The moment I get through my to-do list, there’s a light knock on the door. Wes is punctual, as always. This is our last chance to see each other in person before he hits the road with his family, and we’re both feeling the urgency of the clock running out on our relationship. Neither of us has explicitly told the other that we plan to have sex, but for me, it was an easy decision. As much as we don’t want to say it aloud, we have no idea if we’ll see each other again. Nothing is guaranteed these days, and like Parisa said, I don’t want to look back on today and think that I missed out on my chance to truly be with the first boy I’ve ever really loved.

When I open the door, I find Wes, wearing a suit and smiling sheepishly. His eyes practically bug out of his head when he sees me all dressed up.

“I told you I clean up nice,” I tell him as I take his temperature.

“You look beautiful,” he replies.

Since we won’t be getting an actual prom, we agreed to look our best today.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Gabriela,” he says, pulling me close.

“I’m going to miss you, too.”

I feel like I might cry, so I kiss him before my tears can kill the mood. We collapse onto my bed, and the spring from the left-hand corner of the mattress digs into my shoulder.

“Let’s scoot over,” I whisper.

There’s a rush to the way we are kissing that I’ve never felt before. The nerves are overwhelming, and I’m scared that sex might hurt and that our last day together will be painful in more ways than one. I want to slow things down and speed things up at the same time. I want to get it over with, and I want it to never be over. Normally, we’ve always stayed partially clothed. I’m not sure why. Maybe out of fear that my parents might come home early or that what we are doing is somehow a little less wrong if we’re not completely naked. But today, we strip all our clothes off. Wes grabs his pants and takes a condom out of the pocket.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asks between kisses.

“Yes,” I say.

I let my body relax, and I’m surprised that it doesn’t hurt as bad as everyone always makes you think it will. This feels safe and right and better than what I imagined. I place my lips against Wes’s ear and whisper:

“I love you.”

It’s the first time I’ve said it. Maybe I should have done it before we slept together and not during, but my feelings have never felt as palpable as they do now.

“I love you, too.”