I melt boneless, my sweaty forehead dropping to his shoulder as we sit, our chests rising and falling in the same rhythm. Finally, I break the silence.
“Never have I ever had two orgasms back to back,” I rush out. “We have got to do that again.”
His shoulders shake against me as he chuckles. “I think you may be right.”
The party downstairs is still going strong, but it’s getting late. The noise has quieted, only the occasional song drifting in under the door to Tyler and me. Between sex, we lie tangled on the couch, trading whispered secrets. I tell him about my mom, how my half-brother and I were raised by our grandmother due to our mom’s unmedicated mental illness. It shaped and molded everything about me and that’s why I fell in love with the mural project. He opens up about how hard it was seeing the things his cousins went through with their dad at such young ages,and how, when they came to live with him and his parents, he did everything he could to be whatever his family needed him to be.
Between conversation, we’re kissing, or lying in the stillness, his fingers threading through my hair, sending shivers down my spine. Having someone play with my hair is my kryptonite.
Now we’re on the floor, my body draped across his bare torso, a throw blanket around us. The song “Chasing Cars” drifts from the party, Tyler humming along and peppering sweet kisses to my shoulders. Some of our clothes are back on, but not much. He’s still shirtless, and I’m in my tank and panties, but somehow, with a guy whose last name I don’t even know, I’ve never felt more comfortable. I should probably feel embarrassed. Ashamed, maybe? But I feel neither. All I feel is pure, dizzying happiness laced with the dull ache of knowing this is temporary.
“Clark?” I whisper into the dark.
His chest rises and falls with quiet laughter at my use of the nickname I’ve given him. “Hmm.”
“I wish I could keep you. That the universe would find a way for me to keep you.” I trace shapes across his chest with my nails. My words sound as exhausted as I feel, but I want him to know before this night ends and it all becomes just a memory. Maybe I’ll find him on social media. Could we turn this into something, even if it’s long distance? We’d have late-night phone calls till we can’t hold our eyes open and drive to meet halfway until someday the timing’s finally right. This could be our meet-cute story. One only we’d know, of course, because you can’t tell just anyone you got drunk and slept with a stranger, multiple times. How would I begin to explain what has happened tonight between Tyler and me?
He leans down to brush his lips against mine. “Maybe the universe will. Jo, I need you to know that no matter what happens here, it wasn’t just a moment for me. This meant something—means something. More than I expected. I haven’t laughed like this in years, haven’t talked to someone like I’vetalked to you. This feels real.Youfeel real.” Tilting his head back, he runs a thumb along my jaw. “Maybe we’re not over yet.”
Suspended in this moment, my eyes bounce between his. I grip his biceps and press my mouth to his for one last kiss. It’s suffused in sweetness, and I smile against his lips. When we part, my eyes flutter closed and I drift off to sleep, cocooned in his arms, a smile on my face.
I wake realizing two things. I’m about to be very late for the honor society breakfast, and Tyler is gone. Even with my eyes still closed, I already feel his absence. Slowly, I peel my lids open, turning to where his body was mere hours ago. Beside my head lies a torn piece of paper. I pick it up, noticing the bottom half of the name Hemingway along the torn edge. He must have ripped it from the front of his book to leave me a note. My eyes roam the page, reading what he’s written in the same precise handwriting I saw in the margins of his book.
Jo,
I’m sorry I’m leaving without saying goodbye. (Don’t worry, I locked the door so you’d be safe. I may be a good guy, but who knows about the rest of them.) I need to check on my roommate and get him back to our hotel. You look too peaceful to wake, so I hope you’ll forgive me that you’re just getting a note.But I want you to know you’re like no one I’ve ever met and I’ll never forget tonight. I hope the universe does bring us back together. Here’s my number. Please call me, Jo. Any hour of the day.
Tyler
555-876-9830
I’m grinning like an idiot as I search the room for my skirt and sweater to finish getting dressed. Quickly, I check my phone to see I don’t have time to go to my dorm to change, so I run to the bathroom to make myself as presentable as possible. I finger-comb my messy hair, find some mouthwash in the medicine cabinet and swish a few times before running back to the library for the note and my phone. Taking a few breaths in and out, I prepare for the upcoming walk of shame and head downstairs, still clutching the note between my fingers.
At the front door, I stop dead in my tracks. Shit. It’s raining cats and dogs and I don’t have an umbrella. I’ll be a drowned rat by the time I get to the art building. Honestly, at this point I should skip it altogether, but my favorite professor will be there. Mentally, I count to three and head into the deluge, running as fast as I can down the sidewalk, rain sloshing under my feet with every step.
At the crosswalk, I jab the button on the street pole with my thumb and wait my turn to cross. A car flies past and as their tires hit a puddle, a spray of rainwater splashes me, completely drenching me from head to toe. I look down, only to realize I’m still clutching Tyler’s note. I turn it over and my good mood vanishes, all hopes dashed, because the rain has smudged the ink. The note is still there, but the ink has bled to the point the only numbers I can make out is the area code.
One night was enough. We had one single memory together, it was perfect, and that’s plenty, right?
Yes,I tell myself, but I know it’s a lie.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I will myself not to cry, but it’s no use. Fat hot tears mix with the rain droplets spilling down my face. I stand, letting the rain drench me. Maybe I’m a stupid hopeless romantic, but I let myself believe the trickle of raindrops are his fingertips drifting across my skin. The rain dancing down my cheeks is actually his lips. As rivulets of rain slide to my neck, I picture his hands there instead. I know I just met him. He’s just a guy. But tiny fissures form in my heart at the thought that I will, most likely, never talk to him again. I will spend the rest of my life watching the wrong love story unfold.
Dramatic? Maybe. But right now, my heart is certain of this one thing.
FIVE WEEKS LATER
“Jo! If you’re riding with me, you better hurry your fine ass up!” Desiree yells from the living room of our tiny summer apartment. We’ve been subletting it since we started our internship together. She and I hit it off on day one, like we’d known each other forever. When her apartment fell through, I offered to let her crash with me. It’s only a one-bedroom, but we make it work with an air mattress.
“Three more minutes,” I call weakly, my body hunched over the porcelain rim of the toilet. I’m on day five of this, heaving up what little I’ve been able to eat.
Pushing to my feet, I rinse my mouth, catching sight of my pallid complexion in the mirror. The dark circles under my eyes are slowly becoming more pronounced, despite the fact I sleep every chance I get. I haven’t even had the energy to straighten my curly hair and it falls in blonde ringlets around my face.
Desiree’s footsteps echo down the hall, then she’s leaning against the doorframe, eyebrows raised.
“Girl, you look like shit.”
“I feel like shit,” I groan. “I thought this stomach virus would’ve passed by now.” I spin to face her. “Do you think I have parvo? I swear I heard the other day humans can catch parvo. I read it on the internet, and I did pet that stray dog last week at the park.”
