Page 43 of Xavier

I lean in to press a kiss against the tip of her nose. "And, Malynda, you will be my last."

I watch until she's inside the house and the silhouette waving to me from an upstairs bedroom fades into the night.

***

The two weeks after we make love for the first (and first of many) time, is pretty much the definition of idyllic. Every moment we have free is spent together, either at the basketball courts where she works on her mural and I sit and pretend to read while I watch her and wonder when we can next be alone at the lake.

I can't keep my hands off her, and luckily, she feels the same. I feel my body gravitate to her as soon as she is in view, needing to kiss her, to touch her, to be inside her.

She meets my need with her own and we spend hours naked in the tent together, exploring our bodies and what they can do together.

"That tickles," she wriggles, as I run my tongue along the inner thigh of her left leg.

It’s the night after her final dance performance and I have just spent the last hour watching her in awe as she embodied the melding of music and movement. And now I want to show her how she made me feel through the mutual exploration of our sexuality.

She’s made me, not just my mind and my brain, come alive. She’s made me finally understand the use of my body. And that is to bring her pleasure. To make her scream my name in a voice that’s husky with lust.

She is my addiction.

I ignore her protestations at my tickling her and I shush her, my voice muffled between her legs as I slide my tongue inside her; her body stiffens and her protests soon fade on her lips. The sweat on her skin is slightly salty, but inside she tastes as sweet as ever

I lap at her, never getting enough and when she comes on my mouth, I drink every last drop.

"You spoil me," she sighs happily when we're done and I pull her against my chest, feeling myself content beyond measure.

"You spoil me by letting me spoil you," I tell her. I mean every word.

The only thing that mars our time together is the worry I see in her eyes as she waits for news on her future. The more time I spend with her, the more I see her pursuit for perfection. She talks about her last performance dance constantly, what had gone right, what had gone wrong, what she could’ve done differently.

Her rants inevitably turn into talk of our future together. The very thought of ever spending a day apart becomes unbearable. But while her dream seems so much more concrete that mine, she knows I have my own ambitions. Just that I have no way of achieving mine.

“There are ways, Xavier. You will be a lawyer. We will find a way.”

I don’t tell her there’s no money. Not right now. But she’s right. I will find a way, and the only way is by her side.

“You know, you told me what you love about the law, but you’ve never really told me what you want to do with it. Is it so you can afford a giant apartment and a fleet of Rolls Royces?” she asks as she lies with her head on my stomach as I lean against a tree trunk, staring out over the lake. There’s the sound of a whistle as a man calls his dog back to his side.

I twirl a lock of her golden hair around my finger and watch it catch the light.

“Well, the law isn’t the same for everyone.”

“What do you mean? They aren’t different laws for different people.”

“No, there shouldn’t be. But there are different ways to interpret the law for different people. And one of the great differences between the haves and have nots is their lawyer. I want to be the equalizer. I want to help people who can’t afford to get good help. Those finding themselves on the wrong side of a law interpreted to benefit just the rich.”

She nods and closes her eyes, “That’s better than a giant apartment.”

“I think so too.”

“I mean, maybe you can both!” she giggles, the vibrations travelling up my stomach muscles and into my heart and I can’t help but laugh along.

“Maybe, sweetheart. Maybe.”

By the time the last day of our high school years comes around, the summer has taken a strong hold of Maine. I walk down the front steps of my school, knowing there won't be a person I’ll miss from here. A year from now I’ll be surprised if anyone even remembers my name. But I smile as I say goodbye to this part of my life anyway. Because when I think ahead, to today, tomorrow and my future, I know there is one person who will remember me.

She's already there when I reach the basketball courts. Music is blaring from her iPod, and her hips swaying as she stands in front of her almost finished mural.

I try to divert my eyes, as always. As curious as I am to take a close look, take it all in, this was never about me. It was my gift to her. To give her the space to explore this side of her. And when she's ready, she'll share it with me.