We lived three buildings over from Travis and Abby. Our building was less college students and more young couples and small families. The parking lot was full, the other tenants already home and in bed.
America stepped out. The car door creaked as she pushed it closed. She walked to the sidewalk, no emotion on her face. I had learned to stay calm during an argument, but America was emotional, and any effort to mask her feelings was never a good thing.
Growing up with my cousins had turned out to be a great resource for handling someone as tenacious as America, but falling in love with a woman who was self-confident and strong sometimes required battling my own insecurities and weaknesses.
She waited for me to climb out of the Charger, and then we walked to our downstairs apartment together. She was quiet, and that only made me more nervous.
“I didn’t have time to do the dishes before I went over to Abby’s,” she said, walking into the kitchen. She rounded the breakfast bar and then froze.
“I did them before I went to pick up Travis.”
She didn’t turn around. “But I said I would do them.”
Shit. “It’s okay, baby. It didn’t take long.”
“Then I guess I should have had time to do them before I left.”
Shit! “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mind.”
“I didn’t either, which is why I said I would do them.” She tossed her purse on the bar and disappeared down the hall.
I could hear her footsteps enter our room, and the bathroom door slammed.
I sat on the couch, covering my face with my hands. Our relationship hadn’t been great for the past few months. I wasn’t sure if it was because she wasn’t happy with living with me or if she wasn’t happy with me. Either way, it didn’t bode well for our future. There was nothing that terrified me more.
“Shep?” a small voice from the hallway called.
I turned, watching America step out from the darkness into the dim living room.
“You’re right. I’m overbearing, and I expect you to give me my way all the time. If you don’t, I throw a tantrum. I can’t keep doing this to you.”
My blood ran cold. When she sat beside me, I instinctively leaned away, afraid of the pain she would cause when she said the words I feared most. “Mare, I love you. Whatever you’re thinking, stop.”
“I’m sorry,” she began.
“Stop, damn it.”
“I’m going to be better,” she said, tears glistening in her eyes. “You don’t deserve that.”
“Wait. What?”
“You heard me,” she said, seeming embarrassed.
She disappeared back into the hall, and I stood, following her. I opened the door to our dark bedroom. Just a sliver of light bled from the bathroom, revealing the made bed and the side tables weighed down by gossip magazines, textbooks, and black-and-white pictures of us. America peeled off her clothes, one piece at a time, leaving each one like a pathway to the shower, before turning it on.
I imagined her standing outside the curtain, reaching in, the soft curves of her body shifting slowly with each movement. The crotch of my jeans instantly resisted against the bulge behind the denim. I reached down and readjusted, walking toward the door bordered with harsh florescent light.
The door creaked as I pushed it open. America had already stepped behind the curtain, but I could hear the water sloughing off her with loud slaps on the floor of the tub.
“Mare?” I said. My dick was begging me to strip down and step into the shower behind her, but I knew she wouldn’t be in the mood. “I didn’t mean it. What I said earlier just came out. You’re not a tyrant. You’re stubborn, outspoken, and strong-willed, and I am in love with all those things. They’re part of what makes you, you.”
“It’s different.” Her voice barely carried through the curtain and over the sound of the whine of the water running through the pipes.
“What’s different?” I asked, immediately pondering if it was the sex. Then I cursed the sixteen-year-old voice in my head that had spouted such infantile stupidity.
“You’re different. We’re different.”
I sighed, letting my head fall forward. This was getting worse, not better. “Is that a bad thing?”
“It feels that way.”
“How can I fix it?”
America peered at me from behind the curtain, only one beautiful emerald eye peeking out at me. Water raced down her forehead and nose, dripping off the end. “We moved in together.”
I swallowed. “You’re unhappy?”
She shook her head, but that only partially alleviated my anxiety. “You are.”
“Mare,” I breathed out. “No, I’m not. Nothing about being with you could ever make me unhappy.”
Her eye instantly glossed over, and she closed it, pushing salty tears mixed with the tap water down her face. “I can see it. I can tell. I just don’t know why.”
I pulled the curtain to the side, and she stepped back as far as she could, watching me step one foot inside and then the other, even though I was still fully dressed.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
I wrapped my arms around her, feeling the water pour over the top of my head, soaking my shirt.
“Wherever you are, I’m there with you. I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not.”
I kissed her, and she whimpered in my arms. It wasn’t like her to show her softer side. Normally, if she were hurt or sad, she would get angry.
“I don’t know why it’s been different, but I love you the same. Actually, more.”
“Then why …” She trailed off, losing her nerve.
“Why what?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry about the dishes.”
“Baby,” I said, putting my finger beneath her chin and lifting gently until she looked up at me. “Fuck the dishes.”
America lifted my shirt, up and over my head, letting it fall to the floor with a slap. Then, she unbuckled my belt while her tongue flicked along my neck. She was already naked, so there was nothing for me to do but let her undress me. That was strangely arousing.
As soon as my zipper was down, America knelt in front of me, taking my jeans with her. I kicked off my tennis shoes, and she tossed them outside the tub before doing the same with my jeans. She reached up, curving her fingers until they were snuggly between my skin and the waistband of my boxers, and she slid them down, carefully pulling them over my erection. Once they slapped against the tile outside the curtain, America pulled my entire length into her mouth, and I had to steady myself, palms flat against the wall.
I groaned as the tugging suction and her grip worked together to create quite possibly the best sensation in the world. Her eager mouth was so warm and wet. Hers was the only one that made me wish I could kiss it and fuck it at the same time. For a fleeting moment, the thought that she had gone down on me to change the subject popped into my head, but it was hard to argue with her if that were the case. Sex with her was one of my most favorite subjects.
Her free hand reached up to cup my balls, and that nearly threw me over the edge.
“I need to be inside you,” I said.
She didn’t respond, so I lifted her to a standing position and then hitched her knee to my hip.