“You can’t hear anything from downstairs,” he says, kissing my forehead.
“How wouldyouknow!?”
“Well, I never heard anything, even when my sister hadcompany. As long as I steered clear of this floor.”
“Sloane,” I gasp in mock horror.
“I told you—I wasperfectin comparison.”
I can’t stop smiling at him, can’t stop tracing the curve of his cupid’s bow with my eyes, can’t stop pulling in a breath in order to press into him. I listen closely, trying to discern if there could be anyone lingering outside.
“I should go before I’m seen,” I tell him, waggling my brows. I start to slip out from under the sheets but he isn’t having it.
“In no world,” he says, tugging me closer, “am I letting you go. I want you right here.”
I’m grateful he can’t see my grin, not wanting him to see how far gone I am.
“Let me at least get my pajamas.”
He releases me with a playful eye roll and I quietly shuffle out, hastily throwing on the lavender camisole and short set I brought with this exact scenario in my mind. I’d hoped, but my imagination wasn’t powerful enough to imagine just how perfect we would be. How perfect it would feel.
I slip back into his room just as he’s pulling on a pair of black lounge pants, his indecently hard chest drawing my eye immediately. I place my hands on him, gently push him to the bed, and straddle him, biting my lip as I loop an arm around his neck.
“As much as I want to peel this off you,” he looks up at me, his fingers stroking me over the flimsy fabric of my shorts, “you’re going to be sore.”
“Sounds like ameproblem,” I quip, rubbing myself against him.
“And we have to be up early,” he reminds me, lifting me up like I’m weightless and setting me down with gentle ease. “But if two orgasms weren’t enough…”
I settle under the covers once again, rolling my eyes as I feel his arm wrap around my waist. “I just like being so close to you…more than I thought I would,” I admit.
“I know what you mean.” It’s quiet, said into the crook of my neck, and I sink into this feeling—of being wanted, and chosen, and seen. I wiggle into him, nestling myself as close I can, and decide this will do for now.
23
Gen
Summer after Senior Year
I dip my feet in the ocean, listening to the music drifting over the sound of the crashing waves. I’m just far enough from the bonfire for the noise of my drunken underage peers to meld into the melody. It’s some pop song about never being this young again and taking advantage of the here and now. I can still see Will in my periphery, about a hundred yards away.
The Hamptons house is from my mother’s first divorce—the marriage she jumped into right after my father passed. The same one that forced us to move to one of the most privileged suburbs in Connecticut. The house was one of the few good things that came out of it, especially because it was only a street away from the Chapman’s vacation home. I remember the first summer we spent here after eighth grade; we became truly inseparable, both wanting to escape our families, and finding solace in each other. All these years later, and that hasn’t changed.
I sink down into the sand watching the waves, periodicallychecking to see if Will needs me. He’s standing with a big group, full of people I don’t recognize. They’re all laughing at something he said, more than one girl longingly staring at him, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. It doesn’t matter where Will is or who he’s in front of—he has this ability to make everyone in the room want to know him. This total zest for life that I wish I could bottle and take from as needed.
This is the first summer we have ever truly been left to our own devices. Sure, we both still have conditioning for basketball and ballet—the price our parents pay for private training over summer is shocking—but we’ve never truly been afforded as much freedom as this.
Typically, Will’s dad Dan tracks his every move from morning until night, only ever permitting him the rare social outing if Ben is there to watch over him. His only exception is me, for whatever reason. I like to assume it's because of how serious I am about ballet, but I have an inkling that he feels I’m a good example for Will, considering my own dwindling social life. It’s apparent Dan sees Will’s potential, but their relationship isn’t much healthier than the one I have with my mom—in some ways, it’s worse. Dan can be violent and manipulative in the same way my mother can be passive aggressive and cruel.
The constant harping on basketball is what I find the most confusing though. Will loves the sport but not in the way Ben does, not in the way I love ballet. You can tell when he talks about it—it’s like the sparkle in his eye dims ever so slightly. Basketball doesn’t consume him. It’s hard to even get him to talk about it most days. When I look at Ben after practice he has that same glint that I recognize in myself, the one that says I need to go back to that place. Will doesn’t. In fact, sometimes he looks like he’s dreadingit. Especially when I mention playing for the Lions. It’s like his eyes glaze over and he becomes completely turned off by the conversation.
I, on the other hand, cannot wait to start at Astor Hill this fall. Escape from the reality that is here, start at the Boston Ballet and meet an entire new group of people. Sure it’s only a two hour train ride from our home in Connecticut and yes it’s filled to the brim with a similar cluster of elitist assholes, but for once I’ll be on my own, away from my mother and the rumor mill that seems to absorb our community and has a special taste for torturing me. Being friends with Will has its perks. For the most part people steer clear of me, but what doesn’t are their words. I constantly overhear talk about my mother’ssituation. How she’s on her fourth marriage and counting, how she’ll steal any woman’s husband who gives her a second glance, and my personal favorite, that I’ve learned my mothers tricks and have my sights set on Will.
I lay back on the sand, my beach towel bunched behind my head, and throw my arm over my eyes, blocking out the evening sky. I hear feet shuffle in the sand beside me and move my arm slightly to see if someone is approaching or just passing by. Sure enough, there’s a petite blonde looking down at me.
“Can I join you?” Her voice is more hesitant than the smile she has plastered on her face and I squint up, trying to see more clearly past the shadows cascading around her. She sits down before I have a chance to respond.
“Uh sure…” I say, pushing up on my elbows and glancing around to see if she’s with anyone. My eyes land on Will, still surrounded by three different girls enraptured by him, his expressions animated as he uses his hands to depict a scene.
