Chapter Thirteen Carys
I can’t believe I did that.
Any of it.
But my God, I felt the fireworks, all through my body.
Repeatedly.
I wake curled against Dolly in my single bed. I can’t believe how lucky I am to be with her. To have kissed her.
To have her like me back.
So much has changed in the last few days that my head is spinning even though I’m still.
I hadn’t expected us to have sex – I hadn’t expected anything at all.
I wanted to kiss her once she told me that she felt something too.
Everything else took me by surprise, in the best way. A lot of that was me letting go of worrying about what I could or should be doing, and just enjoying the moment with her. With Dolly.
I didn’t know sex could feel so freeing. When I knelt between her legs, I was praying at an altar.
Just the memory of last night is enough to make heat pool between my thighs, and I press them together happily.
There’s only been a few times I’ve gone all the way on a first date, and that was back at the beginning of my dating journey when I hoped it would make men like me. Needless to say, it didn’t seem to change things for them.
But last night, despite the speed of it all, everything just felt right. I wanted her, and she wanted me right back. It was complicated and yet, that part, that wanting, was totally uncomplicated.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been wanted like that.
And I’ve obviously never been with a woman that way before, and it was just… incredible. I’ve enjoyed sex with men, but with Dolly, I experienced something so astronomically different from before.
Even though no one is listening in, I’m finding it hard even to bring the thoughts forward, like I’m still wrapped up in how I’m supposed to speak about being attracted to her, never mind think about her. Compulsory heterosexuality apparently has a lot to answer for.
It’s still such a tangle.
I think she’s worth untangling that for.
I wriggle round in her arms, ever so slowly, so that I can look at her. Luckily, she doesn’t stir, so I can look all I want. Not in a creepy way – I’m not a teen vampire in the corner of her bedroom, I’m fairly sure this is allowed.
I decide to practise that untangling, so that when she does wake, I can tell her exactly what it all means to me. What she means.
Even deep asleep, Dolly takes my breath away.
She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
I thought that the day I saw her step out into traffic, but it’s different now.
I’ve seen her beauty in ways I couldn’t imagine appreciating before – how she looks naked, how she looks when she orgasms, and the way her eyes soften when she tells me I’m beautiful.
Tangled up in the sheets, she’s a model in a Renaissance painting. All curves and dips and softness. She’s so deliciously soft. The dimples on her arms. The flowing wave of her thighs – the same ones that gripped around my hips and waist last night as she cried out in pleasure.
It’s all of her. The long dark eyelashes flutter in her sleep. Dolly’s plump lips still bear the ghostly stain of her red lipstick; how many more kisses will it withstand? Her hair is all mussed, and fuzzed with old hair product. I must admit, I feel a little proud that that’s partly my doing.
I have to resist the temptation to stroke back her hair or kiss her, because I don’t want this quiet moment to end. Plus, it’s more nerve-wracking staring at someone when they’re wide awake. I’m not done drinking her in.
Still, I’m giddy on it all. Not just last night, but my feelings for her. The certainty of working out what was going on, the relief, the joy of it all.
I don’t know what this means in terms of a wider identity for me. I know some people like labels, but am I allowed to take my time? I’ll have to ask her that when she wakes up. There must be rules about it. I just don’t want to take up any space that isn’t mine.
At least, maybe I don’t need to carry the shame around it all any longer. That will take some time too.
I guess I can leave heterosexuality behind.
‘You’re watching me.’ Her voice is low and croaky, and it takes everything in me not to kiss her straight away.
I feel heat rush to my cheeks. ‘Only a little.’
She opens one eye. ‘Morning?’
‘It might be. I woke up a little while ago, and I can’t hear anyone else up yet. Did you sleep okay?’
‘Evidently.’ She turns her head and squints, not fully committing to the movement yet. ‘I think my bare ass might be hanging out the bed.’
We wriggle closer together, and I pull the blankets around us, distributing them more equally.
‘How are you feeling?’ I venture, a little nervously.
‘Sleepy.’ Dolly is not a morning person, even after sex it turns out.
‘Come on, give me a proper answer,’ I whisper, trying not to feel bruised by her diminished enthusiasm.
She looks at me under heavy lids. ‘Sore.’
For another monosyllabic answer, it really jolts my nervous system awake. I did that. Me.
‘Sorry,’ I say, not sorry at all.
‘Don’t be. It was incredibly fun and absolutely worth it.’
Fun. Well, yes, it was fun, but it was more than that for me. It’s not a bad word by any stretch of the imagination, so why does my heart ache a little?
Wasn’t it more than fun for her?
Perhaps I’m expecting too much. After all, there were a lot of firsts. I don’t want to assume but I guess the only first part of it for her was on the set of a television show.
My heart suddenly staccatos in my chest and I try to push out any thought of the situation we’re in. I don’t want the real world to rush in. The only thing that exists right now is Dolly and me in this too-small twin bed.
‘Though,’ Dolly continues, stretching out her legs. I can’t help but feel a flutter in my chest as I wait for her to say something profound about us. Instead, what she says is, ‘I’m not sure Rihanna’s entire makeup empire could hide the bags under my eyes.’
Oh. Well, never mind. I’m getting too caught up in the narrative in my head as usual, and I need to just experience the moment as it happens.
‘You look beautiful,’ I insist, kissing her on the tip of her nose.
She smiles, wrinkling the tip from side to side like a cartoon rabbit. ‘In the lowlight, sure,’ she agrees with a wicked smile that I want to kiss off her face. But she stretches again, distance growing between the two of us. ‘In high definition? Perhaps not.’
‘I don’t want to think about the show,’ I say a little sharply. ‘Let’s just enjoy this.’
She yawns, and I shiver with delight as her fingers find my thigh, stepping up to my hips. Every touch is a joyful pinprick.
But the bubble has been broken. I can’t stop thinking about what’s outside the door. How we’re going to navigate today. What we’re going to tell production. What I’m going to tell…
No, shut up brain.
‘What?’ Dolly says. My eyes, which were probably off-focus looking at the wall while I drifted inside my own stream of thoughts, snap back to her concerned face.
‘Sorry. Nothing.’
‘Tell me.’
‘I just…’ I begin, unsure where to start with all the things we are going to have to talk about. ‘I think I just want to talk about last night.’
‘Okay.’ She rubs the sleep out of her eyes. ‘What do you want to talk about?’
This question feels too open and is the kind that makes my brain itch.
It’s still all too big – the fact we kissed, fucked, fell asleep naked, told each other we liked each other (not in that order) and now, as a result of that, probably need to talk about the ramifications.
Plus the whole I need your advice as a… Hell, I don’t even know how she identifies.
That seems rude, given the circumstances.
My train of thought grinds to a halt under the weight of all the things we need to talk about.
The gap of silence must have been too long, because suddenly Dolly is out of my arms and sitting up against the headboard, the covers pooling in her lap. All I can feel is cold air where she once was, like my body is highlighting all the places she once touched me in neon. It’s jarring.
‘Sorry,’ I whisper, frustrated that I can’t get the words out or in the right order, especially now she’s moved.
I’m still trying to find the words when I hear a door across the hallway open and close. That means someone else is awake, probably another of the early rising team like Whit or Lina.
I can’t help but notice the way Dolly nervously looks at the door.
‘Come on, we should probably start getting up.’
This might be the first time she’s ever stopped waiting for me to speak and that hurts. I’m so used to other people doing it to me, but Dolly? She’s always let me take my time.
‘I think—’ I begin before I’m ready, but I want to stop her from getting up and out of this bed. In the gap, I notice her glancing at the door again.
‘Tell me?’ I can tell she’s trying to sound patient but failing.
Fuck. I’m fucking this up.
‘I just wanted to know if I should start packing now?’ I blurt. It’s not really what I wanted to say at all; the logistics of moving on through this experiment were literally at the bottom of the list.
Dolly’s eyes soften and she takes my hand in both of hers, cradling it like a bird that’s flown into a window.
‘Do you want to? I mean, if you think that’s the right decision then obviously I support you.
You need to know that production might kick up a fuss about breach of contract, even at this stage.
It’s probably not as bad as if you’re engaged but… ’
This is not quite the answer I was expecting, but then talking with neurotypical people always feels like it takes a few goes for us both to translate each other. ‘I… I don’t know? I’m just trying to wrap my head around what we should do.’
I can’t help but notice the way Dolly’s eyebrows rise slowly. ‘We?’
‘Yeah?’ I say, unsure if this is quite right either. I wish conversations didn’t feel so slippy to me.
Her brows slowly furrow into not quite a frown, but a question, I can tell that much. ‘What do you mean? You want me to come talk to production with you?’