must seem like we’re really slutty. That’s completely wrong. Danica has only had sex with four people,which is two more than Shelby, three more than me, and four more than Melissa.
Shelby puts her hands on my shoulders and smiles at me. “At least you didn’t have to use Nathan as your Exit Strategy.”
Shelby always knows how to cheer me up and remind me that what’s irking me isn’t something I should care about at all.
The Detach is simple. The Exit Strategy is hard. It means action, sometimes a conversation. It means you have to be cruel. Melissa cried last year when she had to employ an Exit Strategy. I don’t blame her. She’d been making out with Todd Ahlstrom pretty consistently for about a month, but she was over it.
To Melissa’s credit, she detached from him in the exact way she was supposed to. She stopped texting him and stopped returning his texts. She was aloof in the halls and didn’t indulge in conversations lasting more than three minutes. Todd should have taken the out, backed off, and moved on to some other girl like most boys would have done. But he didn’t. So there was no other choice.
The night Melissa employed her Exit Strategy, I was her accomplice. One of Trip’s best friends, Liam Poole, had mentioned he thought Melissa was hot, so the four of us went to a basketball game together. Trip and Liam stood behind us on the bleachers with their arms dangling around our shoulders, kissing our necks wheneverthey felt like it and rubbing up against us as though no one could see.
But of course, everyone could. Including Todd. I’ll never forget the way his face looked when he noticed Melissa and the six-foot-four senior god with his lips pressed against
She points across the party to Tommy Rizzo. His curly black hair is tucked under a white baseball cap and he’s teaching some skinny blonde wearing dark red lipstick how to pump the keg.
There’s a moment when our eyes meet. He’s got his arm around the girl and he’s leaning into her, and I’ve spent the last few days making out with someone else. There’s an unanswered message from him on my phone from two days ago. But that doesn’t matter now.
“That’s over,” Shelby says, but she still glances at me, waiting for confirmation.
Tommy Rizzo raises his glass in my direction, freeing his arm for the moment. He motions to the keg. An offering. But since we’ve brought our own vodka, I shake my head. He nods and turns away.
We’ve detached. Just like that.
“That’s over,” I tell her, looking away from him.
“Kiss that Wintermint breath good-bye.” Danica giggles. We’ve all made out with the Riz at one time or another because he’s an amazing kisser and always chews Wintermint gum. I was the last one to kiss him.
Full disclosure: I spoke to Tommy Rizzo via text every day over winter break, and the day after Christmas we went to second base. I was semi-using him to distract me because Trip hadn’t called, even though he’d been in town at his dad’s for Christmas. I’m fairly certain Tommy Rizzo was using me, too.
Sometimes I’m still amazed at how easy it is to move from hooking up over winter break to being distant acquaintances at a party. Like after Shelby had sex with Forest Lester, he stopped calling her, but he would still high-five her during football games and give her piggyback rides to Spanish class and pick her up for parties. It was like, no harm, no foul. He still wanted to hang out with her, he just didn’t want to be with her—and that wasn’t her fault. He was a high school boy: he didn’t want to be with anyone. At the end of the day there was no awkwardness, and Shelby could say she’d screwed Forest Lester.
I know that with all the frat-boy high-fiving and how the four of us pass Tommy Rizzo around like a good sweater, it must seem like we’re really slutty. That’s completely wrong. Danica has only had sex with four people,which is two more than Shelby, three more than me, and four more than Melissa.
Shelby puts her hands on my shoulders and smiles at me. “At least you didn’t have to use Nathan as your Exit Strategy.”
Shelby always knows how to cheer me up and remind me that what’s irking me isn’t something I should care about at all.
The Detach is simple. The Exit Strategy is hard. It means action, sometimes a conversation. It means you have to be cruel. Melissa cried last year when she had to employ an Exit Strategy. I don’t blame her. She’d been making out with Todd Ahlstrom pretty consistently for about a month, but she was over it.
To Melissa’s credit, she detached from him in the exact way she was supposed to. She stopped texting him and stopped returning his texts. She was aloof in the halls and didn’t indulge in conversations lasting more than three minutes. Todd should have taken the out, backed off, and moved on to some other girl like most boys would have done. But he didn’t. So there was no other choice.
The night Melissa employed her Exit Strategy, I was her accomplice. One of Trip’s best friends, Liam Poole, had mentioned he thought Melissa was hot, so the four of us went to a basketball game together. Trip and Liam stood behind us on the bleachers with their arms dangling around our shoulders, kissing our necks wheneverthey felt like it and rubbing up against us as though no one could see.
But of course, everyone could. Including Todd. I’ll never forget the way his face looked when he noticed Melissa and the six-foot-four senior god with his lips pressed against
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