Anatomy of a Boyfriend by Daria Snadowsky Read Free Book Online Page A

you.‖

    ―I think he‘d take that as an insult.‖

    I laugh and ask if he has any older family photos. Wes says his mom keeps them in the basement and that he‘d be glad to show me. ―Just promise not to trip walking down the stairs,‖
    he adds, smiling over his shoulder. I‘m glad he can joke around with me.

    When we get to the basement I pluck an album from the shelf and start leafing through it on the hardwood floor. Wes kneels behind me and leans over my right shoulder so he can see.
    Somehow I work up the nerve to rock back so my right shoulder blade is ever so slightly resting against his chest.

    ―That‘s Mom.‖ He points to a thirty-something blonde in a bikini. I can tell her hair color is natural in the picture, unlike its current shade of platinum.

    ―She used to be pretty,‖ I blurt out. ―I mean, she still is.‖

    ―Yeah. Dad picked a fox.‖

    I wonder if he considers me a ―fox.‖

    He continues, ―Here they are on their honeymoon on Captiva Island. My grandparents, the ones in SoHo, keep a condo on Captiva where they vacation sometimes.‖

    ―Cool. My grandparents used to drive to Captiva once a week to eat at The Bubble Room. I don‘t think Grandma‘s been back, though, since Grandpa died.‖

    I turn the page and see more honeymoon pictures of Wes‘s parents, this time with Wes‘s brother as a two-year-old. Wes can tell I‘m perplexed.

    He explains, ―They had Arthur before they got married. Mom was actually pregnant with me when they made it legal.‖

    ―Oh,‖ I say, blushing as I thumb through the next few pages. I‘ve always wondered if my parents had sex before they got married. I wonder if Wes has had sex yet. He‘s a senior, a jock, and cute, so he‘s the last person you‘d expect to be a virgin. But he‘s never mentioned having a girlfriend, not that you need to be in a relationship to get laid. I wish I could ask him how far he‘s gone, but Amy says talking too much about past love lives can get you stuck in friend zone.

    I flip to another page and find a picture of young Wes wearing a cone-shaped birthday hat and blowing out eight candles on a race car cake.

    ―You‘re so cute! Are all these people your family?‖

    ―No, these are the Skys, our neighbors from San Antonio. There‘s the original Jessica, see?‖
    Wes points to a pretty red-haired girl, about ten, sitting next to him. She‘s probably a beauty queen now.

    ―Oh. So this is the girl next door with the dog-fur hair?‖

    ―Yeah.‖ He chuckles. ―Jess is also the one who got me into running. She and my brother would jog every morning, and I‘d tag along. Now she runs track at Columbia University.‖

    ―Very impressive. Do you guys, um, talk often?‖

    ―Nah.‖

    Phew.

    ―But our families vacation together every spring break. This year we‘re meeting in Paris. Jess is a French major, so she wants to practice speaking it.‖

    ―Paris? That will be so much fun!‖ I pretend being excited for him, but I‘m crushed he‘s not going to be in town over break. I also can‘t help wondering if Jessica is part of the reason he wants to go to college in New York.

    As I continue flipping through party pictures, I ask when his birthday is.

    ―December twenty-second.‖

    ―Get out!‖ I turn my head to his. Our lips are about eight inches apart. ―December twenty-second is my birthday! But wait, you‘re probably eighteen, right?‖

    ―Aren‘t you?‖

    I shake my head. ―Seventeen. They started me early because I was too mature for nursery school.‖

    ―They started me late because I was too im mature.‖

    After we both laugh, I look back at the album, but all I can concentrate on are Wes‘s breaths landing on the back of my neck. The heart beats an average of seventy times a minute. Right now mine is doing a hundred and twenty easy, and with each inhalation I‘m drinking in Wes‘s healthy, clean scent—a delicious combination of sweat and fabric softener. In biology we