Page 56 of Forbidden
At least my hobbies are cool. He was all about music, and nothing else.
I think about the three other boys I have kissed. One, when I was thirteen with Dan who lived next door. That was when my braces cut his lip.
He’d pushed me away, and called me a name I’ll never forget.
The school dance was my second and also awkward. Again, I was told I was a terrible kisser, and that was it.Enough!
After, I avoided socializing with guys, and I started to live in my books. That is, until I met my ex. We’d stuck together, and we’d started having sex.
Sex that was not as amazing as it should be. And now…
As I cry, there is a knock on my door. I ignore it, and a minute later, it’s knocked again. Slowly it opens a little. “Are you okay?”
Wiping my face, I roll over sniffing. I cannot see well, my eyes are cloudy.
“May I come in?”
I nod, and nothing happens. “Yep.” I say feeling disgusting.
A protective Lorenzo walks over, and he sits next to me. “Want to talk about it?” I slide over, and remaining under the covers, I rest my face on his lap, and cry.
Slowly, he puts his arm around me, and he rubs my back, like Mom used to do.
Lorenzo whispers things to me, and I eventually begin to calm. We lean into each other, and he holds me close, as if protecting me.
Lorenzo pulls the sheet over me to keep me warm, and he wraps his big arms around me. As if they are huge strong wings.
His deep voice calms me, as he continues to rub my shoulders. I am still wet, and I start to shiver.
After another minute, Lorenzo wraps the sheet around me, then lifts me into his arms. He carries me towards the bathroom. His mouth is near my head, and he kisses my forehead. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
An hour later,after a long hot shower, and a whiskey he handed me through the door, I dry off.
The rain has stopped, and Lorenzo and I walk up to his rooftop.
I’m in comfy cotton knickers, and a long old jersey that he has loaned me. It comes to my knees. I also have thick, sloppy winter socks on, and I feel better.
Lorenzo pulls the cover off the outdoor sofa area, and we sit. We sip on fresh whiskies, and he looks nice in his suit.
We sit in the old section of the roof, next to the statues of eagles and the herbs that I planted.
We lay back on the sofa next to each other, and Lorenzo looks at my herbs. “They’re coming along. You’ve done a good job,”
“Thanks,” I say sniffing.
I realize I owe Lorenzo an explanation. Or he’ll think I’m a stupid kid who can’t take big city living. “I’m just gonna come out with it and call it what it is. I hate dating, there.”
We share a look, and we both laugh. “Don’t laugh, it’s not funny.”
“Hey, I’m not good at it myself.”
“Yeah, well, at least you get some. Sex that is.”
I decide to give Lorenzo my complex history, and I explain as a not hot, not even cute teen, I was laughed at twice. I then tell him I’ve only kissed three guys.
That my skillset, and confidence around romance, from small talk, to kissing, and even to bedroom styles, is below par. Way below par. Actually, non-existent.
Lorenzo listens, and he doesn’t give anything away.
