“Van!” Laurel rushes over soaking wet from being outside except she changed her t-shirt. Too bad, because I’m soaking wet and I pull her up into my arms sharing the cool dampness. It never felt so good before to just hold someone. The briefest physical contact is the worst sort of foreplay. We’ve been battling the sexual tension between us for weeks now with nothing to do except get to know one another and a few sexy phone dates mostly cut short by her living situation. For me, this is as close to heaven I could be without leaving Earth.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
“I’m going to kiss the sh-crap out of you.” I say eyeballing her sister and niece. Her mother doesn’t bat an eyelash and instead ushers them out of out the common space and down a hallway.
“Van.” Laurel puts her hand over my mouth and rests her forehead against my chest.
“What is it? What’s going on?” If she tells me no or that she doesn’t want to see me my heart might shatter right here in her living room with three pairs of eyes looking on.
She mumbles into my chest and I step back to pick her chin up with my fingers. “I’ve never been kissed.”
I blink probably looking like a baby owl in my surprise. I mean, I know she hasn’t done other things besides our sexy phone times. Never been touched I get, never been kissed floors me. Something unfurls at the realization though. Laurel is my person. I want her. I want all her firsts even the strange ones we’ve managed through text and face timing.
“Van?” She looks up at me, her gorgeous eyes watering. I can’t have my girl crying. I want her starry eyed and coming home with me.
“Well, I’m about to remedy that. Hold on.”
My hands tangle in her messy bun anchoring her as close to me as I can. I’ve never been more aware of her size next to me then before and while I know so much about her, her body is still a mystery for me to explore. One I don’t want to do here in her mother’s place. I’ll save that for another time when she’s ready. For now, I want to kiss her until her knees wobble and her hands clutch my shirt with acute desperation. I’ve been denied her very essence and like a man in the desert, she’s my first quench of water.
“Van.” Her breathless whimpers unman me. I pick her up under her legs wrapping them around my waist and walk backward until I find the wall. Her lips disengage and she giggles in my neck.
“Oh my god, what are we doing.”
“Feasting. I need you.”
“Yeah, okay but the walls are paper thin and we have an audience.” She says this with a level of frustration I feel only we can understand.
“Damn right you do.” The shout from the back of the apartment sobers me up. Her sister laughs and I can hear the seven-year-old ask what’s happening out here.
“I told you that you were coming home with me.”
A bag flies out from the hallway landing at my feet.
“Your sister ever play softball?” I don’t think I ever had a bag tossed at me like that before.
“Pitcher.”
“Figures.”
“Can we go?” She asks with shy apprehension.
“Nothing has to happen, you know that right, right?”
“I’ve been waiting forever for this. Pretty sure it’s gonna happen.” She winks at me.
I kiss her nose and let her legs fall down. Picking up her duffel bag, I grab her hand and lead her out of the apartment.
“You kids be safe!” I hear Mama Murphy call out to us as I shut the door. Laurel is red faced, bun askew and glasses sliding down her nose in a disheveled mess I love.
“Move. Now.” She pushes me toward the stairwell and I move never once relinquishing her hand. I’ve finally got my girl and no amount of overthinking, traffic, or some other nonsense is keeping me from her. I don’t care if we watch a movie, order pizza, and fall asleep on my couch. There’s no way I’m taking a moment of this for granted.
17
Laurel
Standing inside Van’s condo is overwhelming to say the least. It’s not like I haven’t seen it before, all through his phone and the computer, but I’m still not prepared for the reality of sleek modern furniture and the back drop of floor to ceiling windows showcasing my favorite view of the park.
Sure I was ballsy making out in my living room and skipping down the stairs to his car, which he double parked in his rush to get to me. But this was an entirely different matter. We got to his condo and he ordered pizza. We argued over toppings and then Van said screw it and ordered two pizzas after a lengthy discussion of the possibility of cross-contamination of pepperoni and a white pizza with broccoli. We ended up swapping slices hand feeding each other on his leather sofa while Spiderman Homecoming played on his movie sized screen.
Now I’m standing in his bathroom having brushed my teeth and scrubbed off pizza grease from my face. I’m wearing one of his college t-shirts and lacey boy-shorts with my knees knocking together. No expectations, right? Except for the ones in my head and the hornets’ nest in my belly.
Nerves.
That’s all it is and I push them away. Van said we’d cuddle, but I don’t know if that’s code word for something else. Those pesky butterflies fluttering in my tummy spar off with the murder hornets in a knock down fight for the title of most anxious woman in the upper east side.
“Laurel, you coming out before the New Year ball drops?”
“Ha, Ha. Super funny!” I heave a deep cleansing breath before I chicken out all the way back to Brooklyn.
“Careful, I might have a birthday before you come out.”
I stomp out of the bathroom. “Your birthday is in December.”
“So is Christmas and the supposed coming of Christ. You coming to bed or what?” He teases pulling up the comforter for me to join him.
“Coming.” I huff into the dim lighting of the bedroom.
“Clearly, not yet.” He mumbles as he punches pillows and makes room for me to slide in between in the covers next to him.
I settle in expecting him to pounce on me, but he doesn’t. We lay awkwardly side by side for a moment before I garner the guts to turn my face and look at him. He’s smiling and it melts away the self-conscious worry.
“I just want to hold you.” He snakes his thick bicep around my middle and pulls me back toward his chest. He’s bare, but still wearing sweat pants. My nerves can’t decide if they want to ratchet higher or mellow out. His hand roams under my t-shirt, but stays on my belly tracing slow circles around my button making me shiver.
“Relax. I’ll sleep on the sofa if you want me too, but I want you in my bed.”
I shift in his arms so I’m facing him.
“No. I want to be here, it’s just...”
“New. I get that. I keep telling you I don’t want to rush things. Maybe this is rushing things.” He starts to release his hold on me and I scramble closer.
“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t want to miss a single minute.” I kiss him and encourage his hands to roam further. I swear his hands remind me of large hot paws grasping at my butt and trailing warm caresses up and down my back molding me closer to him. I manage to kick my panties off. Van goes exploring, kissing, spelunking if you will under the covers making me giggle and squirm until I’m moaning and pulling his head up by his hair to kiss me again.