22. Ethan
twenty-two
Fuck, what am I doing?
The moment I’ve been wanting for so long. The moment all previous moments have led to is here, and I’m… paralyzed. Scared shitless.
Should I be doing this? Should we be doing this?
This has happened so fast. What if she doesn’t feel for me what I feel for her? What if this is just physical for her? Am I ready to lose her all over again? I know I said I can only give her tonight, but… you never know.
I park the bike and help her down. She takes the helmet off and fixes her hair. She looks a little scared. Taking her face in my hands, I examine her closely. I can’t get a read on her, right now. “Talk to me. What’s wrong? Were you scared on the bike?” I tried to ride the bike slow and gentle, and the Grace I remember is fearless. But what if I”m wrong? It kills me that I don’t know things like that about her anymore.
She frowns. “Scared? On the chick magnet?” She blinks. “Oh no, that—that was cool.”
“The what-did-you-call-it?”
“The chick magnet.” She gives me a side smile. “I can see the appeal. For girls, you know. Women, whatever.” Then her eyes flutter and it hits me. Grace is insecure.
I lower my face to hers and talk against her mouth, just like she used to like me do. “Lemme be clear. I got this bike for fun, and my idea of fun is not chicks. Or girls. Or women.”
She swallows loudly, her body trembling against mine, and fuck it, but I’m doing this.
“My idea of fun is being alone on my bike on a desert road, going too fast. My idea of fun is being alone on a mountain, backcountry snowboarding on a powder day. My idea of fun is skydiving, the earth under me, the wind holding my fate in its hands. You wanted to take my bike, we took my bike. I wasn’t trying to scare you, and I’m sorry if I did. I wasn’t trying to impress you, though I’m not sorry if I did.”
Her eyes smile at these words. “The bike was fun.”
I take her mouth slowly in mine.
She lets me kiss her, doesn’t pull back but doesn’t pull me to her like she did earlier. Doesn’t really kiss me back. Just… lets me take the lead. I don’t like it. Don’t like that she’s so uncertain. But I get it.
I lean my forehead against hers and whisper. “Look, I know you’re scared, and I am too. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but if we don’t… just know… I’ll be running this night in my head for the rest of my life. The last time I saw you, I cried for days knowing I’d never see you again. But… god… you’re even more… everything than you were back then. I’ve been imagining this moment so many times, but holding you in my arms doesn’t even begin to compare to my fantasies.
“I’m sick and tired of the what-ifs. That’ll be just one more to add to the list. And, Grace—I’m tired of living with regrets. I’d like to take a real risk for once in my life. And you’re the best risk ever.”
She still doesn’t close the infinitely small space between our lips.
But I do. I kiss her deeper and my hands find their way under her dress again, and she lets me, she even moans a little in my mouth, and her body molds against mine, and her ass tilts up a bit when my hand gets there, and fuck me, but the signs she’s giving me?
She’s fighting. She’s scared.
Pulling my hands outside her dress, I add, “Or we can decide to put an end to whatever this is and just stay friends. Or strangers, if that’s what you want.” Hell. The thought of that just about kills me.
She pulls my shirt in her fist and kisses me fiercely. I back her to the porch and from a tiny bag she has slung across her, she produces her keys.