Page 108 of Bless My Body

I will not cry during sex.

I won’t.

I’m not that girl. I don’t have these feelings. This was supposed to be just sex. Really good sex

with a really good friend.

But Ezra isn’t just having sex with me right now. He’s making love to me on our last night

together. He’s telling me goodbye.

I hold back my tears the entire time he thrusts inside me. I don’t cry when we come together, and

he fills me with his cum. I don’t cry when he kisses me all over. I don’t cry when he pulls me against

his chest to cuddle me.

But when I feel his breathing slow, and I know he is drifting off to sleep, a single tear finally

escapes and makes its way down my cheek to hit the pillow.

The next morning when I wake up, Ezra is already out of bed. I must have been in a deep sleep if I

didn’t feel him leave. I stretch and grudgingly pull the covers off me. I stand, put my clothes back on,

and look around the room.

I didn’t get to see it last night since the lights were already off. Ezra told me this was his old

room, but it doesn’t look like a kid grew up in this room. There are trophies and plaques on the

bookshelf from Little League and honor roll, and he has some pictures of him with his family and

what looks like a few friends.

There is a TV and a desk, but that’s really it. No posters or anything on the stark white walls.

Everything feels very generic, like any kid could’ve slept here. It’s nothing like my room at home,

where you can’t even see what color the walls are anymore. I was a big fan of posters growing up.

I peek out the door to make sure no one is out there before heading back to my room. I throw on

the workout leggings I packed with a black crop top. I’m just getting my dress zipped up in the

garment bag I rolled into my other bag when there’s a knock on my door. Ezra doesn’t wait for me to

answer; he opens the door and smiles at me with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you alone. I just went to get you some coffee. I thought I would be

back before you woke up.” He must have just left when I opened my eyes. I look him up and down.

His hair is messy from sleep, and his blue eyes shine brightly. He’s foregone a shirt and just has

flannel pajama pants on, which I assume he grabbed from a dresser drawer in his bedroom because

they look about an inch too short.