I’m torn between knowing I could use the help and wanting to keep Kimiko as far away from Helen and Alex as possible. But Helen seems so excited, I don’t say anything. I’m just grateful that Alex finally stopschipping away at my lie. But he doesn’t return to normal, even though he goes through the motions of playing the game.
Kimiko wins by far.
I lose, also by far.
I can’t get myself to care too much about mini-golf when all I can think about is what is going on with Alex.
Alex is silent as we walk back to his dorm room that evening. I replay our mini-golf outing again and again in my head, trying to figure out what happened. Is this really about my book club fib? When he closes the door to his room, I turn and ask, “Are we okay?”
He deflects. “Why wouldn’t we be okay?”
“You know, it’s funny, I’m wondering the same thing,” I say sardonically.
He pierces me with his gaze. Seems to weigh his words carefully. Then finally says, “If you think we’re okay, then we’re okay.”
“Well, okay, then,” I say.
“Okay, then,” he repeats.
I want to laugh. This sounds like the complete opposite of okay.
“So, what now?” I ask as I sit down on his bed.
He tilts his head, considering. Staring down at me, eyes locked on mine. I watch as his expression heats, his eyes darkening. I know what’s coming, but I’m still surprised when he says:
“Now I want to fuck you until my name is the only one you can remember.”
Oh.
I don’t know what to say to that. It’s such a one-eighty from his mood the entire evening. There’s an adult, logical part of my brain that says we should maybe wait until we’ve had an actual conversation and cleared the air.
Then there’s the rest of me that is quickly turning the adult, logical part to putty.
Breathlessly, I say, “Okay.”
He stalks forward, lowering himself so he’s crouched on top of me, one knee on the bed between my legs. We kiss slowly, languidly, pulling apart only when he takes my top off, then unbuttons my pants. Before I know it, I’m naked and he’s still fully dressed.
He returns to standing and takes me in. The urge to cover myself comes, but I resist, just lean back, propping myself up with my hands behind me. I watch him watch me. His eyes glide over my body slowly, his attention so rapt that I can almost feel it like a physical touch.
He leans down to kiss me again, glides a hand across my shoulder, then down to cup my breast. Then lower. He breaks the kiss and pulls away.
“On second thought, I want you to sit on my face.”
He moves, positioning us so that he’s flat on the bed and I’m straddling his face, hovering just a few inches above. I’ve never done this before. The closest I can think of is that night all those years ago, when he’d lowered himself to his knees as I’d been standing. And that isn’t quite the same.
“Are you sure?” I ask, hesitant.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Hesitantly, I lower myself. I jolt in shock at the sensation of him licking me, and he grabs the top of my thighs and attempts to hold me in place, moving his tongue through my folds with expert precision that would feel amazing if only I weren’t so worried about—
“Joey.” His exasperation comes through even though his voice is muffled.“Sit down.”
“I don’t want to suffocate you.”
“You won’t.”
“I might.”
