And that's when I feel it.
My head snaps up. "Tera."
"Hmm?" she murmurs, playing with my hair.
"We might have a problem."
"What's that?" she asks.
How can she be so calm?
"I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't mean to… I just got carried away."
"What are you talking about?" she asks, confused.
"I didn't wear a condom." Generally, I do. My dad and his double-up guilt.
"Oh, that. We're fine. I've been taking my pills every day at the same time, just as your dad said."
"So we're okay?" I ask, more than a little freaked out. It's not the first time I've gone without a condom with Tera. It's just the first time we didn't have a back-up method like spermicide.
"We should be. There's like a one percent chance of getting pregnant if I take the pill like I'm supposed to, so I'm not worried," she reassures.
I nod. "Okay. Good. I'm just not ready to be a dad yet."
"You think I want to be a mom?Hell no."
I laugh. "It's just the first time I didn't use a condom or the gel. Usually, we use one or both."
She nods. "We're usually more careful. We will be from now on. It's just been awhile."
"And I was dying to get inside this pu—"
She smacks me. "Nice. Real nice."
I chuckle. "You know I’m kidding. I love you, Tera. I've fucking missed you."
"I've fucking missed you, too, Xan. It's been… difficult. But we did it. We can do this."
"Yeah, but it's not easy. I don't think it'll ever get easier. Can't you just come with me?" I ask, as I ease out of her.
"Ugh," she winces as our cum leaks out of her, "I am so taking a shower."
She side-stepped my question. I know what the answer is and I hate it. I want there to be a different answer. I want it to be possible. I want her there everyday. I want her to experience it all with me. And, yeah, that whole train of thought is as selfish as it gets. She has a dream, too. Her dream is a big one, like mine, and she deserves to chase it.
I step into the shower, hugging her from behind. She's a full head shorter than me. I love that she's so tiny. I can wrap her up in my arms and body and protect her and keep her warm.
"You get your project shipped off?" I ask. "The photos you sent were incredible, baby. You are so fucking talented. I can't even draw a round circle."
She snickers. "I know. But I can't carry a tune, remember?"
"Not true anymore," I correct. "That was when we were younger. The more you sang with us, the better you got. You're pretty damn good now. You could join the band. Sing up there with Jesse."
"No. No way. Have Jesse hump up on me on that stage nightly? Or Ben. Or Kennedy. Or Ethan—well, not Ethan. He's not as big of a dog as Ben and Jesse. Besides, I'd cramp your style."
"I hear the truth in your tone, T. I wish I could paint or draw as much as you wish you could be in the band. You can if you want, but I know you want to pursue your art, and I admire that a hell of a lot," I admit.
"Yeah?" she asks.
