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“Sure.” He shivered beneath the blanket. My Army surplus jacket kept me warm, but Windy hadn’t gone home to pick up his winter clothes yet. Hence the blanket. “Stephen, my first boyfriend.”
“Right. High school sweetheart who didn’t tell anyone about you and later got some girl pregnant at ETSU.”
“Yeah.” Windy sighed. “You can’t have everything, I guess.”
“No, you can’t.” Or I couldn’t anyway. I had a guy who liked me, who had fucked me like I was special, and could take me apart in his basement. Yet we were both going to die soon. Soeverythingwasn’t in the stars for us.
“What’s this all about?” Peter asked.
“His Dom, clearly,” Windy said, shading his eyes. The sky was wide, blue, and dotted with fluffy clouds, and the stark tree limbs above looked gothic against it.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “He likes me.”
Peter’s brows drew down. “Do you like him?”
“Yeah. I’m in love with him. Obviously.” I caught myself doing what I always did, tossing out the word love just because it made me feel good, optimistic. But the weight of my diagnosis jerked me back down, and I reconsidered my statement. “I mean, I think I might really be in love with him this time. For real.”
I must have sounded serious in some way that Peter and Windy weren’t familiar with because Windy sat up, and Peter scooted forward. Both of them took one of my hands in theirs.
“What happened?” Windy asked.
“He took me on a date. He told me stuff about his life. Like how he went to college, but had to drop out, and other personal stuff too.”
“Like?” Windy prompted.
“He has a sister, Betsy. She has Down Syndrome, and he really cares about her and considers it his duty to be there for her to make sure she’s okay.”
“That’s good,” Peter said.
“At the end of the date, we fucked, and it was different. It wasn’t like when I go to his basement to get hurt. He did choke me some in the end, but the actual fuck was…” I squirmed. Heat rushed into my cheeks.
Normally, I had no problem talking to my friends about all the random sex I had, but this was special. Different.
“It was…” Peter urged me on.
“He wasn’t trying to hurt me or dominate me. He justlikedme and wanted to make me feel good. He wanted to be inside me because he feels, I don’t know, tender or something towards me.” I plucked a piece of brown, dying grass and threw it in the air. It fluttered to the ground again. “It was weird.”
“You sound like you’re not sure if you liked it,” Peter said.
“I’m not sure I did,” I admitted. “I mean, I came pretty hard. He was good at regular sex. Not like some assholes I’ve had. I felt like he was really into me, and into knowing me. But after he left? It all felt like a lie.”
“A lie?”
“Yeah, like he hadn’t really fuckedme, he’d fucked some idea he had of me. But I can’t think of any untrue thing from the entire night. I was myself, and I let him see me, the real me. He seemed to like that. For real.”
“Of course he did,” Windy reassured me.
“But after he’d gone home, I tossed around all night feeling sortof—” I flailed my hands around. “Scared?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I felt scared, and alone, and like there must be a sick twist in this somewhere.”
It wasn’t like I didn’t know what the sick twist was. Finally finding someone who got me and who gave me what I needed in every way, only for there to be an expiration date. Worse, there was no way to know for sure when that date was, or how long it might take to reach it.
“Have you told him this?” Windy asked.
“No, I don’t want him to think I didn’t enjoy it.”
