Rose
I insisted we drive far out of town. I’ve never been in this area, but Abel pulled into the first motel parking lot, forty-five minutes from where I grew up.
He’s inside the lobby, getting a room situated and I’m sitting in the car, truly embracing my freedom as I chew on a licorice stick he purchased at the store. I glance at the bags he tucked behind the driver’s seat with curiosity. He claimed he didn’t want me peeking, as if there was something in there that I shouldn’t see. Did he not realize that telling me not to do something made me want to do it even more?
I think back to the things Joe said. About the way I react to authority.
Directions make me itch to lash out.
But when Abel told me not to look in the bags, I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want to punish him.
I simply wanted to defy him.
I’m about to reach in the backseat when he pushes the lobby door open and steps outside. I have to press my thighs together at the sight of him; the way the autumn breeze catches the ends of his black curls, which look more brown in the sunlight. I’m oddly awed by the smoothness of his gait. The tattoos across his complexion. The way his body looks so strong. I know the sprinkle of hair on his abdomen now, the strength I feel in his arms when he holds me. One look at Abel and I don’t think of sex as just another human function and the trading of disgusting fluids one wouldn’t otherwise touch.
I think of touching and more kissing and a deep-seated lust that I never knew existed.
He opens the car door and slides inside. “Got us a nice little room,” he says, holding up the keycards with a salacious grin.
On others, it would disturb me. On him, it makes me arch my brow and turn away for fear of embarrassing myself.
And then he has the decency to ask me if I’m okay.
“Of course. Why?” I’m still staring out the window.
“Your face looks a little pink and you won’t look at me.”
He touches my cheek, feathery and light in a way he never has before, and I close my eyes before turning my face toward where he’s sitting.
“Open your eyes, espinita. ”
I do, and he has this stoic and serious expression like he’s carved from stone. But if I were to touch him now, I’d prove that thought wrong.
Soft skin, easy enough to slice through; hardly any flesh, nothing to resist a blade, really.
I bet his blood would look beautiful against his skin.
But if the universe knows anything at all, it knows that the day Abel bleeds is the day everyone does.
I blink and Abel smiles.
“Atta girl.” He grins and starts the car.
We aren’t too far from the office, but he insists we should have the car as close to our room as possible. I hear what he isn’t saying.
In case we need to run.
I’d be afraid. I’d be terrified.
But I wouldn’t be running alone and that keeps me from any of those uncharacteristic emotions.
The water pressure in this motel room is terrible. For the lack of hot water at Silverwing, at least the water pressure was enough to cause pain at times. It’s the opposite here and I wonder if life will ever grant me access to the perfect shower again. I would give anything to shower at my old house. The shower heads made me a believer of magic, I think to myself as I lather up and wash the hours of freedom from my pores. The hours of uninterrupted time with Abel.
As soon as we entered the room, Abel put on a fresh shirt and handed me a few things from one of the mysterious plastic bags and suggested I take a shower and relax for the rest of the day. I suspect I’ll know the bags’ contents soon enough. The knobs squeak as I turn off the water and the steam feels lovely settling on my now pink skin.
The towels are soft enough. They certainly do an adequate job of drying me.
My backpack full of clothes is sitting on the toilet but, as I stand here naked, I decide I don’t want to wear any of the perfect clothes my not-so-perfect mother picked out for me. I grab the shirt Abel had taken off and tossed in the corner, and I put it on. I bring the collar to my nose and sniff it with a smile. I’m tempted to walk out of this room naked, but the moment those dark eyes look at me, I’d fumble and falter and that’s a situation I could easily do without.
I rifle through the bag of perfect clothes and grab a pair of underwear. Thankfully, I won’t be forced to wear plain cotton underwear again. My mother wanted my underwear as beautiful as my clothing.
I pick up a red lace pair and I wonder if my mother wished me more brazen.
Maybe she thought sex would help.
Maybe I did, too. Maybe that’s why I offered my body to boys I didn’t care for.
It’s dangerous to implant this idea in a young woman’s mind, that she could need fixing and that she may find repair in the hands of boys.
Any one of them could’ve been killed, had they broken my heart.
Thankfully—in spite of what had been hoped for me—I was never that invested. And they were safe.
I twist the doorknob I’d left unlocked. A small part of me wishes Abel had found the courage to join me in my shower. But the fumbling and faltering would commence so perhaps it was best he hadn’t.
As soon as I step over the threshold into the room, I see lights. Colorful Christmas lights strung and hanging from the two lamps on the opposite sides of the bed. It looks as though any breeze could destroy the display he’d worked on but…it’s wonderful.
My eyes are wide, and he stands just a foot from the edge of the bed, arms loosely at his sides.
“Abel.” It’s all I can say, really. How adorable is this man?
“I just want this time to be about us,” he says as he takes me by the hand.
My skin still feels a little clammy from the shower and I don’t want to be nervous. Not about the fact that I’m only wearing panties and his t-shirt. It wasn’t the cleanest thing to don but I feel a little saner when surrounded by his scent. Less like a woman hanging from a ledge with three fingers keeping her from falling to her death. Or the death of the world around us.
“Everything is about us,” I tell him, hoping in earnest that he believes me.
He tugs me a little and I follow him down until I’m sinking toward and then lying on the mattress. The Christmas lights create a haze of color that make this handsome boy look like a dream. Abel’s eyes still shine as I lie beside him.
He reaches a hand to cup my face and I scoot a little closer.
“It’s like I went through life not thinking to want because I couldn’t put exactly what I wanted into a specific idea or, I don’t know,” he said. “I was restless and that’s why I didn’t date, and I was fucking hopeless. I still don’t know if I really believe in soulmates or suerte but, who do I thank for knowing exactly what I needed and bringing you to me?”
His words make me breathless. I suppose hearing the right words make it so you don’t have to say a single thing in return.
He rolls on top of me and takes my face in his hands. He’s supporting his weight on his elbows and knees, but I still feel flustered by his nearness. This is so unlike any other physical exchange I’ve taken part in. Abel is a torch and I am gasoline, and together we are a massive explosion.
“I bought condoms,” he tells me, his eyes dancing between my own. “If you’re ready.”
“I shouldn’t be afraid…”
He shakes his head and kisses me once, gently.
I lift my feet and place them outside his knees. My legs are spread and my knees are bent, and when he dips down to kiss me, I run my fingers through his hair. His hand slides from my knee to my thigh before wedging between the mattress and my hip. He lifts me, so I’m right in line with his erection and I bite down on his bottom lip at the sweet ecstasy of it.
He moves us closer to the headboard and when I sink back into the mattress, I scramble to remove the shirt he’s wearing. He presses me back into the pillows and sits up. There’s something about the slow slide of his shirt against his abdomen that makes me dizzy. His tan skin covered in inked art, the dark smatter of hair below his navel, the way his eyes watch me watch him.
“What do you want, amor ? What do you need, espinita ?” he asks as he lowers back against my waiting body.
“I’m not sure.” Are there words for what I’m feeling? “I don’t know how to put what I feel into words.”
I don’t crave that control.
He can have it.
He runs the tip of his tongue over my neck, up toward my jaw and back down to my collarbone, and I dig my nails into his arms.
“What…I don’t…” I close my eyes and swallow.
“Shhh,” he tells me as he sits up again and slides his hands under the white t-shirt that once looked so right as it hung from his body; the one that now covers mine. “Your mouth doesn’t work because your body’s taking over. And that’s okay, .” His hands are just under my breasts, resting at my ribs for just a moment. “That’s more than okay.”
When he sweeps a thumb over my nipple, I feel the oddest sensation. Sneaky lust climbs into my navel and slides right down to my toes.
“You don’t want me to be scared of you, but I think if I let go, you’ll be scared of me,” he whispers. “So, I’ll take it slow even though I’m dying to push myself inside of you. Right…” he presses the heel of his palm into me, where my panties cover me, and I groan, “…here.”
I lift my lids and Abel’s gaze on my body makes me dig my toes into the bunched-up comforter. One of his hands caresses my bent knee, like he’s afraid I’ll move. The other has my shirt lifted over my breast.
If there were any healing hands, they’d belong to Abel.
He’s leaning down and I slide my free leg toward the mattress with impatience.
His mouth is already partially open and he’s descending to my breast.
And then an alarm shrills, causing him to jerk up at the same time I do. My teeth hit his chin and I can taste the coppery tang of his blood just before he sits up and scrambles toward the door. I tug down my shirt and run after him. He’s already out the door and rushing down the steps toward the Porsche, its lights blinking. I hurry back inside and grab the keys to turn the wretched sound of the alarm off. When I look out, I see Abel turning around and around, as if to see who’d caused the ruckus.
I press the button and turn the alarm off. In the quiet, I realize just how barren this place is.
Abel looks up at me, his mouth open to speak, his shoulders raised in confusion, when someone jumps out from the bushes and tackles him.