Just As Much

by Noelle R. Henry

  I look at the photo. At fourteen I was sick of the world. My hair was dyed jet black, thank you six-dollar pharmacy kit, and I was with Mel and Daniel. I was skinny, too skinny. I also wasn’t smiling, I just looked at the camera with a “can we get this over with?” face.

  “I can’t believe she bought that,” I say shaking my head.

  “Who?”

  “My Nan. She collected all my childhood stuff.” Nan bought the photos from the school because she wanted to make sure I had them. In fact, Nan always collected stuff from my childhood. She would have me bring her grades, photos from school, music and play programs. She told me someone should keep my memories for me, and she’d do it as long as she could.

  “What a phase,” he says teasing me, but then he rubs his hand through his hair and grimaces.

  “You hated it there with them, didn’t you?” he asks softly.

  “Not always,” I say taking the photo and putting it down.

  “But most of the time,” he says. I nod and he just shakes his head.

  I close this trunk and open the next.

  “Bingo,” I say, and I see the dozens of no sew blankets and quilts.

  “What’s this?” he says.

  “Blankets.”

  “We have blankets in our actual apartment,” he says laughing.

  “Not enough to make a fort,” I say looking at him and grinning.

  “You want to make a fort?” he says laughing.

  “Our living room is looking rather bare. Plus, this is technically our vacation,” I say taking one end of the trunk. He grabs the other and shakes his head, but he is grinning.

  “You know, normal chicks want to go to the beach on spring break.”

  “Good think I don’t consider myself a chick or normal.”

  He laughs as we put the trunk on the elevator.

  When we get inside, I open the trunk and start taking out blankets. There are a couple of really big lightweight quilt backing pieces that were never put together that would be perfect. I throw one at him when he stares at me.

  “We are seriously making a fort?” he says.

  “Yep,” I say smiling and he starts helping me.

  “We need supplies,” I say, and I go into my room and find my crafting supplies.

  “What kind of supplies?”

  “I am looking for my twine,” I say.

  “Why would we need twine?”

  “Did you ever do this as a kid?” I say laughing and Damian just looks at me. He has never built a blanket fort?

  “You have?” he says.

  “My mom and I used to build them. But that was a while ago,” I say finding the twine and grinning. “We would build one and then go to the library and pick out a book and come back and read it in the fort.”

  “Your mom was way cooler than mine.”

  “I love your Mom.”

  “Apparently. You talk to her every other day,” he says rolling his eyes.

  “I think my mom would have liked you.”

  “You think so?” he says.

  “I do,” I say as I head back into the living room.

  “My dad would have loved you too,” he says squeezing my arm.

  I tie the twine to the bookshelf next to Damian’s room and then attach it to the faux fireplace. Then I attach another string from the bookshelf next to my room and bring it to the fireplace. The bookshelves aren’t the same size, but it works. I then create a frame out of string, tying more pieces of twine together and then tying one from bookshelf to bookshelf.

  Damian watches for a bit and then says he will be right back. I nod and he leaves.

  I start putting the sheets and quilt backing on the twine.

  Damian comes back twenty minutes later with grocery bags. I raise an eyebrow.

  He hands me clothes pins and starts helping me put them up to secure the blankets. I grab some of our textbooks and use them to hold down the blankets on the floor.

  Our fort takes up half of our living room and is fairly high. We can’t stand in it, but we can sit up and talk.

  Damian goes to my room and pulls out my mattress and puts it in it. I laugh at him.

  “This is a fancy fort.”

  “Only the best,” he says laughing. He then pulls string lights from his bag. I watch as he strings them on the inside. I pile all the blankets in and plop down on the mattress. Damian crawls in behind me and pulls me to him.

  “Well, now we have our fort, what are we going to do in it?” he says mischievously. I gulp, my mouth going dry. I didn’t think this part through, and I just realized how sexual this could look. I am not ready for sex with him. I keep my eyes closed and I feel him sit up, his arms straddling me. He is waiting for an answer.

  But when I look up at him, I see he is totally playing me and I glare at him.

  “Now you get out. The theme for my forts as a child was no boys allowed,” I say teasing.

  “Are you willing to make one exception?” he says bending down and kissing my cheek.

  “I don’t know, it is a pretty strict rule,” I say, trying to act like the simple kiss on the cheek isn’t affecting me, but it totally is.

  “What if I get you lunch?”

  “Bribery will get you everywhere,” I say reaching up and kissing him lightly before he pulls away.

  Damian runs out and Zeke and I stay in. When Dame leaves Zeke gets into the fort with me, and I pick up one of my books off the shelves and read, waiting for Damian to get back.

  When Damian comes in with Thai food, he laughs at us. Zeke’s head is in my lap and we are taking up most of our little fort.

  “I’ve been replaced,” he says laughing.

  I sit up and Zeke moves. He looks between me and Damian and decides to hop out and head to the cool kitchen floor.

  “Zeke got in without bribery,” Damian says handing me my food and a fork.

  “Zeke can save my life, so…” I say shrugging my shoulders.

  We eat and Damian asks what I am reading.

  “A for fun book. It’s a romance,” I say.

  “Hmm…read it to me,” he says as we finish up.

  “I don’t think so,” I say laughing. This book is about a friends with benefits situation between a pilot and a nurse—there are way too many sex scenes for this to be a book one reads allowed in a pseudo-new relationship.

  “Why not?” he says, and I blush.

  “Is this a dirty book, Felicity?” he says in mock-horror, taking it from the blanket I left it on.

  “I wouldn’t call it erotica, but…steamy. Steamy is the word,” I say laughing.

  He opens up the book to the page I was on and then grins at me.

  “You read smut,” he says.

  “It’s a really good book, one of my favorites,” I say, and he shakes his head at me.

  “You’ve read it before? You’re reading it again?” he says laughing.

  “It’s no different than watching a movie again,” I say, and he is still laughing at me.

  “Alright, you read your steamy and I will grab one off my shelf and I’ll read it.”

  He wants to read together? Really?

  We sit there and read together for a few hours. Damian laying horizontal on the mattress and me laying vertical, leaning my head against him. He plays with my hair while I read and distracts me from my book.

  I put my book down and look at him. He isn’t even trying to get a rise out of me, he’s just idly playing with my hair as he concentrates on his own book. How is this enough for him? How could he like sitting here and reading with me just as much as partying and going out?

  The fear creeps in again.

  “Bored?” he asks. I shake my head no.

  “Turned on?” he says laughing, but no, I actually just got to a really sad part in the book. I always need a minute after.

  “Yes, but that has nothing to do with the book,” I say, shocked at my own brazenness.

  I look up at him and I see it again. Fear. Just like when
I crept into his bed last night.

  “Fee…I…um…” he says and half of me starts to think he is rejecting me, but the other half just sees the fear.

  “What are you afraid of?”

  “You running for one,” Damian says softly. I sit up and he does too.

  “No, I am not trying to get you to have sex right now, Damian. But every time you think I might, you look at me like I have three heads. So is it that appalling that I might be suggesting it or…” I say, trying to hide the hurt. Am I the one woman he doesn’t want to sleep with?

  “No! No, Fee. I just,” he starts, sitting up even more, “I promised you that we will do whatever you want. If you say sex, we will have sex, and I am a man of my word. But I—you do like to run.”

  He is just as scared as I am. That I will run.

  “You think I might just use you for sex? Are you serious?” I say laughing and he rolls his eyes and looks at me seriously.

  “I want this to be right.”

  “Me too,” I say laying back down and sighing. He follows suit.

  But I just lay there and overthink all of this. If I say yes. If I become his girlfriend, I will be handing him my heart and I don’t know if I can do that. But I already am. I am in this and I am terrified. I need reassured—I need to know that he wants this just as much as I do.

  After we eat dinner and read for a while longer, both of us are ready to stop reading. He notices that I am quiet and lets it happen, but I can see him worrying.

  “Want to watch Grey’s?” he asks as we take Zeke in from his last walk.

  “You like it,” I say.

  “Maybe I do,” he says, he says turning on his laptop.

  “We are at a sad part,” I say.

  “So?”

  “I don’t want sad,” I say coming up behind him and turning it back off. I want to be lost in him again. I want a kiss like this morning. I want to not feel like I’m inadequate.

  “What do you want?” he asks me not turning around.

  “To stop overthinking this,” I say grabbing his hand and pulling him towards me.

  “And how can I help?” he asks cupping my face. He’s going to make me vocalize everything.

  “Use your imagination,” I say, and I see a look of worry cross his features.

  “Fee…”

  “Damian,” I say looking at him.

  “Tell me what you want,” he says touching my lips.

  “Proof,” I say. “Proof that I am enough for you.” And without missing a beat he picks me up. I wrap my arms around his shoulders in shock.

  He lays me down gently in our fort and pins me against the mattress. He hovers over my face for a few moments just looking at me.

  “Close your eyes,” he says, and I do. “If you say stop I will, no questions asked, Felicity.”

  “I know,” I say shaking my head and he leans down and starts kissing my lips, but when I start kissing him back he stops, purposefully kissing a trial of kisses down to neck.

  “Damian,” I giggle because he knows that I am ticklish there. But I try desperately to remain still enough to enjoy the mixture of sparks of being ticklish and being turned on at the same time.

  “God that noise will never get old,” he says between nips.

  “What?”

  “Your laugh,” he says purposefully using his tongue to sweep right where it tickles, I laugh, and I can feel him grinning. “I’ve wanted to do that since I found out that was your ticklish spot. We were on your couch in your dorm.”

  He is trying to prove how much he cares. He moves to the other side and I moan.

  “Nope. New favorite noise,” he says giving the other side of my neck the same amount of attention. I keep my eyes closed enjoying the sensation.

  “Am I proving anything?” he asks. I shake my head no.

  “Hmm…” he says as he places a hand underneath my shirt, stopping at my hip bone, rubbing the same circles he does on my leg. I’m breathing so fast I feel like I could hyperventilate. I keep my eyes closed and I can tell he is looking at me.

  He teases me by placing his lips so close to mine that I can feel them without actually touching. By the way he is breathing, he is just as turned on as me right now—which feels so good. I close the gap, wrapping my hands around his head and pulling him towards me. He laughs and deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping in and out of my mouth in the same rhythm as his hand circling my hips. His other hand is up my shirt on my back. We have never been so intimate, and he is being so careful, I am not used to careful or this much intimacy at all.

  He trails back to my neck and definitely gets sloppier. It feels like the world is spinning as he sucks, licks, and nips at the spot, purposefully making me squirm underneath him as pleasure builds up. I squirm so much the I am lower on the bed, his knee is now right between my legs, lightly pressing against my leggings. I start to moan, and he goes lower, positioning himself slightly further down as he traces the hem of my shirt, kissing my chest. My heart starts beating so fast I think I might pass out. If I didn’t know I wasn’t ready for it, I would be taking the shirt off so he could keep going. He seems to know that—moving back up to my mouth, but as he does his knee rubs again.

  “Oh God,” I say as I start to feel a wave of pleasure. I slip my hands up his shirt and hold on to his chest. He groans, my hands are freezing, but he keeps going and I am building up just from making out with our clothes on. But I don’t want to come, not if he wants a tit for tat situation. Isn’t that what he always said? That if it’s not worth it for him, he isn’t doing it? I hesitate.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. Immediately stopping. I feel cold and disappointed from where his body shifted.

  “I’m not having sex with you tonight,” I say.

  “Okay,” he says looking down and smiling. “May we continue?” he asks.

  “Just so you know,” I say breathless, but I nod.

  “I know, Fee,” he says as he continues kissing me again, starting right back with the neck. His knee stays where it was, driving me mad. I can’t figure out if the knee is an accident or on purpose. He is more experienced than me, by a long shot and he is going to take me over the edge. I start to panic, I do not want to leave this with me this frustrated, but I don’t think I can reciprocate. And not knowing whether or not he is frustrating me on purpose to get me to do what he wants is making me feel too anxious. I need air.

  “I need to stop,” I say, and he immediately does. No commentary, no questions. He sits up on the bed moving away from me and plays with my hair waiting for me to say something, anything. I just try to let the frustration subside. Keeping my eyes closed. Playing with my hair is making it worse.

  “Stop with the hair, please,” I say meaner than I wanted to. He does. I feel him move and I think he is leaving. My heart rate rises again, and I feel betrayed in a way.

  “I’m still here,” he says reading my mind. I open my eyes and he is sitting there patiently waiting for me to calm down. I do and I sit up keeping my eyes closed. I need space. I climb out of the fort and he follows.

  “I don’t know what just happened and you don’t have to tell me until you are ready to talk about it. But I don’t want to leave you alone like this, so please don’t ask,” he says softly. I don’t want him to either. But I don’t know how to ask the questions that came into my head.

  I walk to my bathroom. I run cold water on my face with the door open. Damian follows, standing in the door way and looking in on me.

  “The knee was too much,” I say still looking at myself in the mirror to avoid eye contact.

  “I am going to need a little more than that to go off of, hon,” he says. I walk into my room and, without a mattress, I decide to just sit on my desk. He pulls the chair out and sits with me.

  “Were you trying to get me to come?” I ask him.

  “Not actively, but I wasn’t going to stop and leave you so close,” he says.

  “So, it wasn’t on purpose?”

  �
�No, Fee. Just trying to make you feel good. You moaned, I kept doing it,” he says. He wasn’t trying to do anything but make me happy. I feel guilty and still so confused. I look at him and he is panicked.

  “I am not running, I just need a minute,” I say, and he smiles at me.

  “Pretend I didn’t freak out. What would you have done?” I say, curious.

  “Made out until we were too tired and then I’d tuck you in. That’s it, Fee. I just wanted to show you you’re enough. That it wasn’t always about sex for me,” he says putting his hand on my leg.

  “I want that,” I say.

  “Fee,” he says cautiously.

  “Please, I want that,” I say not looking at him but playing with the buttons of his shirt.

  “I’m screwed when it comes to you,” he says standing up and kissing me on the forehead. He grabs my hand and leads us back to our fort. We both lay down and he makes it so we are side by side on the mattress. He purposefully only touches my lips and chin, holding me and lightly kissing me—he wasn’t as brave, and I felt bad.

  We stay like that. Kissing one another lightly. It makes me feel safe and loved. And it’s no longer scary—but comforting. I start kissing his neck, lightly compared to him earlier, but changing the pace nonetheless.

  “You’re exhausted,” he whispers.

  “Mhmm,” I say kissing the other side.

  “Time for tucking you in,” he says pulling me into a hug and kissing the top of my head.

  He pulls covers over us.

  “Do you want me to stay in the fort with you?” he asks me, and I nod.

  “Goodnight, Baby Girl,” he says kissing my forehead.

  “Goodnight, Kitten,” I mumble. I feel so tired.

  The Morning After

  I dream of couchgate. Kyra on Damian, kissing him on my futon while he is inside her. I wake up at Kyra’s words calling me pathetic. I feel angry and sad and the dream definitely cut into my post make-out buzz. Damian is sleeping like the dead beside me, blissfully unaware of my second freak out in twenty-four hours.

  I get up and head to the bathroom. I check myself in the mirror and I have a hickey on my neck—too large to cover up easily. I don’t even try, I kind of like having a reminder of the good parts of last night. But my brain is in a fog after that dream—I bet no other girl has freaked out on him quite like I did. I can’t get the vision of her out of my head.