Olivia Christakos and Her Second First Time by Dani Irons Read Free Book Online Page B

to come back. To clear up. But if anything, they soften. After a deep breath, I analyze Wyatt and his lips. They are full and wide. His hair is dark and longer than the boy’s in my dream. Definitely not him. Maybe I was dating a boy before Wyatt. “How long have we been together?” I ask, forcing my breathing to slow.
    “Five years,” he says without pause.
    I’m both surprised by his quick answer and because of the answer itself. No wonder he’s been so persistent. Five years? That’s some serious history. But that answer doesn’t help me figure out my dream. “Who else have I dated?”
    This question takes him off guard and he takes more time to answer. “No one else.”
    I narrow my eyes at him. “No one with blond hair?”
    His eyes widen an infinitesimal amount, I think, but can’t be sure. He shakes his head.
    “Do I have any guy friends?”
    “Um...not...really. I mean, not anyone you hang out with on a regular basis.”
    “Do I know any guys with blond hair?”
    He thinks about his for a while, a light perspiration popping up on his forehead. “I don’t know. Why?”
    I shake my head. I can’t explain what I’ve just dreamt to him. It was a dream, obviously, but it feels like a memory. I can still feel the boy’s hands on me. My skin prickles.
    “How many guys have I kissed?” I know this probably isn’t the most appropriate question to ask my boyfriend, but I have to know how real this dream or vision—or whatever—is. I mean, if I can dream my memory back, I’ll go to sleep again until I can remember everything.
    “Only me. As far as I know.”
    I open my mouth but don’t allow my thoughts to vocalize themselves. I’m twenty and I’ve only kissed one guy? I’ve only had one boyfriend? What is it about Wyatt that has kept me with him so long?
    Now I’m suspicious. Wyatt’s acting weird. Not that I have anything at all to compare it to, but I just get this feeling. Maybe the blond guy was an old boyfriend that Wyatt doesn’t want to talk about. Five years ago would put me at fifteen. I could have had a boyfriend or a make-out buddy or whatever at fifteen. The more I think about it, though, the more the dream dissipates into tiny memory dots. They dissolve like sugar in water into nothingness.
    “I think I need some space,” I begin, reining in some of my earlier bitchiness. “For a few days. Do you think...do you think you could give me space? For a few days?”
    I expect his face to fall, but it hardens, and only slightly. “Like, leave you alone? Not be around you?”
    “Exactly.”
    His face hardens some more. “No. I don’t think I can do that.” He drops his eyes to the ground, his entire body turning to stone. I want to feel sorry for him, but I’m too muddled to feel much outside of what I need and want at the moment.
    “Will you try?”
    He’s not looking at me. I don’t know if I want him to look at me. “If that’s what you need, I guess I’ll have to deal with it.” He pushes up from his chair angrily and stomps out of the room.

Chapter Six
    Fourth Grade
    “Please, God, Mom. NO.” I said, actually backing away from her with my hands in the air. “Have mercy.”
    Mom stood in the kitchen, forking out tuna into a bowl. She pointed the fork at me. “Don’t you dare take the Lord’s name in vain just because you’re not getting your way.” She crossed herself, starting with the right shoulder first, like a proper Greek Orthodox should.
    “It’s not about getting my way, Mom. It’s about...” I shook my head, the right words not coming to me. I knew that explaining he was the weird kid in class wouldn’t fly. “It’s just that this
can’t
happen. Please, please don’t let this happen.”
    She laughed, squirting mustard into the bowl. “You act as if I’m making you marry him.”
    “That’s what it feels like!” I wailed, backing into a dining room chair and falling into it. “You don’t even know what this will do to me at