Page 35 of Homestead

He’s silent except for his heavy breathing.

I don’t like the reaction I can sense in his body. “It’s not a big deal. I just never had the opportunity.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I… I don’t know. I just didn’t. Would it have made a difference?”

“I don’t know.” He shifts beneath me. “Maybe. I mighta wanted to know. Fuck, did I hurt you or anythin’? I wasn’t even gentle. Shit, you musta been real uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t hurt me! You were careful with me and made sure I enjoyed it too. Nothing was bad about it or even uncomfortable. I didn’t think it would matter.”

“Why wouldn’t it matter? I assumed you’d done it before with the way you were talkin’ and actin’. I wouldn’t’ve— Shit! So you just powered through it ’cause you thought that’s what I’d want?”

“No!” I’m so disturbed by his tone that I sit up in bed. “No! It wasn’t like that at all. I wanted to have sex with you, and you made it good for me. The fact that I was a virgin was irrelevant.”

“It was?” He’s staring up at me, tense and bewildered.

“Yes. Why would it matter?”

“I dunno,” he mumbles. “Just seems like it does. So you really did like it?”

“Yes! I liked it then, and I like it even better now.”

He’s finally relaxing again. “You’re not lyin’ to me to make me feel better?”

I’m surprised by a little giggle. “No. I’m not lying.”

“Okay.” He strokes my hair and gently eases me back down so my cheek is resting on his chest again. “Next time just tell me instead of keeping things a secret.”

“Okay. Next time I’m a virgin, I’ll tell you.”

His body shakes slightly. Then a low chuckle sounds in his throat. Then he’s laughing for real.

His amusement is infectious. I giggle a little bit too.

“Seriously,” he finally says. “It makes me feel bad when it seems like you’re doing things you don’t want just for me. I don’t want that, Chloe.”

He means it. I can tell. And it tells me something I need to know about him.

My first and main priority might be to make him happy, but he’s not going to be happy unless he knows I’m okay and willing too.

He told me the truth from the beginning. He’s not some sort of selfish asshole. He genuinely wants to take care of me the way I want to take care of him.

It makes things safer. Better.

It makes my heart do little flutters, and a clench forms beneath my belly.

It makes me want to be close to him.

“What about you?” I only find the courage to ask the question because he’s proven himself to care about me.

“What about me?”

“When was your first time?”

“Oh.” He clears his throat in that familiar, stalling way. “I was sixteen. With Mary. She was my high school girlfriend.”

I wonder if that means he’s only ever had sex with me and her. They could have been separated at some point. It’s possible he cheated on her, although he doesn’t seem the type. And it’s been years since she died. He could have had sex with someone else since then.

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