“I love you, Kate,” he whispers. “Always have, always will.”
He reaches up to my face once more and gently pulls me closer to him, covering my lips with his, softly, exquisitely, before I can reply. Our kiss deepens and our tongues dance together in a lover’s tango. Once again, we roll, and I find myself on my back pinned beneath Matthew’s weight. His lips leave mine and trail light kisses along my jaw, down my neck, to my breasts, leaving a trail of goose flesh in their wake. My skin prickles with electricity, his touch sending shockwaves all the way to my core.
His kisses continue across my stomach and down to my belly button, his fingers working to unbutton and unzip my jeans. In one rapid movement, they are swept off my long, tanned legs. He tosses the jeans and my panties across the room into the same pile as my sweatshirt. Matthew stands up and removes his remaining clothes, and then lies beside me in his naked glory.
I have never been naked with a man before, and I am intrigued and mesmerized by his body. My hands yearn to touch him all over, driven by a longing to caress him, to taste him. I have an intense need to satisfy him and myself, but I do not know how to complete the task. I pine for him to touch me, yet I don’t know where or how I need to be touched. It is almost as if there is a compass inside me, guiding me in the right direction; I just need to close my eyes and allow it to lead the way.
We lie there for a few moments, staring at each other in all our nakedness. I am not embarrassed or ashamed; I feel beautiful, and I feel confident that Matthew thinks I am beautiful, too. His index finger traces my eyebrows and then trails down across the bridge of my nose to the outline of my lips. I open my lips and softly lick his fingertip; he breathes deep and pushes his finger deeper into my mouth. I close my eyes, savoring the taste of his skin, sucking gently on his finger deep in my mouth, grazing my teeth against his skin. He moves it back and forth, slowly and erotically showing me what he wants to do to me. I want more; I instinctively arch up toward him, pushing my breasts toward him while thrusting my hips down. I need him to touch me, anywhere and everywhere. I can feel the moisture between my thighs, I can smell the scent of my wanting him.
His tongue switches places with his finger, and I feel his hand glide down my body toward my inner thighs. Wantonly, I part my legs to grant him access to my core, and he gently strokes me, finding me hot and wet.
“God, Kate, you’re driving me wild.” Matthew’s voice is almost pained, his breath ragged as he speaks between kisses. His finger slowly enters me as his tongue thrusts into my mouth. The feeling is exquisite, and I arch up, gasping for air as he slowly repeats the synchronized motion again and again, his magical finger and tongue dancing in unison to the same beat. He reaches for one of my hands as they frantically roam over him, and he guides me to his erection. I gently grip it, unsure of what to do, letting my fingertips explore the silky skin. I never imagined it would be so smooth and hard, and I trace the outline, from the wet tip all the way to the base, where I feel his soft hair. Back and forth I move my hand, listening to his breathing, trying to learn what he likes while my own body goes crazy with his every movement.
Matthew pulls my hand away from him, and I moan as he stops touching me, leaving me wanting more. Pinning both my arms above my head with his hands, he gently nudges my legs apart with his knee. He continues to place soft kisses on my lips as he settles himself fully between my thighs, his hardness pressing against me, rubbing the delicate skin of my most private place. I wrap my legs around him, inviting him to enter, to fill me and satisfy this craving I have deep within. He pushes against me, and for a brief moment a burning pain rips through me as he fills me completely, as Matthew enters me for the first time, joining us together as one.
My body stretches and my muscles silently scream at the violation of this foreign object, but within moments I relax as Matthew unhurriedly glides back and forth, in and out like the waves of the ocean. His slow rhythm entices me, and I find myself moving my hips to greet his movements, our bodies meeting tenderly, his lips kissing my face.
With each new stroke, an unfamiliar pressure builds within me. Deep inside I can feel this unexplainable heat growing and spreading between my hips—an ache inside that longs for Matthew to move deeper into me. My hips rotate, urging him to increase the tempo. My legs lock around his waist, opening me wider, pushing him deeper into me. Our bodies glide smoothly against each other as our sweat blends together; I taste salt on his skin, which only adds to my fervor.
The bed is rocking. I gasp for air, making sounds I never knew I could make, and I hold onto him as if he is the source of air for my lungs. As we reach the height of our tempo, my back arches and my fingers dig into him as a scream escapes me. Stars explode behind my eyes, and I feel an eruption where Matthew and I are joined deep inside; a massive release of energy rushes through my body. My muscles tighten and pulsate around him, clenching him deep within me. With his final thrust he collapses on me, kissing my eyelids, tasting my tears. Both of us lie speechless; the only sound is us gasping for air. Exhausted by what we have experienced, I drift off into a contented sleep with Matthew’s steady heartbeat as my lullaby.
I wake to the sound of people upstairs banging about. Matthew and I are wrapped in each other’s arms and a bed sheet. When I roll over to look at the clock, I panic. It’s 2:35 a.m.
“Shit,” I mutter. Sliding out of bed, I rush to my pile of discarded clothes and frantically get dressed.
Matthew is fast asleep; in fact, he is snoring. Obviously, the noisy neighbor is something he is accustomed to, so he doesn’t even move while I dress and slip out of his flat. The streets are quiet and the pubs are already closed, so I know I can make it back to the Whites’ house without any trouble. Running most of the way, I make it there in less than ten minutes. Quietly opening the door and hanging up the spare key, I tiptoe up two flights of stairs, trying to avoid as many squeaky floorboards as possible as I head to my room on the third floor.
As I climb into bed, my heartbeat eventually starts to calm, and the pounding in my ears slows and quiets. I think back to my night with Matthew, what it felt like to make love to him. I feel a soreness that I have never known before. My lips are swollen, my thighs feel bruised, and my heart aches like it has never ached before.
I can’t explain what I feel when I am with Matthew, but it isn’t anything that I am prepared for. It feels so right being with him. Matthew is who I am meant to love, it has been him all long, and I can’t wait until tomorrow when we will start planning our lives together. I can finally see my future; the fog has lifted. My future is Matthew. Somehow we can work out the details; either I will move back to England in a couple of months or Matthew will consider moving to California. In the morning, I will call Diana and we can all try and see each other one last time before I have to leave Harptree on Sunday. Tomorrow night, I will make love to Matthew again and we can celebrate our plans. Smiling, I roll over and close my eyes, lost in the dream of my happily ever after. I don’t hear the footsteps from the second floor landing or the closing of my parents’ bedroom door.
CHAPTER 13
Vanished
“Katherine, wake up.” My mother’s voice invades my dream, and the bright sun shines through my eyelids, causing me to squint even in my sleepy state.
“Mum, close the curtains. It’s too early!” I moan back at her, turning toward the wall to escape the brightness, every muscle in my body screaming from my lovemaking with Matthew.
“Katherine, you have fifteen minutes to get dressed and meet us in the car. We’re leaving. I left your clothes on the chair, and I’ve already packed for you.” Her tone is irritated, slightly raised with emotion, and I can tell her decision is not negotiable.
“What? Why?” I bolt up in bed, in shock over what I’ve just heard. “Mum, we can’t, please.” Tears overwhelm me as her words sink in. Emotion squeezes my windpipe shut as my sleepy brain tries to make sense of what is happening.
“Fourteen minutes, Katherine.” Col
d-faced, she sternly walks out of the room and closes the door. I frantically jump up and look around the room. My suitcase is gone, my bag is gone, my clothes from last night are gone. All she has left me are my toiletries and clean clothes.
“Mum!” I yell over the banister and down the stairs. “I need my bag!”
No answer.
“MUM!” I yell louder, slightly hysterically.
“Eleven minutes, Katherine.” My mother appears calm and collected, holding her cup of tea at the bottom of the stairs outside the kitchen.
“Mum, I need my bag. PLEASE! What did you do with it?” I ask again, a little nicer this time.
She sighs heavily. “You’re not having it, Katherine, and everything is packed. Get dressed and be downstairs in … ” She glances at her watch. “Ten minutes.”
Damn! This is a losing battle. I need to get my bag so I can call Matthew and explain this insanity. His letter with his telephone number is in my bag. He probably is wondering what happened to me last night, and now we are leaving without any explanation. This isn’t fair. They are constantly ruining my life. I have no choice but to wait until we get to wherever we are going and call him from there to explain.
I make it downstairs with a minute to spare as the clock in the kitchen chimes 7:30 a.m. My mum takes my pajamas and my toiletry bag from me, and we head directly to the car. Sally and Jonnie White are both in their dressing gowns and slippers, cups of steaming tea in hand, standing outside to see us off. Their usual cheery faces are somber this morning as they avoid eye contact with me and mumble goodbyes from a distance. I resign my battle, silently climbing into the backseat of the car, knowing full well there is nothing I can do at this point. I stare blankly out the window as we drive through Harptree bright and early on a Saturday morning. Tears stream down my face.
Emotionally drained from crying and physically drained from the night before, I eventually fall asleep in the car. It isn’t until we stop that I wake up and look around. I realize we are at a hotel.
“Where are we? What are we doing here?” I ask groggily, confused. We are supposed to spend a few more days with my grandparents.
“We changed our flights, and we’re leaving in the morning,” Peter responds. “Your mother and I feel it’s in your best interest to get you home immediately and start preparing for Pepperdine, preparing for your future.”
“What the fuck, Mum?” I explode, no longer able to contain the volcanic emotions inside. I’m irate that Peter thinks he knows anything about what’s in my best interest. This is his fault. He is always the cause of the misery in my chaotic life, and once again, she is putting him ahead of me.
“How dare you speak to your mother that way?” He jumps in protectively, trying to act fatherly, but I ignore him. He isn’t my father!
“Why? WHY?” I shout at her, tears streaming down my face, but my mother stares straight ahead, refusing to look at me, void of any expression or emotion. Silence is always her greatest weapon.
“Is this because I came home late last night? Because of Matthew? You can’t stop me, mum, I’m almost eighteen, and soon I can do whatever I want,” I declare. “You can take me back this time, but I will return to Matthew, and I will NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR THIS,” I scream, “EVER!”
Once my screaming fit has stopped, my mum calmly exits the vehicle and heads toward hotel registration, leaving me in the car guarded by Peter. My tears flow endlessly; my head pounds, and I feel sick. Hatred consumes me. I feel helpless; I am a pawn in my parents’ game until I am an adult. I have no money, I do not have my passport, and right now I cannot even access my own belongings. I need a few minutes away from them to call Matthew, to at least let him know what is happening, to try and explain.
After Peter returns the rental car, we settle into our room, and I finally get my bag and suitcase back. I frantically search them for my letter, but I can’t find it. I check all the side pockets, every nook and cranny, but the letter with Matthew's phone number is nowhere. Disheartened, I realize I must have misplaced it back at the Whites’ house; most likely, I left it upstairs by the telephone. My heart sinks with this knowledge. Is this fate’s way of stepping in? My only other option is to mail him a letter somehow before I leave. At least that way, he will get it within a few days, as opposed to a few weeks if I wait until I get back to California.
I search the hotel desk drawer for some stationery, and I try to find the right words to explain what is happening.
My Dearest Matthew,
You were sleeping when I woke, so I left quietly, not wanting to wake you. You looked so beautiful and peaceful. I ran back and sneaked in, but I guess my mum discovered that I had stayed out with you all night, and I am pretty sure she put the pieces of the puzzle together.
They packed me up and we are at the airport. We leave in the morning. I wanted to phone, but I lost the letter with your telephone number. Thankfully, I remember your address, so I am hoping this helps explain. I am so sorry. This isn’t how I planned things to end. I am so upset, and I cannot stop crying.
I do not regret one moment of last night, and I will count the days until I turn 18. They cannot control me forever, and hopefully in a few months, you and I can start our lives together and never be apart again. I hate my mum right now; I don’t think I can ever forgive her. I can’t wait to get back to you. Please write soon.
I love you with all my heart,
Kate
I seal the envelope, write his address on the front, and set it in my bag. I will try to sneak some change from my mum’s purse to buy a stamp from the front desk before we leave tomorrow. Peter brings up food from the restaurant, but I am not hungry. Instead, I shower, repack my suitcase, and climb into the hotel bed. Pulling my legs up close to my chest, I cry myself to sleep.
In the morning, Peter runs downstairs to get coffee while my mum is in the shower, so I manage to sneak a pound coin from her purse and slip it into my jeans pocket. As we leave the hotel on our way to the airport, Peter is outside watching for the shuttle bus, and my mum is busy at the gift shop picking up some last-minute items. I seize the opportunity and quickly walk the few steps to the reception desk. I slide my letter onto the counter. An older lady tapping on her computer looks up and smiles, greeting me politely.
“Good morning,” she announces loudly.
“Hi ... um, do you sell stamps?” I glance over my shoulder at the shop to make sure my mother isn’t watching.
“Yes. A first class stamp will be thirty-six pence, please.” With a smile, she puts her hand possessively over the envelope. “I can take care of that for you, if you’d like,” she offers, taking my letter.
I pass her the one pound coin, and she gives me my change. Without counting it, I scoop it up, mutter a thank-you, and rush off before I can be discovered. I feel an enormous sense of relief when I make it back outside to Peter, glad that in a day or two Matthew will receive my letter and understand what has happened.
My mother leaves the shop a few moments later, briefly stopping by reception one last time. She smiles and chats with the lady who sold me my stamp, and then she joins us outside as the shuttle bus pulls up. We load our luggage, take our seats, and start our journey home in silence. An hour later, I find myself in terminal three at Heathrow Airport, attempting to keep myself entertained by strolling around the duty free shops while my parents follow me. The boarding announcement can’t come fast enough.
CHAPTER 14
Pepperdine
I write to Diana as soon as I return, and I write again to Matthew. In both letters, I explain the situation in depth. Neither replies before I have to leave for school in the final days of August, and by the time I settle into my dorm and the first quarter of classes, my eighteenth birthday has passed. It is mid-October before Diana’s letter reaches me at the university.
Sitting on my bed in my shared dorm room, I am shell-shocked by what she has written. Diana tells me that when she received my letter in late August, she was worried sick
because I had never shown up in Harptree to see her. She says she has written to me at my parents’ house, but I never replied, so she was relieved to get my recent letter along with my new address at the university.
She goes on to say how sorry she is that my parents took me back so unexpectedly; she agrees that they must have discovered I spent the night with Sully. She’s gone to Sully’s flat several times, as I have asked her to do, but she repeatedly missed him. Terry went round again on the first of October and was shocked to learn Sully had moved out. Someone new is living there, and they say the previous tenant has moved to Australia.
Diana explains that Terry didn’t believe it at first, but he went to Sully’s mum’s house, and Mrs. Sullivan confirmed that it is true. Sully left at the end of September. Apparently, he applied for a skilled migration work visa for Australia, which was expedited and approved, and just like that, he packed up and left. Diana promises to write again with any further news, and with Sully’s address if Terry can get it.
Australia? Why? My heart stops. I don’t know if it will ever begin beating again.
Fall quarter passes in a fog. Diana writes again but with no further news. She says Terry has asked for a forwarding address from Sully’s mum, but she said she hasn’t heard from him yet. All I can do is wait and hope that Matthew will eventually reach out to me. Days turn to weeks, weeks to months, and months to quarters. Eventually, my freshman year at college comes to a close, summer passes again, and fall approaches as the cycle begins once more.
A new dorm room, a new roommate, new classes, and a new boy who is determined to get my attention. Brock Gilbert is in my sociology class—six foot three and about two hundred pounds of solid, tanned muscle. It is impossible even for me to overlook him on campus. He strolls around in shorts, a tank top, and flip flops, with a backpack slung over one shoulder and his shoulder-length blond hair blowing in the breeze. He has deep, gorgeous green eyes and perfect teeth, and he surfs every morning at dawn at the beach off Main and Fifth.
Don't Look Back Page 9