Chapter XI
XI
To show him just how forgiven he was, she took his hand and pulled him deeper into Lisa’s large house, with its many rooms. She picked one far away from the sounds of the party, and turned on the light as they entered.
The warm light flooded the room. There was a massive bed in the centre and it was made up hotel style. The sheets were tucked in, and there were several decorative pillows to seal the deal. The other details in the room were garish—the decorator had relied heavily on red and gold.
She took a breath. They were going to consummate their love. Would she have preferred for it to happen in a grand hotel? Yes. But this would have to do. Their love would transcend the tackiness of the setting.
“She will kill me if she finds us here,” muttered Golden Boy.
“We better not waste any time then.”
Golden Boy didn’t move towards her. He stood in the middle of the room, considering her. So she would have to be brave for the both of them.
She unbuttoned her dress as she walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he held her steady at the waist. He smiled at her. She buried her face in his neck and inhaled. He smelled of sweat and weak cologne. She loved it. She licked his neck and felt him shiver.
“Mo…” But he wasn’t stopping her. His voice was thick, conflicted.
She covered his lips with her own. She knew what aroused him—the little flickers of her tongue, the gentle nibble of his lower lip, the starts and stops.
It was working, because now his hands were roaming, finding all her curves, all the parts he professed to love—her waist, her round, generous bottom, the breasts that fitted perfectly in the palms of his hands.
But then he stopped abruptly, his hands dropped to his sides and he took several steps back.
She felt the ripple of air from the fan above her and she was suddenly cold.
“Shouldn’t we wait?” he asked.
“For what?”
“For marriage?”
“Why would we…” She paused. A thought had come to her. “You have…done this before, right?” He didn’t respond, and he wasn’t looking at her. “Golden Boy?”
“I’m…I haven’t had sex before.”
She whistled. “You’re kidding, right? You’re twenty-one.”
“Ehen?”
She blinked. “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.”
She walked to the edge of the bed and sat down.
“Fuck.”
“It’s not that big a deal.”
“It is definitely that big a deal. Why the hell did we sneak into this room?”
“I wanted to be…I wanted to be alone with you. I didn’t really think about it. Maybe I was fine with it. I mean, it’s you, Mo. I’d be happy to give it up to you.”
“So what’s stopping you?”
“A lifetime spent in church, I guess…Maybe we could wait to…you know…marry.”
“Are you offering marriage?”
“I…well, I mean…”
“I’d say yes.”
“You would?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t say anything. He came to sit beside her on the bed. She rested her head on his shoulder and they were quiet for a while. She felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of the room. Had she ever been this happy? Then she had a thought.
“Do you mind…that I’m not…”
“A virgin?”
“Yes.”
“No. You’re you. And I’m me. And we are together. That’s all that matters to me, Mo. I promise.”
She looked down as he traced the scar on her thigh. His touch radiated all over her body.
“How’d you get this?”
“I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I got burnt.”
“Must have been pretty bad.”
She shrugged. She could have told him about the day her mother completely lost it and the beating just wouldn’t stop; she had turned to escape and tipped over the kettle, burning herself in the process.
She couldn’t even remember what she had done to earn her mother’s fury.
Granted, she was always breaking some rule.
But as they sat there together, talking, with his hand resting lightly on her leg, Golden Boy gave her hope that she wasn’t merely this incorrigible rebel who—because of another incorrigible rebel several generations ago—was cursed to end up with no husband and no future.
Because of him, the future looked promising.