“Are you okay?” he asks, snapping me out of my hazy thoughts.
I glance down at my shirt, then at the balled up shirt in his hand before I remove mine, too. “I should take a shower. Want to join me?”
He laughs as his eyes zero in on my tits.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how to bring this up,” he begins, and I steel myself for the admission that he has a girlfriend, “but I don’t have any condoms. I keep them in my truck, which, as you know, is in Seattle.”
I heave an enormous sigh of relief. “Ooh, boy. I thought you were going to say something else.”
He looks confused by my response. “What did you think I was going to say?”
“I thought you were going to say you have a girlfriend or something.”
He looks a little offended. “I wouldn’t be here if I had a girlfriend. That’s not my style.”
“That’s good to know, but… condoms in your truck? That’s your big confession? You were supposed to say you’ve been waiting for me all your life, and can I please be gentle with you, because this is your first time having sex.”
He steps forward and grabs my T-shirt out of my hand. A giddy smile spreads across my face as he drops our clothing onto the floor. Grabbing the waistband of my shorts, he tugs me toward him until our chests are touching.
“I’ve been waiting for you all my life,” he says as his other hand reaches behind me to unclip my bra with startling dexterity. “Please be gentle with me. This is my first time having sex.”
I laugh as he slides my bra straps off my shoulders; partly because of the joke, but mostly because I’m getting nervous. The way he expertly unclasped my bra tells me this is far from his first time. And I haven’t had sex since my break up with Hayden four months ago.
I met Hayden in bio-chem my sophomore year at UW, and we dated for almost a year. We broke up shortly after I dropped out; when dealing with school and Elle’s illness became too much for me, and my emotional needs became too much for Hayden.
“If this is your first time having sex, does that mean I’m going to have to teach you everything I know?” I ask, hoping the implied confidence in my words will translate into real-life courage.
He tosses my bra behind him, and I suck in a sharp breath as my nipples graze his tight abs.
He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts my head back. His green eyes are locked on mine as he caresses my shoulder with his other hand.
“Actually, I know you’re not feeling well, and I don’t have any condoms, so after we shower, you’re going to lie back and relax while I take care of you.”
A pang of disappointment replaces the excitement I felt at the mention of us showering together.
“What do you mean by taking care of me?”
He takes my face in his large hands. “It means we’re going to wash up, then I’m going to eat your pussy as many times as it takes to get you to go back to sleep. Because, baby, I’m fucking starving, but not for that.”
He nods toward the food on the counter, and a soft chuckle escapes my lips despite the painful ache between my legs.
“You promise?”
He kisses my forehead and lets go of my face. “I guarantee it.”
I want to race upstairs to get this perfect evening started, but I don’t want to get surprised by another bout of nausea. I tear myself away from him and take one of the antiemetic pills my mom keeps in the organized junk drawer. Then I grab a second bottle of water for him and we head upstairs.
I avoid looking at Elle’s photos on the wall by moving as fast as I can. But when I reach the upstairs bathroom, my heart stops as I glimpse my bottle of leave-in-conditioner on the countertop. She always envied my thick, wavy hair, and I always envied her silky, honey-brown curls. But she had no use for styling products in the last year of her life.
I once tried hiding my hair products in my bedroom, because I was afraid seeing them in our shared bathroom would make her more depressed. But she found them and put them all on the counter, like a display. I never said anything about it. I pretended as if nothing had happened.
My first instinct is to put the stuff away in a drawer. But I’m not ready for that yet. I don’t want to touch anything she’s touched. I want to leave it as it is, with her fingerprints on it.
“You okay?” he asks as he closes the bathroom door behind him.
“Actually, let’s use the master bathroom,” I say, knowing there will be zero emotional landmines in my parents’ tidy en suite.
I leave our bottles of water and swipe my toothbrush and toothpaste off the counter before we leave. The hallway is dark as the sun has fully gone down, so I grab his hand to guide him toward my parents’ room.
Something about showering with a hot guy in my parents’ bathroom feels so wrong, but it only makes me want to do it more. I want to lose myself tonight. I want the pleasure to cushion the sharp edges of my broken heart.
I know Max will be gone before tomorrow, maybe even as soon as it’s over, but I don’t care. He’s here now. That’s more than I can say for anyone else.
Pushing the door open, I hit the wall switch to turn on the light. I’m careful to avoid glancing at the family pictures on my mom and dad’s nightstands as I pass through their bedroom on the way to the master walk-in shower. With dual shower-heads, a rain shower flowing down from the ceiling, and massaging body jets, it’s perfectly designed for sex. But I refuse to imagine this is the reason my parents built it that way when they renovated the house a few years ago.
He watches me as I hastily brush my teeth. “Thank God.”
I try not to laugh as I rinse my mouth and spit. “Don’t act like you weren’t going to kiss me even if I didn’t brush my teeth.”
He positions himself behind me, and his hands reach forward to cup my bare breasts as we stare at each other in the mirror.
“If that’s what it takes to get to these, you’re damn right.”
I smile as I push his hands away and head for the glass shower enclosure. The space is so big I have to put one foot inside to reach the button that turns on the dual shower-heads. My sock gets wet, and I waste no time attempting to take it off. But when I try to stand on one foot to remove it, I find I’m still a little wobbly from the lack of food and sleep.
“Sit down,” he says, guiding me to the edge of the clawfoot bathtub. “I’ll do that.”
I grab onto the lip of the tub as he removes both my socks. “Why does it feel like you’ve done this before?”
That broody expression comes over him again as he pats his pocket to make sure his phone is still there.
“Do you have somewhere you need to be?” I ask, unable to hold in the question any longer.
He shakes his head, but he doesn’t speak as he stands up and puts his hand out to help me up. I don’t take it.
“You can tell me if you have to leave. I won’t ask you to stay, and I swear I’ll be fine.”
He reaches for the button of my shorts. “If you want me to leave, I’ll go. But I don’t have anywhere I need to be… except here.”
His gaze meets mine as he awaits my response. A smile curls my lips, and he takes this as an invitation to unbutton my shorts. I nod to encourage him to keep going.