Thirteen
Sadie
I wake to warmth wrapped around me, a tight squeeze holding me close to a bare chest. Smiling, I remember where I am and who I’m with. Last night was incredible. We played music together, we laughed, we touched. God, did we touch. All night, my hands roamed his body, avoiding the stiffness between his legs because I knew it could get me in trouble. But his skin, it was soft, his body strong, and some areas were covered in intricate tattoos.
When I finally had enough, he whispered lyrics against my skin from head to toe—praising my thicker curves and the way they make him feel. He compared me to art crafted by the delicate hands of gods. He hushed the doubts that creep in with even more words of poetry. He’s changing me, and I cling to it. I finally feel alive after what feels like a lifetime without a pulse—it’s hard to pull away anymore.
“Mmm, is it really time for me to go?” Ben wakes with a groggy voice that moves through my body. A sultry, exotic rumble.
“Yes, it is, unfortunately. I need to study. Reality calls.” Graduation is coming up soon, and even though I’m sure I have everything memorized for my finals, I still want to be prepared for anything I may have missed.
“It does.” Ben kisses the top of my shoulder, his tongue moving against my flesh. We don’t speak for a little bit, knowing that goodbye is closing in on us.
“What now, Ben?”
“What do you mean?”
I look down and examine each of his fingers in my hands. “What do we do now?” He sighs, and my eyes flutter closed. I have an overwhelming urge to cry. I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle him leaving.
“I’ll be gone for two weeks, then I have two days off, then I’m gone again for months. Touring is crazy busy right now. We’re hitting the East Coast.”
Ben runs me through his tour schedule, and it leaves little room for us. An average day consists of waking up, grabbing breakfast and a quick workout, then heading to sound check for several grueling hours. Once that is done, they spend time doing press before getting ready and playing until late, then they party. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. I feel a sting bite my nose, tears begin to puddle in my eyes, and without catching myself, I sniffle. I regret it when he hears me.
“Baby, are you crying?” He turns me, and I roll over willingly, nodding my head in response as I wipe away the sneaky tears that gave me away. In a flash, his brown eyes are staring down at me as he leans over me with his hands on each side of my head. His arms extend, and I hold onto them, wanting to feel his skin in my hands. “Hey, don’t cry.”
The connection we’ve built in these few short days has brought him close to my heart, and the thought of his absence cuts like a knife.
“It’s—I didn’t know that I could build a bond like this or feel this way with someone so perfect.”
“I’m not perfect, baby, and I feel the same way, but I promise these last few perfect fucking days are just the beginning.” Our lips touch, and our tongues stroke along one another. Ben is closing in on me, pulling me into his quicksand.
With one hand, he reaches between us and grabs my thigh. Pulling it up and out, he settles between my spread legs.
“Mm-hmm,” I moan into his hot mouth ravishing me.
My hands claw at his lower stomach, and he starts to grind against me, his hips rolling like a smooth wave.
The room is now warm, the exchange of body heat dampening our skin. I feel Ben inching through my bloodstream like water moves through tight spaces.
“Ben, we should stop . . . I can’t . . . oh.”
He lightly bites down on my ear, and I lose my words. I see little white spots dancing in my vision as I fight to keep my eyes on the ceiling. I can’t keep doing this to him—have him take care of me while I leave him high and dry. It isn’t right, but goodness does it feel amazing.
“Ben, I have to stop. I don’t want to keep doing this to you, and it’s wrong. This is wrong.” Finally, for the first time in days, my moral compass points me in the right direction.
“Fuck.” He lets out a hot breath against my neck, stilling his hips in the process. I feel a tinge of guilt eat at me, and my embarrassment spikes. Stopping because I want to stay pure until marriage isn’t common nowadays, especially in a rock star’s world. Ben is surrounded every night by beautiful women who would give up anything for him in a heartbeat. I’m inadequate. I want to wait because it’s worth it to me to be with one man for the rest of my life.
“Fuck, you’re right. Shit, sorry, Sade.” Pushing up and back, he stands from the bed, turning his back to me with his hands clasped behind his head. I watch uneasily as he takes a few breaths. I shouldn’t expect him to understand me or change who he is.
I don’t want Ben to leave me and go to anyone else. We are starting to get to know one another, and it’s been all-consuming and passionate. I don’t want that to end because I can’t give him sex. I search my brain for the right words, thinking about what I could give him that would make it worth him staying for a little while longer.
“Don’t think less of me. I know it’s uncommon—staying a virgin until marriage—but it’s what I want.”
“Sade, angel, I don’t think less of you. I just need a second.” He’s facing me now; his erection’s gone, and his bare chest rises with heavy breaths. I appreciate his sincerity, but it’s probably an attempt at making me feel less like a timid prude.
“I . . .” I pause, rethinking what I want to say. I want to be 100 percent me. The truth can be good or bad, who’s to know, but I need to try to find a reason for us to not walk away from this.
“I can’t give you what those other women can give you, but I can offer you something better.” Swallowing, I embrace him with a look. Here it goes. “I can give you my heart.” A hush passes between us; the only movement is his chest exhaling and his expression softening.
“You should be careful giving me your heart, Sadie.” Grabbing my hands in a fist, he brings my palms to his bare chest. I nearly stop breathing as he looks at me in the most vulnerable state I’ve ever been in. I offered my heart to a stranger, offered my love for the first time in my life. I’m both thrilled that I found him and scared that my heart is in the hands of the world’s biggest heartbreaker.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know how I will ever let you take it back—I’ve told you that. When I walk out that door today, you’re mine, and that means you don’t get to push me out when shit gets rough.”
“It’s already rough, don’t you think?” Honestly, we’re a recipe for disaster. He and I are both openly admitting our wounds to one another.
“It is, baby.” We fall into silence.
I’ll let this play out, trust in myself, and beg for God to keep us going.