Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Zara
I called in at work.
I, Zara Bray, the most responsible human on planet Earth, the one who looks down on people who call in sick, emailed my boss and told him that I had a severe case of the flu.
For the last four days. I didn’t even have the guts to actually make a phone call because I was worried he’d ask me questions.
Since I am not a very good liar, I would’ve given myself away in no time.
I’ve also been ignoring my mother’s phone calls, only sending her a text every so often, assuring her that I was fine, just a little under the weather.
I did the same with my brother. When I told him that I couldn’t make lunch this upcoming Wednesday, he tried calling, but, just like with everybody else, I preferred not to speak in person.
Fortunately, he’s been too busy at work to stop by.
Through this all, I kept on checking my phone for a message from Kyle. Every time it dings with a notification, my heart sinks just a little more at the realization that he wouldn’t be reaching out.
In all honesty, I rushed out of his house as if my life depended on it. He wanted to talk, I wanted to run. So, he let me.
Analyzing the entire experience of my first sexual encounter is causing me to be mortified.
I thought that I was prepared. After all, I had read a lot of material about it.
I read posts on Reddit. I looked at it from a strictly clinical perspective.
And there’s a very good possibility that I might have reacted wrong.
Research about this has been consuming me since I got home from Kyle’s four days ago.
And yes, it’s supposed to hurt. Depending on everyone’s tolerance for pain, it hurts more for some than for others.
However, it is very important to have a partner who helps you through it, someone who is patient and can ease you into it, tries to make it is pleasurable for you as possible.
All that has brought me to the conclusion that I should’ve told Kyle ahead of time. I mean, there was not much time from when we met for the first time until we had sex, but I still should’ve told him about it when I went to his house.
I can explain my lapse in judgement as me being worried that if I told him, he would stop. That was something I didn’t want to happen. But my brain was not functioning at full capacity, and since I was so new at this, I ended up messing it up.
Now, with a clear head, I can recognize how flawed my plan had been, and I regret leaving Kyle’s house in the way that I did, especially once the soreness from in between my legs went away.
I pick up the phone for what seems like the hundredth time in the last hour, staring at it, willing it to ring with his number.
The things he did to me before taking my virginity are playing in my head on repeat.
His kisses down my body, especially when he placed his lips on my most intimate spot.
I don’t even know what to call it as I find the terms I read on the internet to be very crass.
I can’t even say them to myself, let alone to somebody else.
That also reminds me of the one post I read where women were advised to groom themselves down there.
That actually started a crazy debate in the comments section, where people felt attacked and mentioned how liberated they felt by not shaving or waxing down there.
On the other hand, there were quite a few who agreed with the grooming advice.
I mean, I wouldn’t want to end up with a hairball in my mouth, so I get it.
Which brings me to another embarrassing thought. What did Kyle think when he realized that my nether regions were not exactly hair free, quite the opposite?
“Ugh, this is terrible,” I whine to myself in the empty room. “Why didn’t I think of all these things beforehand?”
I stand up from the couch and look down at the clothes I’m wearing.
I haven’t changed in two days, the leggings and sweatshirt I have on having seen better days.
I bring the phone up and stare at it for a few seconds, wondering why I have to wait for Kyle to call me.
I can call him, and if he wants to have anything more to do with me, that’s fine.
If not, I can find somebody else who can take over from where he left off. After all, that was the hardest part.
My hands shake uncontrollably, knowing that I am lying to myself. I will be devastated if I call Kyle and he blows me off. I want him to continue what we started. I can’t deal with the mere thought of another man touching me so soon after he did, especially this soon.
I find his number in my contacts, grateful that I saved it on there. Clearing my throat a couple of times, I tap on it and wait to hear it ring. The second it does, I am getting second thoughts and am deeply tempted to hang up.
The phone rings once, twice, and half of a third time, before it goes to voicemail. It’s as if he sent me there on purpose. What would be the point of leaving him a voicemail then? My eyes instantly fill with tears, and I hang up.
Just as I am wiping at my face, the doorbell rings, sounding so loud in the quiet apartment that my heart jumps out of my chest.
”What in the world,” I murmur to myself, so not in the mood to deal with any of my neighbors. There’s always something going on in our complex, and they somehow always seem to need my opinion on something.
I march to the door, ready to tell whoever is on the other side that this is not a good time. I don’t care about the parking lot needing to be replaced, and I sure don’t care about the way people throw their trash in the bins.
Yanking the door wide open, I am ready to throw all that at the person disturbing my peace. And I freeze.
”Kyle!”
I’m not sure if I actually say the word or if I just mouth it.
I stare at him like this is my first time meeting him, once again taken aback by how handsome he looks.
In fact, I think he is to handsome to be with someone like me, which is not something I initially considered when I made up my mind that I wanted to have sex with him.
The realization is like a knife to the heart, and it only makes me want to cry. So that’s what I do. I start crying.
“Zara, baby!”
Kyle takes a step inside and closes the door behind him. I am grateful for his thoughtfulness because the last thing I need is for my neighbors to witness my complete meltdown.
“I’m so sorry!” He pulls me into his arms and rocks me back and forth. “I should’ve called first,” he continues. “I didn’t think of how it would make you feel to see me. I just wanted to see your face…”
Through the sobs, I realize that he thinks I am upset about him being here, when in fact, I am devastated at the thought of being too unattractive for him.
There are all very weird thoughts considering that we are not in a relationship, and our time together is very limited. On purpose, at that. We both laid out the terms of our agreement, so it’s not like he was trying to deceive me in any way.
”Shhh…”
He keeps on holding me, every so often kissing the top of my head.
”I will go if me being here is making you this upset.”
My fingers grab onto his T-shirt and don’t let go. “I don’t want you to go.”
It’s a miracle that my words are actually making sense. When I bring my head up from where it was resting against his chest, I see that the material of his T-shirt is wet from all my tears. Well, maybe a little snot is thrown in there as well.
I take a step back and cover my face with my hands. “God, I am so gross!”
”What?” He has the audacity to chuckle in amusement.
Instead of answering his question, I change the topic. “I just tried calling you,” I say in an accusatory tone. “And you didn’t answer.”
”Oh…” He pats his pockets to locate the phone. “I felt it ring when I was walking to your door, but I didn’t want whoever was calling to interfere with me seeing you.”
“It was me,” I explain unnecessarily. “And you didn’t answer,” I repeat.
Kyle takes a tentative step forward and brings his hands up to cup my cheeks. His touch is gentle and caring. It soothes all my worries away, which is so weird. How does he have this kind of power over me?
“I’m so sorry, baby.” He bends his head and kiss me on the forehead. “I’ve been waiting for you to call…” Another kiss, this time on my right cheek. “And then…” Kiss on the left cheek. “I had an epiphany.”
I look up at him with what I am sure to be a lost puppy look. “You did?”
“Yeah…” He kisses my chin. “I realized that there was no reason for me to wait for you to call me first. And that’s not because I don’t respect your space,” he assures me. “But I wanted to make sure that you were okay…”
He touches his lips to mine. I want more, a real kiss, but he brings his head back up before I have a chance to deepen our connection.
“I felt like shit after the other night,” he tells me. “You should’ve told me.”
The pain marring his features is obvious. Guilt eats at me, but this is not something I can undo.
“I thought I was ready.” My voice cracks when I speak, and I have to look away, or I’ll start crying again.
As if he can sense everything that I’m feeling, Kyle’s hand moves to the back of my head before he pulls my face into his chest. He holds me like this for the longest time, his tender touch on my back calming me down some. Every so often, he drops a kiss to the top of my head.
It’s so bizarre how much my life has changed in the span of a week. Nothing has been the same since I met Kyle in that restaurant.
“Did I hurt you?”
He sounds concerned when he asks, almost like he is scared of how I might answer his question. Truth be told, I don’t even know how to respond. It was a very painful experience, but I don’t know if it had anything to do with him.
“It felt really good,” I start. “I was really into it, and I couldn’t wait for you to… You know…”
Good God, am I pathetic or what?
Kyle chuckles. “I was looking forward to that as well.”
I wrap my arms around him and squeeze tight. It’s easier to talk to him about it as long as I don’t actually look at him.
“All the information I had found about it… None of that prepared me for the actual act. I expected it to hurt, but I either don’t have a very high tolerance for pain, or it’s a hundred times more painful than what the internet says.”
I chuckle nervously, wondering how he’s taking all that I’m laying at his feet. He shows incredible patience and holds me for a bit longer. I don’t think he understands how much I appreciate it.
When I am ready, I lift my head to look at him, loving what I see in his eyes. He really meant it when he said he wanted to come here and see if I was okay.
“I’m really happy that you’re here,” I whisper, hoping that he can hear me. “I’ve been waiting for you to call me…”
His eyes widen in surprise. It’s pretty much what he’d told me but in reverse.
“Today I’d decided that enough was enough. I wanted to talk to you, so I was going to call you.”
His face splits into the biggest grin. “And you did.”
“I did.”
I lick at my lips nervously, wishing I was brazen enough to tell him that I want a do-over of what happened between us the other night. I know it in my soul that this time would be perfect.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.
Unable to speak anymore, I just nod in confirmation.
Kyle takes a deep breath in. “I am going to kiss you until we both run out of air…”
My heart feels light again. “I am counting on it, Kyle.”
“Do you want more than a hot and messy kiss?” His eyes go side to side, paying attention to any sign of distress that I might show.
I swallow hard, and the knot at the back of my throat feels like it’s about to suffocate me.
“I want everything.”
All the stress from before disappears from Kyle’s face. He is happy with my answer, and he is ready for whatever I am prepared to give.
“Show me your bedroom.”
He doesn’t ask, he demands. I have no choice but to do as he asked, so I take him by the hand and walk him down the short hallway and inside my bedroom.
When we walk in, the room has this air of intimacy to it.
The shades are drawn but not all the way, allowing for just enough light to see each other.
My queen sized bad sits in the middle of the opposite wall, looking clean and neat, and like it’s from a magazine.
The decorative pillows give it a fresh look, but I wonder how long it would take to remove them all and pull the covers.
We both stop walking when we reach the side of the bed. Kyle takes a moment to remove his T-shirt, jeans and socks, standing in front of me in only the black boxer briefs he still has on.
“I won’t get naked until you give me the go ahead,” he explains when he catches me staring.
My hands feel clammy when I pull the sweatshirt over my head. That’s followed by the T-shirt I had underneath, then the leggings and panties. Since I didn’t wear a bra today, I am now completely naked.
I stare at the area under his waistband, fascinated by the way his erection grows bigger with every breath he takes.
“Go ahead,” I whisper. “Get naked.”