The Space Between Us (10 page)

   “Thank you, Papa Bear,” I whispered in his ear.  He groaned again.

   “You don’t get to call me Papa Bear when I’ve just agreed to let you have your first boyfriend.”  I pulled away from him. 

   “You’ll always be my Papa Bear,” I said with a scowl.  “What did he say to you anyway?”

   “That’s between him and me.  All you need to know is that he came to me in a very grown up and mature way and stated his case.  I couldn’t argue with him, and he withstood my questioning.  I was satisfied with his answers and we came to an agreement.”  I frowned at him.

   “That doesn’t sound very romantic.  It sounds more like a business arrangement.”

   “Well, hopefully he’s saving all his romance for you,” he said while playfully batting his eyelashes at me.  I laughed and blushed at the same time.  After such a serious conversation it was good to see my dad making jokes.  My dad kissed my forehead.  “Goodnight, Charlie Bear.”  He left the room and I sat on my bed trying to wrap my mind around what had just happened.

   Asher had done it.  He’d convinced my father to let me date.  To be his girlfriend.  What in the world had Asher said to him?  I would have to get him to tell me the next day.  I walked over to my vanity and grabbed a hair tie, pulling my long hair back into a pony tail.  Once it was secured back, I took a moment to look myself over.  I had my first real kiss that evening and also made out with Asher for the first time, and yet I couldn’t really see a difference.  I guess that was good.  No one else would be able to tell that I felt so tremendously changed. 

   I shrugged my shoulders, switched off the lights, and climbed into bed.  My mind was racing and I knew I wasn’t going to fall asleep any time soon, but I was content to lay in my bed and let my mind wander over what it meant to be with Asher.

   We started our sophomore year as boyfriend and girlfriend, holding hands as we walked down the hallway.  And although I felt like everything had changed, apparently no one else in the school felt the same way.  I kept waiting for people to mention our new status, or notice us holding hands, but people treated us the same way they always had.  At lunch the first day, I asked Reeve about it.

   “Don’t you think it’s weird that no one has noticed that Asher and I are holding hands?”

   “What do you mean?”

   “I mean, no one seems to notice or care that we’re together.”

   Reeve chuckled and turned to me.  “Charlie, you and Asher have been together since fifth grade.  Your relationship is only news to you.  Everyone else has just been waiting for you guys to figure it out.”

   So that’s what we did.  Asher and I figured
us
out.  We went to football games, school dances, movies; all the places teenagers should go. We spent most of our time out with groups, but my dad still allowed us to go to the park and the school alone, figuring out in public was safe territory.  He was mostly right.

   We found private places to kiss.  The gazebo, the swings, the tree-covered arch through the alley on the way to the school.  There was nothing as exciting as kissing Asher.  It was exciting because it was new, at first.  Then it became a new kind of exciting.  Asher was always, without fail, respectful of me and my body.  He never pushed my boundaries and always waited for me to move us forward. 

   At first, our kisses were sweet.  We were so happy to just be kissing each other; that offered enough excitement.  But eventually we both realized that a kiss on the neck, or a kiss on the shoulder or the ear, brought on a different kind of excitement.  Mouths began to wander, both of ours, and I began to acquaint myself with desire.  Slowly, over the year, we explored each other. 

   One night,
about a year into our relationship, an hour before I had to be home, it was dark and we were on a bench far into the park.  We hadn’t seen anyone in the park for about an hour as it was getting chilly.  Asher had his coat unzipped and I had my arms threaded around him, at first to keep warm, but now body heat wasn’t an issue.  Now I was using my arms to hold him close to me as we made out in the darkness.  Without thinking much about it, I moved my hand underneath his shirt and felt everything inside me clench as my fingers came into contact with his bare stomach.  He gasped at my touch, seemingly just as surprised as I was that I had made the move.  Our lips separated, but only enough to breathe, our faces still touching as my hands remained on his body.

   “Is this ok?” I asked him.  He nodded.

   “Don’t stop,” he said quickly, then pressed his lips to mine again.  There was a new level of passion moving between us and the high it gave me made me brave.  I began to move my hands up his torso, feeling the strong muscles of his abdomen.  Every ridge bumped between my fingers and it was a new way to see him.  I used my hands to paint a picture in my mind of what his chest looked like, memorized his body with my mind as if to draw it later.

   I felt his hands gripping my shirt, tugging on it, and I let my bravery
make me bolder and I drew his hands up my stomach, trying to give him the go ahead to do a little exploration of his own.  His hands moved hesitantly over my ribcage and I felt his fingertips graze the very edge of my bra.  The sheer excitement of knowing his hands were so close to my breasts caused all kinds of things to malfunction and go haywire in my body.  My arms and legs began to tremble as if I were cold.  My heart seemed to be pumping blood quicker than it ever had before, and my mind kept thinking thoughts like, “His hand is near my boob,” and “He’s going to touch my boob.”

   When his hand finally made it over the rim of my bra and that first contact happened, I felt him stop breathing.  He stopped kissing.  He s
topped everything.  His hand gently rubbed on the underside of my left breast and the rest of our bodies froze.  His hand moved up and over the mound and the vibrations his hand made on the cotton fabric brought new zings of arousal to my body.  My mouth opened without permission and I made a noise against his lips that sounded like a whimper.

   Our faces were just centimeters from each other and I saw his eyes searching for
mine.  Our eyes connected, our bodies rigid with the new sensations of excitement coursing through us, Asher moved his hand to fully cup me.  Gently squeezing, softly gripping, he seemed to be taking great care in familiarizing himself with my breast.  His other hand slipped beneath the fabric of my shirt and slid up along my back, the tips of his fingers sneaking beneath my bra strap.

   His thumb brushed over my nipple and the jolts of sensation zipped through my whole body, causing me to gasp.

   “Is this ok?  Are you ok?”  Asher asked, his hands stilling.

   “Yes,” I said as I pressed a kiss against his lips.  “It just feels, uh, really good.”  I instantly felt the heat of my blush creep over my face.  His face, however, was overcome with a smug look of satisfaction.

   He kissed me again, a little harder than our previous kisses, more insistent.  His hands roamed a little more freely, his confidence bolstered by my admission.  I felt his hand on my back rubbing against the strap of my bra and I knew he was silently asking for permission to unclasp it.  My mind ran at hyper-speed.  I loved the way he made my body feel and I wanted him to continue, but I just kept thinking about how I was straddling him on a park bench.  Then his thumb did that brush-over-my-nipple thing again and any self-control I thought I had went out the window.

   I reached behind my back and unclasped my bra for him, assuming he’d have a hard time with it on his own.  My bra hung loosely
from my shoulders, only being kept on by the shirt I was still wearing, but he had enough room to sneak his hand beneath the fabric and touch me, skin on skin.

   “Are you sure, Bit?”

   If my eyes had been open he would have seen me roll them.  What kind of girl unclasps her bra and then tells the boy whose lap she’s sitting on not to touch?  But my arousal and need at the moment prevented my snarky comment from verbalizing.  I just nodded and said, “Please.”  My voice sounded strained and deep.  I don’t recall ever hearing my voice like that before.  He didn’t waste any time and I felt him move his hand beneath the underwire, his soft fingertips slowly moving over the bare skin of my breast.  His other hand came from behind my back and moved to tend to the neglected one.

   He
stopped kissing me and it seemed he couldn’t actually do two things at once at the moment.  He pressed his forehead against mine, his hands holding me, and I tried to ignore the hardness I felt building beneath me.  I felt his erections before, but never once had I been brave enough to talk about them, let alone try to touch him.

   It was my turn to wear a smug grin.  He seemed to be lost in me, really enjoying th
e moment.  His hands moved slowly, but covered a lot of ground.  Suddenly, I felt him firmly pinch both of my nipples and give them a gentle tug.

   “Ah!” I yelped, half in surprise and half in a state of why-the-hell-does-that-feel-so-good? 
He instantly stopped at my gasp and rubbed his thumbs over them.  I was thrown into a new level of sensation overload and bit my lip to try and not cry out again.  An “Mmmmm” did manage to slip past my lips which seemed to catch his attention and his mouth found mine again.  He began kissing me while lazily thumbing my nipple with one hand.  His other hand slid down my back and found its way just inside the waistband of my jeans.  He must have felt me tense at the thought of his hand inside my jeans because he stopped there and concentrated on the hand inside my shirt.

   He kneaded and cupped my breast all while kissing me passionately.  I felt a familiar pinching feeling between my legs; I experienced it more and more frequently with Asher.  It felt as though a rubber band was being stretched tightly inside of me, right at the juncture of my thighs, and that at any moment it could snap from all the pressure.  This time, the delicious tight and pinching feeling was
accompanied by a new warmth, a hot wetness.  Part of me was embarrassed by these new things my body seemed to be doing all on its own, but most of me didn’t care at the moment and could only concentrate on Asher and his hands and mouth.

   When I finally pulled away from him, not really wanting to go home, but knowing it was getting late, Asher pulled me to his chest and held me for a moment.
  This gave my body a chance to calm down and my mind a chance to sabotage me.  I started wondering how he felt about me and my body, now that he’d had a chance to feel me.  As he often did, he noticed the change in my body, my muscles tensing as my mind ran away with itself.

   “What are you thinking, Bit?”

   I shook my head slightly, still resting in the crook of his neck.

   “Talk to me.  Please.”  He sounded concerned.

   I shrugged my shoulders and I heard him exhale loudly.  He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back and away from him, trying to see my face. 

   “What is going on up there?”  He asked, now a little irritated.

   “I don’t know.  I’m just a little worried.”  That was the best I could give him.

   “Worried about what, exactly?”  It took me a few moments to build up enough courage to answer him, but I knew he wouldn’t accept my dodging any more of his questions.

   “I’m just worried that I’m not, that my body’s not, what you like.”

   “You think I don’t like your body?”

   “No,” I said exasperated.  “Yes.”  I sighed.  “I don’t know.”  I breathed in and out a few times and then looked him in the eyes.  “I
think
you enjoyed that, I mean, I could, uh,
feel
you enjoying it.  But I’m not stupid enough to think that any sixteen-year-old guy wouldn’t enjoy feeling a girl up.  I guess I am just worried that I’m not what you want.”

   “What do you think I want?  I’m here with you, Bit.  Why would I want to be anywhere else?”

   I shrugged. 

   “I don’t know.  Maybe y
ou like girls with bigger boobs or girls who have bigger butts.  How will I ever know if every time you put your hand up my shirt that you’re not wishing I had a little more, uh, boobage?”

   “Boobage?”  He asked, chuckling.

   “Don’t laugh, Asher!  This is serious.  You didn’t say one word while your hand was up there.  That left a lot of room for interpretation.”

   “I didn’t say anything because my brain was malfunctioning.  I was living the dream I’d been having for months, maybe years, when my girlfriend let me get to second base.”

   “Well, a little positive reinforcement would have been appreciated.  I was practically moaning and
grinding
on your lap and you gave no indication that you enjoyed my boobage.”  I had to admit, I was being a little bit of a brat, but sometimes insecurities brought out the ugliness in me.  I was glad he smiled at my new word.  I didn’t want him angry; I really just wanted reassurance. 

   “Babe, you’re perfect.  I couldn’t imagine a girl more perfect for me. 
And as for your boobage and granting me the supreme privilege of rounding the next base in our relationship, well, I really
really
enjoyed it.  Really,” he said, bumping his forehead lightly against mine.  I reached behind me to clasp my bra and then laid my hands on his chest.

   “Could you just do me a favor and remember, for future occasions, that sometimes a girl needs a little reassurance?”  He tilted his head a little and had a confused look on his face.