“So pretty. I’ve always thought that, you know.”
More, Rock. Keep talking to me like that.
“That’s it. Relax into it.”
I grind against his hand, biting down on my lip.
“Come for me, Em. Let go.”
I love you, Rock.
An orgasm swells up quickly inside of me, fast and short but intense. After I come down from it, he pulls out of me and leans away to grab a bottle of shampoo.
The glow from my orgasm is gone by the time we step out of the shower and towel off. As I’m drying my hair, a question lodges in my throat and refuses to go away.
“Hey, what ever happened between you and Paige?” I ask, trying to sound as casual as I can.
Rock pauses for a second as he fixes his hair in the mirror. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve heard her version, but you and I have never talked about it.”
“There’s not much to tell.” He shrugs. “We dated for a few months. It didn’t work out. We broke up.”
“You broke up with her, right?”
“Yeah.”
I fiddle with a tangle in my hair. “Well…Paige said you were kind of a jerk about it, Rock.”
He’s silent for a minute. Then: “Yeah. I was. I didn’t mean to be an ass to her, I’m just…terrible at that kind of stuff. I’m not proud of it.”
My heart sinks. I think this is the reason I’ve never talked to Rock about his relationship with Paige before—I was worried that it was true.
“I’m just…I dunno. Bad at relationships.” Rock stares at himself in the mirror, then shakes his head and looks down at the sink. As he puts his things in order, it’s clear that he’s done with this conversation.
And I’ve heard what I need to hear. It’s obvious that he doesn’t want a relationship with anyone—and that includes me.
I try to shake off the disappointment in my chest as I walk out of the bathroom. In the bedroom, I check my phone to see if I have any more messages from the girls. I don’t, but I do have a text from my mom, checking about food allergies for dinner on Sunday.
“Hey, you’re fine with shellfish, right?” I call out to Rock.
“Yeah, why?” he replies.
“My mom’s planning the menu for Sunday dinner.”
Rock walks out of the bathroom and clears his throat. “Uh…shit. Is it okay if I don’t go this time? Wes invited me over to watch the game.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were going to want me to keep going to dinner.”
I’m disappointed, but I don’t let it get to me. He’s right. “No, it’s okay. It’s not like we talked about it. It’s fine, I’ll just tell my parents you already had plans.”
“You sure, Em?”
“Yep, it’s fine.”
“If you really want me to go—”
