Chapter Thirty-Four June 12
Chapter Thirty-four
After leaving Central Park, John and I take the subway back to Midtown.
“Looks like rain again. Want to hang out in a bookstore?” he asks, his fingers locked with mine as we walk.
“My feet really hurt,” I say with a pout.
“We could grab some ice cream and chill. There’s that place next to our hotel.”
I nod. “That sounds good.”
“You’re going to need some pretty serious footwear if you move here. I don’t think I’ve ever walked this much in my life.”
“Right? I’m not sure I’m built for this after all,” I say with a laugh.
We walk for a bit, the warmth of the sun disappearing behind dark clouds. A drop of rain falls on the tip of my nose. Then another. And before John and I can even process what’s happening, it’s pouring down with the force of a million drumbeats while pedestrians dart in every direction around us.
“I think the hotel is around the corner,” I say.
“Run?”
“Run,” I echo.
Still holding hands, John and I maneuver around all the angry, wet New Yorkers seeking refuge from the monsoon-like rain pounding down on us. The hotel is less than a block away, but by the time we walk through the lobby doors we’re soaked from head to toe.
The doorman eyes both of us and the small puddle our drenched clothes are leaving on the shiny floor of the lobby.
“We’re staying here,” I say to the doorman. “With our school.”
“Then I’d advise you return to your rooms and change out of your wet clothing.”
I fight an eyeroll, turning to John.
“You’d think this was a Five Seasons.” John laughs.
“Four Seasons,” I say, correcting him with a smile.
“Right.”
I pull my phone from my back pocket. “It’s three-thirty. Another hour and a half before we’re supposed to meet up with everyone.”
John lifts his shoulders. “It will give us a chance to shower and rest our feet.”
“In separate quarters,” I say, raising my eyebrows at him.
“Of course,” he replies, his tone playful.
We walk toward the elevator bank and wait, my heart hammering in my chest, and we’re silent for most of the ride up to the tenth floor.
“We really smell,” I say.
“We really do.”
The doors open and we head down the hall toward my room. We stall in front of my door, the change of scene making the silence feel more intense.
“Today was perfect,” I say, swallowing down butterflies.
“It was more than perfect.” John weaves his hand through my hair, and his thumb strokes the skin behind my ear.
He tips his head down and kisses me softly.
When we pull apart, John nods repeatedly.
“Do you have, um…?” He stalls, his eyes moving around the empty hallway.
“Shampoo? I’m out, and the hotel for some reason never restocks it. ”
“Sure. Wait here,” I say as I use my key card at the door.
Once inside our room, I place my backpack on the floor.
The beds haven’t been made. Claire will probably complain, but then again, she complains about everything.
I grab the free hotel shampoo that none of us have used, catching my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
I look like a wet dog. But a happy wet dog.
“Here,” I say, opening the door and passing him the shampoo. “Only the good stuff for you,” I tease.
“Thanks. I guess I’ll see you in a bit.”
I nod and smile. He nods and smiles back. I love him so much.
I close the door and lean my back against it, trying to regulate my heart.
But it’s not just my heart. My entire body is tingling.
I bring my hand to my chest and close my eyes, picturing me and John dancing together in Central Park.
Sitting in the sun, talking. Holding hands while walking, ignoring everyone around us.
Today was a fairy tale.
A knock at the door disrupts my reverie. I peek through the peephole to see John. I don’t think he’s moved a muscle. I bring my hand to the door lever and pause. My gut is screaming at me to open it. My head is telling me not to.
I push down on the lever, pulling the door open a crack.
“Can I come in?” he asks, his voice tinged with raw vulnerability.
There are still drops of rain on his face and his hair is soaked.
He wants me to tell him yes. I want to tell him yes.
But we both know if he steps inside this room, the few remaining barriers we have left in our relationship will be gone.
I can’t get the words out so instead I just step back, opening the door wider.
He bites down on his lip, fighting a smile.
I know him well enough now to know what it means when his jaw clenches.
When his eyes turn into little slits from laughter.
When the rosy glow of his cheeks flushes all the way to the tips of his ears.
He closes the door behind him gently as I walk backward, farther into the room. The outline of his chest through his wet T-shirt makes my pulse quicken.
“I haven’t had a chance to change yet,” I manage to say as he stands by the door. There’s about six feet between us. The final barrier.
“I can help,” he says. It’s a mix of flirtatious and sweet.
“I’m nervous.”
“So am I.”
“John Brody doesn’t get nervous.”
“Only around you.” He takes a step closer, and the heavy rain hitting the window mimics my racing heart. “I know I’m not always the best with words. When I’m with you, I can’t always get what’s in here,” he points to his head, “out the way I feel it.”
All John ever has to do is look at me a certain way to show me how he feels. Meanwhile, I’ve filled an entire journal trying to make sense of my feelings for him. But right here, right now, I’m falling, and he’s falling, and this time, we’ll finally land in the same place.
“Can I come closer?” he asks.
“Yes.” I swallow and stand still at the foot of the bed, waiting for him to make the longest trek ever from the door to me.
We’re standing face-to-face now. The smell of New York City rain lingers, and suddenly it’s the most beautiful scent that’s ever tickled my nose. John brings a hand to my face and moves a wet strand of hair away.
“Confession,” he says, tilting his head down to mine. “I sat next to you on the bus that day because I thought you were cute.”
“You were using me to get away from Avery,” I reply, dryly.
“If I was just looking to get away from her, I would have taken an empty seat near the front.” He smiles. And my own cheeks ache, I’m grinning so hard at the memory. My entire life changed in an instant. When I opened my eyes and saw his blue eyes staring back at me, that was it. I was a goner.
It still takes my breath away.
He leans in to kiss me, and I pull back slightly. “John,” I say, looking for a way out. Not because I want one, but because I’m testing myself to see if this is something all of me wants or just my body.
“Yeah?” he says, his head slightly cocked to the side.
“You’ve done this before. Does it…” I look down and clear my throat. “Does it change things?”
He laughs a bit nervously. “It didn’t change things very much for me and Avery, but we were never in love.”
“Has there been anyone else?” I ask, not sure if I want to know the answer.
He nods. “Do you want to know?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Well, just one thing. Did you ever love any of them?”
“You’re the only girl I’ve ever loved.” His answer is so simple. Almost a little too simple.
Sex isn’t simple. Not the way I’ve been brought up to see it, anyway.
It’s supposed to complicate things. It’s meant to make things more serious.
It’s something you do because it’s expected of you, not just because you want to do it.
But only at the right time. Then again, who’s to say when the right time is?
According to my parents, the right time is when there’s a marriage certificate.
“Are you afraid it will change things?” he asks.
I blow the air out of my mouth, then nod. “Yeah. But I also feel extremely ready.”
John takes another step, and I swallow again. This is it. And it’s with John Brody, someone I love so much it’s bordering on obsession. He’s not some random guy. This is not an impulsive decision. It’s the way it should be. The way I want it to be.
I lift my eyes to find him staring back at me. How did I get so lucky?
John places a hand on my lower back, pulling me in. We kiss, and it’s perfect. Like our first kiss. It’s also our last kiss before…
We continue to kiss, standing at the foot of the bed.
I think he’s waiting for me to take the lead.
He wants to be sure I’m ready. I am. It’s always been him I wanted to share this with.
I reach for the hem of his wet T-shirt and move it up.
We pull apart long enough for him to get the shirt up over his head and toss it to the floor.
I run a hand over his bare chest, my fingers trembling over his damp skin and firm body.
I pull off my own wet shirt. And then we kiss again, awkwardly kicking our shoes off while our mouths stay pressed together.
The warmth of his skin against mine ignites every single pulse point in my body.
I’ve fantasized about this a lot. The setting changes every time.
The circumstances of how we end up alone also changes.
But this isn’t a fantasy. I can’t orchestrate perfect moments in real life, but it turns out this is better than any made-up scenario my brain could have come up with.
His hands move to my waist, his fingers tiptoeing carefully to the button of my jeans, and soon they’re unbuttoned and he’s sliding them off. He’s in shorts with a drawstring, so his come off with ease. Everything is always so much easier for guys.
Down to just our underwear, John’s eyes shift to the bed.
I sit on the edge and slide myself toward the pillow.
He crawls on top of me, carefully. His body descends on mine and our kisses grow in intensity.
All of him is pressed against all of me, and I can no longer fight the deep yearning.
He’s kissing my shoulders, his wet hair tickling my arm.
John moves the straps of my bra down and I arch my back so he can reach behind and unclasp it.
Our bodies crush into one another. He thrusts himself against me, and I rock with him in response as we kiss, slow and deep.
“I’m ready,” I say, almost breathless as his mouth grazes mine.
“Are you sure?” he asks. I nod, probably a little too enthusiastically. “Shit.” He pulls himself up slightly. “I don’t have anything. Devon might. I can check our room.”
“There’s one in my bag,” I say, pointing to my duffle by the window. “Don’t ask,” I add with a shaky laugh. “But it’s in there, if you search for it.”
He grins widely as he gets up and rummages through my things.
His eyebrows rise ever so slightly once he’s found it.
He returns to where he was moments earlier, his nearly naked body on top of my nearly naked body.
We kiss again, and then he pulls away to open the condom.
This is all so real. I stare up at the water-stained ceiling and wait until my view of the ceiling is replaced with John’s face.
Those freckles. His blue eyes. The curve of his lips.
I slide off my underwear, and it feels like the most natural thing and, also, an out-of-body experience. John swallows as he takes in the sight of me.
“You’re so perfect.”
We kiss and I wrap my arms tightly around him. He moves his mouth off mine, meeting my eyes. “This might hurt a bit,” he warns.
“I know.”
“I’ll go slow.”
“Okay.”
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” I say, staring right back at him. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“I love you,” he says, melting away my remaining nerves.
“I love you back.”
And then he’s there, pressing against me. He keeps checking to make sure I’m okay every time he pushes a little harder, and I am. It hurts. And it’s not that comfortable. But Andie warned me the first few times are like that.
“Can you just not move for a second?” I ask, trying to catch my breath. My muscles have tensed, and I know it’s going to hurt more if I don’t relax. He sweeps hair off my forehead before placing a kiss on my temple. I exhale. “Okay,” I say, giving him permission to keep going.
He nods and I close my eyes. I pay attention to his breathing, like it’s a song I can’t seem to get enough of. It grows faster and I know enough to know that means he’s close. I don’t think I am, but it doesn’t matter, because it’s still perfect.
Eventually, John’s tense shoulders relax as he lowers his weight onto me. I want to tell him to pull out because it hurts, but also, I don’t want this moment to end. Because that’s all it is at the end of the day. A moment. And it’s already over.
My eyes sting and I try hard to fight back the tears, but they pool out of me.
John moves off me slowly. “Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah, just emotions. Good emotions,” I assure him.
John brings the blanket to cover me, wiping my tears away. He kisses me sweetly before shaking his head, lying next to me.
“I can’t believe we did that,” he says taking my hand in his.
“Yeah. It’s pretty wild.”
We laugh, awkwardly, both of us staring at the ceiling.
“I should go shower,” he says, like he doesn’t want to leave me but knows he has to.
“Okay.”
He rises and scrambles to pick up his wet clothes, throwing them over his body. I sit, hiking the blanket to cover myself.
Once John is dressed, he seats himself next to me, bringing my hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss against it. “I don’t want to let go,” he says.
I feel a blush creep up my cheeks and smile. “It’s just for a little while.”
“I’m so in love with you,” he says, voice low, almost shaky. It’s not the first time he’s told me he loves me, but for some reason, this time his words steal my breath. John stands, looking down at me so sweetly. “I’ll meet you in the lobby with everyone else.”
“Okay,” I repeat. I can fill a journal with all the ways I love this boy, but when he’s in front of me, every single one of my senses battles for first place and the words never come out right. Sometimes they don’t come out at all.
I wait for the door to click shut before getting up.
I need a shower, but I also need to write about this before I forget any of the details.
This is something I’m going to look back on, and I want to remember every single second of it.
After the fastest shower of my life, I grab my notebook and sit at the hotel desk, my wet, tangled hair soaking my clean T-shirt.
Pen in hand, I write all about our day. The park.
The dance. Our first time. Every last detail.
Reliving it sends tingles throughout my entire body.
I lean back and read over my entry, adding one last thought.
I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
Not everyone gets to find that person. The one who sets their heart on fire.
Most people settle for something quieter, something that makes sense.
We convince ourselves the fire will go out eventually, and instead we focus on how many ways the flames will hurt.