just don't make me wait forever

She began to ask, as the drinks set in, for us all to recall the first time someone leaned in and pretended affection in a way our grandmothers, parents, siblings and dogs could not project.  No one asks about the first time it felt real, just the first time it happened.  The kiss.  "I was ten," I told her, and laughing gaily she says, "Slut!"  My head tilts, having temporarily forgotten the meaning of words like this, or that, just memories which I've gathered and sorted into precious or restricted.  She asks the others and I sit quiet, dizzy, pleased.  Thinking of affection and of what boys mean when they say "love".  It made me nothing less and nothing more to have lips press to mine one summer afternoon.  She turns to me again, and I'm alert, ready.
"Tell me about sex with --" and she says his name.
"You've had sex with ---?" the boy behind me says, leaning over my shoulder since I'm at his feet, my back pressed into his knees.  My mouth gapes open in shock.  That she'd ask.  That she'd tell.  That I don't just shrug and say, "it is what it is."
And I'm thinking about affection, and what boys mean when they say "love."  I'm thinking about what it means that I lay there, beside him, sometimes, after.  I'm thinking about knowing all the places the sun does not shine.  Like, when he shakes and cannot release a roar, but hits the fridge instead.  Because, he cannot have me, because he does not want me.  I'm thinking about how he presses his face against my cheek after he's been out with the girls, and how this feeling in my stomach should never be jealousy.  To just take the affection as it's offered.  I'm thinking, how much longer can I do this, really?  I'm thinking -- "Hey," and I get her attention, "I need to be outside.  Show me?"
When the air hits me, and I'm free of the confines of ceilings and false lighting, I let the poison up.
What's sex with him like?
It's like the first time a boy leaned in and pressed his mouth to my mouth and pretended it meant something.  
It's like being lied to.  Or dreaming. It's like missing the first train and wondering if you can afford to wait for the next.  And if you do wait, will it be able to let you on?