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With his final word, he slowly rolled his body so his face was looking up at me. His hair is coiffed in a way that doesn't look like him thanks to my fingers messing with it.
I bring my lips down to meet his, the softest kiss we have ever shared releasing the weight from my shoulders. Everything he just named has had me questioning why I hate relationships and the reminder of everything I just recounted from my childhood tries to convince me that I don't deserve this. I hold my forehead against his as our lips break apart.
"You took it too far. But I also ... didn't hate feeling like you gave a shit about me and that's new for me. I handled it poorly because I have never had to deal with this. You confuse me. You're fucking with my head and I don't like it." I whisper.
"Except you do like it, you just don't know what to do about that."
"So what do you suggest?"
"That you stay for my birthday party."
It's almost time for my parents to come home and I'm not looking forward to having to break apart from Melanie. I pulled her down next to me on the couch after we finished our round of the confession game. It's new for both of us, breaking down the walls we put up around our hearts and shit. Man, now I get why my brothers always have stupid smiles on their faces. This feeling of possibly being able to call Melanie mine is intoxicating.
I am propped on my side facing her while her back is against the couch. My hands immediately find her ass and feeling how it fills my hands has my bandaged dick wanting to spring to life.
"Fuck." I let out as I glide my hands further down her body to the back of her thigh, just under the curve of her ass. It's not far enough for my body to get the hint that this isn't the time for that. But the last thing I want is to be away from her after she opened the door into her backstory.
She takes my hand from where it rests on her, bringing them between us, twining our fingers together like teenagers on their first date. I want to pull her on top of me, to kiss her, hell I would even fuck her right now even though my dick has been through hell today.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you they were going to put a needle in it to drain the blood. I didn't have the heart to break that news to you. Not to mention, I was afraid if I told you, you would refuse to go." Her eyes move from watching our hands to meeting mine that have been locked on her the whole time. "I had good intentions at least." Melanie explains, nuzzling into me while keeping herself from rubbing against my groin.
Melanie drapes her arm over my middle, letting her chest nestle against my side and her head to rest on me. It's something I have never done before. Cuddling after sex isn't something most hook-ups come with, and girlfriends aren't my style. At least they never felt like what I needed until I got hooked on Melanie. I have never been so drawn to taking care of someone, especially someone older than me that should be able to take care of herself.
But I swear every time I see her eating something that was frozen before she got to it, my frustration only grows. I can understand it a bit more now knowing what she came from - never having someone to teach her how to cook or even to cook for her when she was too young to do it herself. It's rare that I get to feel like more of an adult than someone else, but maybe this is where the balance comes in that my parents are always talking about. One of you fills in the pieces of the other that are missing, together forming a whole ass person.
"No more frozen shit alright? I will teach you some basic recipes so you can cook for yourself and eat real food for a change." I let the turbulent ocean of thoughts out, inspired by the confessions she revealed to me already today - even if she didn't know I was listening to every word she said.
She doesn't respond with words, instead nuzzling into me further and pulling me against her. My eyes start to drift shut, the feeling of her breathing pushing her chest against mine, and then pulling us apart, stealing my concentration.
"Ashton, honey, who's car is that in the driveway?" I didn't even hear Mom come in, my mind too focused on memorizing the rhythm of Melanie's heartbeat. Melanie attempts to push away from me but I hold on to her even tighter. Mom has never seen me snuggled up with a girl on the couch, but I'm an adult she can get over it.
"Oh, hello there." I crack my eyes open and look towards the doorway Mom is standing in.
"Hey Ma, this is Melanie. She's staying for dinner and cake." Melanie struggles against me again but I refuse to let her get up.
"Nice to meet you, Melanie, I hope you like spaghetti."
Every year for my birthday, Mom makes spaghetti and meatballs. And every year I don't have the heart to tell her that it's not my favorite. Being the youngest of three boys has its advantages and disadvantages. And one distinct thing that falls in both categories is the fact that I have slid under the radar most of my life. A blessing and a curse - I never really got in trouble for anything I did, but my mom also doesn't know that my favorite dinner is chicken Parmesan. I guess it's pretty close to what she thinks my favorite is, so there's that going for me.
After hearing about how much Melanie was neglected, my problems seem silly. I complain about not having the right dinner for my birthday meanwhile Mel didn't get a meal at all.
"When's your birthday?" I ask softly knowing damn well that Melanie is feeling awkward having Mom walk in on us cuddled on the couch.
She clears her throat preparing for what comes next. "December twenty-fourth."
"Christmas Eve? Your birthday is on Christmas Eve and you've never had a birthday party OR a friggin' Christmas tree? Well that's definitely changing this year. When we leave here tomorrow, we are getting a tree."
"Umm, tomorrow?"
"Ya, you don't work tomorrow and it's snowing and it's my birthday ... we will stay here tonight, it's just easier."
"Don't you think your parents would prefer we ... I mean I didn't spend the night?"
"I will tell them it's my birthday wish. Besides, I'm twenty now, they can't tell me what to do." I joke, knowing damn well that if Mom or Dad told me not to do something under their roof, I would stop in an instant. Well, maybe that's not totally true, but some things I would probably stop eventually.
"Do you always worry about everything?"
"Only because you don't worry about anything."
