Page 196 of As the Rain Falls
“Sure.”
I end up feeling so naked without it, staring at a blank spot as the fabric slide off the bed and towards the ground, and notdaring to make a single sound.
My tongue is heavy in my mouth as his lips find mine again. His mouth has this lingering taste of cheap beer bought at the corner store, and I wince when our teeth clash.
For what it’s worth, I try, really hard, to get into it. Mainly because this is something I promised I’d do, and now I feel like I owe him a good time for it.
I try to be as present as he is and enjoy it as much as he clearly does. But there’s a pit in my stomach that reminds me what I should really be doing, which is putting an end to this relationship.
Maybe I would have felt differently about it if he’d waited a little more. If I waited a little more. If things were different between us.
He hits a sweet spot, and for what feels like a long second, I almost want to tell him to stay there, but the good sensation is ruined by some bad feeling I can’t put a finger on.
“I love you, Cassie.”
God.
My lips part as I try to say something back. Anything at all would be good. But the butterflies are simply gone, and I’m left as just a body under his.
Except, it’s not just a body. It’smybody under his. My breasts under his chest, my legs around him, my mouth that’s kissing him. The thought, it… blinks me awake for a second.
Make him stop.
It’s just a thought.
A silly thought, really.
Something like a warning, a voice I don’t want to listen to. But I’m here; I’m not away. I’m not slipping in my mind like I’ve read on the Internet. Some girls do, but I don’t, and I’m not panicking either.
I’d recognize panic.
IknowI would.
I’m more than fine, and slowly, the dullness starts clouding my thoughts all over again.
“You’re amazing.”
See?I really am.
And on top of that, I notice everything too.
Like, I’m so attuned to his every move, it’s almost ridiculous. I’m preciously keeping every sign of affection in the back of my head like it proves something, all because the voices in my head won’t stop.
They keep whispering words.
See me.
Please, see something in me that the others never will.
“We’re missing the party,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I don’t know what time it is anymore, or for how long we’ve been here instead of talking to his friends. “Isn’t it a problem?”
I don’t even know how I got here in the first place, if I have to be honest. This was planned, but I don’t remember if I was the one to lead him into my room.
Maybe I was.
Maybe I wanted to have sex then, but I want a little less now.
Is it normal?
