Kody Keplinger: The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend

Once again, my body took complete control of everything. Nothing existed at the corners of my mind; no irritating thoughts harassed me. Even the sounds of Wesley’s stereo, which had been playing some piano rock I didn’t recognize, faded away as my sense of touch heightened.

I was fully conscious of Wesley’s hand as it slid up my torso and moved to cup my breast. With an effort, I pushed him away from me. His eyes were wide as he leaned back. “Please don’t slap me again,” he said.

“Shut up.”

I could have stopped there. I could have stood up and left the room. I could have let that kiss be the end of it. But I didn’t. The mind-numbing sensation I got from kissing him was so euphoric-such a high-that I couldn’t stand to give it up that fast. I might have hated Wesley Rush, but he held the key to my escape, and at that moment I wanted him… I needed him.

Without speaking, without hesitating, I pulled my T-shirt over my head and threw it onto Wesley’s bedroom floor. He didn’t have a chance to say anything before I put my hands on his shoulders and shoved him onto his back. A second later, I was straddling him and we were kissing again. His fingers undid the clasp on my bra, and it joined my shirt on the floor.

I didn’t care. I didn’t feel self-conscious or shy. I mean, he already knew I was the Duff, and it wasn’t like I had to impress him.

I unbuttoned his shirt as he pulled the alligator clip from my hair and let the auburn waves fall around us. Casey had been right. Wesley had a great body. The skin pulled tight over his sculpted chest, and my hands drifted down his muscular arms with amazement.

His lips moved to my neck, giving me a moment to breathe. I could only smell his cologne this close to him. As his mouth traveled down my shoulder, a thought pushed through the exhilaration. I wondered why he hadn’t shoved me-Duffy-away in disgust.

Then again, I realized, Wesley wasn’t known for rejecting girls. And I was the one who should have been disgusted.

But his mouth pressed into mine again, and that tiny, fleeting thought died. Acting on instinct, I pulled on Wesley’s lower lip with my teeth, and he moaned quietly. His hands moved over my ribs, sending chills up my spine. Bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss.

Only once, as Wesley flipped me onto my back, did I seriously consider stopping. He looked down at me, and his skilled hand grasped the zipper on my jeans. My dormant brain stirred, and I asked myself if things had gone too far. I thought about pushing him away, ending it right where we were. But why would I stop now? What did I stand to lose? Yet what could I possibly gain? How would I feel about this in an hour… or sooner?

Before I could come up with any answers, Wesley had my jeans and underwear off. He pulled a condom from his pocket (okay, now that I’m thinking about it, who keeps condoms in their pockets? Wallet, yes, but pocket? Pretty presumptuous, don’t you think?), and then his pants were on the floor, too. All of a sudden, we were having sex, and my thoughts were muted again.

I was only fourteen when I lost my virginity to Jake Gaither. He’d recently turned eighteen, and I knew perfectly well that he was too old for me. Still, as a freshman in high school, I just wanted a boyfriend. I wanted to be liked and to fit in, and Jake was a senior with a car. At the time, I thought of that as perfection.

In the three months we were together, Jake never took me out on a real date. Once or twice, we made out in the back of a dark movie theater, but we never went out to dinner or bowling or anything like that. We spent most of our time sneaking around so that our parents and his sister, who later became one of my best friends, wouldn’t find out about us. I actually found that part, the secrecy, fun and sexy. It was like a forbidden romance-like Romeo and Juliet, which I’d read in English class that semester.

We slept together several times, and while I really didn’t enjoy the actual sex, the sensation of closeness, of connection, felt comforting to me. When Jake touched me like that, I knew he loved me. I knew sex was a beautiful, passionate thing, and it was right to be with him.

Sleeping with Wesley Rush was entirely different. While I definitely got more physical pleasure out of it, the closeness and the love were missing. When it was over, I felt dirty. I felt like I’d done something wrong and shameful, but at the same time, I felt good. Alive. Free. Wild. My mind was totally cleared, like someone had hit the refresh button. I knew the euphoria wouldn’t last forever, but the filthy regret was worth the momentary escape.

“Wow,” Wesley said. We were lying in his bed only a few minutes after we’d finished, with a foot or more space between our bodies. “I definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

God, he ruined everything when he talked. Annoyed, and still wading through the emotional repercussions, I sneered. “What? Ashamed that you screwed the Duff?”

“No.” I was surprised by how serious he sounded. “I’m never ashamed of anyone I sleep with. Sex is a natural chemical reaction. It always happens for a reason. Who am I to dictate who experiences the joy of sharing my bed?” He didn’t see me roll my eyes as he continued. “No, I just meant that I’m shocked. I was honestly starting to believe that you hated me.”

“I do hate you,” I assured him, kicking off the covers and moving to pick up my clothes.

“You must not hate me too much,” Wesley said, rolling onto his elbow and watching me dress. “You did pretty much throw yourself at me. Generally, hatred doesn’t inspire that kind of passion.”

I pulled on my T-shirt. “Believe me, Wesley, I definitely hate you. I was just using you. You use people all the time, so I’m sure you understand.” I buttoned my jeans and grabbed my alligator clip from the nightstand. “This was fun, but if you ever tell anyone, I swear I’ll castrate you. Clear?”

“Why?” he asked. “Your reputation could only improve if people found out you slept with me.”

“That might be true,” I admitted. “But I have no desire to improve my reputation, especially not that way. So are you going to keep your mouth shut or do I need to find a sharp object now?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” he said.

“You’re not a gentleman.” I put my hair back up in the clip. “That’s why I’m worried.” I glanced at my reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. Once I was sure that I looked normal-not guilty-I turned to face Wesley again. “Hurry up and put your pants on. We need to finish this stupid essay.”

It was a little after seven that night when Wesley and I finally finished the essay for English. Or at least, we finished the rough copy. I made him promise that he’d e-mail me the draft later so that I could edit it.

“You don’t trust me to get it done?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me as I put my shoes on in the foyer.

“I don’t trust you with anything,” I said.

“Except getting you off.” He was wearing that grin I hated. “So, was this a one-time thing, or will I be seeing you again?”

I started to snort, to tell him he was dreaming if he honestly thought I’d be back, but then I remembered that I was about to go back home. The manila envelope would probably still be lying on my kitchen table.

“Bianca?” Wesley asked. A shiver ran across my skin when he touched my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

I jerked out of his reach and moved toward the door. I’d gotten halfway out before I turned to him and said, with a moment of hesitation, “We’ll see.” Then I ran down the front steps.

“Bianca, wait.”

I clutched my jacket closer to me, trying to fight the cold wind, and yanked open the door of my Saturn. He was behind me in seconds, but, thankfully, he didn’t touch me this time. “What?” I demanded as I slid into the front seat. “I need to get home.”