“Say it.”
“Yes.”
“Good. Show me your room before I fuck you against the stainless fridge.”
With her hand in mine, I helped her down off the counter, and then she led the way to her bedroom.
Jamie
Shivers ran up and down my spine, causing goose pimples to break out all over my body, like they did onthat particular night. I’d come to think of it asthe night that meant everything to me and nothing to Ford. Although he’d been incredibly tender and caring in the actual moment, the feeling was fleeting.
Earlier that evening, we’d gone out for a couple of celebratory graduation drinks. We’d been with a few of his frat brothers and their girlfriends. As usual, I’d been the tagalong. Ford never dated anyone for long, and his friends had grown accustomed to his bringing me out with the group. It was something, but not the something I’d dreamed of when we were in high school.
I took what I could get…except on this one night, Ford kept slinging his arm around me and pulling me in tight while we stood around a high-top table at the bar. We toasted several times to the first year we’d be separated. It felt likemoreto me. Ford promised to call, and I promised to pick up the phone. It feltnewto me.
Later, walking back to my place, the spring air hung humid. It feltdifferentto me. With my body still humming from the alcohol, I tried to tell myselfmore,new, anddifferentwere a figment of my imagination.
But then Ford took my hand in his. “James, I don’t know how I’m going to do it without you.” He spoke softly as we entered my dorm building.
Those words had sat with me for the last two decades.Without youfelt likeeverythingat the time. My heart picked up the pace of someone pounding on an African drum when Ford spoke. I could almost hear it in my chest—gung, gung, gung—reverberating against the brick walls of my ancient college building.
“We are gonna be okay. Right?” I’d questioned years ago as we made it to my door.
“Yeah, I think so, Red,” he’d answered, my back against my door, his body caging me in.
It feltfabulousto me. We’d never done this before.Thisbeing his body hovering so close to mine while our eyes told a different story than what we projected to everyone else.
We were not just friends in that moment.
I nodded to his sentiment. “We’ll stay in touch.”
“Fuck yeah,” he said, our gazes still hungry and locked on one another. Then he leaned a smidge closer and said, “I’m going to kiss you.”
He didn’t seem to be asking permission, but rather warning me. It was okay because I wanted him to. I wanted him to do everything to me, take everything from me. If I’d objected, he would have listened and stopped.
His lips met mine in the sweetest of kisses. At first he was tentative, before he began pressing harder into my lips, his hard parts finding my softness below the waist. When my mouth parted on a moan, his tongue slipped inside, finding my own. I’d shared a few kisses and hookups over the years, but this moment far exceeded any of them in its first seconds.
“Inside,” Ford had grumbled, and I’d quickly turned and opened the door. It feltmiraculousto me. As soon as we were inside, he closed and locked the door, noting with a nod my roommate’s side of the room already emptied.
I remembered him adjusting some music—the Cranberries, a remnant of his emo stage—and then settling me on the bed. He gently laid me back and lay by my side, his hand running through my curls. When he tipped my head back, his tongue traveled the length of my neck, sucking, nibbling, and laving. It had been the most sensual experience I’d had to date. Our mouths collided again, until Ford began to slip my shirt off, sucking on my nipples through my bra. We didn’t talk. There was no whispering of sweet nothings or promises made. Our bodies handled everything. It feltdelectableto me.
I didn’t protest as Ford slid lower, taking my jeans with him, and then my panties following behind. I didn’t remember taking my shoes off, but apparently we both had. When Ford settled between my legs, I couldn’t remember my name. His tongue swept at my core and my head ached from the pressure. His finger slipped inside me, and I could feel the wetness pooling in between my legs. He continued to work me into a frenzy, asking once or twice if it was okay. I couldn’t say yes fast enough. I think I had something resembling an orgasm, but I’d never had one. The shaking and shivering overtook me. It feltbrightandshinyto me.
Then Ford had traveled up my body again, removing his clothes as he snaked up toward my face. At the time, I thought it was a very advanced move. Later I came to know it was absolutely that—when he left and never called. But in the moment, he’d brought my hand to his length and covered my hand in his, showing me how to stroke him.
“I want you, Red.”
That was all he had to say, and I’d nodded.
“Say it,” he’d said.
“I want you too, Ford.” His name felt like cotton candy on my tongue.
I didn’t mention being a virgin. Not while he was grabbing a condom, not while he slid it on, and not as he started to enter me. When I winced, Ford stopped and stared at me while whispering, “Shit.”
“No, I want this,” was all I said.
And he started to move, kissing my neck and saying, “I’m going to miss you.”
