by Lori L. Otto
He curses under his breath, not once, but twice, verbally berating himself and his behavior. I think back to how it all began, and realize I may have initiated the whole thing.
“I’m sorry, Livvy,” he says, his head still looking away from me. “I’m sorry for fighting with you. I mean it.”
I put my hands in his hair, massaging his scalp. “I am, too,” I tell him.
He looks back up at me, careful to keep his eyes on my face when they are undoubtedly tempted to be anywhere–everywhere–else. “I scared you, didn’t I?”
“A little,” I whisper, glancing away quickly, his expression still too intense for me to look at for too long. I see the flowers, crushed on the floor next to the bed, the pigment of the petals staining the tan-colored carpet. Jon looks next to him to see what has my attention. I cross my arms over my chest as he picks up the demolished bouquet and holds it between us. We both study the damage that’s been done.
“What do you want, Livvy?” He looks up at me through his lashes, his mood completely changed.
“Your shirt,” I tell him. He laughs lightly.
“Would you like your sweater?”
“No. Your shirt will do fine,” I tell him, clueing him in to the fact that I’m not ready to go home yet. He sets the flowers down on the bed beside me.
“Of course,” he says quickly, unbuttoning the last few buttons and holding it over my shoulders while I slip my arms through the holes. He buttons the two buttons between my breasts, then focuses his attention on the cuffs that are hanging over my hands. He folds each of them back meticulously until my fingers are exposed. “Better?”
“Yeah.”
“What else do you want?”
“I want you to take back what you said about ‘getting laid.’” He sighs, immediately knowing that those words should never come out of his mouth.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“This is too new and too infrequent for you to be crass about it.”
“I didn’t mean it. I was just mad. And very frustrated, Liv. Like, sexually,” he says softly, as if he’s embarrassed. “This is all I’ve been thinking about. It’s consuming me.”
“We’re about more than this–”
“I know that. You know I know that, baby. And I don’t want to sound like that guy, but damn it. I want you. I want to sleep with you. It’s getting to the point that I want to say I need it. But I’m afraid to say that to you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to pressure you.”
“You’re not.” I put my hands beneath his chin and tilt his head a little, kissing the corner of his lips. I can feel his smile form next to mine. “I want to be close to you. I feel that need, too. For me, it’s the intimacy. It’s the security.”
“I like those, too, but I need the release,” he says honestly. His cheeks blush pink. “Nothing compares to actually being with you. Nothing.”
Now I feel my own face flush, and I look away, deflecting his compliment. I pick up the bouquet once more and search for any flowers that were spared from my plucking and Jon’s shoes. Two camellias still stand perfectly erect, unblemished and whole. I loosen the ribbon and remove them from the rest as Jon watches me. He smiles, first putting his hand around mine and holding the flowers with me, then taking them from me and setting them carefully on the nightstand.
I scoot back on the bed, lying down against the pillows in the middle. Jon stands to his feet, but doesn’t make a move toward me. “Come,” I encourage him. “Come be with me.”
“I would love to,” he answers, kicking off his shoes and lying down next to me. We both lean into each other, resting on our sides, kissing slowly and gently.
“Jon?” I interrupt abruptly. He pulls away immediately. “Have I changed so much that you don’t want me to go to college with you?”
“No, baby,” he breathes. “I want you to do what makes you happy. Deep down, if that makes you happy, then come to Columbia.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Of course I mean it. I just don’t want you to regret it later, that’s all.” I touch his face softly, looking into his eyes and gauging his sincerity.
“I don’t think I will regret it. You know I don’t regret anything with you–” He kisses me mid-sentence. I push him back playfully to continue. “I love you–”
“I love you, too,” he says with his lips on mine again.
“Wait!” I laugh. He rests his head on the pillow and smoothes my hair back, looking at me sweetly. “I love you, and that’s all I can give you right now. And I just hope that’s enough.” I feel an unwelcome lump in my throat, suddenly fearing it may not be enough.
“Hey,” he whispers, sensing the worry and propping himself up on his elbows. “It’s more than enough for me,” he assures me. “The last thing I want to do is mess up what we have. Ever.” He touches his lips to my forehead lightly. “Whatever we have to do to maintain this, let’s do it. Maybe with a little more sex, though,” he adds with a deadpan expression. His fingers pinch my side where I’m ticklish, and I burst into laughter. I push him away and he stops, his loving gaze returning.
“Whatever we have to do,” I vow, “to keep it like this, I will do. And soon we’ll have more time alone, Jon. Just promise me you won’t go elsewhere when you need it. Just tell me. We’ll find a way.”
“I know.”
“I want to fulfill those needs for you.” I’m not sure I said the words loud enough for him to hear, the declaration new, and adult, and a little scary to verbalize. But I do. His eyes search mine, though, and I know he heard. His fingers drag down the front of my thigh slowly before trailing to the back of my leg. With his palm flat against my skin, his hand glides up my leg and underneath his shirt, continuing until it rests in the middle of my back. I put my arm around him, and we pull each other closer, simply enjoying a very long, very slow, very full and incredibly sensuous kiss.
“What do you want?” The sound is loud in my right ear as my head rests on his smooth chest, but the inquiry is familiar and expected. He’d posed the question many times tonight, doing everything he could to satisfy me.
My fingers press against his stomach muscles as he flexes and releases them, showing off his newly-sculpted body. I truly am impressed, and I told him so many times over the past hour. He seemed more confident and in control, able to hold me tighter, to love me longer, to please me better–and more than once.
It ended up being a very good night.
“I want pancakes,” I tell him. He shifts suddenly, pushing my back onto the bed and leaning over me.
“Pancakes?” he asks as if he couldn’t understand me the first time.
“Yes. Pancakes. From the cafe on 83rd.”
“Maybe tomorrow?”
I shake my head and lean up to look at the alarm clock. “They close at midnight. We can make it with time to spare.”
He laughs in disbelief. “I guess we didn’t have dinner,” he realizes, holding his hand over his stomach. “I’m a little hungry.”
“What do you want?” I ask him. He gives me a sideways glance and a grin, and I realize I’ve asked the wrong question. “What do you need?” I correct myself. We’d traded off all night. He’d give me what I wanted, I’d give him what he needed.
“A shower,” he says. “Sleep,” he adds.
“Go take a shower,” I encourage him, wishing I could, too. My aunt would definitely ask me why my hair wasn’t curled anymore if I did, though. It’s messy enough as it is. “And I can drive back.”
“A shower will wake me up.” He leans down and kisses me slowly. “And if not, then you can distract me by kissing me behind my ear like you were awhile ago. That was so sexy.”
“You just tell me what you need,” I tell him. “I’ll do it.”
We make it to the diner with time to spare. We finish eating by midnight, so I suggest we go to my house for a little bit. After convincing him my aunt will leave us alone, he agrees to it.
I’m extra quiet, opening the front door, but realize Kelly is already awake when we get inside. She’s reading the book she brought, using a small book light. As I walk by my brother’s room, I see they’ve pulled out the trundle, and Nikki is curled up on the second bed with Teddy. She and Trey are both sound asleep.
“You’re early,” she whispers, getting up and setting her book on the side table.
“Yeah. We were going to go watch a little bit of a talk show. He’s going to take a cab back to campus,” I tell her. “Is Matty home?”
“He’s not coming home,” she says. “Did you know he was seeing someone?”
“No,” I say, starting to walk toward the basement in an effort to escape the conversation. I just want to get back to more alone-time with Jon. “He doesn’t talk about that much here.”
“Oh, okay.” I take Jon’s hand and start to pull him with me, but Kelly keeps talking. “Jon, it’s good to see you again. What movie did you see?”
My brain can’t produce an answer. “Breakfast... at Tiffany’s,” Jon blurts out abruptly. “It was a special engagement showing. One night only,” he explains.
“I’ve been trying to get Livvy to watch that for years! Did you like it?” she asks.
“You know I don’t really like old movies,” I tell her. “I dozed off,” I lie, hoping it will keep her from asking any more questions about the film.
“I tried,” Jon says as he shrugs his shoulders. “What can you do?”
“Well, thank you for trying,” she laughs. “You two go downstairs. Just be quiet when you leave, Jon. Trey was a bundle of energy and hard to get down.”
“Welcome to our world,” I say back.
“I’m going to head upstairs, Liv. I’m not used to late nights like this.”
“That’s fine, Kel. I’ll make sure he’s quiet, and I’ll look in on Trey and Nikki once more before I go to sleep.”
She smiles and waves as she starts to walk up the stairs. Jon and I go the other direction to the basement. “Great, now I’ll have to watch that stupid movie,” I chastise him.
“You weren’t saying anything,” he reminds me. “Breakfast. That was the only thought in my head other than I just got to spend the evening making love to my girlfriend. I think we’re lucky that didn’t come out,” Jon says as he takes a seat on the leather sofa.
“You’re right.” I take his hand and pull him back up, pull him into my room with me.
“This is okay?” he asks.
“She went to bed. It’s not like we’re going to do anything, anyway.”
“Anything?”
“Everything,” I correct myself. “What do you need?”
“I need to kiss you some more.”
“Perfect, because I want that.”
“Livvy?”
What’s wrong with his voice?
“Livvy, are you awake?”
And why is he across the room from me? I open my eyes slowly, sleep clouding my thoughts. I blink a few times before focusing on the figure at the door. It’s much shorter than I expect, and his hair–
“Trey?” I jump slightly when I realize who it is. I feel something shift beneath me and realize Jon is in the bed, under the covers, with me. “Hey, buddy, uh...” I stall, speaking quietly, hoping Jon doesn’t move. “Hey, don’t come in, I’m, uh... I’m not feeling great.”
“Okay,” he responds.
“What time is it?”
“Morning,” he says, and my heart stops beating. I feel Jon’s arm tense under me. He’s awake, but thankfully, he knows not to move. “I think it’s around eight.”
“Are Mom and Dad home?”
“No. Kelly wants to know what you want for breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry,” I tell him quickly. “Just tell her I’m not ready to get up, ‘kay?”
“’kay.”
“And I’ll come up when I’m ready, all right?”
“Okay.”
“Can you shut the door, buddy?”
He doesn’t answer verbally, but steps in, grabs the doorknob, and slams it shut.
“Shit,” Jon says as he gets out of bed hurriedly. Still not fully awake, I scan his clothes and realize he’s still dressed, for the most part. T-shirt, jeans... I remember that we made out, after we came in here, but we were both tired, and–“We must have fallen asleep.”
Exactly.
“Uhhh,” I start, not sure what to do. “How are we going to get you out of here?”
“You just go up first, make sure everyone’s preoccupied–”
“Livvy?” my aunt calls from the other side of the door. Jon and I stare at one another, completely silent.
“Closet?” he mouths to me. I shake my head just as my aunt opens the door.
“Oh,” Kelly says, shocked.
“Aunt Kelly?” my brother yells from upstairs.
“Jackson, honey!” she says, obviously flustered since she used my brother’s given name. “Stay up there and play with Nikki, okay, Trey?”
“Okay.”
My aunt comes in and closes the door. “Olivia Sophia,” she starts, “what happened here?”
“Nothing!” we both say in unison. I start to climb out of bed to explain, and realize I’m wearing only a camisole and panties. My bare leg, peeking out from under the covers, raises her suspicion immediately.
“I swear,” I tell her, pulling my leg back and sitting up in the bed, hugging the blankets closely.
“Did your brother see him?”
“No,” I say quickly.
She shakes her head as she looks back and forth at us. “Jacks is going to murder me,” she says.
“Dad doesn’t have to know, does he?”
“Kelly, I promise you,” Jon says. “I slept in this, and nothing happened. We kissed, and we fell asleep.”
“You said you were going to watch TV,” she reminds me. “You said he’d get a cab home last night.”
“It was an accident, Kelly,” I plead. “Please don’t tell Dad. Jon can go home–”
“That would be a great plan, Liv, if your parents hadn’t called ten minutes ago to tell me they were on their way home.”
“How far away were they?”
“Fifteen minutes.” Her nostrils flare in anger as she says it. “And these are just estimates. They could be in the driveway as we speak. Get out of bed, Olivia.”
I hop up quickly, holding my hands over the tops of my thighs. I glance at Jon, who raises his hand to his chin and covers his mouth as he rubs his morning stubble with his fingers, obviously hiding a smile.
“Go take a shower. You don’t look like nothing happened,” she says under her breath.
“What about him?” I ask, worried about Jon.
“I invited him for breakfast, remember? You overslept,” she lies, glaring at me. “Now go get in the shower while I convince your brother Jon just came in the front door.”
“I, uh,” Jon says. “I don’t know if I should stay for breakfast,” he says as he pulls on his socks.
“Get your shoes,” my aunt tells him. “You’re staying, because if my brother finds out what really happened, you and I will both be shunned from the Holland inner circle.” Jon picks up his shoes and follows my aunt out of my room. “Shower, now,” she says one last time to me. I grab some clean underwear from my drawer and run quickly to the bathroom, starting the shower immediately.
I can’t believe we fell asleep. We’d been kissing chastely on my bed, talking about the night. We had made up completely, with no hard feelings about anything that was said or done the night before. I was a little uncomfortable, the bodice of my dress a little constricting, and I’d made a comment to Jon. He’d suggested I change into something more comfortable, and I did. I had pulled on the camisole and a pair of flannel pants.
We kissed some more, but the basement became chilly, and I told Jon I wanted to get under the covers. He’d taken off his shoes, socks and dress shirt, and crawled into bed with me. His hands explored my body as the kiss
es became less inhibited, and–together–we’d taken off my flannel pants. His fingers...
I sigh under the hot water, becoming turned on again just thinking about what he’d done. He had to kiss me to keep me quiet... and the kiss lasted for quite some time.
I was tired after that. He held me close to him, stroking my hair, lulling me to sleep. As I was dozing off, I remember thinking that he should probably leave, but I didn’t want to suggest it. I didn’t want him to go.
I didn’t want him to go, and yet I never intended for him to stay the night.
I remember suddenly that my parents could be home momentarily, and rush to clean up and wash my hair. I don’t want to leave Jon alone with my Mom and Dad. Just as I step out of the bathroom in only my underwear, my hair in a towel, I hear their voices upstairs.
I run to my room and pull on a pair of jeans I’d left folded on my dresser.
“Livvy?” my dad calls to me, his footsteps audible, getting closer on the wooden staircase to the basement. I pull on the only shirt near me–Jon’s dress shirt that he’d worn last night. It still smells like him... like us. The first time we made love last night, he didn’t bother to take it off of me.
After buttoning it quickly, I tie the ends of it in a knot. The sleeves had never been rolled back down since Jon had moved them to expose my hands last night.
“I overslept,” I blurt to my dad as he stands outside my door. “I’m coming up.”
“I heard,” he says with a laugh, stepping in and giving me a hug and a kiss on my forehead. “You can take your time getting ready, if you need to,” he suggests. “Kelly’s holding breakfast for us.”
“Us?”
“Yes, she made enough for all of us. You know how she loves to take care of us.”
“I know. But I’m ready.”
“You hair’s in a towel,” he reminds me. “She invited Jon. He’s upstairs, you know?”
“Yeah, she told me. It’s fine,” I say. “He’s seen worse.” I swallow hard, wishing I hadn’t said it. “I mean, I’m sure–”