M.I.A.’s “Bad Girls” came on; the bass thumped. Lisa was shimmying up against Steph and I turned away so I didn’t have to see it. I bumped into a woman with short bleached-blond hair and backed away, mouthing, Sorry. She was wearing a black muscle tee that exposed tattoos of vines crawling up her biceps. She looked at me, really looked, and when she put one hand on my waist to pull me closer, I let her. Her other hand followed, and soon she was angling her hips so that I had to move with her. I was intensely aware anyone could see us—including Steph—and my heart thudded with the beat. The back of her shirt was damp with sweat; I felt her thigh pressed against mine. She bent her face close to me, and I knew what she was about to do, but at the last moment her mouth slipped to my ear and she asked, “Do you want to get some air?”

“Yes,” I shouted back, and she took my hand and I let her lead me out of the living room.

—

Her name was Casey. She said she was friends with Roxy from SF State, and I told her I knew Steph. We grabbed bottles of water from the ice bath and went down to the yard looking for a quieter corner. We ended up in the back next to a shed painted with a mural that I couldn’t make out in the dim light. My ears were ringing from the music. When I leaned against the wall of the shed, Casey leaned in.

The last person I’d kissed was Jacob. I’d never kissed a woman before, but here was a woman who clearly wanted to kiss me. She was softer than Jacob—her lips, her tongue, the touch of her hands on my waist, pulling me into her. I could recognize that she knew how to kiss me with her whole body, not just her mouth, but I felt like I was splitting inside. Half of me was kissing her back and the other half was shrinking away.

I didn’t know Casey. I wasn’t even attracted to her. She was an experiment for me.

I felt like a monster.

I pulled away, dragging her hands off me. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m really sorry.” I fled before she could do anything, practically running back toward the house.