Jack and I flirted the whole time we played, getting to know one another, casually touching. He was a year older than me and wanted to work on cars with his dad after he graduated. I told him about my plans to go to an Ivy League school and study English. He seemed interested in that, and my video-game hobby, and a few absolutely terrible jokes I made. I was interested in his lopsided smile and the low, quiet tone of his voice.

When Aaron walked by later, I brushed my hip against Jack’s, hoping he’d take the hint. That glorious boy tangled his fingers with mine, pulling me into his side and leaning down to press a soft kiss to my temple. My eyes met Aaron’s, he flinched, I smiled and he wandered off to find Skank Two. It was bitchy to be so satisfied, but I didn’t care, mostly because Jack’s hand had slid into the back pocket of my jeans.

“This okay?” he whispered into my ear.

“Oh, yeah.”

I was suddenly grateful to Devi who’d insisted I not wear the yoga pants.

Another two rounds of quarters and we abandoned the game, still holding hands. Jack tossed our empty cups into a garbage bag hanging from the branch of some blossoming tree. We paused there, the ground carpeted pinky white with fallen blossoms beneath us. I leaned against the trunk, Jack leaned into me. We smiled at one another, his hands planted on my hips.

“I feel good,” Jack said quietly.

I ruined it with, “Na-na-na-na-na-na-na,” because of course I did.

He laughed and nuzzled at my throat. “James Brown. My dad listens to him at the garage.”

“I wish that’s what my grandmother liked. She’s into the other seventies stuff. The Bee Gees. Donna Summer. ABBA, because of course she’s a Swedish cliché. It’s disco fever forever in the car with her.”

“You poor, poor thing.”

He expressed his sympathy with a nibble on my earlobe.

I slid my hands down his back, looping my thumbs into his belt. He grinded against me. I grinded back. It was obvious where things could go if I wanted them to. I debated with myself if I wanted to follow the slutty rabbit down the slutty hole. Jack was cute. He smelled good. He understood the pain that was ABBA.

He also wasn’t Aaron.