It seems like a lifetime ago that I was that troubled kid with a chip on his shoulder, but Sidney did what she promised. She cheered me on. She rooted for me. Believed in me when the world thought me nothing more than damaged goods.
Sidney is napping while rain taps against the windows, stormy clouds tumbling above the city. Prying the hot water bottle from her grasp, I get up off the couch and stretch out my muscles that have been in the same position for too long, my joints cracking as I do and then walk to the kitchen to change the water so it’s hot again for her.
I often wonder about that trailer and if it’s still there. It’s been a long time since either of us has been out that way; I can’t even remember when the last time was. Before we both went off to college, that’s for sure. Whenwe graduated, both of us fell headfirst into getting ourselves together, but she goes out that way more than I do since her family still lives in the suburbs.
Returning the bottle, I tuck it against her and then head through for a shower, my cell in my hand as I frown down at the hundred-plus emails waiting in my inbox. I could power through them now while she’s sleeping, but not working today has been nice. All both of us have done since getting out of college is work.
When do either of us get to rest like this?
Stripping off my clothes, I hit the button on the shower, the water heating immediately and steam begins to fill the space, misting over the large vanity mirror above the sink. Stepping beneath the spray, I let it wash down me, my mind only ever on her. My hand runs over the peonies etched into my chest, over my heart,herpeonies, forever inked into my skin.
Behind me, the door creaks open, and I glance over my shoulder to find Sidney standing in the doorway, my shirt falling just a little above mid thigh and I can see the edges of my boxer shorts.
She crosses her arms and drags her eyes down my naked form, everywhere her eyes touch leaving my skin pebbled with goosebumps.
Pushing open the door, I silently invite her to get in here with me.
Another boundary to cross, another invisible line to erase.
“I’m bleeding,” she says quietly, hesitating, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I don’t care,” I hold her eyes, watching her war with herself. “Keep the tampon in, take it out, it’s your choice. Just let me take care of you.”
She steps further into the bathroom and pushes the door closed, but still hesitates.
“It isn’t about sex, cricket,” I rasp, “I just want to look after you.”
I watch her throat work on a swallow, but then she reaches for the hem of the shirt and pulls it off, throwing it down into the hamper before she removes my boxers and moves to climb in with me.
I keep my eyes on her face, watching her expression and take her hand to help her under the spray, bringing her in closer to me. Lifting my hand, I brush away some hair and then stroke a finger along her cheek, heart hammering inside my chest.
“Should we be doing this?” She whispers, voice barely audible above the sound of the shower.
I contemplate my answer.
“Just pretend,” I reply, gravel lining my voice. “Just pretend that this is us and this is what we have always done. Pretend for a few minutes.”
Her lashes flutter, “Okay.”
My hands lower, moving down her neck and then to her shoulders, following the lines of her body before they move to her hips, and I tug her fully under the spray, capturing her mouth with mine. My arms wrap around her, pinning her to me as my tongue explores her mouth, and she melts into me, the kiss slow and raw, passionate and different to the ones we’ve shared up until now.
It’s natural, the way we fit, the way our tongues dance and bodies move. Her hands are trapped between us, one over the peonies on my chest and her fingers flex, nails biting in a touch as if to hold me there. Doesn’t she know I’d never want to be anywhere else?
The kiss turns softer before I pull away and stare down at her. Coffee eyes meet mine, open and vulnerable. The way she’s looking at me reminding me of that stormy day in the trailer.
Swallowing thickly, I drop my hands. “Turn around.”
She rolls her lips and then turns, my hands going to the curve of her waist so I can hold her while I press soft kisses to her shoulder and then up her neck. She angles her head to allow me further access, relaxing back into me while the water falls against us both. As much as I try not to get hard, it’s impossible when she’s pressing back against it.
“I’m going to wash your hair,” I rasp, stepping away so I can get it together and do what I wanted to do in the first place. In this bubble, it’s just me and her and all that could be.
Reaching for the shampoo I buy just for her, I squirt some into my hand and then gather up her hair, lathering it into the dark, silky strands and massage my fingers into her scalp. She leans her head back, eyes shuttering closed.
After I rinse it out, I move to the conditioner, coating the ends and leave it to sit while I grab the soap.
“I can do that,” she looks over her shoulder.
“Let me,” I ask.
