Page 83 of Your Biggest Downfall
I sighed. “Okay.”
“Back to my original question.” He moved his hand to my thigh, where he rested it. “Was everything okay?”
“Sexually?”
He nodded.
“Yeah,” I responded without thinking. That was something I was one-hundred-percent certain of. “It was...” It was everything. It was so much of what I needed and expected to happen the first time I had sex—the love, the caring, the softness. “Perfect. It was perfect.”
His grip on the steering wheel relaxed, and a small smile spread across his face. “Good.”
He glanced at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “You deserved that the first time.” A long pause followed before he added, “I’m sorry... again.”
I took a deep breath and then gently squeezed his fingers. “It’s in the past. We can only move forward.”
“You’re right, Supernova. There’s only moving forward for us.”
I closed my eyes as the city lights appeared in the distance. I looked down at our interlocked hands resting on my thigh, feeling like there was finally light in a world that had felt dark for so long.
“Alright,” I sighed. “I’ll stay with you tonight.”
34
austin
“Do you think the wig was necessary?” I asked, adjusting the itchy black wig under my baseball cap.
“Yes,” Nova replied, fidgeting as we made our way to her mom’s house. “Telling my mom was one thing, but telling the entire world where she lives is another.”
Nova was worried about paparazzi following us, so she had me take the back entrance to her apartment. Then, she walked two blocks before I could pick her up and drive her to her mom’s. I figured a baseball cap and sunglasses would do the trick, but she insisted on the wig as an “extra security measure.”
It didn’t matter. I’d give her whatever she wanted, even my last name, just to wake up with her naked beside me, her body curled around mine, her cunt wet and waiting for me. I’d do anything to be able to fuck her every single morning. If that meant wearing a ridiculous wig whenever we went out, I’d put up with the constant itch without complaint.
“What exactly are we telling your mom?”
We had talked about telling her mom that we were together. Nova refused to say the word dating, but this was a big step.
“I think we’ll tell her we’re together. I don’t—” She hiccupped, pausing on the last word.
So many words left unspoken. She didn’t want her mom to get sicker without knowing she was taken care of. She didn’t want her mom to pass away without seeing her happy and in love.
“I get it.” I didn’t need to say anything more.
That’s the thing with Nova and me. There was so much sorrow that sometimes neither of us needed to say the unspoken words.
“I want to make sure she knows I’m happy.”
I leaned over and gave her thigh a squeeze. “I’ll take care of you, Nova. Whatever’s mine is yours.”
She nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it my whole life, but my mom will appreciate that.”
“I know you can take care of yourself, but I will be there as a shoulder whenever you need to cry.”
We pulled up to a modest brick house, and Nova instructed me to park around in the alley where the garage was. The door was already open, so I pulled in.
The garage was small and cozy, filled with the familiar scents of old wood and motor oil. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with tools and gardening supplies, while an old bicycle leaned against one corner, long forgotten.
I stopped the car, parked, and walked around to her side, pulling open the door. I’d met her mom before, but this felt different. I reached down for her hand, and she paused, her eyes wide as she looked up at me.
