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All it would take is to pull her down, and I could be sinking into her bliss. It would be easy to take her offer, just go slow and make love instead of fuck. And the cleanup afterward would be a breeze. We could be back in bed in twenty minutes . . . okay, closer to ten because I know I won’t last this time.
But when I look at her, I’m reminded of the pain she was in. I reach up and caress the side of her neck, staring into her eyes, knowing she’s only doing this to please me.
It’s so tempting to let her, too.
I sit up, and say, “You need to relax, baby. I know you’re sore.”
“But you’ll be in pain if we don’t.”
I shouldn’t laugh, but that’s funny. “It’s an annoyance, an irritation, even an ache, but I’m not injured.” I push up again, and this time, take a towel and step out. Drying off, I tell her, “Sit back and relax. It will help you sleep.”
“If you’re sure—”
“I am.” I move into the bedroom to give her privacy, hoping she’ll stop worrying about me, and focus on her recovery. Because once she’s good to go, there’s no stopping us.
25
Lark
I lost my virginity.
Or did Harbor take it?
Either way, I’m no longer in the V-club, and I couldn’t be happier I waited to give it to him. I couldn’t have chosen a better person to spend my first . . . and second time with. My patience definitely paid off.So did his.
My friends complain about their first times, but you won’t hear any complaints from me. My temperature is rising just thinking about last night. I feel so good, even if a little sore. But all highs have their lows. The person I would typically run to share my glorious news is not someone I’m currently speaking to. And that’s messing with my happiness.
I could spend the next week ignoring Amanda or even make such a stink that she wouldn’t want to even be in the same apartment as me, but fighting with my best friend bums me.
I start considering being the bigger person and reaching out to her. Just feels like I’m always the one trying to make amends while she rides her high horse off into the sunset.
Deep down, I know that’s not true. It’s just how I’m feeling. I asked Harbor what he thought I should do this morning when I couldn’t concentrate in class. He said, “Do whatever brings you peace.”
It’s good advice.
I text her:Hi, will you be home after class?
She replies:Only long enough to change clothes. I have to work tonight.
Be the bigger person, Lark. Choose peace. I type:Can we talk while you get ready?
There’s a pause, and then she responds:Okay.
I’ll take the okay and run with it. It’s not a no. It’s a yes. I reply:See you then.
I text Harbor right after:I’m meeting Amanda after class to talk.
Three dots wave across the screen and then his message pops up:Good luck and text me later.
I reply:I will. Love you.
HisI love youcomes swiftly after mine as if we were typing at the same time. I love being in love with him. Now if I can only get the rest of my life in order again . . .
* * *
Amanda’susually scuttling between the bathroom and her bedroom, but I find her putting on makeup by the window in the kitchen.
“Hi,” I say, shutting the door behind and latching the bolt.
