by Mariah Dietz
He chuckles, taking a seat across from me with a bowl of cereal. “You’ve been rotating hats.”
I know he’s right.
26
Wes
“You about ready?” Max asks, rinsing the coffee pot.
“I think I’m going to try driving tomorrow,” I tell him.
“You sure about that?”
“I feel almost normal. And with my truck being an automatic, I don’t think it will be a problem at all.”
Max lifts his eyebrows, yet doesn’t voice his thoughts.
When we arrive on campus, I’m practically whistling, I’m in such a good mood. My day improves further when I notice Leela getting out of her Jeep a few cars down.
Max notices her, too. He honks his horn twice, catching her attention.
“You need help carrying anything?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I’ve got it.”
A knowing grin spreads across his face. “I’ll catch you in class.” We both get out of his truck and he shouts a greeting to Leela, while I grab my crutches and bag. He gives me a parting wave before heading to class.
Leela walks toward me, her long hair tucked behind her ears. “Hey.” She smiles and it’s shy and sweet and sincere, and all I can do is run my hand along her jaw and lean down to kiss her. She steps closer to me, her arms going around my shoulders and pressing her lips to mine more firmly. We kiss until I forget we haven’t seen each other in days, or that I’m using crutches to stand, or that we’re standing in the middle of the parking lot. All I can think about is how right this is and how much I don’t want to stop kissing her. Leela’s mouth is so soft, and the red gloss that my lips are wiping off makes her lips slide easily over mine. Her hips press firmly against mine, and I can’t hold her tight enough with my single free hand. When she moans against my mouth and parts her lips, I groan in response, tasting strawberries and Leela, and breathing in air that smells of spices and lavender. Strands of her hair blow against my cheek, tickling my skin while her body bends with mine. Every one of my senses is filled with her as I run my tongue along hers, gently stroking, and tasting, and exploring new bounds of our relationship that have been consuming my thoughts for weeks.
A car horn honks, followed by screams and whistles that have Leela pulling back, a smile stretching her lips as her eyes slowly flutter open. It’s beautiful and if we didn’t have class soon, I’d be considering places to continue this.
Leela giggles, as though reading my thoughts. “Let’s skip class today,” she says.
The idea runs through my mind, going through a series of possibilities for where we could go and what we could do. “Kline grades on attendance,” I remind her.
“We’re always there.”
“You’re sure?”
She nods. “I just want to be twenty-four right now.” Her lips tip up and then down as the happiness she’s working to express is briefly penetrated by anger and sadness that have me staring at her silently, waiting for her to tell me what’s going on.
“I want to be irresponsible for once.”
Thoughts of how hard Leela works both in and out of school flood my thoughts. I would hate to be responsible for negatively impacting her focus. “Why don’t we just go after class? We can go get some lunch and I can finally show you my apartment, if you want.”
Leela takes a step back. “Never mind. Let’s just go to class.”
“Leela.” My voice is gentle as I take a step forward, my crutches squeaking with my weight.
She shakes her head. “I wasn’t thinking. You’re right. We need to go to class. My GPA impacts my grade, and I don’t want to jeopardize missing anything.”
“Max will share his notes with us,” I say.
She stares at me and I see the internal war taking place in her light-green eyes. “I like you too much,” she admits, shocking the absolute hell out of me. “I think about you all of the time. And, I consider what it would be like if we made this work. If we were together still at Christmas and had more time off, how would we spend our time? What would we do for an entire summer without classes? What if we celebrated a one-year anniversary? And I know that sounds crazy and makes me look like I’m twelve and doodling your last name, but you have this way of sneaking into every single one of my thoughts so that while I’m driving, working, studying, tutoring…” she raises her hands and her eyes roll with thought, “literally everything I do. You somehow become part of the equation, and I get stuck wondering what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, who you’re with. I wonder if something would make you laugh. I want to know how many times you’ve seen the Star Wars movies, and which one is your favorite. If you sleep with socks on, and what other kind of weird food combinations like ketchup and ranch you like.”
“I’m thinking of you, too! I also want to see where this goes. I want to know if every time I kiss you, you’re going to look at me like I’ve just done something significant. And I can’t remember all your questions, but to answer a few, yes, I would more than likely be laughing because I like to laugh. And I’ve seen Star Wars so many times I can’t count, and my favorite one is the fourth original film, and I’ve seen it probably twice as many times as the others. And when I was a kid, I used to hide all of my Star Wars stuff in my parents’ room because I was afraid my friends would think I was a dork for liking them. I hate socks, and I don’t eat any strange food combinations because as you’ve learned, ranch and ketchup are amazing together.”
Her smile is flimsy and fragile, mirroring embarrassment.
“What?” I ask.
Leela closes the gap she’d created, hesitantly resting a hand on my forearm. “There are at least a thousand reasons why we shouldn’t be together and why this is going to be a lot of work—but, I want to make this work. I want to experience Christmas break with you, and spring break, and summer. I want to make you half as happy as I am when I’m around you.”
“You do.” I slide my hand along her hip, careful not to pull her closer because now more than ever I want to allow her to feel empowered and strong, while still making sure she knows I am still invested and ready to make this leap with her.
“Then let’s just forget everything else.” Her breath is against my lips with her last word, and then she’s kissing me, creating a serenity that quickly becomes a desire that deepens when her hands grip either side of my face and she pushes closer with her hips. I swipe my tongue along hers and she moans. Leela’s fingers apply more pressure, drawing my face down as hers turns up, deepening the kiss. Thoughts try to surface, and each one is obliterated as her lips move along mine, tugging and demanding while giving and promising.
“Let’s skip class,” I whisper the suggestion against her mouth, not willing to pull back any farther.
She nods, her nose sliding against mine, her breath fanning my skin. “How far away is your apartment?” She kisses me again.
“How much time do you have?”
She shakes her head in short jerks so her lips brush against mine. “I’m not worried about that. I don’t want to worry about time right now.”
I kiss her again, afraid I’m making assumptions based on the situation and roll of her hips.
“A few miles.” My voice is husky and quiet, restrained because talking is one of the very last things my body wants to do at the moment.
“Will you take me there?”
Surprise has me looking at her, watching her eyes do their slow open and lips sliding into a shy smile that grows. “Yeah.”
She nods in return, her eyes bright. “Let’s go.”
We make our way over to her Jeep, and I’m debating if this is going to be physically possible with my foot and crutches. Then she smiles at me, and I know that a broken hip wouldn’t be able to stop me at this point.
27
Leela
His apartment is bigger than I’d expected, and each wall is covered in a different piece of art that leaves me staring longer, trying to take in the way they go together a
nd what they’re representing. A few are abstract pieces, displaying colors that are intended to evoke emotions and feelings, while others are blown up photographs of famous landmarks.
“These are beautiful,” I tell him, following him into his living room where there’s a large picture of him and his friends. Some of them I’ve met, while others I don’t recognize. There arms are all tightly clutching the next, creating a maze of hands and arms that I travel over to get to the next face. It’s beautiful and so detailed that at first glance it almost looks like a photograph, but then I realize it’s a sketch. “This is amazing.”
Wes appears beside me, looking at the large piece of art. “It took her several months. Her name’s Lauren Crosby Knight and she lives up in Oregon. They did this big exposé of her on ESPN because she’s married to a BMX racer. I didn’t know if she’d be interested or even have time because she went huge overnight, but she agreed to do it.” He smiles. “I think I contacted her right before the big boom hit for her.”
I smile, turning to see the living room. His couches are overstuffed and a light beige like nearly everything in the space, making it appear even cleaner and somehow fancier, as though things aren’t meant to be touched only seen. Maybe it’s why he spends so much of his time at someone else’s house.
“Want the grand tour?” he asks.
A childish or perhaps bitter side of me wants to make a play off his word choice of grand because everything about this space is grandiose. Keeping my lips sealed and in a tight smile, I nod.
Wes leads me to the kitchen which is separated by a picture wall, and is doused with white and even more elegant, the surfaces decorated with glass. I doubt all of my family’s possessions equate to a fraction of this room.
“It’s just stuff,” Wes says, interrupting my thoughts.
His eyes are focused on me as I turn and face him. “Really fancy stuff.” I’m hoping my smile cuts through the jealousy and unease I’m feeling.
Wes’s shoulders rise with a shrug. “It means very little.”
“I bet it’s worth a lot.”
“I suppose it depends on how you measure something’s worth.”
Only someone who has money would say that. The rest of the world knows better, but I don’t argue, instead, I follow him to a bedroom that’s been converted into a large office space.
“I want your desk.”
Wes chuckles, making me aware that I’m petting the impressive piece of furniture which offers far more space than my small lap desk at home. “She’s yours anytime you want to come over and study.”
“You know I’m seriously going to take you up on that offer, right?”
Wes’s eyes brighten and his lips curve into a smile that makes my heart accelerate. “I’m hoping you will.”
I become absorbed with noting each detail about him. The width of his shoulders, and span of his chest, and the ease he exudes so freely and simply, even with being injured.
His smile slips marginally as I continue staring at him, and I wonder if he can hear my thoughts pleading for him to come closer. For him to kiss me again like he had in the parking lot.
Wes pushes away from the wall with his shoulder, and using his crutches, he comes closer to me. My heart pounds in my ears, and my palms grow sweaty. He waits for me, ensuring this is my intention, and though each of my shoes feel weighted, I move closer to him until we’re toe-to-toe.
His brown eyes are surprisingly wide, watching me as though measuring each of my reactions and how they correspond to his. It’s the longest I’ve seen him go without smiling aside from when I’ve brought up our differences. Though I miss its familiarity, I appreciate being able to study his mouth relaxed like this and how it embellishes the tiny notch in his upper lip and semicircle below his bottom one that highlights the edge of his squared chin.
His shoulders fall as I place a hand on his chest, relaxing under my touch. It’s intoxicating and invigorating to feel this kind of control, and when my lips connect with his jaw, his breath falls like a wave, capturing me into a sea of emotions and feelings that I’m suddenly desperate to explore. I don’t want to wait or think about how hard things might be for us to pursue our relationship, I want to submerge myself and never surface.
Weaving my hands around his neck, he wraps one hand around my waist, and my body bows. It’s involuntary, simply a reaction to his touch. I kiss him, and it’s so similar to the stolen kisses shared between classes, and yet it’s completely new and different. His lips aren’t as languid, his grip tighter. I don’t know how he’s managed to get so far into my heart when I’ve known him for such a short period, and yet right now my heart feels dependent upon his.
He runs a hand up my back, starting from my waist and doesn’t stop until he’s cupping the back of my neck with gentle fingers. And the last of my reservations regarding Wes and me fall with my shirt, and I pull Wes’s up over each inch of pronounced muscle that makes up his chest.
“Should I be flexing?” His words are playful, making me laugh.
“I wouldn’t be opposed.”
Wes chuckles.
His skin is smooth and warm as I slide my arms around his neck. “Should we go see what your bedroom looks like?”
Wes nods. “But I think we have some plans for that desk in the near future.”
I follow him down the hall to another bedroom. This one is starkly different, the walls bare, and the space lacking any sign of wealth. Wes sets his crutches down and sits on the edge of the bed where he hooks a finger into a belt loop on my jeans and pulls me forward. I lean down and kiss him deeply, running my tongue along his. He tightens his grip around my waist, and I reach between us, releasing the button and zipper on my jeans before tilting my head and deepening the kiss, both wanting and needing more.
Wes matches the pressure, understanding I don’t want to go slowly. I don’t want him to be gentle and sweet—that isn’t what I know. Nothing in my life including my previous experiences with men have ever been drawn out to maximize pleasure.
Wes’s hands drop from my waist and he clutches my wrists, stopping me from shimmying my pants down over my hips. Confusing me further, he nips my bottom lip and then paints a line along my jaw with his tongue that he ends with a matching nip to my earlobe. “Slow down,” he whispers.
I feel restless and uncertain, my hands anxious to remove these final layers or to stroke him—something that will move things along like they should be progressing. Then he kisses a path down the side of my neck, extending to my collar bone where he grazes the sensitive area with his teeth, applying only enough pressure to tease me and cloud my thoughts and what I think I want as I consider if I want him to do it again? Harder? Lighter? Faster? Slower?
Before I can consider untangling the emotions and feelings, he’s doing it again, changing the speed and pressure, and I’m wondering if he had before and that was why I’d been considering wanting those things. My head falls back with a moan, and Wes presses his teeth more firmly against my skin.
“I want to touch you.” My voice is garbled and husky, so I clear my throat, preparing to ask again, but his hands are already slipping from my wrists, tracing paths up my sides. I want him to touch me so badly I nearly whimper and when his fingers pass over my breasts, they ache from sensitivity and weight. His mouth moves lower, tracing patterns over my abdomen while his thumbs and fingers slowly draw my nipples into hardened peaks.
When his tongue moves over the top of my breast I lean down further, attempting to get his mouth over my nipple where I so desperately want it. He hums, and then slowly, deliciously, he licks my nipple. I feel crazed, and desperate, and frustrated, and then he does it again, and again and again, and it’s several more times before I realize I’m calling out his name, begging for him to continue.
Wes leans back, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, and his lips stained red from use. “Are you sure you’re ready?”
Before he can ask another question, I’m shimmying out of my jea
ns and underwear and climbing onto his bed. “Do you always go this slowly?” I ask.
He smiles, but doesn’t say anything, and then he rolls next to me, his hands exploring, softly and slowly just as his tongue had. His fingers pass over my thighs, searing my skin and making each inch of me feel more sensitive.
Wes stretches every second of time and somehow makes them all feel longer and fuller until I’m lying beside him, my breaths and heart slowing, and my muscles loose and exhausted, and then it feels like everything really had gone too fast though it’s been hours.
Sex has never meant a lot to me. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed it before, but what I share with Wes feels like something so much more. It isn’t about taking and reaching a specific goal, but about giving and receiving and going at the right pace to explore and learn. I savor the moments rather than rushing, and now my entire body feels the effects.
“I could lie here all day,” I mumble, my lips brushing the sheets that feel like they’re knitted out of silk.
Wes hums his agreeance, his brown eyes remaining closed. Even in his relaxed state, his lips are curled with the hint of smile.
Running my finger over a line that crosses his bicep, I giggle. “You’ve got quite the farmers tan.”
His lips tip higher. “I can’t wait to see the tan line from this boot.”
I let my head fall back as I laugh, the pillow is so soft and weightless, it feels like I’m on a cloud. “I’m really glad we came here today. I love school, and I am excited for everything I’ve been working toward, but you’ve helped me learn how to be present again. To live.”
Uncertain of his reaction to my admission that seems vaster, almost larger than anything I’ve previously admitted in a lifetime that has been filled with a single expectation: remain driven and complete medical school. There can be so much more, and I’m only now experiencing this joy.
Wes’s fingers tickle my cheek as they skate across my skin, pulling back loose strands of my hair before laying his hand against the same space and drawing my eyes to meet his. “Me too.”