Eighteen years old
Ow.
That’s the first thought that crosses my mind as I open one eye, then the other.
Ow. Ow, ow, ow, ow.
I can barely move. My entire body feels stiff. My bottom explodes with pain as I try to shift from one side to the other. The space between my legs is horribly sore. He wasn’t gentle. It was my first time, and he definitely wasn’t gentle.
But I didn’t want him to be.
The second thing I’m aware of, as I wince while getting into a sitting position, is that the bed is cold beside me.
He’s gone.
I don’t know why I was imagining he would stay. We have school this morning. Of course he had to get home, get dressed, get his books…
Though who am I kidding, he never actually brings his books to class. And no one dares to say a word to him about it. Everyone’s scared of him, me included.
But I also really want him in my bed.
My heart thrills as I realize Ihadhim in bed. My childhood crush—or obsession.Crushfeels like a silly little word to describe the strange, intense feeling I’ve been holding secretly in my heart since the first time I saw him in fifth grade.
I have half a mind to stay home and spend the day nursing my wounds while once more decorating my notebooks withQuilland Piper Nelsonscribbles.
But I won’t, because in spite of the pain, I feel like jumping, laughing, doing gymnastics while I shout to the world thatQuill Nelson is mine at last!
His hands touched every part of my skin—no, not touched, destroyed. He knows what the inside of me feels like. And I know how it feels to be between his two arms, held close to his chest. Maybe I’m the only one in the world who knows how that feels. Yes, I must be, because he told me I was his first, and he wouldn’t lie to me.
Any particle of fear or pain I’ve ever felt while looking at him has melted into thin air. These past few years don’t exist at all. They can’t, because they don’t fit into my world anymore. Quill isn’t a monster, he’s mine.
I’ve gotten good at removing things from my world that make no sense. The 1960s Nancy Drew rewrites.Playbackby Raymond Chandler.Passenger to Frankfurtby Agatha Christie.
Quill Nelson, being a bully.
Nothing could keep me from school today. Nothing could keep me from seeing Quill, from feeling that magnetic pull between us again, knowing now he feels it too. Nothing could keep me from seeing him turn once more into my protector, but not a silent one anymore. As I take a quick shower and get dressed, grunting with pain, I picture him with his arm snaked around my waist, loudly proclaiming to the school that everyone has to treat me nicely from now on, because he’s in love with me.
Okay, he hasn’t said those words yet. But he must feel them, no? Why else would he have had sex with me?
My mind tramples down on anything that doesn’t conform fully with my new, perfect world, as there’s a knock on the door. Then Dad’s head pops in.
“Feeling better, pumpkin?”
“1000 percent,” I answer with a big smile.
He raises an eyebrow as he looks at me. “You’re really pale,” he says anxiously. “You look like you’re in a lot of pain. I phoned the boss to say I’m going to work late. I can bring you to the emergency room, or at least, get you a doctor’s appointment.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I worry, turning away from him to try, somehow, to tame my out-of-control hair, before giving up. “You know they don’t like it when you’re late.”
“Well,” he admits with a wry smile, “Bob did say not to bother coming in today if I was going to be late. But everyone’s allowed to take a day off, once in a while, and–”
“Dad, you don’t have any PTO days,” I protest. “Really, I’m feeling a lot better. I’m going to school. If you hurry, you can still make it in time.”
“Nothing could keep me from showing up for you. Screw the boss, if you need me, I’m here.”
I bite down on a whimper as I cross the room to go hug him. “I love you so much, Dad. I swear, I’m alright. In fact, I’m doing amazing. So go to work, and I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“Love you too, pumpkin,” he says, his voice muffled as he hugs me to him. “Fine, I’ll go. But I’m driving you to school. I insist. And if you’re not feeling well at the end of the day, don’t try to walk home. Call Mom. She’s still sleeping, but I’ll give her a call later to tell her you might need a ride.”
