“I’m sorry.”
He sits tall and I do the same so I can look at him.
“It’s over. Besides, she seems good so that’s worth something.” He clears his throat. “So, back to this anniversary thing. Why do people get hung up on the number of years or the exact date?”
I want to ask him more about his mom but can sense his need to talk about something else. “I’m not sure. I think people like to have milestones to celebrate or maybe it makes them feel like their relationship is the gold standard if they can slap an award on it.”
He grunts a response.
“But also, it’s just sort of nice to look back on a year or twenty of your life and reflect on how it might have been different if you hadn’t been together.”
He studies me carefully, and I feel like I’ve gone too girly on him. It’s a romanticized version, I admit.
“What would you do if you made it an entire year with the same girl?”
His eyes widen, playfully exaggerating as if he’s horrified by the idea of a relationship that long—maybe he’s not exaggerating, but he grins. “I’m not sure.”
His mouth finally captures mine. Maybe it’s because we aren’t in danger of being caught or maybe he’s just exhausted from the day, but our kisses are lazier. We take our time just kissing without rubbing up on one another, no hands roaming beyond the face and neck. It’s unexpected but nice. Soft and sweet in the sexiest way.
When we finally lay down on my bed, he removes my clothes between kisses dropped on my lips and body. I tug at the hem of his shirt and he lifts it and tosses it to the floor. We’ve never been completely naked at the same time. My heart rate skitters when I finally get the full skin to skin contact I’d only imagined until now.
Whether it’s because he hasn’t wanted to or because he’s read my hesitation, I’m not sure, but Heath and I haven’t had sex. We’ve done practically everything but.
The largest part of me wants to, but something inside of me still screams for me to hold back. I hate to acknowledge that something because I think it has everything to do with the way I held out on having sex with Bryan for years and then as soon as I did, he broke up with me. I get that it wasn’t the sex, and maybe I still would have slept with him even if I knew it was going to end. But the fact of the matter is, it scares me that the same thing might happen with Heath.
His dick twitches between us and heat pools at my center. There’s a lump in my throat as I find my voice. “I don’t think I’m ready. Is that okay? I mean, I want to do other stuff, just not that.”
His hands frame my face, and his blue eyes stare deeply into mine. “Of course, it’s okay.”
He savors my body in a way I’ll remember forever. Taking sex off the table only makes him more creative, and he gets a well-deserved A plus in that department.
We fall asleep still naked and I take note of a different type of anniversary—the first time you realize you’re falling for someone.
22
Heath
My mom wants to go to breakfast Saturday morning before I head to the arena. Mav is still sleeping when I get back from Ginny’s, so I’m on my own when I push through the door of the café.
She waves from a booth, her other hand wrapped around a coffee mug.
“Hey,” I say as I sit across from her. “Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s okay. You know I like to have my first cup of coffee in silence anyway.”
I smile at the reminder that something is still the same.
The waiter stops by to pour me a cup of coffee and take our order. After which, I lean back in the booth. “Kevin isn’t joining us?”
“No. Just the two of us.” Her smile is warm and genuine as she studies me. “I’ve missed you.”
There’s an uneasy ache in my chest as the sincerity of her words hit me. Maybe our bond wasn’t always the healthiest—me taking care of her more than the other way around, but in some ways, it’s good to know I’m still missed, if not needed.
I spent the first year of college trying not to fuck up. If I’m honest, I didn’t even want to come to college. I mean, I did. Of course, I did. College is fucking awesome. But I was so scared. My mom was barely hanging on by a thread after my dad died. I’d lost one parent and the panic was real that I’d leave and the other one would disappear without me watching over her like I’d done for the past four years.
I was the one who made her smile when no one else could. The person she relied on to remember things like paying the electricity bill and mowing the grass.
And I wasn’t perfect. I found a release for my teenage angst with other things. Fast cars, easy chicks, occasionally getting high. But I did my best to never bring any more burdens inside the four walls that were already crashing in on us.
So imagine my surprise when I go away to college and nearly give myself a fucking ulcer with worry only to return home this past summer and see she’s fine.
No, not just fine. Fine is the word she used when she was wearing last week’s clothes lying on the couch and staring at the TV in a comatose state. She wasn’t fine. She was good. She didn’t need me to walk around the house singing Disney songs or brush her hair while we
