Authors: Riley Jean
His nose nuzzled into my hair, inhaling, and making me laugh. “Did you just smell my hair?”
“Yeah,” he said, unabashed. “Vanilla.”
I rolled away and propped my head up on an elbow. He mirrored me, facing each other in the dim morning light.
“How many girls have you kissed?” I asked him, suddenly curious.
His full lips spread into a playful smile. “Two.”
“Two before me?” I tried to clarify.
“No. Two total.”
I was stunned. “So, just me and…?”
“That would equal two,” he said, tongue-in-cheek.
I had to remind myself that he’d had the same girlfriend for the last four years. His deft hands and lips came from perfecting his skill on one lucky, lucky girl instead of many.
It made sense that he hadn’t been with anyone else during that time. But what about before? Vance was sixteen years old when he starting dating Evelyn. With his confidence, boyish charm and the added bonus of that smile, it was hard to believe he waited until sixteen for his first kiss.
And what about after? It had been a full month since their breakup, and he seemed to bounce back pretty quickly. I thought for sure he’d had at least one other rebound.
“I’m surprised,” I admitted.
He just shrugged, unashamed. I always liked that about him. It was admirable, really, that he didn’t waste his first kiss. Mine was with Lexi’s cousin visiting from Nevada when we were fifteen. I wasn’t boy-crazy back then, but I was the last of my friends to be kissed, so Lexi felt the need to take matters into her own hands. One night she left us alone in her room, and he pretty much backed me into a corner. He was cute, and a few years older. Though as far as first kisses go, it was more intimidating than romantic.
Vance didn’t have any awkward stories like that. All his firsts with someone special.
At that thought, a brief twinge of insecurity passed through me. I wondered if this was weird for him—being here with me. He had only been with one person every day for the last four years, not to mention
ever
. It had to feel odd kissing someone different for the first time. It was almost as much pressure as being the first, except with all the insecurity of being compared, too. What if he didn’t like the change? What if he was missing his ex?
“How was it…” I asked, feeling a bit shy, “kissing somebody new?”
His eyes closed and he inhaled slowly and deeply through his nose. A serene expression rested on his face, his smile filled with peace and his natural sunshine.
“Incredible,” was all he said.
Warmth spread through my belly at his sentiment. I believed him. Last night
was
incredible, after all, and I had kissed enough boys to know it wasn’t always like
that
. My number was nowhere close to two (though there might’ve been a two in there somewhere). I was grateful he didn’t ask.
Looking at his face, all of my insecurities vanished into thin air. Never in my life had I made a boy make that expression before. He looked euphoric, like even though we never took it further than kissing, it was enough for him.
His fingers trailed lightly up and down my arms, causing goosebumps to appear on my skin. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so sated. In this moment, there was no wall between us. I was completely relaxed in his arms.
“It’s nice to be able to touch you, without you hating it,” he said softly.
“Mmm. I never
hated
it,” I confessed. “It’s just… addictive.”
“You’re addicted to my touch?” he asked, a pinch of smugness in his tone while his light touches turned into grabbing my hips and pulling me closer. “Good to know.”
“No,” I laughed, putting his cocky ass in his place. “A guy’s touch in general. It takes me away from the world for a little while.” I gazed dreamily into the horizon, remembering the way my senses came alive and freed me last night. “There’s something about a guy’s touch that makes a girl feel wanted, beautiful, and satisfied.”
I supposed, in a way, everyone was a prisoner to their own fleshly desires—especially with teenaged hormones coursing through their veins.
But not me. At least, I hadn’t been.
At nineteen, I’d abstained more than most. I was always able to keep a clear head when opportunity presented itself. But now, more than ever, my need for contact made me lose myself when I needed my wits about me. Like last night.
What was happening to me?
After
that night,
I had sworn off men forever. But somewhere along the way I had developed a need so deep, it surpassed practicality or sense. It might have been a void left by one of the three important guys in my life, or perhaps by my scandalous rebound summer in college. Or maybe it was the fact that I’d barely touched anybody in these last eight months.
Whatever the case, I no longer wanted to fall in love, but my physical urges were out of control. Last night, with Vance, I craved his kisses like a druggie needed his next fix. It didn’t matter the cost or morale or risk or consequence. Nothing mattered. I
needed
it. And giving in was cathartic.
“Okay,” Vance chuckled suggestively. “I understand
satisfied.”
I lightheartedly poked him in the ribs. “I don’t mean it like
that
. It’s not even about sex. It’s connecting to another human being. Feeling like I’m not alone. And everything else that’s wrong in the world falls away for a little while.”
Whether I was drunk and kissing strangers, hiding in Ricky’s bedroom, or lying in a grassy field in Vance’s arms, I knew that I was running from my problems. Not that there was anything wrong with kissing a boy or having a drink. The problem lied with my addiction to the escape, and my growing inability to face my real issues.
The temptation to fall into old habits and replace one lost love with another always existed, but chasing that feeling by jumping from bed to bed was not a healthy way to cope.
So I fled from that temptation. It wasn’t about how close I could get to the line without crossing, it was about staying as far from the line as possible. Which is why I had denied myself even the smallest of touches for the past eight months.
His knuckles lightly brushed my cheek while he looked at me with tenderness. “Then why don’t you allow anyone to touch you?” he asked softly.
My eyelids slid closed. There were a couple reasons, but I could tell him this one. “I couldn’t bear it,” I confessed, my inhibitions down. “I know you won’t believe this, seeing as I always get mad at you for doing this. I have trouble keeping my own boundaries. It’s like, as soon as I tell myself I won’t drink anymore, I want one. I can justify a sip. It’s only a small taste to satisfy the urge. And then, it’s only one drink. A person can still drive if they only have one drink, so that’s nothing, right? Then it’s just one more, because you’re not even feelin’ any effects. Then just one more… and before you know it, you’re piss-drunk and flat on your ass. It’s a slippery slope. And the only way to avoid the fall is to never take that first sip.” My eyes opened again, awaiting judgment.
He looked thoughtful. “So… are you telling me you’re an alcoholic? Or a sex addict?”
I shoved his shoulder, but appreciated his levity. “My problem with alcohol is that I can never have just one…”
“Please don’t tell me it’s the same with men.”
I laughed and shook my head. Then I grew serious. “My problem with
men
is… it always starts out with the best of intentions. But someone always gets hurt.”
He looked into my eyes and whispered a promise, “I won’t ever hurt you, Rosie.”
I nodded. I knew that. He wouldn’t hurt me because this time I wouldn’t let myself fall. He was curious, I was lonely, we hooked up. Sure, we had one perfect night together and it was amazing. But once that sun came up, my expectations from him would end. Expectations only led to disappointment.
He took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Did you want this to happen?”
I looked into his eyes. This was important for him to hear. “I never intended to take you from your girlfriend. This never even crossed my mind. You’ve always been just my friend. I meant it when I told you I had kissed dating goodbye. I haven’t wanted to be with anyone.”
“Sorry I pushed you off the wagon,” he grinned, not looking the least bit apologetic.
I frowned, realizing how right he was. It hadn’t even been a full year since I had sworn off guys for good. I had been taking little sips, making friends and letting myself get close to Vance. Now I was lying here drunk with feelings of ‘comfort’ and ‘safe.’ For the first time since last night, I was beginning to worry about the hangover.
“Hey,” he assured me, reading my expression. His fingers gently turned my chin to face him. “You
do
have boundaries. We didn’t go too far, right?”
Part of me agreed with him. We’d spent hours making out and he never once pushed me to take it further. It was just kissing and I had done that plenty of times before. How could that be going too far?
But another part of me hadn’t wanted even this. Not ever. Definitely not so soon.
The heat of the moment was waning, and I was beginning to gather my senses. I wasn’t being fair to him. I had secrets and demons that he knew nothing about, and here I was lying next to him as if I were capable of making him happy. I had crossed a line that I had adamantly set for myself. Failure was a bitter pill.
I took a shaky breath. “You have to understand something. I’ve spent years looking for the next guy to fix problems the last one left. Nathan, Miles… at least a dozen Todd’s in between. It’s destructive. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again. I’ve got scars, Vance. Big ones. And you have to accept that you can’t fix me.”
“I understand,” he said, kissing each one of my finger tips without breaking our stare.
I smiled hopefully. Could it really be this simple? He wasn’t pushing me to commit more than I was ready to commit. He wasn’t under any illusions that he was going to be my new hero. He was just giving me what I wanted—one night.
“Rosie?”
“Yes?”
“You’re beautiful,” he said meaningfully. Then leaned down to press a slow, sweet kiss on my lips. “And wanted,” he rasped against my mouth. This time he leaned down to taste my neck, slow and sensual in a way that made my toes curl. When he came up for air, his face was serious, eyes dark, voice low and gruff. “Now what can I do to satisfy you?”
Are there any words in the world a girl would rather hear? I might have actually melted into a puddle. Vance had turned me into a grinning fool, just like him.
“Will you snuggle me?”
He chuckled at my request, and rolled me so my back was tucked into his chest. We were spooning, facing east to catch the glorious sunrise brewing. The deep purples blended into lighter pinks and golds and I knew it was sure to be a spectacular sight.
He wrapped his arms around me, and I nestled into the security of his embrace.
So warm.
Nothing could have dragged me from that spot. In that moment, I felt safe.
“Don’t let me down,” I said, faintly so it wouldn’t be heard.
But still he heard.
“Never,” he whispered back. I sighed contentedly when he placed a kiss just below my ear.
I would give myself until the sun came up. Then I would face reality.
* * *
Down, down, down the long, empty corridor I walked.
But no matter how many steps I took, the end stretched further out of reach.
I started to run. Harder and harder I pushed myself.
I was getting nowhere. So I came to a halt. Right in front of a door.
Something told me not to open it.
But I opened it.
The long, low creak was the only sound to be heard as it slowly opened inward…
And revealed something amazing.
There he was. Just like I remembered him.
Blue eyes twinkling. Handsome and powerful and perfect.
I stood in the doorway, smiling back at him, riveted by the very sight of him.
I loved him. So much. There was nothing else but this man.
Though his greeting was not to be expected.
“Don’t do it, love,” he said to me.
My forehead creased with confusion.
I didn’t understand his warning.
And why the sudden ache inside me when I heard those words from his lips?
“Stop,” he said. His face remained eerily calm, though his next words grew increasingly urgent and demanding. “He’s coming back. He’s going to see you.”
Something was wrong. I wanted to go to him.
I took a step closer. And that’s when I heard the loud, metallic
click.
From my peripheral I could see him, shrouded in a dark mask, holding the metal object pointed straight at my temple.
My heart stopped.
No. Not again.
I tried to scream, but all the air rushed out of my lungs at the volume of a whisper.