Even though we know.

I helped Grace clean up the small mess between her legs. It was easy thanks to her being the highest caliber of genius and carrying wet wipes in her bag.

“I figured our escapades here were becoming common enough that bringing them was a must,” she said with a languid smile.

She started putting her clothes back on, and… Well, I was just standing there, so I offered to help by holding her shirt and stuff like that. She gave me an appreciative smile and accepted. She wasn’t a little kid who needed help getting dressed, but… How can I explain this? It made me feel a little closer to her.

When she was all dressed and looking all prim and proper, she pushed me to sit down on a chair and sat on my lap, legs to the side and arms around my neck.

“I really don’t know how you do it,” she told me. “You were already good when we first did it, but now…”

“You don’t need to exaggerate…” I said, chuckling.

“But I’m not!” she insisted. “Listen, I could rave about it all day. I could tell you in detail what makes you so good, SO much better than anyone else.” She looked me dead in the eyes. “I mean it. I really could. Do you want me to?”

“...That’d be a little embarrassing,” I answered.

“Then take my word for it. And the way you did it now… It was different. I don’t know if it was better or not, but it was out of this world. Hell, I bet next time we do deep penetration it’ll feel even better, too.”

“So… Did I make it up to you for yesterday?” I asked sheepishly.

“I think I owe you for that, actually.” She shuddered. “God, I still kind of feel it.”

I had to keep believing Grace was exaggerating because I didn’t want this to go to my head. If I started walking around believing I was somehow superior to everyone just because I was good at sex, I’d become the type of people I hated the most. I needed to be careful of that. Even so… Pride swelled in my chest. Because I knew Grace wasn’t exaggerating.

“Hey, Oliver?”

“Hm?”

“A friend texted me yesterday. She’s throwing a party this Friday and invited me and the girls. I bet she’d invite you too, if I asked. Want to come with us?”

“...” I wasn’t able to completely stop my wincing. “I… I don’t know, Grace. I’m not… comfortable at parties. I don’t like to dance, don’t like to drink, still have problems talking, and get uncomfortable around too many people. I’d like to go with you, but…”

“No, I get it. I was thinking it could be an opportunity to talk to more people, but there’s no point if you dislike everything that one does at a party. Besides, you’re making strides on your own. Aren’t you hanging out with Thomas, Ben and Kevin after school today?”

I nodded. “So yeah, I think it’s better if you go without me.”

Grace gave me a long look, as if debating whether she should say something or not. That was happening a lot with her recently.

“Alright. We can do something together on Saturday or Sunday. How about it?”

“I’d love to.” Maybe, just maybe… I could take the chance to invite them over to my house? I’d have to ask. But for now, “You girls go to parties a lot?”

“Not a lot, but often. When someone we know is throwing one. We don’t go to houses of people we don’t know, but we’ve gone to clubs a few times.”

“What do you see in it?” I asked, looking to understand the appeal.

Grace smiled wryly. “Exactly what you don’t like about it. We like to dance, to drink a bit, catch up with people we know, meet new people, maybe fliiii…” Her voice trailed off as she realized what she was saying. She looked at me in horror.

“Flirt, huh?” I said with a wry smile of my own.

“Well… Yes…” Grace dragged her hand over her face. I could sense the regret in her voice. She cleared her throat. “Parties are where people… sometimes… meet up and… get to talk, you know? And then…”

“I get it, Grace,” I said softly.

“Ugh! Okay, yes! I’ve flirted at parties, I first met two of my exes at parties. And I met YOU at one, didn’t I?” Her voice was getting louder, and she took a deep breath to compose herself. She held my face in place to prevent me from looking away from her eyes. “Listen. I’m not going there to flirt, alright? I have y… I feel… I don’t NEED to go meet up guys. I don’t WANT to. I’m going there to see some friends, dance with the girls and relax!”

“...You don’t need to justify it, you know?” I told her.

“I know I don’t. But I want to anyway.” She pressed her forehead against mine. “I’m not going to flirt or hook up with anyone, understand?”

I swallowed. “Okay.”

Words that feelings begged us to let out and logic insisted were inappropriate, maybe even out of line, were left unspoken. We knew. We KNEW. We felt it in ways that followed no logic we could explain, but pretended we didn’t because we couldn’t make sense of it. If we couldn’t justify it to ourselves, then how…?

Grace hugged me tightly, her chin resting on my shoulder, her arms shaking with built-up frustration. I hugged her back, pulling her even closer.

“This is so fucking stupid…” she muttered.

“Yeah.”

“Trust me?” she asked softly, defenseless.

“I’ve been doing that since last week.”

Grace kissed my cheek. “The others too, okay? I can speak for them on this.”

I nodded. “Grace?”

“Hm?”

“I’ll… try to invite you and the others to my place this weekend, but it’s not entirely up to me.”

Her eyes brightened up at that. “Let me hear you play guitar, okay?”

I nodded.

“And show me your room.”

I nodded.

She leaned closer, brushing her grinning lips against mine. “And let’s make out on your bed.”

I kissed her. We made out until the bell rang. We didn’t want to go to class, but we had to.