by Rae Kennedy
“Your, uh, roommate there seems like a nice guy.”
“Yeah, he can be kind of a dick sometimes.”
Adam is clearly waiting for an explanation.
“He and my brother are best friends and they live here together. This is my brother’s house and I just moved in at the beginning of the school year for convenience.”
He seems generally appeased by that clarification. “I should probably get going. We should both get plenty of sleep before the test.”
What!
“Guess you’re right.” Damn. But I can still be disappointed.
We gather his stuff and he leans in and gives me another nice kiss goodbye.
“See you in class.”
“Night.”
* * *
Over the next few weeks, my life falls into a nice routine. I get up and shower, inevitably to be interrupted by Cade’s morning pee—which he simply “cannot fucking hold”—and then we eat breakfast together. Sometimes Tuck joins us, but more often he is running out the door in the morning. Usually, breakfast is something easy and fast, like pancakes or eggs, but occasionally Cade surprises me with something absurdly elegant or involved, like homemade cinnamon rolls dripping with a spiced pecan caramel sauce. Thank goodness I am burning some calories riding my bike to and from campus.
After class most days I meet up with Adam. We often go to that little coffee shop where he first took me. Sometimes we sit out on one of the lawns, holding hands and just talking. We talk about growing up. What we were like in school. I immediately regret telling him I haven’t had a boyfriend since high school, but he doesn’t seem to care.
We are both from single-parent families. The way he talks about her, Adam’s mom must practically be a saint, whereas my mother is a bit more absent. Tuck and I had to stick together and watch out for one another after our father died twelve years ago. I was nine and he was fourteen. Tuck had to grow up much faster than me.
Adam listens attentively. He is a great listener. An even better kisser.
In the evenings, I go home and study, maybe watch some television while waiting for Cade to get home. He is off at irregular times, so we often have dinner at ten at night, but he comes home from cooking and running a kitchen all day, happy as can be to cook for me. He always gives me some simple task to do, usually chopping or stirring. Whatever assignment it is, he always insists it is incredibly important. Even these menial jobs incur his tutelage.
While chopping celery for the chicken pot pies one night, he comes up behind me. He has never been this close to me before. I can feel my ears go warm as my pulse quickens. He smells like fresh laundry and some type of great-smelling soap, the kind advertised specifically for guys. He wraps his arms around me and places his hands over mine. Are my hands clammy? Oh God. He guides the knife in my right hand and curls my fingers over on my left
“Here, press your knuckles up against the knife like this.” He proceeds to move the knife up and down slowly with his firm right hand over mine. I am fixated on the tattoos that end at his wrist in black scripted letters. I can’t read what it says. If only he’d stop moving... “There. Now you can go faster and not worry about slicing your fingers off.”
See, he is very helpful. He has also come up with this tantalizing habit of smacking me on my ass when dinner is just about done and telling me to go set the table. I can’t help but squeal, flush, then giggle every time. It is so chauvinistic yet endearing at the same time. Is that possible?
During the week, the evenings are mine and Cade’s. Adam is strict about not staying up late or going out on school nights. It is actually quite adorable. But on Fridays and Saturdays, he is at my door punctually at seven. Flowers in hand. I always feel a little embarrassed taking the flowers—it seems so over-the-top and formal. Cade is still a total asshole whenever Adam comes to pick me up, but it doesn’t matter too much. Adam is lovely enough to make up for it. He is just so...perfect. He’s smart, handsome, funny, and the constant gentleman. It is one of the best Septembers of my life.
* * *
The first Tuesday in October is perfectly ordinary until I walk into Professor Trobaugh’s class. Adam isn’t in his usual seat Then I look at my spot. On the table in front of it is a huge bouquet of red roses. Dozens of them in the most beautiful deep shade of crimson. As I walk up, I can clearly see the large name printed on the little card. I am painfully aware of everyone in the room watching me. I feel my face get hot as I take the card in a shaky hand. I am so overwhelmed and embarrassed I am surprised I’m not quivering all over. I already know who they are from.
Adam.
The card is corny. And sweet. And perfect.
Haley-
I’m crazy about you. Will you do me the honor of letting everyone else know how crazy I am about you and be my girlfriend?
Yours,
Adam
Yours?
Then he is next to me. I sense his warmth and smell his magnificent scent before I turn around. He is there, big brown eyes looking at me questioningly. I am wordless. He is distressed.
“Yes.” It is almost a whisper. But he hears.
He gives me the most breathtaking smile I’ve ever seen and scoops me up in a tight hug and spins us around. Right in the middle of class—until Professor Trobaugh comes in. I don’t remember anything about that particular day’s lecture except that mustard cardigan and how tight Adam squeezes my hand the entire hour.
* * *
The flowers take up our entire dining room table.
“Holy shit.” Cade walks over, eyeing the bouquet. “You can tell Loverboy he doesn’t have to try so fucking hard. Or has he never seen the goofy-ass smile you have when you talk about him?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Since you refuse to learn his name, you can just call him my boyfriend.”
He raises his eyebrows, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Well, I’m glad it worked for him. I would never give a girl roses.”
“Never?” I cross my arms.
“Not roses. They’re too cliché. And boring. They don’t show any thought or originality. Plus, nobody’s favorite flower is a rose. Fact.”
“That sounds made up.”
“What’s your favorite flower?”
“I don’t know. I guess I’ve never thought about it.”
Then I see them swaying in my mind—the deep orange petals softly fluttering among the patches of icy snow not yet melted by the new sunshine, the grass still in its winter slumber.
“Orange tulips. There was a patch of them outside my window in the house we lived in before my dad died. They didn’t bloom for long, but I was always so excited when they did because it meant Spring was finally coming.”
“See.” Cade tilts his head to me. “Not a rose.”
CHAPTER 5
The date is perfect. Again.
Adam and I are standing at my front door, the usual goodnights and shy smiles. He comes in close, his smile becoming lax and his eyes hooding over. I want it too. His lips are so soft and hot on mine. His smell is sweet but musky. His late-night stubble grazes my cheek as he moves down to kiss behind my ear. It sends shivers down the whole left side of my body. His breath sears against my neck as he kisses down to my collarbone. My heartbeat quickens and I’m lightheaded.
My arms are around his waist, holding him tight. I slip my hands under his shirt and slide them up his back. His skin is smooth and burning to the touch. His mouth is back to mine and the kiss is more urgent. I touch his hard stomach then move up to his chest. He groans into my mouth when I brush my thumbs over his taut nipples. He pulls away, out of breath. I am practically panting.
“Come inside,” I beg.
He looks torn at my invitation. I can barely make out his deep brown eyes as he stands over me, silhouetted by the porch light.
“God Haley, I want to, but I can’t.”
Really? I’m here all worked up.
“I’m going home this weekend and I have to leave prett
y early in the morning.”
Oh. I guess he had mentioned something like that at dinner. Shit.
“I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Goodnight.”
“Night.”
* * *
I am pissed. I shouldn’t be—but I am. Not to mention horny. I slam the door behind me and just let it out.
“Fuck!”
“Whoa, Haley. You all right?” Cade is sitting on the couch, his usual spot, in his customary casual lounge position. “Everything okay with Loverboy?”
No way am I letting him think something is wrong with my relationship.
“No, he’s still perfect.” I need a lie quick. I take my high heels off. “My feet are just killing me.”
“Come here and I’ll massage them for you.”
“Uhh...” That isn’t the reaction I expected. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”
“No, seriously. I’m pretty good at massages.”
I’m sure you are. “Not necessary.”
I pass him and head into the hallway when he seizes me around the waist and picks me up.
“Hey!” I flail around but he successfully carries me over and drops me on the couch.
“Sit your ass down and let me rub your smelly feet.”
My feet do not smell.
He sits on the end of the couch, grabs my feet and pulls them onto his lap, making me slide down onto my back. I stop resisting and just let the man give me a damn foot rub, if he is so insistent. I rest my head on the arm of the couch and close my eyes.
He starts with my left foot, gently rubbing my heel between his thumb and forefinger. His hands are warm and firm. It feels amazing.
Never turn down a foot massage, Haley. That’s stupid.
He laces his fingers over the top of my foot with his thumbs on the bottom, making little circles first on my heel and then moving up the side of my foot. Then he deliberately rubs the spaces between my toes and massages each individual toe from joint to the tip of the pad.
I am a puddle on the couch by this point. I feel totally warm and like jelly all over. Then he moves to the balls of my feet, moving in larger, deeper circles. Cade is good at foot rubs. Like, really fucking good. The warm sensation in my foot oozes up into my leg, tingling on the way up to my inner thigh. He’s being slow and thorough, and his hands are strong yet gentle with every touch. Cade is touching me. And I like it.
Shit.
His deft fingers move down to the arch of my foot. They are just slightly rough and calloused from use. They move up and down my arch, pressing into my foot, sending electric surges up to my pelvis and base of my spine. The insides of my thighs are buzzing and I feel like I need to press them together. My breathing becomes embarrassingly heavy and I let out a quiet moan of appreciation.
“Does it feel good?”
How the fuck can he ask me that?
“Ye...ah.” I open my eyes to see him smiling coyly, but he isn’t looking at my face. He is concentrating on my foot, thank God. I’m sure I am flushed all over.
He moves to my other foot and begins the process again. Rubbing my heel and ankle, up to my toes. The pressure is almost unbearable—it is becoming more of a throbbing between my legs and this time when he hits the tender spot, it sends a jolt right into my clitoris.
Ohmygod.
It pulses there and the sensation vibrates out into the pit of my stomach. The moan I let out is definitely louder this time. Is it obvious to him what is happening? Or can I just play them off as normal massage noises? I grab a pillow and throw it over my face, mumbling something about the light shining in my eyes.
I feel his hot hands moving slowly over my ankle and up to my calf. He starts massaging my calf muscle and it feels so heavenly.
I imagine him moving his hands up higher to my thigh. Maybe even higher than that.
I want him to—but he doesn’t.
My lips are burning and starting to numb. A build-up gradually begins, causing my stomach to spasm. It spreads down to my sex, which clenches around emptiness, longing for something to be there. Something hard to fill it up.
My heart rate is speeding, and my blood is pumping at a furious pace in my ears and my center.
Jesus, I am coming.
Cade is making me come right here on the couch.
I stifle any sounds that come out with the pillow as I feel the final wave of pleasure surge through my body, my insides contracting violently around nothingness. The tension releases and I am finally able to breathe. My forehead has broken into a sweat. My legs feel like they are being pricked by thousands of pins and needles wherever Cade touches. And then he isn’t touching them anymore.
“Hale?”
Shit. That requires some sort of response. I am not in the proper state to have a conversation. I slowly remove the pillow from my face, still avoiding eye contact.
“Yeah?”
“I thought maybe you fell asleep over there or something.”
“No.”
The temperature in the room seems to be coming back to normal and my breathing is much steadier.
“That was nice, Cade. Thanks.” Maybe I can run to my room without him figuring out what he just did to me.
“No problem. The pleasure was all mine.”
I sit up and look at him. He has that devious little snarky smile on again. Does he know? Because the pleasure was definitely all mine.
“Something’s still bugging you, and it’s not your feet right now. What’s up?”
Right now? It’s that a guy who is not my boyfriend just gave me an orgasm—without even touching me above the knee. I can’t even be mad about it. It could have been Adam. Why wouldn’t he give me this?
I blame my post-orgasm brain for what I blurt out next.
“My boyfriend won’t have sex with me.”
Cade’s blue eyes become wide, his mouth slack with shock.
“What?”
That’s just great. Now I must continue this discussion.
“Well, it’s just that we’ve been seeing each other for over a month now and we haven’t even gone to second base.”
“Okay, first of all, he’s a fucking idiot. Second of all, I’m sure he’s just trying to take it slow and be respectful.” That is pretty mature reassurance coming from Cade. “Trust me, he wants to put it in you.” That’s more like it.
“I’m not sure if I should be taking relationship advice from a man-whore.” Oops, that may have been too far.
“Man-whore?” He smiles in amusement. “I don’t think I can be classified as such by a virgin.”
What?
“I’m not a virgin.” I can tell he’s incredulous. “What makes you think I am?”
He shrugs. “You just have a doe-eyed look about you. You look innocent, and definitely not like you’ve ever been properly fucked.”
Heat blossoms on my cheeks and I realize my mouth is hanging open. I shut it and straighten. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to look, but I’m not a virgin, it’s just...been a while.”
“Really?” He’s humoring me. “How long is a while?”
Ugh. “That’s not any of your business.”
He gives me this look. The ‘I’m not going to let it go’ look.
“C’mon.”
Fine. “Four years.”
He only lets me see the surprise on his face briefly.
“Wow—why?”
I don’t know why I feel like I need to tell him.
“I don’t know. With my first boyfriend... Neither of us knew what we were doing. We were seventeen. I knew the first time was going to hurt. I just figured it would get better from there. It didn’t.” I guess he was right about the being “properly fucked” part.
This is the first time I’ve seen Cade look so serious, even concerned. I haven’t told anyone this before. Ever.
“What do you mean?”
“It just never felt right. It didn’t feel good. It wasn’t fun.”
“Haley, I’m sorry.”
“It’s
not a big deal. I just vowed that I would wait until it was with the right guy.”
“Still, that’s a long time.”
“Yeah, well the classes at my last university were rigorous and extremely competitive. I had to focus on school to keep my scholarship. I didn’t date or go to parties.” I didn’t make any real friends either. No wonder I was so miserable.
“Well, I hope that next guy treats you the way you deserve.”
“Thanks.”
Okay, this is getting way too weird and serious for me. I get up to leave when he grabs my elbow.
“Wait—" His sexy smirk is lopsided as he looks at me from under his lashes. “So, have you ever had an orgasm?”
I immediately feel the blood rush to my face. I am not answering that. I turn to leave but he still has my arm.
He looks up at me, completely sober. “Tell me.”
“Only the ones I’ve given myself.”
Plus the one you may have just given me a few minutes ago. But I’m never telling you about that one.
He seems genuinely satisfied with that answer. My ears are hot and my face is probably bright red at this point. I bolt to my room.
* * *
“Given yourself any orgasms lately?” Cade asks as he walks into the bathroom the next morning.
“Maybe you should give it a try sometime. You contract less STDs that way.”
“Ow. Nice one. But I masturbate plenty and I don’t have any STDs, so...”
“I don’t want to know about how often you masturbate.” I can’t believe that just came out of my mouth without any hesitation.
“Really?”
“Really.”
He chuckles at me then flushes. Scalding me again.
“Got plans for today?”
I can’t think of anything to make up.
“No.”
“Okay, get ready. You’re coming out with me.”
Apparently Cade’s idea of “going out” is to the local farmer’s market. It’s an unseasonably warm morning for October. The light blue sky with the sun reflecting off all the brightly colored tents reminds me of being inside a kaleidoscope. The crowd is mellow, many families and people walking their dogs. Cade is in heaven, smelling all the produce and squeezing the fruit to test for ripeness. He grabs an armful of leeks and parsnips and apples and figs. I can see his mind working.