31 - Samantha
When Phillip bringsme home, I’m surprised to find it empty. Roxy isn’t anywhere to be found, which is a little unusual this time of night. Looking around, we find a note magnetized to the refrigerator.
“Sam, Widow Culpepper from church fell and broke her foot. I’m staying with her tonight to help her out until her family arrives in the morning. Call me if you need me, ~R”
What an interesting turn of events. Of course, I’m sympathetic for Widow Culpepper, but I’m not totally bummed that Roxy won’t be home till tomorrow. It gives me a little more freedom tonight.
“How about we pick a movie and settle in for the evening?” Phillip’s dimples are very pronounced in reaction to my request.
“I’m down with that. Let me run home and change. I’ll be right back.”
I nod my head and smile in return. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
He kisses me briefly on the top of my head. “Never.” Then he slips out my front door.
I take a few minutes to freshen up and put comfortable clothes on. I have an outfit that’s a cross between jammies and a jogging suit. I always wear a tank top with the oversized shirt, it’s designed to hang off the shoulder. The outfit is cozy, but still clings to me in all the right places without being too revealing. Less skin equals more anticipation.
Phillip makes good on his promise. He yells up the stairs to let me know he’s returned. Wow, that was fast. I give myself one last quick spritz of my perfume then turn to join him downstairs in the living room. I’m extremely thankful I’m feeling good today and want to make the most of it. When I reach the bottom of my staircase, he’s surveying our movie collection trying to find a good one for us to watch.
“Romance? Comedy? Action? Anything in particular?”
“Scary,” I answer enthusiastically. I sit on the couch and pull my feet up wrapping my arms around my knees.
Phillip laughs.
“Why scary?” He knows it’s not my usual movie choice.
“It gives me an excuse for you to hold me more.” My devious smile remains long after I answer him.
“Baby, you don’t need an excuse. I’ll hold you as much as you want.” Standing up from his crouched position, he holds a movie out for approval. “How’s this one?”
“Perfect,” I agree, and he proceeds to cue up the movie in the DVD player. With his back turned, I’m able to enjoy and savor his physique from head to toe. I love it when he turns his ball cap backwards. It’s usually a good indicator that he’s relaxed and in good spirits. His t-shirt trims right above his biceps creating a very cut look and he showcases his calves by pulling up his sweatpants. He looks more like a sculpted piece of artwork than a high school athlete to me.
We begin with good intentions to watch the movie. However, about five minutes in, we begin a little more than just snuggling. Our need is like static in the air, impossible to ignore. We’re half laying and half sitting up and Phillip is having me rest my head on his chest. He has one arm around me, and with his free hand, he toys with a strand of my hair. He’s winding it around his finger, then lets it go to watch it spring away. It tickles and I find it amusing to see him mesmerized with one of my curls.
While he plays with my hair, I notice his shirt is a little buckled from the way we’re lounging, and I can see a sliver of his chiseled stomach peeking out. I reach for the bottom edge of his shirt to straighten it for him, but instead find myself pulling it up a little further. His twirling finger breaks its rhythm. I start tracing the lines of his abs with my index finger watching how occasionally, I find a line that must tickle because all his lines become more defined and tense when I touch him.
Seconds later, his twirling finger drops my hair and pulls my chin so I can meet his gaze. With an invitation from his eyes, I sit up to face him answering him with my lips. His kiss is soft and gentle beginning with my mouth then tracing a line down along my jawbone to the soft pulse in my neck. There’s a girl screaming on the television, but my thoughts aren’t on her. My eyes roll to the back of my head. I remove his hat and weave my fingers through his hair.
Phillip’s hands lightly explore, slightly peeking around the edges of my shirt. Running down my lower back, his fingertips find my curves. Further still, his hands find my hips and in one easy motion, he pulls my leg over his lap as his lips find mine again.
I’m hardly aware there’s even a television in the room. An exhilarating tingle surges throughout my body so strong I feel feverish and wild. Our breathing has a new rhythm and I like it more the harder it is to breathe. I need it. I slip my hands under his shirt so I can feel the rippled waves of his stomach. This affects his breathing even more and I revel in the reaction. He quickly rips his shirt off over his head allowing me free rein all over his muscles. I run my hands up and down his chest trying, between kisses, to briefly catch a glimpse of his perfect body. The criminal kisser I’ve come to know, suddenly flips me over onto my back. I like how excited he is. He hovers above me, being careful not to squash me. His weight on top of me feels good, but it isn’t enough. I want more. I need more. We’re kissing each other like never before, and through it all I can feel his heart pounding as hard as mine.
I claw, my hands pleading for him to come closer. We start a frenzy. Me wrapping one of my legs around him as his lips crush mine. He moves to my neck, kissing along the soft places where it pulses beneath. I feel his breath on my skin, how aroused he is and I grind against him. He starts to grind back, moving his hips but then he begins to slow down.
Phillip cups my face in his hands, placing his cheek alongside mine. He takes a strained breath and whispers, “hold on a sec.” He pants, “we need to slow down.”
In my mind I protest this! I don’t want to stop. Why does he?
“You’re right,” I force myself to agree. “We have all night.” I try to kiss him again, but he sits up instead, pulling away from me.
“No, Samantha. That’s not what I meant. We shouldn’t do this now.” He pulls my shirt back to its original position on my arms. Where it hides my bruises.
“I’m covered.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have the implant. Same as your sister.”
“Okay, that’s an image I don’t need right now. Knox and my sister—”
“Like you didn’t know they—”
Phillip cuts me off with a look. “She’s my sister. Let’s not go there.”
I stifle a giggle, but then turn serious again. “Look, your mom was really cool about it, and it was nice to go with her to the appointment. Roxy suggested it, saying I might want to have someone younger take me and it was good for me and Cyn both at the time, ya know?” I shrug, not knowing how else to explain it.
“So, my mom took you for the implant? My mom?”
“Yes, yours. Mine is absent, remember?”
Phillip drags a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean it that way. Why not pills or whatever?” He isn’t being judgy, just genuinely curious.
“I think she wanted something more reliable than pills. You know how Cyn forgets things.”
“That’s fair.”
The room grows quiet, the silence awkward. “So, you don’t want to?”
Phillip adjusts himself, but sighs and answers, “not tonight.”
“What’s wrong with tonight?” My voice is quiet, and my breathing has returned to normal. As Phillip is putting his shirt back on, I notice all my clothes are intact. He never even tried to take them off. Sure, he was kissing me wildly and I could tell from his body that he was excited too, but he never tried to take my clothes off. “Oh, I get it.” I struggle to sit up and am so upset my fingers are now trembling and I can’t look at him. “I’m sorry. I know I’m the least sexy thing right now.” My voice trails off. I’m humiliated. I picture my sick, grotesque self-image in my head and shudder. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Phillip sighs but I can’t determine if it is from relief or frustration. “That’s not it at all. You are sexy. But we’ve got all the time in the world for this.”
“Do we? My track record kinda sucks.”
“Sam!” He sternly blurts out my name. He usually calls me Wallflower with his sweet, gentle tone. Or baby. This wasn’t it and it stings like a slap across the face. “I won’t have you talk that way. Look,” he sighs collecting his thoughts, “my parents had to get married right out of high school because of Chase. Dad gave up football to marry Mom and I think he resents her for it. I don’t want that to be us.”
“You don’t like football that much,” I tease but he doesn’t take it well.
He tilts his head to the side. “Come on, you know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
“I want to be with you, Samantha, and I thought it was pretty obvious my dick wants you too. I just don’t want to take a chance at challenging our futures.” He seems uncertain of his words.
“Whew. And I thought it was just me.” I wave my hand across my forehead like I just wiped sweat off in relief. I do think it’s me. Dark circles under my eyes, bruised arms from needles like tracks up both my arms, swelling feet, and tired all the time. I mean what’s not to like? Not! But like anytime I get nervous I try to tease my way out of it. It doesn’t work this time.
Phillip places his hands on either side of my face as he always does when he wants my full attention. “You are beautiful, Samantha. In every way. And one of these days we can do that. Let’s just not rush it, ok?” There’s a silence for a moment that borders on awkward.
“You’re right,” I agree flatly, but still feel rejected. I try to look away to blink back the tears that threaten.
He continues holding my face, so I close my eyes unable to look at him. All my insecurities that I keep locked away in a deep dark corner flood to the surface with a rush of embarrassment.
“Look at me, baby.”
“I can’t,” I whisper, feeling the smallest trace of wetness in my eyelashes. I feel like that toddler who hides their face thinking ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’. I understand this survival tactic and I want it to work. “I’m humiliated.”
“What? Why?”
“Never mind.” I shrug, still unable to open my eyes. I don’t want to admit that this mini rejection adds to my theory about not being good enough.
“Is this about something more than me wanting us to wait?” He pulls back, irritated. “I’m not sex on a stick.”
I let out an exasperated breath. “Hate to break it to you, but you have a sex stick.” I palm my face. Wrong time to be sarcastic, Sam.
He looks down at the tent in his pants. “I’m not with you just to get laid.”
Stupid me lets the hurt talk. “And I don’t want you with me just so you don’t have to go home. I’ll be a refuge if it’s love, but if it’s not then—”
“When in the hell did I give you the impression I don’t love you?”
Phillip grabs his hat. I get up and stomp off to the bathroom because like anything else, my body has terrific timing. Before I’m finished, I hear the front door close and instantly panic.
He left.