“You are so beautiful,” Finn breathes into my neck, and then he begins moving against me with more urgency, and I begin to let go of everything, of all control, until my whole body breaks apart in shivers, and I’m free.
After, we lie together for a long time, my legs wrapped around his body and my cheek pressed to his chest, where I can hear the beating of his heart.
AFEW HOURS LATER,I wake up to birds chirping and the warm glow of morning brushing over the tops of the trees. I don’t know exactly what time it is, but it’s clearly well past dawn. I smile to myself. I guess there are ways to turn off my body’s internal alarm clock after all. I’m tucked against Finn’s chest, and his breathing is still deep with sleep.
For once, my mind is soft, languid. I want to hold on to this sense of calm, to be fully present in this moment. I start running through the 3-3-3 rule like Finn taught me.See: Slate-colored mountains. The Singer. My discarded shorts… Hear: Birdsong. A car starting in the distance. The wind rustling through the trees… Feel: Warm skin. Soft skin—
Finn moves beside me, and I look up to see his eyes on me.
“Good morning,” he says. His eyes search mine while his fingers find a lock of my hair. He begins twirling it, and something flutters in my chest.
“Good morning,” I say back, smiling. He returns the smile, and something like relief flashes briefly across his face. For a few more minutes we lie suspended in the hammock, listening as the forest around us begins to wake up too.
My stomach growls, and Finn lets out a laugh. “Let’s get you something to eat.” He presses a kiss onto my forehead before swinging both legs out of the hammock. “Maybe one day we’ll make it to a bed.”
My heart leaps at the thought of more nights with Finn, a future with Finn, but it’s quickly followed by a tightness in my chest. Just yesterday (is it possible it was only yesterday? The whirlwind that started Wednesday night and carried through to our wild-goose chase on Thursday has completely messed with my sense of time), he said he was “not in a relationshipplace right now.” When has Finn ever been in a “relationship place” in all the time I’ve known him? He’s never wanted that. At least, not with me. Finn and I had one mind-blowing night together, but that doesn’t erase an entire track record of noncommitment. Last night was just fun, I remind myself. Two people with a decade’s worth of sexual tension finally relieving the pressure.What happens 120 miles outside of Vegas, stays 120 miles outside of Vegas.
After we’ve dressed (me slipping into my clothes sans underwear because I truly cannot find them anywhere) and shoved all of our gear into the Singer, Finn presses me against the car door, the aluminum still cool from the night before, and kisses me. It’s slow and easy.
Until it isn’t. After a few kisses, I’m back to the same level of desperate for Finn that I was last night.
One more time, I think. Just to make sure he’sreallyout of my system…
I reach for the zipper of his pants, and he helps me. He scoops me against him, places me on the hood of the car, then focuses on pulling down my shorts. In the daylight, it feels even more erotic than last night. Just watching him get the condom is a turn-on. My legs are splayed open on the hood of the Singer as Finn pulls me forward onto him. He begins moving against me, and I can’t believe how quickly I find release. His hand reaches between us, and I nearly slide off the car as an orgasm courses through me. But Finn’s hands are firm, holding me. He groans into my neck a moment later, spent.
We’re still holding each other, leaning against the hood of the car, when my stomach lets out an audible growl again. I feel Finn’s chuckle against my neck.
I want to laugh too. I feel giddy, almost unhinged with happiness.
We re-dress hastily, like naughty teenagers, giggling. He whistles as he makes his way over to the driver’s side and shoots me a grin over the roof that makes my knees buckle.
I put a hand on the car to steady myself. The sun beats down over the campground. I feel sticky with sweat—from the growing heat, sure, but more from the exertion of what we just did on the hood of the car. The languid feeling from earlier this morning has faded away. I can’t focus on the things I can see, hear, and feel. Because my head is suddenly full of questions. Doubts. Anxiety begins to creep into my nerves.What did I just do?What does it mean for Finn and me and the friendship we were just finally starting to rebuild?
I linger with a hand braced on the hood of the car as Finn fires up the ignition. But before I get into the Singer, reality begins to sink in, serious as daylight. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a second, trying to hold myself together.As soon as we’re back home, this—whatever it is—is over, I decide. I don’t want it to be, but I have to give myself some boundaries. I have to make this promise to myself. I can’t let this become just another mistake on our list. And I know—even though I hate to admit it to myself—I know I can’t trust myself to stay casual with Finn, and that he doesn’t want anything serious. He said so himself. I can’t let my heart run away with me again. The last time I did, things ended in disaster—a mortifying scene at a wedding that still haunts me nearly five years later.
There’s a pressure in my chest, but I ignore it. I can’t let Sybil’s wedding be ruined like Katie Dalton’s was. I need to be mature this time. I need to be the one in control.
I square my shoulders and slide into the car. I can do this.
We look up the nearest diner—taking a moment to check Sybil’s progress. She’s still chugging along, headed east on I-40 toward Albuquerque. I watch the small blue dot that is Sybil creep across my screen, and avoid looking at Finn. Tapping the steering wheel along to the Stevie Wonder song spilling from the radio, he doesn’t seem to notice.
I roll down my window to clear my head. It’s all I can do not to beg him to pull over again, and again, wanting not just the feeling of him inside me, but the closeness, the intensity. But however good Finn makes me feel, it’s no match for how much he could hurt me. How easy it was to forget that last night—and again this morning—and I know I could keep on forgetting it and keep on getting heartbroken. He’s done it before, and it’d be foolish of me to think it won’t happen again. People are who they are. It’s not Finn’s fault. He’s been nothing but up-front with me. I’m the one who’s been a liar—I’ve been lying to myself, about how much I care.
The wind whips across my face, making my eyes water, but I blink away the tears.
Once we’re seated at the diner and the jet-fuel-level coffee the waiter pours us starts to take effect, I’m more in control of my feelings. I know what I need to do. I need to strike first, just like in debate. Sitting across the table, Finn reaches for my hand and drags his thumb along the top of my knuckles while he reads through the menu, and the casual intimacy of the touch makes me feel more vulnerable than the sex we’ve had. I pull away and reach for the sugar. My hand isn’t steady, and I end up dumping more than I mean to into my cup.
We place our orders, and I imagine what it would be likefor this to be my morning every day: waking up next to Finn, knowing how he takes his eggs (over easy) and his coffee (actually Earl Grey tea). Those thoughts are too dangerous. Time to make sure Finn and I are on the same page.
I clear my throat. “About last night,” I begin. Finn’s face breaks into a grin, which slices through me like a knife, but I force myself to continue. “I think we can both agree it was a onetime thing.”
A stillness settles over Finn. “If that’s what you want.” He carefully sets his mug of tea on the table. “I thought we had a pretty good time last night.”
“I had a great time,” I say with forced brightness. “This isn’t an indictment of your…” Waving my hand in a circle, I search for the right word and land on “prowess.”
There’s a beat of silence. Finn’s eyes take on a dangerous intensity that sends a rush of heat through my body. “I’m not concerned about my ‘prowess,’ Emma.”
“Oh, that’s good. You shouldn’t be.”
