He nudges my leg gently with his, making me glance up from my textbook. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
“What wasn’t?”
“Smiling,” he says, holding my gaze. “It looks good on you.”
My chest tightens, and suddenly all the humor slips away. I look down quickly, unsure how to handle this feeling. It scares me how easily we get along. It also scares me how close I hold him to the memories of Eli. I wish I didn’t. I wish I could erase their connection; it makes these feelings I’m having feel so wrong, like I should be ashamed of them.
“Lydia?” His voice is quiet, uncertain now. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” I whisper, looking back up at him. “It’s just…I think this is the first time I’ve actually genuinely laughed in…I couldn’t tell you how long. It feels strange.”
“You deserve to laugh, Lydia. You also deserve a lot more than what’s been thrown at you.”
The silence stretches between us for a moment as he keeps his eyes on me. I feel him drifting closer. For maybe weeks now, we’ve been teetering on this line neither of us has acknowledged. Between the teasing, the subtle flirting, and the genuine concern he has for me, I’ve been so confused about what all of it means.
He slowly lifts a hand, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing softly against my skin. My heart stops for a second. I’ve never had anyone this close besides Eli. I hate that he still holds space in my mind. I don’t want him in my head. I don’t want him disrupting my peace anymore. I don’t want only his memories on my lips. I want to reclaim the parts of me only he’s had. He doesn’t own those parts; I do.
“Kiss me,” I whisper, shocking even myself with the boldness of it. “Please.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He kisses me quickly before softening, almost asking permission after I’ve already given it, like he wants to be careful with me. My breath hitches, my heart races, and I kiss him back desperately. My hands find his hair, his shoulders, his shirt, pulling him closer, trying to drown out the past.
John pulls back slightly, concern back in his eyes. “Is this okay? I…I don’t wanna cross any lines for you, Lydia—”
“Please,” I whisper again, cutting him off with another kiss, deeper, hungrier.
I need this.
I need him.
We tangle ourselves together, breathing heavily, bodies pressed close together. I push him down on the bed, and he rolls me over with his hands steady on my hips, hovering above me now. But even as my lips explore his, the shadows creep in. Memories of Eli flash through my mind, intrusive and cruel. Eli’s voice, Eli’s touch, his possessiveness, everything he made me give to him even when I didn’t want to. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, willing John’s presence to erase him. Kissing John feels like a high I shouldn’t be chasing, but I am.
I can’t let Eli own thispart of me forever. I won’t let him keep that power. I push John to flip over, lying on the bed and straddling him, desperate to replace every thought of Eli’s hands, Eli’s mouth, Eli’s bruises.
John is so gentle…almosttoocareful. I don’t want careful right now. I want more… Ineedmore; I need enough to erase him from my skin.
Nobody’s home today yet; this is my only opportunity. I guide John’s hands back to my hips, wanting him to hold me tighter. He follows my lead, eyes locked onto mine, searching for any sign of hesitation. My heartbeat becomes so loud as I clutch at his shirt, chasing the warmth building between us.
But it’s still not enough.
I start kissing down his neck, hungry, reckless, pushing boundaries faster than either of us anticipated. My fingers find the hem of his shirt, starting to lift it.
John catches my hands gently. “Lydia—what are we doing?”
I stare into his eyes, trying to convince him and myself that this will help. “I want you. I want this. Ineedthis.”
Concern flickers across his face. “Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you—especially not after everything. I really do like you, Lydia. This isn’t just physical for me. I want you to know that.”
The admission catches me off guard. “Really?” I whisper, the vulnerability slipping into my voice.
“Really…I’ve always liked you, actually,” he says softly.
My mind falters. I don’t even know if I can feel anything beyond this moment, this distraction, this high. But I nod anyway, leaning in, whispering, “Yeah…I like you too.”
He lets me remove his shirt, eyes never leaving mine. I pull my shirt over my head, and John’s eyes are reverent but hungry, careful as his fingertips trail up myback, softly reaching for my bra.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, kissing my collarbone, his warmth starting to cloud every dark thought.
I’m thankful for the relief it brings. I wish I could always quiet the thoughts this easily… without the pain or alcohol.
