She Dims the Stars (21 page)

“You said a kiss. Not this.”

I lean in and kiss her quickly. “You got the kiss. Now what?”

“Fuck.” Her whole body is tense, and she presses her lips together in protest, but I’m still two digits deep. She snakes her hand between us and wraps her fingers around my shaft. “I want you,” she whispers.

Her face is buried in the pillow when she says it, so I turn her so that we’re facing one another when I respond. “I want you, too.” I’m off the bed and have my wallet in hand less than thirty seconds later. Another thirty seconds after that and I’m covered, crawling back into bed with her, completely naked while she still has that tank top on. Lifting her arms, she allows me to take it off, and then she’s as naked as I am, there in the darkness of September’s guest bedroom.

She’s beautiful, no matter what her brain may tell her. No matter what fault she may find in herself when she looks in the mirror. All I can see are curves and breasts and a beautiful face anxiously waiting for me. Sliding between her legs, I position myself and lean forward to kiss her once more. Her eyes are closed tightly, and I brace myself above her on my elbow, using my other hand to help guide my way inside her.

Audrey tenses for the smallest moment, and then her eyes open and she’s staring at me while I sink into her slowly. She’s holding her breath, and the second I stop, she exhales and leans up to wrap her arms around my shoulders and kiss me once more. I try to make it last, try to keep a steady pace, but the way she’s so wholly wrapped around my body and the sounds she’s making with each of my thrusts is driving me to the edge much faster than I am prepared for.

With a maneuver I’ve only seen in movies, I try to flip us over so that she’s on top, but it doesn’t work, and there’s a second of confusion where we’re a tangled mass of limbs and “sorry’s” before we get situated again and I have her hovering above me. With her hands on my chest, she sinks down until I’m fully seated inside, and my fingers are gripping her thighs when she raises up for the first time. I don’t notice it at first, but her own hands have gone to cover her stomach, and she has her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

That will not do.

I call to her, and when she looks down at me, I pull her close, bending her forward so that her breasts are brushing against my chest with each of her movements. Her hands cup my cheeks and here, with no view outside of her face, her soft moans become louder and her once timid movements become a frenzy, as if someone somewhere told her
this
is how it’s supposed to be. If I could think of anything other than how good she feels right now, I would try to stop her, but my brain is focused on one thing. Within minutes, I’m gripping her hair and telling her that she’s going to make me finish, and then I do, my entire body tensing up and toes curling in the process. She goes limp in my arms and rests her face in the crook of my neck, still straddling me, breathing hard like we’ve run a half marathon.

Finally, she lifts herself off of me and turns so that her hair is a curtain across my stomach. I can feel her hands around my now softening dick as she rolls the condom off and then scoots off the bed. “I’ll take care of this,” she says and then disappears into the bathroom. There’s the sound of water running and then I hear a trash bag being crinkled. She opens the door again and walks over with a washcloth. It’s warm and she kisses me while she cleans me up.

It’s one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever experienced.

“I have to pee,” I say and roll off the bed to go into the bathroom. The harsh light hurts my eyes and my reflection looks crazy. There are red marks all over my neck and chest, my hair is sticking straight up, and when I look down, I notice that the trash bag has been tied off on a knot. I finish up and walk back into the room to see that the bed has been stripped and Audrey is nowhere in sight. Quickly dressing, I open the bedroom door and peer down the hallway to see her talking to September in front of the washing machine. They’re far enough away and so absorbed in their conversation that I’m sure they won’t hear me coming, so I walk as quietly as I can toward the laundry room.

“What happened again?” September asks, pulling the laundry soap from the top shelf.

Audrey blushes and looks down at the floor. “I’m sorry. It’s really embarrassing. I can get you a new set.”

“We have plenty of sets.” September adds the soap and turns to look Audrey over as she leans against the washer, one leg crossed in front of the other, arms folded over her chest. “I don’t care that you guys had sex. It was inevitable. Just … were you a virgin?” September presses her lips together and her eyebrows raise. “Did you just lose your virginity?”

“What? No. I must have started my period early or something. All the stress from the past couple weeks …” She points to the washing machine.

I turn immediately and go back to the bedroom, into the bathroom, and sit on the toilet waiting for her come back into the room. She does, and I can hear her moving around, putting new sheets on the mattress. Once the lights go back out, I turn the ones in the bathroom off and slip back into the bed like nothing happened.

Like I didn’t hear anything.

Like after only a couple of weeks, I don’t know when Audrey is lying.

She is up before I am, and by the time I make it downstairs, everyone is around the table eating breakfast. She has that smile on her face that I now know isn’t real and hides all the bullshit she keeps inside, and I hate the fact that she’s using it on me right now. Especially after last night.

“We were just talking about how you should stay another day. You don’t have any plans, right? Nothing pressing. You can work on your game here.” September motions toward an empty seat by Cline, and I take the invitation, sitting down and reaching for some orange juice.

“I’m fine with it if everyone else is,” I say without looking up. It’s apparent that the decision has already been made without my opinion.

There’s conversation about what we could do for the rest of the day that goes back and forth between Cline and his girl, but Audrey and I are quiet. She’s distant, barely touching her food, and I’m pretending not to watch her even though I am. I have no preference what we do. As far as I’m concerned, the point of our trip is over. We’re just on summer break now.

Audrey pushes her plate away and crinkles her forehead. “You know what? I have a really bad headache and I’m feeling tired. I think I’m going to go lay down for a while if that’s okay.”

“Did you not sleep well?” Our hostess is leaning on the table, very concerned.

“Your bed is the most comfortable one I’ve slept on in a very long time. I’ve just had a pretty exhausting couple of weeks, and I think it’s all catching up with me, that’s all.” That smile is in place again, but her fingers are tapping, and I want to reach over and yank on them to make it stop.

She excuses herself, and I’m left at the table with the others, wondering if I should go after her or not.

In the quiet of the guest room, I realize that it’s the first time I’ve been alone in almost two weeks. Besides using the bathroom or some minuscule moment here or there, sitting on this bed, I am finally alone with my thoughts and the ramifications of everything that has transpired since we left Brixton.

I can hardly wrap my mind around how far we’ve gone and circled back in that small of a time frame. Dr. Stark would be proud …
will be proud
… once I report to her what I’ve accomplished. Except for the part where I committed breaking and entering on my maternal grandmother’s property, but maybe she’ll let that slide since it opened so many doors.

I’m exhausted, my body fully spent after doing so much in such little time. I’ve been chasing happiness for so long, and now that I’ve experienced it, the reality of it feels like a burst beneath my skin. A flicker that ignites and burns out so quickly. I feel so much but nothing at all, or maybe the nothing isn’t really
nothing,
it’s just a diluted version of what other people must experience. An echo of an experience.

Anxiety rushes through my veins as memories from last night surface and I curl into a ball on the bed, closing my eyes as the images come. I fucked Elliot. Not in the Hollywood movie kind of way. It was more of an aggressive—I need to feel this—why can’t I feel this—kind of way. It made me a liar, because I didn’t tell him beforehand that he was my first. It made me a liar because I didn’t tell September the truth. The entire thing is soaked in deceit, and for God’s sake, I don’t even know if he thinks it was any good anyway.

Rolling on my back, I grit my teeth and inhale, stretching out so that the knot in my stomach can get some room. What if
I’m
the worst ever? What if all he thought about the entire time was how Chelsea’s body looked instead of mine? Or the weird sounds I made? Or how awkward it was that I took the condom off and cleaned up and stripped the bed?

My hands are sweating now, and I can sense the wave of panic rushing toward me like a tsunami. Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough.

This trip is over. I’ve done what I came to do. Elliot doesn’t need me for his game. I found out nothing about my mom’s mental history. I’ve said my peace with Cline. Now what? Do I even have anything I’m supposed to be doing now? The sinking realization that the answer is no hits me harder than I expect and I roll over, pressing my face to the pillow and pull my knees to my chest again.

I am so tired.

It’s raining, a torrential downpour outside of the school, but Elliot is pulling me outside anyway.

“I don’t have a coat,” I call to him, but he doesn’t care. He’s always a step ahead, his hand yanking me forward, and I follow because it’s Elliot. Why wouldn’t I?

He’s not wearing a coat, either, just a blue flannel, and he’s taking us directly into the storm. All I can see are raindrops dropping from the sky, buckets of water falling just beyond the awning. I brace myself for the onslaught of wetness and ice cold spray, but nothing comes.

We’re standing perfectly still on the grass of the quad, staring at one another, holding hands in the middle of the rain, but the drops are not descending. They’re paused in mid-air, frozen in time, glistening like diamonds suspended from invisible ropes all around us.