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“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I ask him.
“Yes.”
And then I realize that my first impression was wrong. He’s not leaning against the doorframe to look cool. He’s doing it because he needs the support.
“You’re resting all your weight against the wall. It’s pretty clear something’s wrong.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” he says, his tone sharp.
“Of course you are.” My voice is dripping with irony. I’m done trying to be nice to him; I don’t understand why I bother again and again. “Goodbye, Alejandro.”
I turn on my heels and leave without looking back. I don’t go home, though. Not yet. On the other side of the gate, I walk to the wall in front of Alex’s house and sit, legs crossed, to enjoy the sunset, the sea, the horizon... To think about how I feel. I let myself be carried away by these feelings one last time before closing myself completely once again. One last time before I force Alex out of my head and never let him back in.
My love for him simmered, a slow burn. From the start, he piqued my interest—I don’t know why, but he did—but that wasn’t love. What could a five-year-old know about love? As time went by, we got older. All those kisses along the way... I realized I didn’t want to kiss anyone else. And I tried—I did. But I liked him like no other. He gave me those goosebumps the others didn’t. I liked everything about him, I wanted to eat him whole, drink him up. Attraction, they call it. And I think that’s what I felt for Alex from the very first minute, something like that stuff about magnets that attract each other with no remedy. I guess there are some people who draw us to them more than others.
He seemed to me to be the most interesting boy in the world. I melted when he looked at me, I was amazed that he had noticed me. Him, so handsome. That it was me he wanted to make out with, despite all the girls he had lined up. That made me feel so good.
Without warning, my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of sneakers hitting the gravel of the road. I don’t need them to come closer to know it’s Alex; my senses have long since learned to recognize him in a ten-mile radius.
I’m sitting with my back to him and even if I’m expecting the moment he sits down next to me—I assume he’s come after me to kick me off his property or whatever, I don’t know—I’m surprised when he wraps his arms around me from behind and leaves soft kisses by my ear and down my neck.
“Alex, don’t.”
I can’t allow myself to do this. I can’t.
“Let’s do it one last time,” he whispers against my ear.
“We did that yesterday.”
“No, that was a ‘hello, long time no see’ fuck. This will be a ‘goodbye.’”
“This isn’t right.”
“Just one more time. Just one,” he pleads, his voice cracking.
Against my better judgement, without hesitation, I let myself go. One last time, or at least that’s what my head says. My body doesn’t feel the same way. My body thinks we’re entering very dangerous territory and there’s no turning back. That’s why I feel the need to emphasize it.
“This will be the last time.”
“Yes. The last time,” he repeats as he reaches under my shirt to cup my wet, sandy breasts.
Carefully, he drags me off the wall and turns me around. Our faces are mere inches apart, but we barely meet each other’s eyes. I guess we both want to avoid them, each for our own reasons.
We walk back to the house as our tongues battle in a brutal, debauched kiss, our hands touching every inch of our bodies, while I try to focus my thoughts on just one thing: enjoying him one more time, and then forgetting about us forever. No regrets, no fights, no retaliation. Just one last time, knowing that’s what it is.
The front gate closes behind us and we walk through the garden to the house. I can’t help but open my eyes from time to time to see where we are, although I can tell Alex knows what he’s doing, knows every nook of this house. Well, I don’t. And that thought alone is like a thorn in my heart. He’s walking backwards, he doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t stumble, although I do notice some stiffness in his step.
We enter the house and the door slams shut as Alex leans me against it and begins to undress me. I don’t want to do it against a wall, I refuse for that to be my last memory with him, I refuse for that to be our last sexual encounter. He wants one last time? Fine, but it will be in his bed, the bed that was ours. Even if I know it’ll be counterproductive for me, even if my head is screaming no, don’t go there. Not for all the glitter in the world.
I step away from the door, moving him with me, heading for the stairs. When Alex realizes where I’m going, he hesitates and stops kissing me. He looks into my eyes, but mine are already waiting for his. We hold each other’s gaze until he finally gives in and allows me to lead him upstairs. But slowly. I’ve seen him limp once again and I don’t want him hurting.
We walk up the stairs, getting rid of our clothes, my bikini top and his t-shirt and pants. As we’re about to enter the master bedroom, I realize that maybe it’s not his room anymore. It was ours but now... I go for it anyway and a quick glance tells me it still is, even if there’s nothing left of what was once there. Just its sloped ceiling.
We reach the edge of the bed and I hold him carefully by the shoulders and sit him on the mattress. I’m afraid he’s in pain; I’ve seen him trying to hide a grimace a couple of times. I don’t think I can stand another one.
I push gently on his chest until he’s lying flat on the mattress, waiting for my next move, letting me take the initiative, incredibly patient. I reach to his boxers, the only thing he’s wearing, and immediately he lifts his hips to help me get rid of them. I toss them to the floor, then remove my bikini briefs under his watchful gaze, his black eyes shining like I haven’t seen them glow in a long time. I drop them next to his clothes.
Straddling his hips, I touch him—his chest, his stomach... I keep going down and I’m about to stop my caresses when I hear him moan, hoarse and intense. I can’t hold back anymore, I need to have him inside me, but I keep going, sliding my hands on his body.
