Chapter 14 Autumn
Autumn
Ilean my head against the doorway and stare at the man in my bed.
A single ray of sunlight leaks through the blinds, hitting his back like Cupid’s perfectly aimed arrow. He’s wrapped in the pale blue sheets, still silently asleep, and he looks so serene. I wonder if he slept as good as I did—better than I’ve slept in years.
I watch his shoulder blades adjust with each breath and remember how it felt to have them in my fingertips last night. Last night.
Ugh. How did we get here? I turn and walk to the kitchen. I know how badly I wanted to see him, but I really thought I was stronger than this.
I start a pot of coffee and sulk there with my head in my hands, thinking of the two times I let this happen in the past.
The first time we were sixteen and seventeen. He had just lost his virginity, even though he would never admit that it had finally happened to anyone but me at the time. I hadn’t yet, but was curious, and quite frankly, too scared to do it with anyone else.
It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t special, and there really was no rhyme or reason to it.
It was quick and frantic in his parents’ camper parked in their backyard.
I could barely concentrate on what was happening, between being so uncomfortable and being worried we’d get caught.
I was sure my parents would never let me see him again.
But it happened, and we just kept on with life like nothing was different. He never brought it up, and neither did I. I knew I wasn’t willing to risk the friendship over making it weird, so like that first kiss when we were kids, we just never talked about it again.
I often wondered why that was. Why was it so weird? As time went on, we talked about hooking up with other people, but we couldn’t talk about hooking up with each other. Some days I really wanted to just talk about it, but he never did, so neither did I.
But then it happened again, after my prom, and that time was different. It felt planned. We had our own room at the lake house. It was just us. No rush, no worry of getting caught, just the time alone.
And it felt different. We both had more experience at that point, but it felt different emotionally, too.
I know it did for me, and I was positive it did for him too, as he kissed the back of my neck before we fell asleep in each other’s arms. I remember lying there smiling as I felt his heartbeat against my back.
Then the next day came. We woke up in the same bed, but he got up and went on living again. He just went downstairs and started talking with the others who had stayed that night about where to get breakfast.
As a matter of fact, we barely spoke at all that morning.
He left with Eric to get the food, and I went outside to sit on the deck.
It was a quiet morning on the water, and I remember wishing I felt as calm as the water seemed.
I sat there trying to figure out what I was doing wrong, a defensive mechanism most teenage girls resort to.
Eventually, he popped his head out and said, ‘food’s here,’ then went right back in.
Just like the last time, nothing was said about what happened between us.
That night was what set my decision to leave in stone.
I wanted to stop talking to him because I knew I loved him, and he obviously didn’t love me back.
But I also didn’t want to ruin the friendship, so I just had to leave.
I thought it was stupid teenage love, and with time, I’d meet someone and forget that he existed. But that’s not what happened at all.
Now here I am again, trying to make sense of what I’m feeling, of what I’ve just done. There’s no way to avoid it. Last night happened. Twice. And it wasn’t the first time or prom night. It was different than both. SO different and with one big problem. He’s married.
UGH.
The coffee pot beeps, so I grab two mugs out of the cupboard. As I pour the coffee, I look up to see him standing there. He put his jeans back on, but that’s it. Those new muscles, now fully exposed, do not disappoint. His bare biceps flex as he rubs his hand through his hair.
“Good morning,” he says with a smile.
I slide a cup towards him, he grabs it, then comes around the counter to kiss my cheek. Goose bumps slither down my neck one vertebrae at a time. We both take a quiet sip.
“I’m sorry.” I break the silence. I don’t really know why I say it, but I feel like I have to. He squishes his eyebrows together.
“For what?”
I stare back. “Last night?”
My words come out as a whisper, like our parents are here and we might get caught. He looks down and shakes his head. It makes my gut tighten. But I realize he is smiling. Giggling. I’m confused and start rambling.
“This is wrong. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
He cuts me off and grabs my hands in his to stop me from pacing.
I didn’t even realize I started to. “Don’t apologize.
This is not your fault. I could’ve said no, maybe I should’ve said no, but I didn’t.
Everything happens for a reason.” His hands move up to gently cup my face.
He stares right into the depths of my soul.
“I’ve honestly wanted this for ten years.
Let’s just take a minute to enjoy it and enjoy this coffee. ”
His voice calms me as it always has, and here I go again, pulling his lips into mine.
Was it him admitting that he’s wanted this all this time? But wanted what? Wanted ME, or just wanted to sleep with me? Whichever the reason is, now is not the time to figure it out.
He responds to my kiss, and we melt back into each other, forgetting about the coffee altogether.