Softly, he kisses my cheek before saying, “You look nervous.”
Do I tell him I have no experience?
I don’t have to. He steps back. “Is this your… first time, Biz?”
Nodding, I rest my hand on his chest. “Let’s not make it a big thing, please?” A look of worry passes over his face before he agrees.
He puts music on and leads me to his bedroom.
I expected it to be sparsely decorated like the rest of the apartment, but I’m surprised to see a nautical theme, pictures on the walls of him rowing with his crew team from prep school. My eyes skim over the bed in the corner, a pillowy down comforter pulled back, the sheets rumpled.
“Sorry, I didn’t make it earlier.” His room looks lived in, but not dirty.
I’m looking at a pair of oars with symbols on them when Ripp kisses my neck from behind. “It’s a pair of single scull vintage racing oars.”
Seeing his space gives me a better idea of who he is, what he holds dear… his crew past, his sailboat back at home, his teammates from prep school, the awards…
Not a picture of his family anywhere? Nothing about Rockefeller Amherst?
He scoops me into his arms, and my eyes snag on a swim cap in his crew team colors hanging off a shelf of trophies. My stomach bottoms out.
“...were you watching that? Best time I’ve had so far.
He pulls himself out of the pool, then tugs his swim cap off. His hand smooths down his black hair.
I climb down the bleachers next to the pool, my sketchpad in one hand. “I’ve been working on this,” I say, holding up the drawing of him mid-stroke.
But suddenly, all I want is to touch the body I’ve carefully drafted. To feel his hands all over me. Feel him inside of me.
Suddenly, I snap back to myself.
Ripp’s mouth is on my neck. I’m on his bed.
My body starts to tremble.
That… memory? I remember being withhim. With… why can’t I remember his name? How can that be?
Sitting up, I squeeze my eyes closed. “I can’t do this. I-I have to go.”
Chapter Twenty
Bizzy (Elizabeth)
Blinking several times to get my bearings, I wake up in a puddle of blood from a nosebleed.
When I dropped into bed last night, I just wanted to close my eyes and shut out the entire world. The emotional exhaustion from the memories, coupled with Ripp’s cautiousness as he brought me back to my dorm room, kept me awake far too long.
The look on Ripp’s face when I pulled away was a mix of resignation and defeat. I feel terrible, but the memories caught me off guard.
Everything had been getting better. Now I’m afraid the medications Dr. Fraine prescribed have run their course. They’re no longer helping. The hallucinations are back with a vengeance.
Time is dwindling…
My legs feel rubbery when I climb out of bed with a wad of tissue pressed to my nose.
“Aghh!”
Stumbling to the ground, my right knee strikes the edge of my bedframe. I don’t bother stopping the tears from flowing. Is it time to level with my parents? I’ve been putting off the phone call to tell them about my diagnosis.
