First Time For Everything

Brandon didn't disagree.

There weren't any people when they arrived at the building at the end of the main strip. Neon lights streamed over the walls in blue, yellow, and red, casting the narrow aisles and game machines in a dusky illuminance. Glow-in-the-dark tape was on the chipped tile floor, ensuring that no one would get lost, though Brandon wondered how someone could in such a small place.

At the scuffed counter, Trixie ordered another coffee but Brandon elected for just water. He did offer to pay for tokens, but she pushed his hand back and gave the long-haired barista a ten. After receiving a handful of gold coins, they meandered around the machines. Midi music played from each, casting nostalgia over Brandon who spent most of his childhood playing the same games at home. They stopped at a pinball machine for a movie neither knew, but Trixie said she was good at these.

He held her drink while she fed the slot the tokens, and pulled the hammer and released it. The lights from the pinball machine gleaned off her eyes, and when she smiled dimples showed. Her colored hair matched the neon, giving them a brighter glow. The arcade's gloom gave the rest of her a dreamy appearance. Ethereal. Brandon felt like he was out of his body, enamored. Trixie looked beautiful as she pressed the white buttons, the way she was engrossed in the game. He couldn't believe she had wanted to go out with him--he really couldn't believe this happened all because of an accident. Although he'd only known her for a day, she gave him a glimmer of hope for college, a reason for him to stay--

"Shit!" She smacked the box as the system played a whomp whomp whomp sound, breaking him from his reverie. "Almost broke ten-thousand points."

"You can always try again," he said. "We have more tokens."

Trixie took her drink from him. "Nah, shouldn't blow all our money on just one game." They turned around. "Anything you want to play?"

"Not in particular." They turned at the corner. He didn't want to admit he wanted to waste time not playing games, so the date could go on longer. "Did you play video games at home?"

She shook her head. "They weren't allowed," she said in a mock-baritone voice. "That's what my dad would say if I asked for them for Christmas or something."

At the back of the building, a tall poster of a monkey leaping over a man wearing blue overalls covered the wall. Most of the systems they found were out of order, yet they continued down the aisle. "That sucks."

"That it does."

Reaching the end, Trixie turned, leaning against the busted machine, and crossed her legs. Her gaze focused on him over her drink. "Wanna head to my dorm?"

Brandon halted and nearly spilled his drink over his shirt. Immediately sweat ran down his back. "What?"

"Do you want to go to my dorm?"

He almost said: "For what?" or "What about the rest of the tokens?" but stopped before the words blurted from his lips. His hands and face prickled with cold, and his stomach knotted. Another first he hadn't expected. It was like pushing out molasses, but he said: "Yes."

"Then, follow me."

* * *

After Trixie snuck Brandon in through the back exit of the building, she gently closed her door. Band posters covered the walls and some of the ceiling, black clothes hung over the lamp on her desk and the overhead light was masked by pink, transparent paper, tinting the room rosy.

"Sit," she said, and he did, avoiding the clothes piled on the unmade bed. She turned the radio on at low volume, and opened the window. A rock song he didn't know and the murmur of outside mixed together. Kicking off her shoes, she joined him on the bed. Brandon wanted to look at her, but also didn't. His sweaty palms glued to his lap. He was thankful he put on deodorant before leaving.

Lying back, she pulled him down with her by his shoulders. They stared at the pink-white ceiling. He wished he knew what the right thing to do was in this situation. Some girls wanted the boy to take action, make the first move; others wanted to be the ones to do it; and even more were the ones--who if the boy did make a move--would reject him outright or believe he's a creep. From what he knew from movies and TV shows, all the signs were there for him to try, but those things weren't reality.

Trixie rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. He side-eyed her. "You're the first guy to not try to get into my pants."

"Really?" He laughed. "Is that a good thing or...?"

"Little bit of both," she said, "but more on the good than the bad."

"Why would it be bad to not try?"

"Sometimes I like a little surprise, excitement, but... I guess that'd put you in a shitty situation, huh?"

He started to calm, relief ebbing through him. Rolling onto his side, he faced her. "Kind of, yeah. I don't want to come off as a..."

"Weirdo?"

"Basically."

"Well, I'm a weirdo, too, so if you're one, at least you're not alone in the fact."

"Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"

She laughed, pushing back a stray hair behind her ear. "I called myself a weirdo, too, you know?"

"Then, can we--ah...--be weirdos, together?" Holy shit, Brandon was doing it. Despite being indirect, he hadn't ever asked a girl to be his girlfriend, or whatever they were becoming. If, her being a weirdo, would fall under the 'girlfriend' category.

"Sure." She smiled, and scooched closer to him. Her breath smelled like peppermint. "Now make the first move."

He closed his eyes, and did.

PART II

Brandon didn't return to his building until dawn, and immediately he raced to the payphone to call his parents. The conversation was short and to the point: he was staying at college, and he had been overreacting to the issues before. His mother asked him twice if he was sure, and he said he was. His dad was proud his son was showing those pissants who's boss. After the call, he went to his dorm to change his clothes, sad to lose her lingering aroma, grabbed his school books, and went to class.

She filled his thoughts throughout the day. The way she looked on the bed, the hazy pink light over them, her eyes stark against the eye shadow; her doughy, soft lips against his, her hip under his hand, thumb hooked over her waistline, feeling even more plumpness held by her tight jeans; the warmth gathering, swelling between their enclosing bodies... He never had been any harder in his life, the overwhelming urge to take her, but it was beyond having sex. He wanted to be one with her, as though Trixie and him could press against one another and hold each other so tightly that they could somehow become a single entity, enraptured and entangled in each other's limbs...

But it was their first date, and Brandon was sure she could feel him against her thigh, and she didn't give any signals for him to venture beneath her clothes. They only kissed and cuddled; when their mouths weren't together, they stared at the ceiling, chatting about whatever came to mind until twilight seeped in through the window. He didn't want to leave. He never wanted to leave, but they still had class, a life outside the confines of her room. They said their goodbyes in the hall, and even though it had only been hours since then, it felt like days had gone by.

It was during the hour between class Brandon sat in the cafeteria, picking at a pepperoni-and-cheese sandwich, when a thought intruded into his mind: Was he the only one who felt like this? Did Trixie feel the same way? She was his first for nearly everything--he received his first kiss in sixth grade on a double-dare--, but he couldn't believe he was her first. It didn't matter, though; first or not, she and him were together, but the feelings were what mattered to him.

Brandon wasn't an idiot. If the feeling wasn't mutual, it would only end up in heartbreak for him; either tomorrow, next week, or next month. Hell, for all he knew, she could already have a boyfriend and he just was on the side. He cursed himself for not asking before everything unfolded, yet didn't believe she was the cheating type--too much of a 'no bullshit' person. His stomach churned enough that his food made him queasy, and he couldn't dry the sweat from his palms. Working himself up over 'what-ifs' and 'maybes.' He'd just have to ask, like an adult. Get it out in the open. If she didn't, then Brandon would deal with it when it came; it was pointless to get upset about it now.

After stashing his books in his dorm after his final class, he opened his door to find Trixie preparing to knock on it. Taken aback, he said, "What're you doing here?"

"To see you," she said, crossing the threshold. "Why else would I be here?"

"More notes?" he said, laughing, closing the door.

"If you have them, then it would be a shame not to ask."

She looked over his desk, some of his stuff still in the packaging box from back home. "But seriously, I came to see you."

"I was just about to leave to see you, too." He stood by the door, scratching the back of his head. He knew what he needed to do, but like before, the words were difficult to push out of his mouth. If he didn't start the conversation, everything beyond that point would be useless, if she felt differently. Brandon rubbed his forehead. "We gotta talk."

"About what?" Trixie turned, hand resting an open box.

God she was beautiful, even more than the night before. She had less make-up on, and was only in black leggings and a band t-shirt. He really didn't want to screw everything up, but... "Do you like me?"

It hung in the air. Swelled between them. His eyes stung staring at her, expecting the worst, hoping for the best, wanting just for her to say something. She blinked a few times, grinned. "Of course I do. Why? Don't you like me?"

"What? No! I really like you." He stumbled forward. "I just needed to know if you felt the same."

"I don't go around kissing anyone," she said, closing the space between them. "Maybe during my whore phase in high school, but not now... It's too much work dealing with people."

"So I'm not too much work?" He looked down at her as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Not yet." Trixie smiled, reciprocating his action. "Now that's outta the way--what's the plan for the weekend?"

"Ah... we'll figure it out."

* * *

Friday night they decided on just hanging out at her dorm, which was roughly the same as it was the night before, although Brandon slipped his hand on her ass while they kissed on her bed, and she seemed to enjoy it by pressing up against him. Kissing gave way to making out, and as their tongues swirled around one another, he gripped her doughy rear as he got hard. The room sweltered or it was just him overheating. His cock pulsed with his rapid heartbeat and all he wanted was to tear every inch of clothing from her and take her, but she broke it off by rolling onto her back, breathing heavily.

"Not yet," she simply said, pulling on her shirt collar. "The real good stuff doesn't happen on a second date."

He put his arm underneath her head, and she rested in the crook of his arm. "That's fine," he said, although his body wanted more, his mind didn't. He didn't want to disappoint her, especially in that way. It would be his first, and with his condition... "We can wait however long you want."

"As if you have an option." She laughed.

He joined in. "True."

They chose to go to the local roller rink downtown on Saturday. It was cheaper than going to the movies across the parking lot. As Trixie laced her skates, Brandon sat with his on the bench along the wall. "Ever skate before?"

"A little when I was younger." She lifted one foot then the other, making sure they fit well. "You?"

"Same, there was a small rundown place back home." He rose, immediately grabbing the wall for balance. "It was only open during the school year, then closed in summer."

Trixie rolled to the wall separating the scratchy carpet and the wide, lacquered rink. It was mostly kids skating. A pop song from the late 80's issued from the speakers in the ceiling corners while in the center a disco ball spun and multicolored lights drifted around the room. Parents sat on the other benches across the way. Mothers speaking to one another, and fathers sitting around, clearly bored and waiting for the night to be over. "Weird."

"I know, right? You'd think they'd be open in the summer." Slowly he went to her side, hanging onto the wall with both hands. "Make more money that way."

"You ready?"

He nodded, and Trixie darted off. Seamlessly, she glided around the other skaters, the wind brushing back her bangs. He couldn't skate that well, but regardless, he stepped into the rink and nearly lost his balance, but Trixie was already around the rink by that time and caught his arm. "Been a while?"

Sweat covered his face. "Yeah." Brandon didn't remember it being this difficult, but junior high school was six years ago. "It was a lot easier back in the day."

She held his hand, and kept at his pace until he became comfortable. They went around the rink together, avoiding the kids who fumbled onto the floor and the older folks who seemed to live on roller skates with the way they smoothly moved. Songs from bygone eras gave way to more and more until the music stopped.

"All right ladies and gentleman, it's time to slow. it. down for the couples out there. So, if you're alone tonight, find a partner, if not, take a break for a little while." Lights dimmed, and the only illuminance was the light reflecting off the disco ball. People abandoned the rink, leaving behind Trixie and him, two other older couples, and two kids who couldn't have been more than ten-years-old. A slow song came on.

"This your first time couple skating?" Brandon asked, forcing himself to not look at his feet again.

"As an adult, yeah," she said. "But when I was younger, I went with just about anyone who'd go."

"That fun?"

"Not really, but it was better than sitting on the shitty benches with the guys who loved snapping my bra."

"Can't blame you then."

She laughed. "The wonderful life of a teenage girl and hormones."

"I never couple skated before," he said. "You're my first."

"Really?" She glanced at him. "Never?"

Suddenly he felt tears on the brink of coming, but he willed them to stay put. "Let's just say I wasn't the ladies man as you see me today."

"Shit happens, Brandon. Not everyone will like you, especially then." She smiled. "But, I like you, so that should be the only thing that matters now anyway."

He sharply inhaled. The tears were coming, even though she had been reassuring. Felt the tingling over his face. He didn't want to cry in front of her, in front of strangers, on their third date. Panic grew inside him but as they were coming, the song stopped and the lights came back on. "Okay, okay you couples get a room and let everyone else get out there."

"Wanna get something to eat?" she said over the din.

"Sure."

There was a hole-in-the-wall restaurant a block away, and they took their time getting there. The tears were momentarily calmed, pulling his focus out of his head. Inside wasn't too busy, and they ordered their food at the counter and found a table in the back to sit. A waiter came by and got their drink orders. When he returned, Brandon felt like he needed to chug the entire water to cool down. He still was embarrassed about almost crying in front of her, and he hoped she didn't notice. Their food came soon, and they made small talk as they ate.

After paying and heading back to campus, he walked her back to her dorm building. Pressure compounded in his head. The food churned in his stomach. He was overthinking what could've happened as though it truly did happen. Brandon couldn't understand why he was acting like this, why he couldn't act normal when everything had been great. What heat the chill air cooled ramped back up. They stood underneath the floodlight above the twin-doors as a tall girl in pajamas shivered while she smoked.

"Wanna come up?" she asked while he embraced her. "I can sneak you in again."

"No, the skating really took a lot of me," he lied. The smoking girl stole glances at them, or him specifically. "I think I just need to sleep."

"Oh... What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Studying." He met the tall girl's gaze. She blew out a gray cloud. "Have a quiz on Monday that I really don't wanna fail."

"Well can we hang out after?" She twirled her finger over his chest. "Get food or something?"

"Maybe." The girl grinned, holding back a laugh, and Brandon wanted to melt into the ground and seep into the dirt. Even with Trixie in his arms, he couldn't shake caring about being looked at, teased, for his condition. Coupled with anxiety and paranoia swirling inside his head already, he wanted to sprint back home. Not his dorm. Home home. "I'll drop by if I can, okay?"

"Sounds good, I guess..."

Brandon kissed her forehead, and slipped out from her arms and beelined to his dorm.

He slammed the door, leaning against it, and grabbed handfuls of his hair. The tears came unabated. It irritated his skin when he tried to clear them, so he let them just go because why the hell not? He was alone now. This was what he wanted, but really did he? If he thought about it--no, it wasn't what he wanted, not at all. But it was like another part of him, some inner segment of the totality of who he was, controlled by deep-seated fear. It was sort of fear that was ingrained into the foundation of his psyche, one in which he couldn't ignore or shake, one he didn't want to show anybody ever, because why would he?

Why would someone want to share the weakness, most pathetic part about themselves to another? It was meant to be pushed down, cast into the shadows, barred in the darkness until it inevitably broke its way out to be forced back into the pits where it belonged. And for it to almost come out on the rink, with Trixie, it was too much. Far too much. He didn't want to ruin what he had already because of his bullshit from when he was a kid. Brandon was an adult for God's sake. And, this was all on-top of the fact he had yet to address his skin condition with her beyond the throwaway excuses he used in passing. She didn't deserve that.

His grip tightened, yanking. He closed his eyes tightly, failing to dam the tears. But it was over. He was in his dorm. She was in hers. Tomorrow was Sunday, and he could come up with a better excuse by morning to not see her until Monday. As much as he wanted to, he wanted more not to screw everything up. One day for potentially hundreds more. It seemed reasonable putting it that way... His breathing calmed, tears dried, and he put his head up. Moonlight came in through the window. He could be seeing the same thing from her bed if he wasn't like this. Everything would be better, easier, if he was normal. But here he was on the floor, sobbing. Eventually he decided he needed to sleep, or at least need to try, so slowly he got to his feet.

* * *

Knocking woke him. He lay in bed, unmoving, hoping the knock was on another door or someone had made a mistake. Early morning bled in from outside. Birds chirped. Brandon started closing his eyes--knock, knock, knock.

"Who is it?" he groggily shouted, lifting his head.

"Who do you think?"

"Shit..." Rolling out of bed, he plodded to the door and opened it. Trixie still wore her plaid pajama bottoms, long, faded band t-shirt, and slippers. "Uh... hi?"

She shouldered past him, and he closed the door as he turned to face her. Again, they were in the same spot they were a day or two ago. Her by the desk, him at the door. Déjà vu briefly washed over him.

"What happened last night?" she said, crossing her arms. "Did I do something to piss you off?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His brain held nothing to help. "No," was all he managed to say.