cw: a cringey failed attempt at teen sex, panic attacks (both non graphic), also emetophobes beware

Chapter XIV

"...Yet another TED talk to do tomorrow, and then back on to the book tour. First stop, Las Vegas. And that is one crazy town!" Remi chuckles. "How are you doin', dude," he asks in a forced casual tone.

"I'm good," Otis lies. "Yeah, I'm really good. Great. Just..."

"Overcompensation merely masks an unconscious weakness, Otis," Remi says. Otis wishes that he could have at least one parent who didn't psychoanalyze him every time he spoke. "Now, come on," Remi continues jovially. "Talk to your old man."

Otis sighs. "Well, uh, a friend of mine and I sort of...got into a fight with this other guy, and, well...we didn't win," Otis says. "Which was really scary. And, uh, my friend, he's doing a lot worse than I am, and...I'm not doing great as it is. But...I have a girlfriend now, and she's helping me, but I'm not sure how to help my friend, so everything is kind of...out of whack."

"Girlfriend," Remi asks, perking up. "Tell me about her."

"Her name's Abby," Otis says. "But I mean, that's not really..."

"Come on," Remi says. "Tell me...what's she like? Do you have some pictures? Or hell, at least give me a full name."

"Abby Hammond," Otis says.

"Ah, is she, by chance, the Abby Hammond who's the daughter of Gabriel and Roxanne? You know, I spent some time counseling them, and those two are...characters," Remi says with a chuckle.

"Yes, that's the one."

"She must be a real handful," Remi jokes. "In more ways than one."

"I wouldn't know," Otis admits. "We, uh, we're taking things slow." Otis bites his lip. "When did you lose your virginity?"

"Ah," Remi says wistfully. "Uh...two days after my fifteenth birthday, to be exact." Otis' face falls. "What happened," he goes on. "Did, uh, things badly with Abby?"

"We haven't done anything," Otis explains.

"So you're still a virgin," Remi says in a forced casual tone. "Well, that...that's cool, kid. Nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, but I...I'm way behind my peers. I can't even..." Otis averts his eyes from the screen, unsure how to tell his father he can't even touch himself.

"Listen," Remi says. "The first time you do it, it will probably be bad. The good stuff comes later. So you have to ask yourself, 'Why am I waiting?'"

"But, uh, what if I want it to be nice? For Abby, at least," Otis asks. "I mean, it'd be her first time too and..."

Remi waves this off. "Don't worry in that case," he says dismissively. "She won't know the difference. It's kind of like skydiving, you know. At some point, you've just gotta...whoo! Chuck yourself out of the plane."

"So I should jump," Otis asks.

"Yeah, exactly," Remi says with a grin. "Just rip that Band-Aid right off."

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The first thing Otis does when Eric meets him at his door is widen his eyes at his friend's attire. Even back when Eric's parents picked out his clothes, he had never worn anything so void of color in all the years they've known each other. He quickly corrects himself and forces a smile. "So, uh, what's new since yesterday," he asks.

"Nothing," Eric says moodily. "And stop gapin', okay? I've decided to grow up and stop trying so hard with clothes. It's not a big deal."

"Of course not," Otis says, knowing that almost any reaction he wants to give will only set Eric off.

"So," Eric asks. "Clinic? What's going on there?"

"Nothing new," Otis says as they ride their bikes away from his house. "Things have been a little quiet since the whole vagina thing. Mostly just hearing about Conor's latest inappropriate behavior." He swallows. "Uh, just a warning: Abby and Adam aren't speaking anymore, so he might be on the warpath."

"What can he say to me now that he hasn't said before," Eric says. "'Sides, I'm not scared of him anymore."

"That's good," Otis says. "I mean...it's good not to be afraid."

"You shouldn't be, either, you know," Eric says. "So stop walking on eggshells. I'm fine. Besides, maybe you should figure some of your shit out instead of worrying about me. Have you even touched Abby up yet?"

Otis hangs his head. "No, I haven't."

"See," Eric says. "You finally have somebody. You should stop twiddling your thumbs."

"Actually, my dad said the same thing," Otis says.

"He's an expert," Eric points out. "Get over the hump. Two people have told you now. Are you going to listen?"

"Yeah," Otis says. "I think...Abby'll be really happy to get things done now, so we can, you know, get better at it."

"She's always undressin' you with her eyes," Eric says. "She'll be over the bloody moon."

Otis nods. "Okay, so I'll text her to meet after school," he says. "Can you tell me what I should say?"

Eric smiles for the first time in days. "Sure thing, mate. We got this."

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"Oh, fuck," Abby says.

"What is it," Maeve asks as they hang out by their lockers.

"Otis just sent me a text saying he wants to...have sex after school today," Abby says.

"He what?"

"Oh, I shouldn't even be telling you this," Abby groans. "But...it's just so out of nowhere. I mean, we...we haven't past kissing yet, and I got the idea he didn't want to for personal reasons, and I'm really okay with that. And now he just texts me out of the blue. With a devil emoji! I've never gotten a text from Otis with an emoji in it EVER. Do you think his phone's been stolen?"

"That emoji thing is really suspect," Maeve notes. "But you've been wanting this to happen, right? Maybe you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Except I absolutely should, because what if my dumb ass said something to make him think he has to," Abby says.

"I mean, is it hard to believe he might want to," Maeve asks.

"Considering we never even talked about it before really, yes."

"I mean, maybe you just sent him a vibe," Maeve goes on. "This doesn't have to be a bad thing. You two...like each other, at least. It's natural."

"I mean, I can't say I haven't thought about it," Abby admits. "A lot. Like...every day. But still, this is just so sudden. I-I'm gonna say yes, but I haven't even...prepared for something like that...downstairs. Do you know anyone who has a razor at school? Or waxing strips? I mean, it isn't likely things are actually going that far, but I should be prepared, right?"

"Well, how long has it been, and what do you think might happen," Maeve asks. "Because if your bikini line's good and you're not expecting oral, you're probably fine. I don't really see Otis caring about that kind of thing during missionary."

"What," Abby says. "Maybe...we should have done this other stuff before, right? Like people don't just escalate from kissing to sex, right? I mean, not virgins, anyway."

"...Did he actually say 'sex'," Maeve asks. "Like full on?"

Abby shows Maeve the text message she received.

Otis: After class I was thinking...we've been together for a while. Why not go all the way? 😈

"Well, okay, not a lot of room for interpretation there," Maeve says. "Although I really think you should pursue the 'stolen phone' angle."

"Right," Abby says, as Aimee walks up to them.

"Hiya," Aimee says. "So I need to talk to Otis."

"Problems with Kyle," Maeve asks.

"Oh, no, I'm with Steve now," Aimee explains.

"Who's Steve," Maeve asks.

"You know, Top Heavy Steve," Aimee goes on. "Built like a Chupa Chup."

"Alright, then," Abby says. "And what exactly is a Chupa Chup?"

Aimee and Maeve give her a surprised look and she raises her hands. "Guys, I'm kidding," she says. "We have them in the states, you know. They're rare, but they're around. Mostly, though, we have to settle for Dum Dums." She looks over at where Steve is standing and nods. "I guess I see it."

"Cool. Yeah. I'll book you in," Maeve says.

"So, what is it," Abby asks.

"So, like, we were hooking up, right," Aimee says. "And he wants to know what I like. But I don't know."

"Does anyone," Abby muses.

"Most non-virgins do know," Maeve says. "Well, non-virgin males and anyone else who hasn't become too attached to fulfilling others' expectations."

Anwar comes walking down the hallway with a large stack of textbooks, giving Maeve and Abby a passing, disgusted glance. "You're in the library first period, right," he asks Aimee, and she nods. "Great. You can take these back for me." He drops the stack into Aimee's arms, not even aiding her as she struggles to stay upright. "Oh," he adds. "And by the way, I have some late fines." With that, he walks off, leaving Aimee behind.

"Wow, how nice of him to warn you," Abby mutters under her breath.

"I like to be helpful," Aimee says in response.

Maeve sighs and holds out a hand. "Give me some," she says, and she takes a few books as they all head off to assembly.

As they enter the auditorium, Otis waves at Abby and Maeve and gestures to some open seats. Maeve hands back Anwar's books to Aimee and the two girls sit down next to him.

"So, uh, did you get my message," he whispers to Abby. She nods. "Are you...do you want to...tonight?"

"Yeah," she says. "As long as you're sure."

"I'm definitely sure," he says with a grin. "Totally."

Her phone vibrates and she looks down at a text from Maeve.

Maeve: Don't look the gift horse in the mouth.

Abby: That depends on whether or not they sell Trojans here too.

Abby: Although at least it's not right after school anymore.

The microphone crackles with feedback as Mr. Groff comes up to the podium. "

The microphone crackles with feedback as Mr. Groff comes up to the podium. "Er, good morning, Moordale," he begins. "Er, let's start today's assembly with a very special announcement. Er, the winner of this year's sixth form essay competition has been decided." He clears his throat. "So, the, er, award goes to...er, Adam Groff."

Abby's jaw drops. "...It's your essay, isn't it," she whispers to Maeve. Maeve nods.

"That bastard," she hisses. "You have to tell the truth."

"If I do, we both go down for plagiarism," Maeve hisses back. "Besides, he paid me. It was worth it."

"Well...let's give Adam a round of applause as we welcome him on stage to, er, read the winning entry," Mr. Groff goes on.

As Adam rises from the back to walk up to the stage, he shoots Abby a dirty look. "Looks like I'm not so stupid after all, huh," he whispers to her. In response, she turns her head away from him.

"You okay," Otis asks.

"Fine," Abby says, giving Adam's retreating back a fixed glare that suggests she is quite far from fine, as a matter of fact.

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Abby forces herself to smile as she turns to Otis in the hallway after assembly. "Oh, by the way, Aimee's having bedroom problems with Steve. Maeve, what's the timing on that?"

"The science lab, after lunch," Maeve says, grateful for a distraction after watching Adam butcher her essay.

"Who's Steve," Otis whispers.

"Top-Heavy Steve," Eric interjects. "Looks like an ice cream cone." Otis feels himself relax a bit, as Eric has spoken for the first time since they finished planning his text to Abby and entered the school building.

"Yes, okay, science lab," Otis says.

"Great, be there," Maeve says.

As Maeve walks off, Otis leans in for a kiss from Abby and she stops him. "I, uh, need to check on some stuff for tonight," she says. "I'll...I'll see you then, alright?" Before he can answer that, she jogs off after Maeve.

"Look, I need your help badly," she tells Maeve after catching up with her. "I'm so out of my league, it's insane. I...look, I'm being incredibly selfish now, but can we please just talk about this?"

Maeve shakes her head, slightly amused. "Abby, I can't tell you how to have sex with Otis," Maeve tells her. "It's one of those things you have to figure out on your own."

"Look, I know you can't tell me the mechanics," Abby says. "But what about, uh, presentation? I don't think I own any underwear that doesn't have high waistbands or old fashioned floral patterns on it."

"Can't help you there, either," Maeve says. "But I think I know who can."

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Aimee looks down the hallway one last time, positive the other Untouchables have gone home. As soon as she's sure, she turns into the corridor where Abby's locker is.

"Look, I don't even know if we're still on for tonight," she tells Aimee. "Eric's been suspended and his dad won't let him talk to anyone, and Maeve's brother has shown up out of the blue, and there's just so much going on that I might not be having sex tonight, so really, there's nothing for you to help me with."

"First of all," Aimee says, resting a hand on Abby's shoulder. "I told you before: I like to be helpful. Secondly, Maeve told me you know stuff about diddling, so you can help me once I'm ready for the next level. It's really a fair trade."

Abby rolls her eyes to the ceiling. "How helpful of Maeve to tell you that," Abby groans.

"C'mon, we're her two best friends, even if I'm only her secret bestie, so by law, we have to be besties too," Aimee says. "That means no secrets between the three of us. Besides, I already saw that sad bra you had on when you flashed Adam. You need all the help you can get."

"That's not a good bra," Abby asks. "Because that's the one I'm wearing right now."

Aimee tsks and shakes her head. "C'mon," she says. "We're going shopping."

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"Can we stop for GBK," Abby asks.

Aimee shakes her head. "You don't want to risk tummy bloat during your first time," she says firmly. "The lingerie look we put together will be completely spoiled if your stomach's poking out and you've got the meat sweats. Besides, there's a 1-day sale at Ann Summers and if we don't make it, all the yummy-mummy types will get the good stuff before us."

"I don't even get the meat sweats," Abby protests.

"You do when you're nervous about your first time," Aimee says. "Anything that can go wrong will go wrong if you aren't careful. That's just biology."

"Do you think I can get a bra with cross straps, or is that only for C cups and above," Abby asks as they walk into the shop.

"Of course you can, silly," Aimee says. "You can get any style of bra in any size unless it's a training bra."

"Oh," Abby says. "Because I just figured they didn't make sexy bras for people like me."

"Of fucking course they do, you ninny," Aimee says with a grin. "Now get in the dressing room while I pick some stuff out for you."

Abby waits in a dressing room for about thirty minutes before Aimee knocks on the door. "I know this might make you late, but it's worth it," she says through the door.

"I've got condoms and I'm on birth control and it's my first time," Abby replies. "If after all that, I'm late, I'm just gonna assume the universe really has it out for me."

Aimee pauses briefly before saying, "Very funny. Open up!"

Abby swings the door open halfway and Aimee slides in. "Okay," she says. "So I really think you'd suit black lace with underwire for the bra, but if you want to make a smashing impression, I've got white see-through with stockings and pink leather."

"Okay, wouldn't leather induce another sort of meat sweats," Abby points out.

Aimee nods thoughtfully. "Good point. You can save that for later, then. But you have to get a bra with underwire; you'll be shocked at how it makes it look like you've gone up an entire cup size. And with those legs of yours, you should really consider stockings." Aimee's eyes light up. "Ooh! You could wear white stockings with the black panty set. Then it will look like you didn't really prepare because it was laundry day, and Otis will have absolutely no clue how long you've spent putting this all together."

"I suspect because I wore a skirt without stockings today, he'll have a clue," Abby points out.

"Oh, please," Aimee says. "Boys don't notice that sort of thing." She furrows her brow thoughtfully. "Well...Steve might."

"Speaking of," Abby says. "If we're all set here, maybe we should head to the back. So you can get a preview of the latest sex gadgets. I doubt we can buy any, but it'll at least give you an idea."

"We are not all set," she says. "You need to try this stuff on so I can see if my instincts were right."

"You mean, me, take my clothes off," Abby gasps, staring in the mirror.

"You're planning to do that anyway, right," Aimee asks.

"I...shit, I guess," Abby says. "You know, I kind of got so caught up in the part where Otis would be taking his clothes off that I sort of forgot I'd be naked too."

"Go on, then," Aimee says. "If you can pass the test in this awful fluorescent lighting, you'll slay in the bedroom."

"Okay," Abby says cautiously as Aimee walks out. She pulls on the black lace set, and, at the very least, what Aimee said about her chest was true; the underwire has taken her from Kate Moss to Kate Upton (well, nearly). She's gone from lanky twat to the female version of Top Heavy Steve. Then again, that's what's considered sexy...right? At least the models inside the store suggest that's the case. Abby fiddles with the little pink bow between the bra cups as she says, "Okay, you can come in."

Aimee slides back into the dressing room and squeals. "Ohmigod," she says. "You look sort of like a blonde version of Emma Stone in Easy A if I squint and tilt my head sideways."

"Is that a good thing?"

"It's perfect," Aimee says. "I'm a genius. You have to buy that."

"Are you sure," Abby asks. "It's not...too much?"

"Otis is going to die!"

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After being told the white stockings weren't too much for the fifth time via text message, Abby switches from texting Aimee to telling Otis she's at the front door.

She can hear him run down the steps, and open the door. "Come in," he says. "Uh, my mum's home, but that shouldn't be a problem, right?"

"I don't know," Abby says. "I'm not sure she'd be too stoked on me being the one to deflower her son."

"Look, she just doesn't know you," Otis says. "It's easier this way."

"Okay," Abby says, stepping inside and nodding to the steps. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yup," Otis says, swallowing.

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After forty five minutes of hand holding, Otis sits up abruptly. "We should probably get a move on, right," he says.

"No," Abby says. "We don't have to..."

"No, no," he says. "I want to. Trust me, I really, really want to."

"Are you sure," Abby asks.

"Stop asking me that," Otis says. "You keep acting like I'm this fragile thing, and...and I'm not! I'm not, okay? I want to do this!"

"Okay," Abby says. "I'm sorry. Why don't we start off as normal, okay? I mean, I'm nervous, too. We should work our way up."

"Alright," Otis says. They make out for a bit, and then Abby feels her heart speed up as Otis slides his hands under her sweater. "Is this alright," he asks, resting his hands on her abdomen before she nods and he moves up to her chest.

"Eep!" Otis immediately pulls his hands away. "What's wrong," he asks.

"Your hands are cold," Abby says. "Or my breasts are really warm. They didn't feel cold on my stomach."

"Oh," Otis says. "Should I, uh, blow on them?"

"Sure," she says. "Keep going." He blows on his hands and places them back on her breasts. He rests them there, unsure of how to proceed, before squeezing.

"Ow," Abby shouts. "Uh, maybe just try...playing with the nipples or something."

"Oh, sorry," Otis says, attempting to fit his hands through the underwire. "That's...tight."

"I think you're supposed to say that later," Abby points out. "Uh, maybe we should take our tops off first."

"That sounds like a good idea," Otis says. "Uh, you first."

"Okay," Abby says, trying to slowly and seductively remove her sweater, but getting her head stuck. "Can you pull this off," she asks, muffled by the fabric.

"Sure," Otis says, tugging at the top. After a brief struggle, Abby is finally free of the tangled sweater.

"Okay, your turn," she says. Otis pulls his shirt off, and she feels butterflies gathering in her stomach as she gently traces circles on his abdomen. "I've, uh, I've been thinking about this for a while," she says.

"Oh...is it good," he asks. "I know I'm not exactly Tom Holland..."

"Remind me to burn those posters," Abby says, curling her arms around Otis.

"I-I don't think that'd be very good for the environment," Otis says jokingly, unsure of how to respond to Abby's hand traveling down from his chest to his belt. As soon as her fingers reach the waistband of his underwear, he jerks away.

"Sorry," Abby says, pulling away herself.

"It's fine," Otis says. "Keep going. And please, don't ask if I'm sure."

Abby moves back toward him cautiously, this time climbing on top of him and straddling his hips. As she leans down to kiss him, Otis nervously bucks his hips and knocks her off the bed.

"Oh God, oh fuck," he says, curling up in the fetal position and counting to himself. Abby gets off the floor and runs toward his bedroom window.

"Shit...Otis, you're going to be okay," she assures. "Just...just keep breathing." He continues to count under his breath, as Abby keeps a wide berth away from him. After all, touching a guy who's in the middle of a panic attack that was specifically brought on by his being touched doesn't seem like a good idea.

Especially when you're starting to panic a bit yourself.

Abby grabs her phone out of her skirt pocket and plugs in the AUX cord. When in doubt, she always plays her comfort song, The Carpenters' cover of "Rainbow Connection", and she just hopes it might have the same effect on Otis.

Why are there so many/songs about rainbows/and what's on the other side? "Rainbows are visions, but only illusions, and rainbows have nothing to hide," Abby sings to herself softly (although not particularly well). She sees Otis' body starting to relax, but decides to stay by the window until she's sure he's breathing normally after the first chorus. She stops the music and gingerly takes steps toward the bed, and sits at the foot of it.

"Are you okay," she asks. "Do you need anything? Do you want me to go? Or, you know, I could just be quiet. I...I really don't want to leave you, but if that's what you want, I'll do it."

"I'm fine, Abby," Otis says, in a tone that's equal parts irritated and mortified. "I just got overheated." He sighs. "Let's...let's not do this after all."

Abby lies down next to him and whispers in his ear, "As you wish. We could just spoon. Unless you still don't want to be touched."

Otis shakes his head. "No, no, that sounds nice," he says, rolling over and wrapping his arms around Abby. He rests his chin on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I wasted your time."

"Otis...I think...I mean, I just really like being with you," Abby says. "We don't have to rush. Especially not just because I make stupid jokes sometimes. Because I can stop doing that if it makes you uncomfortable. I...I really want you to like being with me, too, without having to...be afraid of anything."

"But I'm a freak," Otis insists. "I just don't get it. I mean, is it because I'm the first guy who confessed to liking you nicely? Because plenty of other guys will do that, Abby, if you just let them."

"I mean, is that why you like me," Abby asks.

Otis pauses. "At first. I mean, you're pretty and...everyone told me you liked me, but I didn't quite believe it, and then when I found out it was true, I didn't really know what to do next. And I'd...been dreaming about you, and being with you...made sense."

"So it was strictly pragmatic," Abby asks, her voice breaking.

"No," Otis protests. "Even before we really hung out...I liked being with you. From the first day we really talked, when Adam had that stupid Viagra overdose, something about you made me want to be around you more and more. And when we started hanging out, I knew I still wanted more. I couldn't stop thinking about you. I still can't. I was talking to my dad earlier today, and he told me to just...take the leap, and I thought if we started now, and it was terrible, we'd get better at sex together, and eventually I'd stop having so many...intimacy issues. But it didn't work." He sighs. "I kept thinking about when my dad left. I caught him cheating on my mum when I was little, and I told her about it by accident, and she told me how sex can destroy lives. Then she and my dad had this big fight, and he just...walked out. And as soon as you climbed on top of me, I couldn't stop thinking about it."

"Well," Abby says. "At least I can be sure my tits didn't give you a panic attack." She slaps her hand over her mouth as Otis laughs.

"I love you," he says, before closing his mouth and feeling his eyes widen. Did he just say that? Before he can contemplate what just came out of his mouth, Abby leaps off the bed and runs into the bathroom down the hall. He follows her out, worried she might be panicking herself, but realizes that's far from the case as he can hear her retching.

He knocks on the door. "Uh, Abby, are you okay in there," he asks.

"Ohmigod, go away," she shrieks. "This is so gross!"

"Is this about what I said?"

The only reply Otis receives are gagging noises. He opens the door to see Abby being sick into the toilet, and gently pulls some of the hair out of her face, holding it back.

She sobs. "Go away," she says. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have...I'm sorry. It's okay if you don't feel the same way."

"No," she says. "I...I..." She heaves one more time before flushing the toilet and going to the sink. "Please tell me you guys have spare toothbrushes somewhere," she pleads. Otis reaches into a drawer inside the linen closet and hands her one. She brushes her teeth thoroughly with a miserable look on her face.

"Leave," Abby pleads. "I'll come back to get my stuff, and then I'll go home."

"You don't have to do that," Otis says. "I mean, I know you might not want to be here, but it's really for the best if you lie down a bit."

"Oh, come on," Abby says. "You must be disgusted."

"Only, like, twenty percent," he says with a shrug.

She gargles with mouthwash for a bit before saying, "Fine," and trudging back to Otis' bedroom.

"I can get you a wet towel if you want," Otis says. "Or a hot water bottle. Maybe some ginger ale?"

"I'll be fine," Abby says, looking away from him. "This is just so freaking embarrassing."

"These things...happen," Otis says, not sure how frequently someone confesses their feelings and in response, their partner vomits.

"Only to me," Abby says miserably. "I mean, shit, I've already embarrassed myself, so I might as well give you full disclosure. I...This isn't the first time I've thrown up from being with you."

"...And you were worried I didn't like you," Otis says. "Because it sounds like you're disgusted by me."

"No," Abby says. "It's just...the first day we met, you made me really nervous. So nervous I was sick to my stomach. Twice. And the thing is, I love you too, but as you can tell from the first example, I'm pretty damn awful with emotions, so...here we are."

"Oh," Otis says, laying down next to her. "And is that...normal for you?"

"Not since the fourth grade," Abby says. "So, congratulations. You're special. Now can I curl up and die quietly from humiliation on your bed?"

"Hey," Otis says. "I said I love you. A little puke isn't going to change that."

"...Well, would you look at that," Abby says. "Turns out, we're both freaks. No wonder this has been going so well."

They lay spooned together for the rest of the night, and neither of them even contemplate what may happen when Jean finds out the girl she suspects is an alcoholic mess is not only in her son's bedroom, but used one of the spare toothbrushes.