Nine

Chapter 5. Breaking My Heart

The heat from the morning sun warms my back as it shines through the patio door. I open my eyes to see something worrisome. My arm is thrown over Trig’s chest, and my leg is thrown over his thigh. Trig’s arm is wedged under my neck and his hand seems to be comfortably resting on my backside. The setup alone freaks me out. I panic and quietly slide away from him. I pull myself up from the bed and stand there. What the hell is this, I think, as I stare down at him? This is cuddling. I don’t cuddle. I grab my gym bag off the floor and run to the bathroom. I sit down on the toilet and collect myself. I’m falling apart. I’m seeing things. I’m having nightmares. This is me, destination: crazy house.

I pull out a pair of blue jean shorts, a tank top, and a short white vest and put them on. I rummage through the bag and take out my makeup. I have to do something about this face. I feel like a victim, and I don’t want to feel this way. I get to work by applying concealer, primers, and foundation. After forty to fifty minutes passes by, I’ve applied eyeshadow, mascara, and put lip-gloss on these cracked lips. I pull out some white high heels and slip into them. This is about as good as I’m going to look. I can still see the bruises under the makeup, but I look better than I did before. I start looking through the bag to see what else I put in here. I stumble upon a small toothbrush and toothpaste in an inner pocket. With my morning breath, I’m glad to see it. I brush my teeth and then I stuff Trig’s shirt into my bag. I take one last look at myself in the mirror and then walk out to the bedroom.

Trig is wide-awake and sitting on the edge of the bed. I notice he’s wearing a shirt. It’s probably one of his brother’s. He looks me up and down and then his mouth gapes open.

“I clean up nice, yeah?” I spin around.

“Very nice,” he says, still eyeing me.

“You’d be surprised what makeup can do,” I joke.

“You don’t need the makeup. You’re beautiful without it,” Trig says.

We stare at each other for a few seconds before the door opens.

“Are you two hungry?” Bones interrupts. “Goddamn, woman,” he says, as his eyes fall upon me. Trig’s eyes shoot over to him almost in warning. I politely smile and look away.

I feel like myself now. I could fall back into line and not even think about what happened again. “I’m hungry,” I say, as I walk straight to Bones. He grabs my hand and escorts me out to the kitchen. I look back to see Trig. He looks a bit bothered, and for whatever reason, stays in the bedroom.

I jump up on the kitchen counter and sit down. I spot an open box of doughnuts. “This is breakfast?” I ask, as my heels swing back and forth.

Bones takes a joint out of his shirt pocket and lights it up. “Yup,” he says, as he takes a puff.

“Screw the doughnuts. I’ll have what you’re having.” I smile.

He looks down, exhales, and then passes the joint to me. I take it and inhale once, and normally that would be it for me, but today requires a little more medicine. I take a few more puffs. I pass it back to Bones. We do this back and forth for about five minutes, while making useless conversation about who makes the best doughnuts. I’m now feeling extremely high. I jump down from the counter and lean over the doughnut box. I pick one up and start nibbling on it. Bones comes up behind me and moves my hair to one side. He places his hands on my hips and leans into my ear.

“All I need is five minutes with you,” he whispers against my ear. “I’d tear that ass up.”

I drop the doughnut. I’m so high my head feels like it’s not even attached to my body.

“What the hell are you doing?” Trig says, as he pushes Bones’ hands off me. I spin around to look at them both. Bones tosses up his hands. Trig grabs my wrist and pulls me into the bedroom. He slams the door once we both enter.

“You’re a pothead? Is that what you are?”

“Baby, I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” I mumble. “Just show me the money.” The old me comes out.

“I see. You put on a little lipstick and mascara and fall right back into escort mode again, huh? Because if that’s what makeup does to you. I say take it all off.”

“You think you know everything. Trig. You don’t know shit about me. You show up and save my life and all of a sudden, everything is supposed to be jolly. This is me. I’m an escort. It’s what I do. Makeup or no makeup. This is the girl you saved.”

“No. The girl I saved wasn’t high, leaning over a kitchen counter, letting a guy feel her up from behind. She didn’t have this arrogant attitude. The girl I saved begged me to kill her. She begged me to take her life. She was broken and hurting. I don’t know who this is standing in front of me, but it’s not her.”

“I’m not listening to this. You act like I owe you something. I don’t owe you shit. I’m gonna go hang out with Bones. Who knows? Maybe I’ll fuck him for free out of boredom. I did like the way his hands felt on my hips. He’s got to be a good lay.”

Trig’s mouth tightens up. I turn for the door.

“Who’s Fred?”

My heart stops and my chest feels like it might concave.

“What?” I spin around.

“You were screaming the name Fred in your sleep.”

I become physically sick at just the sound of his name. I grit my teeth to push back the pain.

“You kept screaming the word ‘stop,’” Trig adds.

I think he can see it in my face because his voice is calm. His face is different. He takes a step back like he’s giving me space.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I turn and reach for the door. Trig jolts over and blocks me from opening it. He looks at me. There is silence between us and I know he’s waiting. I move around his body, and then I start to walk around the room. I’m nervous, but I don’t want him to see. Last night was more than enough, and I don’t need a relapse. I start to examine the items in the room just to keep my brain busy. I start touching several books and trinkets on a mantle. I stop when I come across a dusty jewelry box. I slide it toward me and open it. A pink and white ballerina on a spring pops up. My hands are shaking as my fingers find the base. I slowly wind up the box to hear what song will play. Swan Lake starts as the ballerina twirls, and I freeze. I can feel one single teardrop fall down my cheek as the box in my hand falls to the floor.

“Nine,” Trig says, as he walks closer to me. He looks down at the box and then back up to me.

“I’m sorry.” I fall to the floor to pick up the box. I’m scattered and fumble with it in my hands.

Trig comes and squats in front of me. He places one hand over mine. He takes the music box from me and puts it behind him.

“What did he do to you?” he whispers. “You can tell me.”

I stare down at the multi-colored rug. I can’t even bear to make eye contact with him.

Trig reaches over and pulls my chin up.

I’m blinking away tear after tear and restraining the choking sensation in my throat. I push the feeling deep down inside my gut and wipe away the tears before I answer him.

“It’s a long story,” I mutter in an attempt to dodge his question.

“I got nothing but time,” Trig says. “I want to know.”

He moves a strand of hair out of my face. I look at the wall. Trig moves his hand and slides the music box in front of him.

“What happened?”

I exhale and stare down at the box.

“I don’t know where to start. There is so much to say,” I respond. I wipe my eyes again.

Trig remains quiet.

“It all happened because of my parents. They were heroin addicts with no patience and no clue on how to raise a child. They freaking hated me because I was a burden. I was something they had to take care of. I was too much work and all they wanted to do was get high. I wasn’t even allowed to ask simple questions that most kids ask their parents. You know the typical ones, like, what’s for dinner, or can you help me with my homework? They would beat me so bad I couldn’t open my eyes. My entire body would be covered in marks just as it is now. I learned to be independent pretty quickly. I learned not to push their buttons or I’d pay a price.”

I blow out a long breath of air. I don’t even know if I can tell this whole story. I drag on about my parents to avoid talking about my uncle for just a little longer.

“I remember once I had a school project and the teacher said if we all finished it, we could go to a pizza party the next day.” I grinned. “I really wanted to go to this dumb party, so I stayed up pretty much all night to complete it. I woke up the next morning with so much excitement. I was so proud of my accomplishment, but when I walked out to the living room, I found the entire project destroyed in pieces and scattered around the floor. I was furious. My parents were passed out on the floor. All of their drugs and empty liquor bottles were on the table. I screamed at them and pushed their bodies around until they woke. My father opened his eyes, stood up, and saidfuck your project.He grabbed me by my throat and started smacking me around. My mother just laid there and laughed while she yelled for him to teach me a lesson.

I was just a little girl, maybe ten years old when that happened. The teachers at my school were already suspicious. I was absent a lot that year, and whenever I returned to class, I had fading bruises. They asked me questions in the past about them, but I would always lie. That day when I went to school, I told them all about the abuse and how long it had been going on. I was extremely hurt. It wasn’t even the physical pain. I was used to that. It was that damn project that tore me up. Child Protective Services came the next day and took me away. I was sent to go live with the closest family member.” I stopped and paced myself. “My uncle, Fred. He was worse than my parents were. He was a goddamn pedophile. He would wait until I went to sleep and then he’d come in my room at night. I’d feel him touching my legs and then my thighs. I would wake up and try to kick him off. He’d grab me by my throat and say that good little girls listened, and that if I kept moving he would drown me in the bathtub and bury me in his backyard next to the last girl who was there.”

Trig’s face-hardened up as I continued to talk. “As he ran his hands up and down my legs, I would lay there in fear, pouring sweat. He would smile, as if it made him happy to see me cower beneath his touch. He did this for weeks, and every time he came in, I could hear the Swan Lake song playing from his speakers in another room. The last night I was there at his house was the worst. He came in to my room and unzipped his pants and pulled his dick out.”

Trig shook his head and looked away. “He told me to stay still as he ran one hand all the way up my leg. He started masturbating as he molested me with his fingers. I cried in pain but he just yelled for me to shut up, so he could come. He forced me to watch him, said he’d cut my eyes out if I didn’t, and then when he was done he told me what a good girl I was. I never cried so hard in my life. He just laughed and said that he would really give me something to cry about the next time he came in, and that I’d like it. I was fucking sick to my stomach. I knew I had to get out. I ran away and went back to my parents. I told them everything, but they were so high they didn’t believe me. They called me a liar and a whore, and said if I didn’t stop making things up that they would call CPS to take me back to him. CPS did come get me a few times due to abuse, and I would stay in foster homes off and on, but I would always end up back at my parents, because the foster families were just as bad. I lived in that demented home of theirs until I was sixteen. Eventually, one day they threw me out and that was that. I had nowhere to go but the streets.”

“Is that where you started prostituting?”

“No. I wasn’t a boulevard teen hooker, if that’s what you’re asking.”

My voice begins to crack. I can feel another freak out coming on. My chest starts to tighten up, and my breathing becomes shallow. I’m about two seconds away from having an anxiety attack. My heart is now banging against my chest.

He looks at me. “Just like you’re trying to understand me, I’m trying to understand you, Nine.”

“Well, now that you know about my molestation, does that give you insight? Do you feel more at ease? Can you sleep better? BecauseIcan’t.”

“I’m sorry he hurt you.” Trig looks at me with sad eyes.

I’m angry. I’ve never told anyone that story, not even Jenny. I look past Trig and spot a bottle of liquor in the corner on a table. That’s exactly what I need to numb out. I stand up and walk over. I pick up the bottle and see Brandy splashed across the label. I’m reminded of that pimp Victor, and the bottle drops from my hands and crashes to the floor. I place both hands over my eyes to cover my face. I hear footsteps in my direction.

“Nine, give me your hand,” Trig says gently.

I let my hands slide down my face as I look up at him. He’s standing in front of me.

“You need some fresh air.”

I slowly extend my shaky hand out to him. He grabs it and guides me over the broken glass. He then pulls me behind him through the living room and out the front door. We’re now standing on the porch. He stops and swings around to look at me.

“Breathe,” he demands.

I am. If I breathe any more air in I’ll pass out.

“Slowly. At the rate you’re going, you’ll hyperventilate. Look at me. I want you to sync your breathing with mine.”

He places my hand in the middle of his chest. I target my eyes in as his lungs slowly fill up with air and then he calmly releases it. I match my oxygen intake and release with his rhythm and now we’re synced up. He positions his hand over my heart. I can feel my entire body starting to ease up. My chest no longer feels like an elephant is sitting on it. I stare at his arms, his chest, his tattoos, his mouth, and then his jaw line.

“Better now?” he asks.

I nod as he grabs my hand and leads me down the front steps and over to a steep brick pathway. I find it hard to walk in these heels with the downgrade, but with Trig pulling me the way he is I have no option but to keep up. I stop and take my heels off. It’s easier to just carry them and walk barefoot. Hopefully nothing down on the ground out here will get my toes. The clean air outside hits my lungs and the sounds of nature invade my ears. My head starts to clear as I look around. The flowers, trees, and water make me forget about everything. His fingers are wrapped around mine and the walk is long, but eventually we make it down to some old well. I walk over and peek inside. It’s completely dried up, and plenty of pennies are stuck to the bottom.

“The first thing my brother would do when we came here every summer was make a wish and throw a penny inside. It was his tradition. He thought this well held magic.”

“Maybe it does,” I say, as I spin around to look at Trig. I brush my feet off and slide into my heels.

Trig grins and walks forward. My heart jumps and I don’t know why. He pulls two pennies out of his pocket and hands them to me. I reach out to grab them and he closes his hand around my fingers. I swallow the lump in my throat and glance up at him. He reopens his hand, which allows me to snatch the pennies from his palm. I ball up my fist and shake the warm coins around. Trig stands there with his arms crossed, looking at me. The way he stares at me with those eyes makes me question my outlook on men. It’s not the same way my clients look at me. He reaches into my soul with each glance and I can’t function when he does it. My focus drops from his eyes to the curve of his full lips. I want to taste them, which is strange. This yearning for a man is a foreign feeling. Maybe it’s because he heals me. Maybe it’s because every time I show an internal cut, he stitches it up before I can feel the damage leaking out from within me. Goddamn it. What is he doing to me? I don’t know what to do or say, so I turn toward the well. I close my eyes, make a wish, and toss a penny inside.

“Do you believe in magic, Nine?” he says from behind me.

“I don’t know. Do you?”

I turn around and lean against the well. He shrugs.

“I guess it can be fun to think about the possibility. Although we all know magic is just an illusion.”

“That’s the best part. People know it’s an illusion and yet they still sit down and enjoy the show,” I say.

“Maybe it’s because people take interest in things they can’t quite figure out.”

At this point, I don’t even think we’re talking about magic anymore. I get the impression he means me. I see those dark eyes pulling me in, and my brain turns off.

“Have you ever made wishes here?” I throw my thumb over my shoulder.

Trig nods. “Tons.”

“Any of them ever came true?” I ask.

“A few. Most likely due to coincidence, not magic.”

“Do you want to know what I wished for?” I bravely ask.

This is a bad road to travel down, but I’m already headed for it. Nothing good can come from this. My mind is throwing up caution signs, but my body is knocking them down.

“They say it’s bad to tell someone your wishes.”

He smirks as he steps closer to me.

“Why is it bad?”

“Because it may not come true,” he adds.

“Then it won’t matter if I tell you. I mean it’s only a stupid wish, just a magical illusion, right?” I pause. He tilts his head to the side. “As twisted as this may be, I wished you’d kiss me. I know this is crazy, and after my little panic episodes and erection killing confessions, you must really think I’m mental, but…”

Trig steps a little closer. I’m nervous, almost like how a virgin must feel on her first night. I don’t kiss men, not even my clients, but Trig is no client. I watch as he approaches me. He plants his hands on my waist.

“It’s just that you make me feel…”

“Feel what?” he says.

He takes a strand of my hair and brushes it away from my eyes.

Safe. I can’t say it. It’s one word. Just tell him.

“I’m a mess,” I whisper.

“We all are.”

He stares at my lips.

“I’ve been thinking about what your lips might taste like.” Trig keeps his eyes targeted on my mouth. “Are you sure you want this?”

I nod and tilt my head back as he moves in closer. His hands wrap around my back and tighten as he pulls me into him. He moves his hand up into my hair and gently fists a handful before locking his lips on mine. I moan into his mouth as my hands explore his chest. I’m aching for him. I want him. There are parts of my body longing to be touched by him and I’ve never felt this deep craving. It’s a long, sensual kiss and I’m breaking apart in his arms, because it’s the first time I’ve ever kissed someone. I push my hands against his chest and pull away. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

Trig cocks his head back. “Are you okay?” He studies me.

“Yeah, I’ve just never done that.” I gather myself.

He looks confused. “Done what?”

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” I say, almost embarrassed.

It’s funny to hear it come out of my mouth. I’ve done a lot of dirty sexual things as an escort, but kissing was never one of them. Trig steps back and holds up one finger.

“You’ve never kissed anyone, ever? That’s impossible. Look at you.”

I shake my head.

“I don’t kiss. It’s a rule of mine.”

“Didn’t you have boyfriends before you were an escort?” I shake my head. He exhales. “You’ve really never had a boyfriend?” I shake my head again. “What about your virginity?”

“I was eighteen and it was with a client,” I say, and look away.

“Your first time was with a client?” he shouts.

“Every time was with a client. You can’t have relationships in this field.”

“Wow, Nine.” He spins around in a circle.

Now that this topic is out and open, it sounds ridiculous.

“So, you’ve never kissed anyone and you’ve never had a boyfriend. That means you’ve never made love, then.”

“My clients–”

“You’re clients pay to fuck you, not make love to you. Don’t get it confused,” Trig says, cutting me off. “Do you enjoy sex? Do you even get off or is it just a job for you?”

“I enjoy it, sometimes,” I lie.

What I really mean to say is that I enjoy all the money that comes after the sex.

He laughs. “Sure you do. Some jerk-off is pumping away at you while you lay there and wait for it to be over.”

My face heats up. “Why are you mad at me?”

He stops moving and looks at me. “There is this beautiful woman standing in front of me telling me she’s never experienced a kiss. And that she’s never had a boyfriend, which means she’s never been in love and she’s never even made love. You’re first sexual experience was with a client, a fucking client. You’re breaking my heart here. What other on-the-job rules do you have, Nine? I must know.”

“Just one more.” I pause. He arches one eyebrow. “No cuddling,” I say.

He laughs into his hands. He’s thinking the same thing I am. He’s thinking about last night. He’s thinking about my hand in his, and all the times he’s held me already. I close my eyes. I’m breaking all my rules here. I’m breaking them all for him. It hits me that I might actually have feelings for him. What. The. Fuck? This can’t happen.

I have to get out of here. I’m suffocating in my thoughts. I brush past him. He grabs my wrist and pulls me back into him.

“Stop,” he says. “I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at the situation.”

“I did what I had to. I did it to get Jenny and me off the streets. We were starving out there. Jenny was always sick. We were stealing medicine from drug stores and seeking shelter in unlocked cars on cold nights. I was tending to her fevers, while watching for the cops and the owners of these cars. I spent hours leaning her body into a brown paper bag to throw up in, praying that she recovered well enough so we could make it to a safe area, and here you are giving me shit for not having a love life. Well, excuse the fuck out of me. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this.”

He stares at me for a second.

“I’m not trying to give you shit. I’m angry that you’re first kiss wasn’t with some horny teenage boy at a lame-ass carnival. I’m angry that a boy didn’t take you to prom, and attempt to get laid that night. I’m angry that you never met some douche bag, fell in love with him, and then finally gave it up to him in the back of a beat-up car. Your story is what I’m angry at. You’re supposed to go through all that immature dating bullshit as a female. But no one is supposed to go through what you did. When I think about your childhood I just want to put a bullet into your uncle’s head.”

I was listening to him and the more he talked the more he stole my breath away. I wasn’t sure what this was between us, but whatever it was, it had me feeling weak.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I don’t need your pity,” I snap.

“Do you think I feel sorry for you? I feel a lot of things, Nine, but sorry isn’t one of them.”

“Yeah? What do you feel then?”

“Outraged mostly. I want to take you back up into that cabin bedroom and make love to you. I want to kiss you until you can’t even think straight. I want to give you all that shit you should have experienced a long time ago. I’m not angry. I’m fucking livid when I think about your life.”

My heart starts to race and my stomach squeezes at the anger in his voice. I’m questioning why he would even say these things. I’m just some hooker he saved in a hotel. Maybe there is some truth to this magical well. I look at him and I can’t help the way I feel. I’m intoxicated in the moment. I lift up my chin as he stands there watching me. The timing couldn’t be more messed up. Not too long ago, I was dropping a music box and breaking a bottle of brandy on the floor. I was reminiscing and crying over a painful event from my childhood, and now I just need him. I need Trig to make it better, and that’s what he does for me. I don’t care that this situation is weird. It’s just him and me and no one has to know.

“Then what are you waiting for,” I finally say.

He rushes toward me and grabs my hand, interlocking our fingers together. He pulls me back up to the cabin. I’m struggling to keep up with him again. My ankle is wobbling and the arches of my feet hurt. All I can think about is what will happen in the next few minutes. We reach the front door and Bones sees us holding hands and smiles.

“Dude, I didn’t mean to step on your toes. That’s your claim, and I was wrong. I apologize. I also cleaned up that glass in your room. Take it as a peace offering.”

Trig puts one hand up.

“Not now,” Trig says, as he pulls me toward the bedroom door. We enter and he slams it closed. He gently pushes my body up against the door and peels off my vest. He places his mouth on my chest and slowly licks from my collarbone up to my ear lobe. His neck is close to my face and he smells so good. I grip his strong arms.

“Do you want me to go down on you? I can make you feel good,” I whisper.

He stops and looks at me. I feel like I just slipped back into work mode again. From his face, I know he knows it too.

“Stop, and let me do what I do, Nine. Just relax,” he says, as he licks and kisses my shoulder.

I let my head lean back against the door and enjoy his lips and tongue devouring my neck. For the first time in my life, I’m enjoying this. I’m not nervous and I’m not putting on an act. I’m not even thinking about the customer, and how to keep him pleased.

“This is not a job,” I accidentally say aloud. I’m moaning as Trig lifts my tank top over my head and squats down, planting kisses on my stomach.

“Stop thinking, Nine. Close your eyes,” Trig reminds me.

My hands are planted at my sides on the door. His hands are placed on my waistband. He unbuttons my shorts and pulls them down with my panties. He starts kissing my thigh, higher and higher. I’m gripping the wall as he puts his mouth on me. I feel his fingers gently graze over my stitches. He then gives my kitty a slow, light kiss before his tongue dances against the folds. I’m soaking between my legs and it feels like I can’t even stand anymore. He suddenly stops touching me, which causes me to open my eyes and look down. He’s not between my legs anymore. He’s now standing and admiring me.

“Baby, do you know what you’re worth? Men should be fighting over you. I sure as hell would.”

I can hardly breathe and all I want is for him to be inside of me. I walk forward. He grabs me and lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He kisses me while carrying me over to the bed and gently lays me down on my back. He peels his T-shirt off and tosses it across the room. I watch him unbutton his pants and push them down to the floor. He leans down and pulls a condom out from his wallet. I bite my lip as I take in a sneak peek of his package. I’m staring as he rolls the rubber on and with each passing second, I’m growing hungrier for him. He takes his time crawling on the bed over to me.

“I want you,” I breathe out. My body is famished for him. He turns my neck to the side and starts planting more kisses. He’s trailing them down my arms, my stomach, and then my legs. At one point, my toes are in his mouth. My lower region is now screaming for him. He slides my legs apart with his hands and positions himself between my thighs. Trig leans forward and slides his cock just close enough to touch my entrance. I moan as he lies on top of me. He partially leans to the side. I can tell he’s being careful to avoid my injuries. He stares down at me.

“Tonight, you’re a virgin. Tonight, I’m not fucking you. I’m making love to you, and this memory replaces your very first time. Do you understand me?”

I barely nod.

He doesn’t give me much time to think about it. He pushes himself into me as his lips crash on mine. I moan into his mouth. His hands are all over me and at some point, I completely let go. My body relaxes. My mind concentrates on him inside of me. I start to push my hips up to match his rhythm but he takes his hands and holds my hips down as a reminder that he’s in charge and that I need to let go. He doesn’t know I already have. I just want to feel every inch of him. I need him deeper inside of me. I’m struggling to stay still. My breathing is all over the place and all I can think about is how good he makes me feel. We keep going at this for a while. The sheets are soaked with sweat and the room feels like it’s over a hundred degrees. I’m getting close. I can feel it. I fist the pillow above me.

“Do you know how fucking beautiful you are, baby?” he says into my ear. His rhythm picks up and my toes are curling. I let go of the pillow and run my nails down his back.

“I want you to tell me when it feels really good,” he whispers. “Tell me when you’re about to come.”

He shifts his weight to one side and then the other and then back again. That’s the spot.

“Right there,” I push out, and close my eyes. I’m completely focused on him hitting that one little area. Every muscle in my body tightens up. It’s about to happen.

“I’m going to come,” I yell out. He stays in motion and yanks back my hair. His mouth is at my throat again. I start to contract around him, and for some reason, at that very minute I yell out the one thing that is farthest from my mind.

“I love you,” I shout.

Trig doesn’t say anything. He keeps going. I cover my face, embarrassed. He reaches one hand up and pushes my hands away. I’m petrified by what just came out of my mouth. What the hell just happened? Did he fuck me so good that my mind had a malfunction? Does this thing happen? I’ll call it a sexual mental glitch. I watch as he closes his eyes. He’s trying to focus.Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. I just keep repeating in my head. I’m freaking out for several reasons, and I don’t think I can deal with this. My body tenses up and I know he can feel it. He slows down.

“Nine,” Trig warns.

I try to relax, but I can’t. It’s not until he moves his face close to mine that I release the tension running through me. He doesn’t look concerned. He just stares at me and then lowers his lips to mine. He has his hand on the back of my neck and he’s pumping into me. Suddenly his movements get rougher and then I hear him moan. His body jolts and then I watch as he slows down. He collects himself, pulls out, and then bends over and gives me a kiss on the forehead. He walks to the bathroom and closes the door.

I continue laying there, in a mess of emotions. I’m really concerned with my mental stability at the moment. I sit up and wrap the sheet around me. Trig comes out, slides into his pants, and looks at me.

“What’s wrong now?”

“Nothing.” I say, standing up.

I struggle to walk with this huge sheet wrapped around me.

“It’s something. I see it in your face. What is it?” he asks. I shake my head. “Is it what you yelled out, because lots of people say shit they don’t mean during sex. Don’t worry about it.”

He slides his T-shirt over his head.

“It’s not just that. I’ve never had an orgasm during sex,” I blurt out. He spins around in slow motion. “What worries me is what if I meant what I said.”

I don’t wait for a response. I scurry off to the bathroom and sit on the cold tile floor. I’m tripping out. After a few minutes, I rationalize with myself. I had good sex, where I let Trig get into my head. We kissed. I opened myself up to him, and then he gave me an orgasm. That’s all it was. I got a little carried away and blurted out something in a fiery moment of passion. I exhale. Okay. I pull myself up, pee, and clean up my makeup in the mirror. I’m now ready to go out there and deal with the awkwardness. I open the door and Trig is standing there, right in my face.

“Come again,” he says.

Maybe I’m not so ready.

“Just forget it.”

“I don’t think so. Did you say you have nevercameduring sex? You’re really dropping all kinds of bombs on me today.”

“I’ve come before. Just not during intercourse.” I roll my eyes.

“What, like oral or something?” he questions.

“Vibrator,” I say, and look away. “Can we just stop talking about this?”

“All of those men and not one did what I just did.”

I’m freaking out again inside. These feelings are jumbled. I’m fidgeting with the blanket.

“I don’t know what you just did. You were telling me things, and I became consumed in it all and—”

“Consumed? You liked it. Just say it.”

I look at the tattoo on his neck. Maybe that’s why I used that exact word. I was looking at it for so long while we had sex.

“Of course I liked it. Did you not see me over there?” I look at the wall. “Damn it. This is why I have rules in place, so shit like this doesn’t happen.”

“What shit? You spouting off, I love you. They’re just words, Nine.”

“Not to me they aren’t. Not the way I said them.”

“What? Are you going to tell me you never said I love you to somebody? Your mother. Your father. A grandmother. Somebody?”

I shake my head. He cocks his head back. I watch him make his way over to the bed. He sits down and looks up at me. He places his hands together.

“You’ve never had anyone tell you those words either, have you?”

I shake my head again.

He closes his eyes and licks his lips.

“You’re killing me. I’m serious. You’re breaking my heart, girl.”