“And you didn’t think to wake me?” she asks and her body vibrates as she stretches.
I wrap my other arm around her. “Nope. You’re so cute when you sleep.”
“Just what every girl wants to hear,” Angie deadpans, causing me to laugh.
We fall into comfortable silence, me reveling in the feel of Angie laying on me and her rubbing her thumb across my rib cage while we watch the girls ride their bikes to the library.
“Do you wish we lived in a small town like theirs? I mean, I know it’s not super small, but the idea of a close-knit community doesn’t seem so bad,” Angie whispers.
I inhale and exhale heavily, thinking about my answer. “The college I went to in Tennessee was in a tiny mountain town outside of Knoxville. I could walk everywhere, which was great. But seeing the same people, besides my classmates and professors, felt like Groundhog Day. And then every weekend was the same: we’d go to a football game, or soccer, basketball, baseball…whatever sport was playing at the school we went to—when I wasn’t on the road for golf tournaments, that’s what I was doing. I couldn’t wait to get out of Tennessee. So no, I don’t wish we lived in a small town,” I tell her and place a kiss on the top of her head. “Plus, the idea of everybody being in your business, knowing who you talked to, or God forbid knowing who you slept with, was very far from ideal.”
Angie snorts at my last statement. “I bet you let loose on the weekends.”
“Far from it. I was very nerdy.”
“You don’t say,” she teases, and I tickle her sides, which causes her to squirm on me.
I grunt, but swallow hard and continue. “I was a late bloomer, as you know. And when I not only kissed a girl, but slept with her for the first time, the whole town basically had a parade.”
“They did not,” Angie says with humor.
“I swear they did.”
She laughs again and rests her hand on my chest. “Sex is different for guys, though.”
“Do tell.”
“There’s no ‘breaking of the hymen’ for them. Which is a very archaic way of thinking for women.”
“True,” I agree, “but I also came way too fast.”
Silence and then straight maniacal laughter from Angie, which has me laughing as well. “I feel so bad for her,” she says through her laughter.
“I got better,” I defend.
Angie’s laughter slowly fades, but I can tell she’s trying hard to rein it all in. “Yeah, you did.”
We fall back into now thick silence as Roberta and one of the brothers play basketball together. My attention moves to the girl still laying on top of me. She’s gone entirely still during the scene, and I’m wondering if she’s thinking about us. About how we went from practically strangers with pain so similar that it shook us to the core, to lying together on my couch.
“What are you thinking, Angel?” I ask and place a kiss on the top of her head.
“That I’m uncomfortable.”
“Do you wanna get off me?” I ask, ready to help her up.
“Not the words I would use,” she says, her voice tight.
Huh? “Oh.”
“Yeah‘oh’,” she all but whines.
Now that she mentions it, I notice that her body is stiff as a board. Was it watching those two characters on the screen and imagining it as us? Or was she jealous of my escapades in college? Maybe Angie has the other night on replay like I do. But my intention to have her stay and watch movies was just that.
“What would make you comfortable?” I ask, noting that my voice has gone rough at the implication of helping her to feel better. I’ve been thinking about that night after she played the piano. I’ve been thinking about it so much that it’s ingrained in my brain.
If it was possible for Angie to get even more still, she just accomplished it. “Um, you.”
“Me, what?”
