“What are y’all doing tonight?” I leaned over and asked.
Tristan came over to my side so I turned to him. My car was sitting right behind the driveway, out of the road. I turned the engine off.
“Skateboarding,” Tristan said.
“What are y’all doing?” I heard Jamie ask Crystal, but I didn’t turn around. I was looking at Tristan and his big brown eyes and my sadness flipped on because I thought about Winona’s Bambi eyes and Amber’s Bambi eyes. Tristan asked me if I wanted to smoke with him, so I got out and leaned on the hood of my car while he lit my cigarette.
“My parents are in Florida,” Tristan told me. “And I like this,” he said, touching my flower crown. Would the good luck be doubled or go away completely now that Tristan had touched it? Only time would tell.
“Thank you,” I said.
Crystal and Jamie were talking to one another quietly, almost like they were already dating. I could tell Jamie liked her by how he looked at her. I saw him reach out to touch her necklace and Crystal let him. She didn’t even flinch and my jealousy ratcheted up, but dropped down low after I pulled my car up Tristan’s driveway and we went inside and Tristan kissed me for the first time up against the wall in his kitchen with Crystal and Jamie sitting right there in the living room.
“You’re cool with this? Because I like you. I like you a lot,” Tristan said with his hand pressed on the wall next to me. The ice-maker in his humming refrigerator rattled. I would’ve had sex with Tristan. I wanted to. But I hadn’t had sex with anyone and I was waiting. For something. But I decided in the kitchen that I would lose it to Tristan whenever I was tired of waiting.
“I like you a lot, too,” I said to him before he kissed me again. Was Crystal jealous of Tristan kissing me? When we went back to the living room, Crystal and Jamie were making out on the couch and neither of them even noticed us, so we went to Tristan’s room and closed the door.
That quick, I decided I was tired of waiting and I wanted to lose my virginity with Crystal in the same house, so we could talk about it later. I hoped maybe she was in the living room losing hers to Jamie. In Mermaids, Christina Ricci almost drowns while Winona Ryder is losing her virginity up in the bell tower, so before Tristan and I did it, I went to the door and opened it and peeked out at Crystal and Jamie. They were under a blanket and I could see Jamie’s ass moving up and down. Underneath him, Crystal had her head thrown back, her hair hanging down the side of the couch like a waterfall, her eyes closed. Jamie looked right at me and the look on his face was placid. Another extra credit word from our vocab quiz. Jamie looked at me and looked at me, then closed his eyes tight, let his head hang down, and kept moving under the blanket.
Tristan and I moved under his blanket too. Watching Crystal and Jamie made me so horny I felt like I’d pass out. Tristan had been looking for condoms in his dresser while I was watching them, so I didn’t even know if he knew what I’d been doing. I liked Jamie looking at me when he was with Crystal like that, because it made me feel close to Crystal. And even when Tristan was inside me with the condom on I was thinking about how later Crystal and I would go back to her house or my house and watch a Winona movie and kiss when we got in bed. I loved being with Tristan. He was sweet and gentle and kept asking me if I was okay and I was. I was more than okay. The night was perfect and the cigarette I’d share with Crystal later would be perfect and seeing Winona’s brown eyes on the TV would be so comforting to both of us. We’d talk about the boys, cry about Amber, watch Winona and write WINONA FOREVER on our arms and kiss some more. We’d be cranky with lust and twinkle like sometimes-sad, crooked little lights.
Girlheart Cake with
Glitter Frosting
POSSIBLE INGREDIENTS: Too much black eyeliner. Roses. Champagne from a can, champagne in a bottle. “Music to Watch Boys To” by Lana Del Rey. Pink, lavender cigarettes. Flower water, flower crowns. “Formation” by Beyoncé. Glossy lips, glossy eyelids. “Fetish (feat. Gucci Mane)” by Selena Gomez. Red lipstick. Lipgloss in your pocket, lipgloss in your purse, old lipgloss lost and found under the couch. Lipgloss that smells like birthday cake, lipgloss that smells like blueberry, lipgloss that smells like mango. Your natural hair. Lorde humming at the beginning of “Yellow Flicker Beat.” Fairs and beers. Los Angeles, Nashville, Kentucky. Malibu! Miranda Lambert and a lighter. “Milk” by Kings of Leon. Expensive skincare routines. The Virgin Suicides. “Don’t Dream It’s Over” by Crowded House. Green-green summer grass and ice-blue pool water. Lindsay Weir dancing in her bedroom to “Box of Rain.” Sunflower sunshine, golden. “Thirteen” by Big Star. Rihanna as fairy godmother. Zazie Beetz. Harry Styles in a wallpapery, wildly patterned suit. Chipped polish and a mood ring. Beach breath, sunscreen. Taking your bra off, finally. And bleeding and bleeding and bleeding. Dresses and leggings and cowboy boots. “Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover” by Sophie B. Hawkins. Vanilla. Cherry. Every Fiona Apple. Lens flares. Kissing your black- (or brown- or red- or blond- or no-) haired husband or boyfriend while he’s sleeping, kissing your black- (or brown- or red- or blond- or no-) haired husband or boyfriend when he’s awake. Pink quartz, amethyst, carnelian, aquamarine, red jasper, plum jasper, citrine, amber, padparadscha sapphire, etc. “The Summer I Was Sixteen” by Geraldine Connolly. “Dancing Queen” by ABBA. “Killer Queen” by Queen. Feather earrings and hoop earrings and groupies. And Taylor Swift. Father John Misty and Father John Misty’s hands in the smoke and lights. Jeff Buckley. Clementine and honey. Patsy Cline. Cool, green iridescent lake water, beer can bonfires. “Spice Night” by Catherine Bowman. Sparklers, twinkle lights, pale sugar. Glitter, glitter. Jefferson Airplane. Ring Pops and Blow Pops and eyeshadow names. Looping cursive, folded paper. En Vogue and Tori Amos. Heart. Baseball, A League of Their Own. Denise Huxtable. Angela Chase. Felicity. Keri Russell. Dorothy Dandridge, Eartha Kitt, Barbra Streisand, Audrey Hepburn. Cher. Marilyn Monroe movies. Swish-swishy prom dresses, heels in hand. Lemonade. Lemonade. Buzzing neon. Confused hearts, blooming hearts, broken hearts, full hearts. Ale-8-One and church camp, crosses. Peach pop, root beer floats, Popsicles. Jane Austen and Emily Dickinson. Mary Shelley. Judy Blume. “Work It” by Missy Elliott. “Bossy” by Kelis. Shaving legs in kitchen sinks. Secrets, spilled like wine. Pretty in Pink. Accidental girlfriends. Stealing Beauty and A Bigger Splash and Call Me by Your Name—every summer obsession movie—panting, drinking, licking, blazing. Oprah Winfrey. Hayley Williams + Paramore. Serena Williams. Roxane Gay. Sylvia Plath. Jenny Lewis. “Does He Love You?” by Rilo Kiley. The Supremes, The Ronettes. “Then He Kissed Me” by The Crystals. Bubbly pineapple water, tank tops, Juicy Fruit. Tegan and Sara. Amy Winehouse and Janis Joplin. Ella Fitzgerald dancing in a black dress next to Frank Sinatra. Judy Garland singing “a big fat rose” to Gene Kelly. Etta James singing “It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World”; Etta James singing anything. The Thomas Crown Affair’s chess scene kisses, Steve McQueen spanking Ann-Margret in The Cincinnati Kid. Phoebe Waller-Bridge. Villanelle’s pink Molly Goddard dress in Killing Eve. Sandra Oh. Natalie Wood. Elizabeth Taylor, Maggie the Cat. Joshua Tree. Antonia Thomas. Sissy Spacek. Sissy Spacek’s wardrobe in Badlands. Rookie magazine. Zendaya. Bonnie Raitt. Stevie Nicks. Indigo Girls. Linda Ronstadt singing “You’re No Good.” Aretha Franklin singing “Respect.” Carly Simon singing “You’re So Vain.” Tammy Wynette singing “Stand by Your Man.” Loretta Lynn singing “Fist City.” Margo Price. Princess Diana and Jackie O. Meghan, Duchess of Sussex. Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge. Eve and a pomegranate. Mary, mother of Jesus. Mary Magdalene. Bathsheba. Deborah. Esther. Queen Vashti. Dirty Dancing. “Love Is Strange” by Mickey & Sylvia. Sylvia Robinson. Chaka Khan. “This Tornado Loves You” by Neko Case. Coconuts, strawberry shampoo. Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill. Lace. Velvet. Mesh. Tulle. Your bedroom—a candy-colored, starry-ceiling sanctuary. “Free Fallin’” by Tom Petty and “American Girl” by Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers. “American Girls” by Counting Crows. “Around the Way Girl” by LL Cool J. Your natural blush, Lolita. Orange Crush. “Cherry Bomb” by The Runaways. Flirting and bar lights. And everysingle heart-dark or heart-light muddy tomboy and frilly girly-girl and bad girl and good girl (and walking the edges, nowhere and everywhere in between), living or can-never-really-die dead.