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Something is hitting home. Like, really hitting home.
The thing Granny said about Victoria being naïve. But, like…she couldn’t be. Correction. Couldn’t have been. Could she?
I collapse to the side, and she twists to look at me. There are burrs in her hair, too, I realize. Burrs and flower petals and greenery. Her skin glows in the dark night, so pale and perfect. Her eyes are huge, both soft and dark, her lips swollen and still moist from kissing. She reaches out and brushes a strand of hair back from my face, tucking it behind my ear, then she picks out some kind of thorny-looking twig and shows it to me with a grin before she throws it off to the side.
“What do you mean?” I rasp in a hoarse, strained whisper when my vocal cords finally cooperate again. “That it was everything everyone made it out to be? You have…uh, you weren’t, that is….”
“Yeah,” she whispers back, then she flips onto her back and studies the night sky, gnawing on her bottom lip while a crimson stain rises from her neck to color her cheeks. “I know it’s crazy, but…yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. Ouch!” She slaps her arm. “Damn mosquitos.”
“You were a…that was your first time?” Gah, what a bloody idiot of an imbecile of a butthole I was!
“It was, yes. And it was perfect. Thank you.”
“But you…I…oh my god, I didn’t exactly go slow. Oh god, if I had known, I—”
“Relax.” She leans over and picks more burrs out of my hair, then inhales sharply. Her eyes dance as she reaches into another strand and pulls out a small green object. “Holy shit. A four-leaf clover. You had that stuck in your hair? You’re going to be super lucky now. That’s pretty amazing.”
She’s embarrassed, and she won’t look at me. Not ashamed but probably mortified. I’m mortified at what I just did. Of all the insensitive, idiotic freaking things to do, of course, I would do this one because I am the king ass of all asses and the asshat of all asshattery.
She plucks a daisy and shoves it at me. I sniff it as she sets it by my nose, then immediately sneeze as the pollen goes right up my nostrils.
“It didn’t hurt, I promise. I guess I didn’t have one of those, um, hymen things because you couldn’t tell, and I couldn’t really tell either, thank goodness. Because I was kind of worried about it. I was…it’s embarrassing. I’m twenty-one, Atlas. I have a college degree, and I own my own house. I…yeah. It’s just…well, I think that most of the time, by this age, people have had multiple partners, even multiple boyfriends, and I’ve never even really dated anyone. Crushes? Sure. Been interested from a distance? Yeah. Wanted to go on dates? I guess so. I was just so, so shy that no one saw me. No one asks out someone who basically doesn’t exist.”
“You exist!” I frame her face with my hands gently so that she has to look at me. How does one convey, with a single look, the knowledge that she’s the most intriguing, intelligent, beautiful woman in the entire world and that she matters? I’m not sure, but I really hope my eyes are telegraphing that at the moment. Teleprompting? Whatever it is, I really hope she can read what I need her to read. “You freaking exist, Victoria. I see you.”
She blinks so very slowly, and her eyes are two luminous orbs looking right at me and staring straight into my soul. If I see her, she sees me too. She clears her throat softly. “I enjoyed it. A lot, actually. More than I thought was possible. It was amazing, and I’d like to do it again. Like soon. But, uh, maybe not out here? Something is itching my back like you wouldn’t believe, and I really freaking hope it isn’t poison ivy. That doesn’t grow in fields, does it?”
“I don’t know,” I reply apologetically with a frown.
She leans forward and kisses me softly, a barely there graze of her lips that is somehow both unsettling and joyful and so fucking right that it makes my soul want to exit my body and fly away.
When she scrambles up, itching at her back and looking at the ground frantically, I do too. I very quickly realize that being outside in a field doesn’t come with garbage cans, and um…well, the love glove is going to have to wait for attention, and oh my god, if that’s not the most unsexy thing in the world, I’m not sure what is, but that’s okay. Because I can slip my boxers on and go back to the house and deal with it, then I’m going to—
To what?
I want to talk to Victoria. Hold her. Connect with her. Listen to everything she wants to tell me.
