by Elana Brooks
He tightened his arms around her. “You don’t have to show me. I promise, it’s okay—”
“Please? I really need you to see. To know.”
He swallowed. “All right.” He wasn’t looking forward to this, but she’d endured it, and so could he. If this was what she needed, he would give it to her. He closed his eyes and opened his mind. “I’m ready.”
Beverly resettled against his arm. “I was fifteen, a sophomore in high school. There was this boy named Cassidy. His mom worked, so he would take girls home with him after school…”
She fell silent. Images and emotions poured into Adrian’s mind.
Chapter 20
Beverly had avoided thinking about this particular memory for so long, it took her a minute to call it up. But then it all came rushing back. She stood outside a pleasant suburban home, not quite as nice as her dad’s house, but cozier-feeling. Golden maple leaves carpeted the lawn and danced overhead. A last few scrawny chrysanthemums bloomed in a flower bed under the windows. Beverly clutched her backpack to her chest as she watched Cassidy work the key and swing the front door open.
“Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to go in first. She took a deep breath and complied. He ducked in and locked the door behind them, then shrugged off his backpack and dropped it on the floor. “You can leave your stuff here. You want to get a snack or something?”
“I’m okay.” Her stomach was churning so hard she didn’t dare trust it with food. She dumped her backpack next to his.
He grinned at her and extended his hand. “Let’s go upstairs, then.”
She took it and let him lead her up. She’d been planning this for a long time. She wasn’t going to chicken out now.
Cassidy’s bedroom opened off the upstairs hall. Posters of sports heroes and rock bands adorned the walls. His bed was neatly made with a blue denim bedspread. A small TV rested on top of a dresser; he went over to it and flipped it on to an old sitcom.
He came over to her and put his arms around her. “Hey, relax, okay? It’s going to be fine. I know what I’m doing.”
That’s one reason she’d chosen him. Rumors had it he was considerate and gentle with any girl he brought to his bedroom.
The other reason was that he wasn’t picky. Pretty much anyone who smiled and flirted a little could win an invitation to accompany him home. Sure enough, it hadn’t been hard to attract his attention. A bump in the hallway here, a brush of a hand as she passed his desk there, and he was ready to talk. Veiled negotiations had taken place yesterday at lunch.
Now here she was.
He eyed her with concern. “You’re sure about this, right? Because I’m not putting any pressure on you. I won’t say anything if you decide you’d rather just hang out a while and then head home.”
Cynically, she wondered if he’d learned that approach was far more likely to get him results than any heavy-handed tactics. But he made it seem genuine enough that despite her suspicions, she felt reassured. “I’m sure.”
“Okay.” He flashed her a bright, confident smile and pulled her closer. He moved his head towards hers slowly enough she was able to tilt hers into the appropriate position, and their lips met without awkwardness.
The kiss wasn’t earth-shaking or anything, but it wasn’t bad. He wasn’t sloppy or rough or demanding like some of the boys she’d kissed. He didn’t rush. They made out for a good long time before he slipped his hands under her shirt and started to grope her. When she followed suit, he broke off and grinned. “You’re really into this, aren’t you?”
He pulled her over to his bed and yanked his shirt over his head. The sight wasn’t terribly impressive, but Beverly found she liked that. She’d have been intimidated if he’d looked more overtly sexy. But his slightly plump torso and light dusting of hair comforted her. Hopefully he wouldn’t be put off by the fact that she wasn’t physically perfect, either.
Indeed, he displayed only appreciation as he pulled up her shirt. Beverly closed her eyes and let her body take over. It seemed to know what to do. She felt a rush of sensation as he unhooked her bra and fondled her breasts, and another as he unbuttoned her jeans and moved aside to let her wriggle out of them. It was lovely to just turn off her brain and let things happen however they would.
She only broke out of her daze when the two of them were naked under the covers together and he took her hand and put it on his penis. It was hard and ready. She stroked it with curious fascination, enjoying the way he tensed and moaned. His reaction made her feel powerful. She wrapped her fingers around it and squeezed, just to see what response she could provoke. His hips flexed and he pulled her close.
“You said you have condoms?” There was no way she was going to take any more risk of getting pregnant than she had to. She’d been ready to brave embarrassment and make a drug store run if he hadn’t assured her he was prepared. In addition, she’d timed this for what her internet research indicated was the least risky time of month—her period was due any day. She’d be damned if she was going to live down to her mother’s expectations and follow in her footsteps.
And really, considering how Cassidy got around, she’d be stupid not to insist on protection from disease as well.
Hey, she really had chosen well. “Right here,” he said, rolling over to fumble in the drawer of his nightstand. He produced a foil-wrapped packet that he proceeded to rip open. Beverly watched as he rolled the condom on, taking mental notes. If this was going to be a regular occurrence, she wanted to learn to deal with things herself.
When it was in place, he peered at her. “Ready?” he asked, his voice a little breathless.
Beverly shrugged. Fear clenched her gut, and she had a desperate impulse to flee, but she squelched it. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He stroked her cheek, genuine kindness in his touch. “I know this is your first time, so I’ll be quick. Relax as much as you can. The bad part will be over in a second, and then you’ll be able to enjoy it.”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes, trying to persuade her tense muscles to release, with only limited success.
He rolled on top of her, his weight pinning her to the mattress. His penis probed between her legs. Beverly fought a rush of panic. She wanted this. He was doing exactly what she’d asked him to do. If she called a halt, even now, she had no real fear he wouldn’t listen. But she wouldn’t. This was happening by her choice.
Even so, she had to force herself to lie still and let him proceed. God, it hurt. She’d read that every girl was different, that while it hurt a lot for some, for others it was a breeze. Wouldn’t you know she’d be one of the unlucky ones. She felt like she was ripping in half. Tears came to her eyes, but she pinched her lips tight and tried to pretend it didn’t bother her that he was shoving his way into an opening far too small to admit him, that he was reshaping her body to fit his.
Finally the pain subsided. She cracked her eyes open to find him looking at her with concern. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she lied. It wasn’t so bad now. She moved her hips experimentally. “Go ahead.”
He took her at her word and went to work with vigor. She didn’t get much out of it, but it didn’t hurt any more beyond a slight soreness. She tried to move with him, and for a while they fell into a rhythm that wasn’t bad.
Pretty soon he stiffened and cried out. She held him as he shuddered against her, trying to feel something. She was mildly glad he’d enjoyed it, but beyond that her emotions were oddly blank.
After a while he withdrew and rolled off of her. “Hold on a minute while I go clean up.”
She nodded, relieved it was over. She listened to water running in the bathroom, wondering how quickly she could dress and get out of there without offending him.
Cassidy came back and crawled in next to her. She started to roll away, but he caught her shoulder. “Hey, don’t go yet. I don’t think it was very good for you, was it?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t have an orgasm, if that’s what you me
an.” She’d been playing around in the shower since she was twelve; she knew what it felt like. She hadn’t expected one. Everything said girls didn’t usually, their first time.
“Let me take care of you, then.” He ran his hand down her belly and rested it on her hip.
All she really wanted was to get away, but she let her legs fall open. Maybe she’d get what she’d been looking for, after all.
His fingers explored her, quickly finding the spot that sent shocks of pleasure shooting through her body. He was rougher than she wanted, rubbing hard before she was quite ready for it. She squirmed a little, trying to convey the message, but when he didn’t get it, she quit and let him do what he wanted. It took longer than when she did it herself, because he kept moving the wrong way at just the wrong time, but eventually she got there, and the sweet rush burst over her.
Suddenly his touch was irritating. She pushed his hand away. “Um, thanks. That was good.”
He beamed at her. “I knew it would happen for you if I kept it up long enough.”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t look at his self-satisfied face any longer. She shoved the covers back and climbed out of the bed. Scooping up her clothes, she stumbled for the bathroom.
With quick movements she wiped herself down, trying not to think. She got dressed and emerged into the hall. Only a sense of obligation made her pause at Cassidy’s bedroom instead of bolting for the front door.
He was sitting on the side of the bed, shirtless, pulling his jeans on. He jumped up, zipped and buttoned, and came to put his arms around her. “You don’t have to rush off. Mom’s not due back for another hour.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to get home.” She’d told her stepmom she’d be staying after school to help put up decorations for a dance, so it didn’t matter how late she was, but she had to escape.
“You want to come over again sometime?” There was vulnerability in the way he looked at her, in the casual tone of his question.
Her misery wasn’t his fault; he’d tried so hard to be thoughtful and generous. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe. Sometime. We can talk at school.”
“Okay.” He gave her a quick kiss, then released her. “I’d like it if you did.”
“Mmm.” She backed away. “I’ll let myself out.”
“’Bye.” She was glad he didn’t try to come downstairs with her, but just stood in the doorway and watched her go. She felt his eyes on her all the way down, until she snatched up her backpack, unlocked the front door with fumbling fingers, and shoved it closed behind her.
She ran the first block. When she rounded the corner and his house was no longer in sight, she slowed to a plod for the rest of the long walk home.
When she went in, her stepmother called from the kitchen, “Beverly? Home so soon? That didn’t take long.”
“They had lots of people helping. They didn’t need me.” Beverly headed for the stairs. “I’ve got a bunch of homework. I’ll be in my room.”
“Okay. I’ll tell your sisters not to disturb you.”
“Thanks.” Beverly kept up the pretense of normalcy until her bedroom door was closed and locked. Then she dropped her backpack, threw herself onto her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and wept. She’d been so sure sex would make her feel—something. Cherished, loved, valuable. Happy. Filled.
But she didn’t. The emptiness inside her was as big and hollow as ever. Bigger. It was like a hole in the earth, the mouth of a cave, breathing out chill gusts, yawning to swallow her.
Which meant it was hopeless. Her last, desperate grab at a solution was a bust, just like all the others. She would always be hollow inside. Nothing would ever make her feel full.
Not for more than a few minutes.
She hung upside down to pull the suitcase from under her bed. Her stepmother hadn’t found this hiding place yet. She selected a big package of Oreos from her stash. Ripping open the bag with trembling fingers, she shoved the first one in her mouth.
It helped. It always did, for a while. Methodically she devoured cookie after cookie. If she focused hard enough on the way the delicious chocolate crunch contrasted with the sweet creaminess, it blocked the memory of those horrible moments when the joining she’d longed for had left her lonelier than ever.
She welcomed the pain as she forced down the last few cookies. It was what she deserved, just like the pain when Cassidy had taken her virginity. She was cursed. No one could love her, because she could love no one. She’d used Cassidy, and when he hadn’t been able to give her what she wanted, she’d run, not caring how much it might hurt him. She was despicable.
She poured all her self-loathing into the lump of undigested sludge wedged in her belly. It became the monster, the demon that devoured her from within, the source of all her misery. So when she knelt over the toilet and vomited it out of her body, for a few wonderful moments the hollowness was a blessing. She felt empty. Clean. Free.
Purged.
Beverly buried her face in Adrian’s chest and shook with sobs. God, she’d thought she’d worked through all these issues years ago. The last thing Adrian deserved was to have her dump her garbage all over him. She’d coerced him into reliving that nightmare with her. She was using him as much as she’d used poor clueless Cassidy.
It was just—she’d let herself hope again. Even though she’d long since learned all such hopes were stupid, because they were doomed to disappoint. Something about Adrian undercut the survival techniques she’d put in place to allow her to function more or less normally. He was so good, so beautiful, she wanted him so much. She’d allowed herself to forget that for her, love was impossible.
It felt so good to pour out her misery with his strong arms around her, his strong chest against her cheek. He took it like a mountain lashed by rain—unmoved, untouched, standing firm as ever. Gradually the storm ebbed, and she rested in his warmth.
He stroked her hair. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? We both threw up after our first time.”
She chuckled wryly. “Told you it would seem familiar.”
“Yeah.” He moved his hands to rub her shoulders. “So did it get better for you?”
“I guess. I didn’t binge and purge again after that time. At least, not because of sex. But I never found what I was looking for, either.”
His strong fingers kept moving, helping her tense muscles loosen. “Bulimia, right? Did you ever get treated for it?” His voice was calm and accepting.
“I worked with a counselor for a while. It helped. I haven’t purged for years.” She couldn’t say the same about binging, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.
“That’s good.” His kneading fingers moved over her back, and she lay still for a while, enjoying his touch. He approached the hem of her shirt, then paused. She wanted so badly for him to slip his hands beneath the fabric and caress her bare skin. She wanted to pull up his shirt and rest her cheek on his chest with no barrier between. She wanted…
She pushed up to sitting and glared down at him. He must be getting used to her mercurial mood shifts, because he only blinked back, puzzled but not upset. She made fists and pounded on his chest, not hard enough to hurt, but not lightly, either. “Damn it, Adrian. If we’ve both only ever had lousy sex, what the hell makes us think it’ll be any different together?”
He met her angry gaze for a long moment. She held her breath. Would he get angry back, thinking she’d insulted him? Would he turn away, hurt? Would he drop his eyes, admitting she was right?
He did none of those things. Instead, the corners of his mouth twitched, his eyebrows rose, and he snorted. “When you put it like that, it sounds kind of crazy, doesn’t it?”
She laughed shakily. “Yeah.”
He heaved himself up and swung his legs around so he was sitting next to her. He took both her hands and looked into her eyes. “I think it would be, though. The way I feel about you—it’s different than anything I’ve felt before.”
Her mouth went dry. “Me, too.” She looked away. “But I
’m afraid to hope. What if I’m wrong, and it’s just the same as always? What if this—” She jerked her chin to indicate the two of them, the way they were pressed so close together. “—is just an illusion? I mean, I believe you, but what if I’m just not capable…”
She should have known he would never let her get away with leaving the hard things unsaid. “Not capable of what?”
She stared at their clasped hands and summoned all her courage. In order to get the words out she had to blurt them in a rush. “Of loving someone.”
His fingers tightened around hers. “I think you are.”
She leaned into him. “I hope I am. I want to be. It’s just hard, when I remember all those other times. I hoped then, too.”
He took his time forming an answer. Finally he said slowly, groping for words. “Always before—I know for me, and from what you’ve said I’m pretty sure it’s true for you, too—before it was only ever bodies. I don’t think I could have thought about it this way before I knew how bodies and souls could be separate, but I don’t think—I mean, with Sylvia and me, both of our souls were in our bodies, but they might as well not have been. They never interacted, never touched…”
His words struck a deep chord of truth. Beverly shivered. “God, yes. I always kept my soul locked up tight. Even if one of them had wanted to touch it, I wouldn’t have let them.”
His hand toyed with hers and came to rest, the tips of their fingers meeting. “Our souls touch.”
She could almost see his astral form and hers superimposed on their physical bodies. She swallowed. “Yes.”
“That’s why it will be different.” At her silence, his voice roughened. “If we decide we want to.”
“Oh, god.” She pulled her hands away, wrapped her arms around her body, and rocked. “I’m so scared. I believe you, but what if you’re wrong, and all this wonderful possibility crashes and burns? I’d almost rather wait so I can keep hoping for a while. Being with you is so incredible, I can’t bear the thought of losing that because—because I can’t—”
