“I’m serious!” I said.
“Me too! We can call each other all the time, go to the movies to feel each other up, kiss late at night on some deserted street while I walk you home after a date. Stay over at each other’s places. I could make you breakfast!”
“I like how you think.”
“Do you? Because there are more ideas where that came from. I’m talking lovemaking… Every night. And at all hours of the day.” He leaned over and kissed the corner of my lips. “I could be the only person allowed to kiss you here.” He touched my breast. “And here.” He slid his hand between my legs. “And here. Especially here.”
I wanted that, too. I wanted to be a corny couple. I wanted him to kiss me all over. I wanted him to kiss me other places, too. I had imagined it so many times that the dream had worn thin. I turned and kissed him, tasted him, reached into his pants and elicited a moan.
He got up and pulled me up, too. We stumbled into the house, our lips joined the whole time. He kicked the door shut, and I threw my arms over his neck. I felt wide awake and hungry—hungry for him. We took the steps one at a time until we reached the top, threw each other against the wall, felt our way along until we found his room.
He undressed me as my hands sought out his belt buckle. Ourclothes wound up on the floor, and I felt every inch of his beautiful bare body as the throbbing inside me grew more powerful. I was in control. I pulled him toward the bed and he sat back, propped up on his arms. I loved him so much it hurt. He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me into his chest.
Our bodies met.
Our eyes got lost in each other.
My muscles tensed as I took him inside me.
I made love to him slowly, my mouth seeking his, drinking in his exhalations and groans, losing myself in the sensation of it.
“I wish I could spend my whole life this way. I’m crazy about you,” he whispered.
“And I’m crazy about you.”
“I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I don’t want it ever to end.”
My lucky accident.
“Between you and me, there’s nothing but us,” I said. “And there’s no reason it ever has to end.”
“Childhood memories are sometimes covered and obscured beneath the things that come later, like childhood toys forgotten at the bottom of a crammed adult closet, but they are never lost for good.”
—Neil Gaiman,The Ocean at the End of the Lane
22
Farewells Are Necessary. They’re the Prelude to Seeing Each Other Again.
I woke at dawn. Trey was sleeping like a log next to me. One of his arms was serving as my pillow, and the other was wrapped around my waist. I could get used to waking up like that every day.
His face was the pure reflection of peace, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I buried my nose between his neck and shoulder and inhaled his scent, and I loved how electric, now nervous it made me feel, all those sensations I couldn’t control. And the knowledge that they wouldn’t go away, that they were here to stay because he was here to stay. I held on to those feelings to keep from falling into sadness.
Because it hurt, leaving Petit Prince, but at the same time, there was excitement in it. A strobe light of emotions, flitting back and forth, until I could hardly tell one from the other.
What a huge, mysterious inner world we human beings harbor…
These feelings are all that life is, really. Once you learn that, once you internalize it, the knowledge never leaves you. And you stop being scared. You just accept that there will be good days and bad. Good moments and bad. That life will always be that back-and-forth for you, at least if you’re like me. That you can hold those two extremes inside you, impossible as it seems.
I kissed Trey on the throat and got out of bed without makingnoise, taking leftovers from the fridge to make a breakfast of tortillas and eggs.
I didn’t rush. I ate calmly and stared out the window. By the time I finished my coffee, it was cold. Then I went to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and heard the water striking the porcelain. I stripped slowly and stood beneath it. The heat overtaking my body was pleasant. I squeezed shampoo into my hand and washed my hair, and though my eyes were closed, I knew the shower door had slid open. I could hear it and feel the rush of cold air. Then it shut, and it was warm again.
He forced my hands down and rubbed my scalp with his own hands, then guided me under the water and washed away all the foam. From behind, he hugged me and kissed the back of my ear. His fingers traced little circles on my skin as they edged their way toward my breasts.
“My precious mermaid,” he whispered.
His hands slipped downward, and I felt a whirlwind of desire between my legs when his fingertips reached their destination. His touch was soft but passionate, his movements rhythmic, growing in intensity as my breaths grew shallower.
