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Mom was silent for a moment, then sighed.
“It sounds to me like you’re serious about this boy.”
I cringed at hearing Owen being referred to as a boy, but I couldn’t correct her.
“I care about him a lot,” I admitted. “Maybe more than I should at this point, but…”
“I just want you to remember, my beautiful girl, the promises you made to our Lord about your chastity.”
“Oh, Mom…” I moaned. “That was when I was a kid, back in Sunday school…”
“Doesn’t mean the promise ain’t worth nothin’ anymore,” she countered. “I know we’ve talked about what we needed to, and that this is between you and the Lord. I just wanted to remind you.”
Oh God, she was going to freak out if she found out some of the things we’d done…
“Anywho, if things get serious with this boy, I want to meet him. Actually, strike that. I’d like to meet him soon. Maybe over fall break?”
I choked.
“Uh, I’m sure he’ll be with his family, Mom.”
“That boy will make time to meet his future in-laws if he’s serious about you, I promise you that.”
“We’re not getting married! Goodness, we’ve just been on a few dates.”
And had a few sleepovers. And fucked like bunnies for hours and hours at a time.
I cleared my throat, trying to do the same to my brain as Mom went on.
“Your father and I just want to see you home soon. That new boss of yours has to let you come home sometime. Besides, where have you been doing your laundry?”
She had a point. I’d been using the laundromat since I started working on the weekends.
Maybe Owen would let me use his, during one of our ‘sleepovers’.
“Anyway, we’ll see you soon, hun.”
“Ok Mom. I’ll try and make it back soon. Promise.”
“Mhm. Love ya! Take care.”
I repeated the sentiment, then plopped my head back down on my pillow as she hung up and my phone canceled the call with a soft beep.
It felt so good to tell people about Owen, but I worried that I was only digging my own grave. It was simply a matter of time until the eagerness to meet him turned to demands, and I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Owen had to be my secret until…
Until when? Would he ever stop being my secret?
Refusing to acknowledge my own fear and anxieties, I turned my eyes back to my phone and reread the texts.
Me: I’m sore but good. Needed to catch up on my sleep a little. Some meanie kept me up all night.
He answered right away.
Professor Harlo: Oh dear. The orgasms must have been terrible.
Me: Not terrible necessarily, but incessant. Over and over and over…
Professor Harlo: You’d better stop or I’m going to get a hard-on right before class starts.
