I told Harley about Mom. I think he thinks I'm stupid for thinking the way I do. But, I can't help it.
We sit in his backyard until his dad comes to check on us. He sits on the grass.
"Hey, kids," he says. He's smiling. But, it's dark. So all I can see are his teeth. They aren't even white. "What are you doing? Wait! Let me not ask that question. Rather, what do you need?"
I can feel Harley sinking into his seat. He tucks his chin into his chest. Like all he wants to do is be small. "Dad, please."
He's begging. When Harley becomes desperate, he begs. I know that about him now.
"No, no," his dad insists, waving his hands about. He's taking this seriously. "This is important. Right, Poppy?"
I stare at Harley. But, he's too busy glaring at his dad. So I nod.
Harley's dad produces a condom from his coat pocket and puts it on Harley's thigh. "Be safe, kids," he says like this is an advert. And we are adults acting out teenagers. His yellow smile is worth a million bucks.
Harley has melted into a puddle. I laugh. His dad startles. Then laughs, too. He doesn't know how to act.
"I'm not his girlfriend," I say, taking the condom. Twisting it between my fingers. Harley's eyes follow my movements.
"Well," his dad says, "sex is about a lot more than being a boy's girlfriend, Poppy."
I wipe my nose. It's getting colder. "I know. We learn about this stuff at school."
"I'm just making sure."
"Dad." Harley is doing a very bad job at keeping himself from yelling. His voice is loud when he speaks. Commanding.
His dad disappears through the backdoor. "I'll leave the door unlocked. You can come inside whenever you're ready, kids."
I choke on my laughter when he leaves. Harley stares at me. Then he laughs, too.
"What a prude!"
We are warm and buzzing when we get down from our high. Harley turns his head to look at me. Our lips are close. But, I don't think any of us can do anything after what happened. His dad is probably looking at us from his bedroom window.
Only, there's something wrong with Harley's eyes. They're droopy and keep staring at my mouth.
"Do I have something on my lips again?" I ask, wiping at my mouth.
He nods. "Yeah..."
I rub my lips with my palm furiously. I shouldn't have put on this stupid lip stuff. I shouldn't. But, I did. Now I look stupid.
"Here," he says quietly, "let me."
His fingers are cold against my lips. And rough. And long. And slender. They don't feel like fingers at all. But, my lips are dead. So, I don't feel anything. He leans closer.
I stand. "I should, you know. I should go home. It's late."
"I'll walk you."
He holds my hand while we cross the street. We walk slowly. Like none of us actually wants me to go home.
"Are you tired?" he asks.
"No."
"Let's sit in the car," he says.
"You're dad's going to think we're having sex."
"I don't care what he thinks," Harley insists. But, it's a lie. Harley cares a lot about what his dad thinks. I know that now.
In the dark, we sit in the backseat of my mom's car. It's so quiet. I can hear only the sound of our breathing.
"I like you," he says. He's staring at the rearview mirror. Our eyes meet in the chapped glass.
"Me, too."
"Do you mind if I do something weird?"
"No."
He kisses the top of my head. Then wraps his arms around my shoulders. He pulls me into him. "I'm cold."
"Me, too."
I'm not. I just like being held by him. He's warm. And human. He's normal. I don't have a lot of that. And it feels kind of nice. His lips linger in my hair. "Are you okay?"
"No."
We sit there. And sit. The garage gets colder. But, none of us moves. Harley tucks my head beneath his chin, combing my hair. His fingers are cold and brittle. But, they do a good job of calming me down.
"Can we go look for her?"