June 16, 1996

Dear Diary,

My grandmother left yesterday. John will be back from Modesto tomorrow. Thank God. I've missed him. I wonder if he will be able to see the shame in my eyes. The betrayal. He's treated me like a princess since day one and I've already screwed up. I have to believe that it'll be okay. I just can't ever let it happen again. I won't ever let myself be alone with Billy Loomis from now on. Whatever was going on between us, it's wrong and it wasn't meant to be. If it was, why would we both be dating someone else?

But the more I've thought about it, the more I've realized that the worst thing I did with Billy last week in my bedroom wasn't kissing him. It was telling him about Santiago. About some of the most painful, realest shit in my life. I've never told anyone about my brother. How could I share a confidence with him that I've denied my own boyfriend? How could I let him get under my skin like that?

There's no point in wallowing in guilt now, though. What's done is done, and it'll never happen again. Besides, at the end of the day, what John doesn't know won't hurt him. God, now I sound like Billy.

The last day of July came with a particular kind of sadness. It was the final full, robust breath of summer before the start of school came in August to take it all away—and with it being Christina's senior year, the implications of the end of summer were even more bittersweet.

She had already decided to complete her general education at Woodsboro City College so as to save money and be able to stay home for at least another couple of years, but the realization that this was truly her last summer as a high school student was mildly nauseating. Forget about Billy Loomis and the stupid guilt you still feel about kissing him, about spilling your beans. Real life is about to start soon. This shit is all temporary.

She looked up from where she rested on John's bed. He was standing before her in all of his shirtless glory, folding his recently laundered football pants and talking about something she hadn't been listening to. The thought occurred to her, as she tried to catch up to whatever her boyfriend had been saying: was John temporary too? They had been going strong for four months now, but she knew that the end of senior year was also the end of many a teenage couple before them. He was sure to get a football scholarship, sure to get into a good college. Away from Woodsboro. Away from Christina for months at time. Had he already entertained the idea of breaking up with her come spring of next year?

But when he turned around to look at her, the muscles of his back moving so enticingly, and smiled warmly, the thought was gone as quickly as it had come. No, John wouldn't do that.

"What do you think of that?"

"Oh…um…yeah, that's crazy," Christina offered feebly, not knowing what had prompted the question.

John saw right through her, smirking. He threw that last of his clean socks back into the blue laundry basket on the floor, kicked his shoes off, and curled up next to her on his bed, kissing her cheek.

"I was asking if you wanted to see a movie tonight. I think The Cable Guy is still playing downtown."

Christina bit her lip, embarrassed.

"Oh, sure. Sorry. I was distracted."

"By?"

"You."

John looked down at his half-naked frame.

"I guess I'd be distracted by me too."

Christina punched his arm lightly as they laughed.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" John asked in return, but he did not wait for an answer as he began kissing along her cheeks, her lips, and then down to her jaw. A light moan escaped Christina's mouth as his lips trailed a path to her neck, stopping only to suckle at the indent above her collarbone. His tongue flicked across the sensitive skin, and she began to melt beneath him; another moan.

John recaptured her mouth in a kiss, resting his body between her legs. Christina slithered her hands through his soft hair before hungrily exploring the tempting contours of his back. They had gotten hot and heavy before, but there was a desperateness in the way they were devouring each other that was making a delicious warmth pool in the lower half of her body.

Suddenly, and painfully, his lips were no longer against her. He pulled away, cupping the side of her face in his large hand, running his thumb across her kiss-swollen bottom lip.

"What's wrong? Why'd you stop?" she asked breathily, her eyes still half-closed.

"I love you, you know that?"

She opened her eyes fully now to see John staring back at her with an undeniable tenderness that made her heart pound intensely in her chest. She wondered if he felt it as his hand moved from her face down to her shoulder, where he gave her a firm, reassuring squeeze, releasing the tension she had not been conscious was there. He wasn't joking. He wasn't being light-hearted. He had meant what he said. A hard lump formed in her throat as she struggled to respond.

"You—you do?"

"Yeah," said John. "I mean, I'm crazy about you, Christina. I have been since the first time I laid eyes on you—and I want you to know that even if I go out of town for college and you stay in Woodsboro, I'm gonna come home every other weekend, and every holiday. I want you to be my girl, even if we don't see each other every day."

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly. "I was afraid…well, you're going to meet so many new people. And so many girls. What if you meet someone you like more?"

"Sharon Stone could offer to come to my dorm and I wouldn't care. You're it for me, girl," he replied with an unwavering confidence in his assertion.

It was as if he had read her mind. The anxiety that had been festering in her heart began to evaporate. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

"Oh, John. I love you too."

As they kissed anew, as the love he had professed for her reflected in his every touch and movement, a new and even more immeasurable guilt blossomed within her. Who are you to question John's loyalty, her mind taunted her, when not too long ago you were kissing Billy Loomis? You were kissing Billy Loomis and you enjoyed it. You opened your heart to him—you told him family secrets that you haven't shared with anyone else. Not even your actual boyfriend. But, her inner thoughts gradually turned more empathetic, willing to compromise, there is…one thing you can give John. Something that would show you really love him.

Slowly, unsurely, Christina reached for John's belt. It came undone with relative ease, as did the zipper of his jeans. When she gingerly swiped her fingers across the evidence of his desire for her, they both gasped into their kiss.

"Aw, fuck, Christina, fuck."

"Please," she begged, in a voice that she almost did not recognize as her own. It was deep and throaty with a craving she had seldom explored. "I want you, John."

"Are you sure? I mean, I want to, but—I didn't tell you I love you because I'm trying to get into your pants."

"I know, John, I know," she said, all the while still kissing his cheeks, his forehead, and the side of his nose. He returned the affection, his hand now resting on the exposed flesh above her hip where her blouse had ridden up.

"Have you ever done it before?"

"No," she answered honestly. "Have you?"

John stilled against her, giving his answer.

"It's okay," she assured him. "I don't mind."

"It was just one other girl," he said. "The summer before you came. And it only happened twice."

"Who was it?"

"Uh...Tatum Riley."

"Tatum Riley?" Christina repeated, somewhat incredulously, thinking of the beautiful, busty blonde who always dressed like she was going to shoot for a teen fashion magazine. The Marilyn to Sidney Prescott's Jackie, Christina thought, and chuckled at the comparison.

"What? Don't think I'm good enough for her?" John asked playfully, noticing her amusement.

"No, of course not. But Tatum is easily one of the hottest girls at our school. Why'd you screw it up with her?"

"I didn't. It was a summer fling. Totally mutual."

"Did you ever hang out with Sidney when you were together?"

"Not really," said John, shrugging. "Tatum's protective of her. Even before…what happened."

"Yeah…" she trailed off, that awful feeling bubbling within her again. She shouldn't have mentioned Sidney. Talking about Sidney would only lead her to thinking about Billy. And that was something she could no longer entertain in the slightest, not when she and John were in love. "Do you have protection?"

"Yeah, I do." John detangled himself from their embrace and turned to his bedside table. He yanked open the drawer and began rummaging around, eventually producing what they needed in the form of a small foil square. He checked the expiration date. "It's good."

"Good, good," Christina whispered, pulling him against her once more. Then, they were all kisses and discarded clothing and intertwined limbs and soft words of affection. Now, she would give John something she hadn't given to Billy Loomis—and perhaps, through the action, she would be absolved.