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“Now you’re trying to ssuffocate me,” he said.
“Too heavy?”
He reached back and stroked her thigh once, his hand clumsy from the angle. “You? Please.”
She smiled. “So you don’t have a Princess Leia. Oh, I know! You have a life-size statue of carbon-freeze Han Solo.”
“For a non-geek, you know a lot about Star Wars.”
“Everybody loves Star Wars.”
“So why are you p-picking on my p-posters?”
“Because you framed them, Sean. That’s just wrong.”
“You were the k-kind of girl who punched the boys you really liked, weren’t you?”
“I kicked Jeff Myers in the shins during recess all the time in second grade. He never understood.”
His back heaved up beneath her as he chuckled. “That explains why my sscalp hurts.”
“Your scalp?”
“You p-pulled my hair. Bit me, too. I think you must love me.”
“Did I? I’m sorry. I didn’t even realize. I was too busy getting screwed so hard, I lost all sense of reality.”
Languidly, he flipped over, and she ended up half pinned under his leg, his smile filling her field of vision and his hand under her head.
“You like me, though,” he said.
“You’re weird.”
“Yeah, but you like me anyway.”
“Don’t sound so pleased with yourself. I’m not such a prize.”
He dropped his head and nuzzled her throat. “Sure you are.”
They stayed that way for a long minute, Sean breathing against her, her arms looped loosely around his neck, and she let herself bask in him. Just for a little while.
“I have to g-get up,” he said.
“Knock yourself out.”
She looked at the Empire Strikes Back poster as he threw his legs over the side of the bed and left the room. She heard the click of the light switch followed by the sound of running water in the bathroom.
Katie understood what Sean was doing in Camelot, though clearly he didn’t. It was punishment. He was serving time for a crime he’d never committed.
The woman she used to be would have been desperate to help him, to rescue him from his unhappiness and coax him to stay.
And yes, unfortunately, she was still that woman. Obviously. That Katie had been in charge just minutes ago, when Sean was inside her. Straining toward him, wanting to rescue him with her body and give him everything he needed. But lying here in his bed, surrounded by his adolescent crap, she knew she couldn’t save him, and she didn’t want to entrap him. He’d already entrapped himself. She only wanted to enjoy him while she could.
If there was some secret way to keep her heart out of what their bodies were up to, she didn’t know what it was. But maybe it didn’t matter if she got hurt again. With Sean, for the first time in her life, she felt sufficient. He could stay or he could go, and she would remain here, and her adequacy, her value, would have nothing to do with her ability to hold his interest.
It was a good way to feel.
Progress, if not perfection.
