"I Can't Stop Thinking About" by Sam Frost

First blowjob. Bedroom, bright blue walls, green pillows that I slept on every night with a stuffed dog cuddled in my arms. Picture of dad on the wall, staring. Mom just a staircase away: trusting, unaware. 


Quiet girl. Football boy. My worst math equation. Never liked him, just the way it felt to be claimed. He told me he loved me. I wanted to be loved. At fifteen I wanted to be touched. Still want to be touched. There’s a difference between good and bad. Both leave a tingling sensation. Only one leads to a permeant hangover.


Homecoming shirt decorated with his number, but he jumped up and down, screamed at the TV while we watched hockey. Every noise made my shoulders jerk in surprise. Could never adjust to his level. Too loud. Too advanced. 


“It’s really no big deal. Just try it,” he said. Shy. Went to my closet, started to pull out clothes. Had to pack. Mom was driving me to a friend’s house. Childhood besties, sleepover, Disney movies and popcorn. But first: blowjob. I didn’t tell anyone why I was late. Or that he followed me, begged. Surrounded by skinny jeans and Abercrombie tees. 


“Come on Come on Come on. Other girls do it all the time.”


Pictured him with his ex. Pretty blonde, on the dance team. I wanted to be her. He said she bit down on pillows when he went down on her. Parents in the next room. She couldn’t stay quiet. 


He pulled away from my mouth before he came. Didn’t want me to taste him. Thought he was nice. Mistook that for respect. He got me on the ground…. Hand in my pants. Took them off. I didn’t stop him because I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Felt good when he pressed against me. Only gym shorts separated our skin. 


He was so much bigger than me. I didn’t want his arm muscles to flex.