Fifty First Times: A New Adult Anthology

by J. Lynn

  “You still haven’t told me what you’re going to do to make up this leaving-early thing to me.”

  I laughed, my heart doing a flip. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Come home with me next weekend? It’s Easter, and Easter is a thing for my family. Roast lamb, deviled eggs, horrible Jell-O, too much chocolate, pastel clothing, stuffed bunnies—the works. I want you to see where I grew up.”

  “Home with you . . . to Napa?” He nodded. The look in his eyes told me the real meaning behind his words—I want you to hang out with my family. I want this to be serious.

  My breaths threatened to become short again, but I quickly got them back under control. This was fine. This was just me going home with a guy I’d been dating for eight months and really, really, really liked. The flight was no big financial deal for him like it would have been for me—his family had money coming out of their ears. This didn’t mean I had to move in with him, or say I loved him—this was no big deal.

  I cocked my head to the side, trying to look playful. “I’d love to,” I said, craning my neck up to give him slow, deep kiss.

  “It’s a date, then,” he said, grinning from ear to ear, cupping my face in his hands for one more kiss. “Now go crush that midterm. I’ll see you later.”

  FOUR DAYS, SEVERAL athletic romps between the sheets, and zero definitive feelings or declarations of love later, I was sitting next to Tal on a plane to Napa, trying to ignore the churning in my stomach as we hit a patch of turbulence.

  “You don’t look so well,” he said, eyeing me watchfully. “Are you nervous?”

  “No . . .” My voice trailed off. I actually wasn’t. I’d met his parents at Thanksgiving, and they were surprisingly normal for people who had money practically exploding from their pockets. They’d come down to LA because Tal was too buried in finals to travel up.

  “Good. They’ve been wanting to see you again. They’ve never liked any of my girlfriends as much as they like you.”

  “That’s weird.” I laughed nervously, suddenly stressed about making eye contact with him.

  “It’s not weird at all,” he said, threading his fingers through mine and kissing my temple. “I agree with them.”

  A warm, nagging feeling tugged in my chest. At twenty-two years old, I didn’t think I’d ever been in love. I’d had crushes on guys, but, I admitted to myself right then, I wasn’t sure I would know love if it hit me in the face. But I did know one thing for sure, and so I turned my face up to his and told him. “You are the best boyfriend I’ve ever had. Hands down.” He bent his face down to mine. “But don’t kiss me now. I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

  He gave me a gentle look of pity and pulled me to him, and I was really, really happy.

  I’D GROWN UP in LA my whole life and never been to Napa. The switch from sand, stucco, and palm trees to rolling green mountains took my breath away. “This is incredible,” I breathed. “I can’t believe you grew up here.”

  “Well, I sort of did,” Tal laughed. “Before Mom hit it big, we lived in a little white house just outside Simi Valley. I was eight when we moved up here.”

  The driver wound through a road shaded by greenery for a few minutes before he turned onto a small pathway. “Geez, you guys really live in the Napa backwoods.”

  “Oh no,” Tal said, squeezing my knee. “This is the driveway.”

  Not twenty seconds later, we rolled up to a giant glass box with metal beams as a skeleton. I could see the entire sprawling living room and kitchen as the driver pulled into a spot right in front of the door. It was all luxurious couches and carpets, a humongous flat-screen TV, granite countertops, and hardwood floors. Like a very modern, elegant, non-gross hunting lodge.

  My jaw dropped. “Lord, Tal. You told me we were coming to your house, not your mansion.”

  He shrugged, looking like he had no concept of what was so shocking to me. “It’s just home to me.”

  “Where are the bedrooms?” I asked.

  “Oh,” he said, “the walls of those are opaque. Bedrooms and bathrooms are all on the top floor.”

  Sure enough, there was a whole top floor to the house that blended in so well with the darkening woods that I barely noticed it.

  Tal’s mom came strolling out of the house, wearing a simple sundress and sandals, arms stretched out for a hug. Tal gave her a quick one, and then she wrapped me in her arms, kissing each of my cheeks. She hadn’t done this at Thanksgiving, and my mom was certainly not known for her affection, so I tried my best to return the hug with enough affection.

  “I’m so glad you two are here,” she said, smiling. “Talcott, take Anna’s bags to the guest house, and then come meet us. I hate to do this, but I’m going to have to leave you two to fend for yourselves in the kitchen tonight. We’re meeting Dad and some friends in town for dinner. It’s a standing Friday night thing,” she explained to me.

  “Oh,” I stuttered. “Um, no problem.”

  We were going to stay in the guest house? Most parents of unmarried people our age would have had us in bedrooms across the house from each other.

  While Tal’s mom got me settled in front of a huge cheese plate and sandwich fixings, she chattered away about business and hobbies and the design of the house—something about wanting to be part of nature without actually being in nature, which made me smile. “What are your hobbies, dear? Tal told us you’re a musician?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said, clearing my throat and trying to think of an impressive way to say, I play at the coffeehouse and sometimes people give me tips and I’m not at all sure my music is any good. “I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. And then I picked it back up again in college, sort of as a confidence thing, I guess.”

  “Well, that’s great! I don’t know why you didn’t bring your guitar, you could have shown us.”

  “Oh, it’s not for that. It’s more like . . . it’s just for me.” I looked down at my hands. My mom had always wanted me to play something classy, like violin. But my mom had always wanted me to do a lot of shit I never did—like be thin. Or non-crazy. Or have a major that would make me rich.

  “Tal’s heard your shows, right?”

  I nodded.

  “He says your music is very . . . you. That your face lights up when you play.”

  “Mom,” Tal said from the far door. “Stop. I’ve never even told Anna that. I was saving it for when I needed something romantic to say.” But his smile betrayed that he didn’t care at all.

  She gave Tal a quick kiss on the cheek and me a squeeze on the shoulder before she got in her BMW and rolled down the dirt drive.

  “We’ll have a big dinner tomorrow night, and then lounge around all day Sunday with my cousins,” Tal explained. “They’ll invade this place tomorrow afternoon, which is one of the reasons we get the guest house. Wanna go see?”

  The suggestive way he wiggled his eyebrows made the choice easy. I helped him stow the leftovers in a fridge as big as my 2004 Corolla and silently took his hand outside.

  The guest house was much more normal-looking than the main house—at least it had real walls. On the inside, high ceilings lined with exposed honey-colored beams stretched in every direction. It was an open floor plan, with the bedroom running into a living room with pillowed couches, a tree-trunk coffee table, and another huge TV, which ran into a small kitchen whose only table was a granite-topped island.

  It seemed Tal’s design tastes were genetic. Either that, or everything was designed by his mom.

  Either way, this was incredible. “Wow,” I breathed. “This is . . .”

  “Romantic?” Tal grinned. “Take your clothes off.”

  My heart dropped into my stomach. Every light in this place was on and I had no idea where the switches were. And even if only one light was on, the light from it would bleed into the rest of the little house and . . .

  “I . . . uh . . .”

  “I meant so you can put your swimsuit on,” Tal said, laughing. “I put your bag on the
bed.”

  “We’re going swimming?” I asked. “Now? In the dark?”

  “Just come on,” he said. “You’ll love it. I’ll wait outside.”

  I pulled on my suit—a black ruched halter-style tankini, for maximum cuteness and a little pinup-style sexiness without the frump—a cover-up, and flip-flops, and headed outside. The Carroll house was more like a compound—we walked through the rear garden, which featured an entire outdoor kitchen, bar, and living room—and around to the other side of the giant house.

  There, about twenty feet inside a small copse of trees, was a pool that looked more magical than real. The water filled it completely and flowed over the edges into some reservoir below. Pink, blue, and green lights under the water lit it softly, and in the dimming light, it looked absolutely magical. “Wow,” I said. That word felt like it was on a permanent loop in my head ever since we arrived here.

  “Come on,” he said, grabbing my fingers lightly and pulling me toward the pool.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Where’s your suit?”

  “My parents are gone all night,” he said, those greenish-brown eyes I loved so much sparkling wickedly. “And see the trees all around? My dad wanted to build the pool here so they could see the Valley, but the Valley couldn’t see us.” Sure enough, as I gazed through the trees, I could see the little houses that housed each vineyard family lighting up in the hills below.

  When I turned around again, Tal stood there in the moonlight, stark naked except for his glasses and a glorious hard-on. Desire surged through me, and even though I would have thought he was nuts five seconds ago, diving in that pool after him was about the most logical thing to do next. When he tossed his glasses on one of the poolside tables and dove in, my hands scrambled to tear off my cover-up. I couldn’t get naked and close to him fast enough.

  That is, until the cover-up fell to my feet, and I was transported back to the set of that stupid shoot. The other girls and I had all laughed, covering up as much as we could as we stepped up to the white backdrop. Standing together in front of the all-female photographers, we laughed awkwardly about checking things off our bucket lists and at least we didn’t have to pay for professional headshots. The flash of the camera flashed me back to the pool.

  Get it together, Anna. This boy wants nothing more than to get his hands on you.

  In my head, I knew it. But my body didn’t. I forced myself to step out of my sandals and grabbed the lower edge of my top. I was just about to yank it upward when my whole body froze. I flashed back to the moment I let the girls out of my bra, and nervousness flew through my belly when they swayed out in full view of everyone.

  “I’m so jealous of your boobs,” one smaller-chested girl had said, and we’d all laughed—girls bonding over our slightly imperfect bodies. The ones this photo was celebrating. But when that article came out, written by some body-building cocky asshole named Nate, one of the comments said, “Look at that mixed bitch—fuckable mouth, but even her boobs have rolls. Gross.”

  When I looked at the photo, my boobs really did have rolls—way up close to my armpit. At that moment, I hadn’t know what I felt—embarrassed, sad, disgusting—but it sure wasn’t good.

  When I’d called my mom crying about the shoot, all she’d said was, “I could have told you girls like you have no business posing nude. You shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

  Tal stood there, muscled shoulders bobbing in the four-foot end of the pool, patiently watching me.

  About to watch me undress.

  In the dim, yet substantial, light of the pool.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  “I . . . uh . . . I don’t know if I can . . .”

  “Anna? You okay?”

  The tables, trees, and lights around the pool all pitched and rolled around me, like I was on a boat in the middle of the ocean. Nowhere to go. No escape. “I just . . . Is there somewhere I can . . .”

  Tal was out of the pool in a flash, grabbing his shorts and stepping into them on the way to pulling a chair over to where I stood. My knees were locked, and I’d started to shake.

  “Here, beautiful. You okay? What’s up? Are you still feeling gross from the flight?”

  “I just . . .” My stomach turned when I thought about saying it. I may not have fallen head over heels for Tal yet, but I certainly liked him more than almost anyone, and trusted him. A lot.

  I definitely trusted him more than my own mother not to hurt me.

  “Maybe not skinny-dipping. It’s just . . . the last time I undressed in front of someone . . .”

  “Oh, fuck,” he said, kneeling beside me and stroking my hair. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Let’s go back to the guest house, okay? We’ll chill out there. No stripping, I swear.”

  I tried so hard to laugh, but only some weird stuttering bark came out. “I don’t know what I was thinking, that I could be in a relationship like a normal person,” I mumbled. “My Lord, I can’t even skinny-dip with my boyfriend.”

  “Hold on, now,” he said, pulling me to standing in front of him, and looking down into my eyes while he slid his hands around to my back to support me. “Of course I love how you look—it was those incredible curve that drew me in, not to mention your gorgeous eyes. But it was you that I fell for. Your spirit, your sense of humor, your love for your music and how hard you work.”

  I laughed, trying to change the subject. Please, I wanted to say. We don’t have to talk about my body. We don’t have to talk about anything. Just hold me.

  But he didn’t stop—sounded like he couldn’t if he tried. “Anna Hawthorne, listen to me. I love you.”

  “I . . . ah . . . Tal, I . . .”

  “I know you don’t love me. Not yet. I know what love looks like on you. It’s the look on your face when you’re holding Old Blue, when you’re inside your music, when you think no one else is looking. I know you’ve worked hard on your self-esteem since that photo shoot, but maybe you don’t love yourself enough to really love me. And that’s okay, Anna, because I love you. And I can wait, if you want me to.”

  That feeling, that almost-love feeling that I’d felt in the air all around us just a few days ago, crept its way into the corners of my heart, and I stopped. Paid attention. Tal not only loved me, but he understood me—what I needed, when I needed it.

  We held hands and walked slowly back to the guest house. The way that Tal made sure to keep his back turned to me while he poured us glasses of wine so I could pull off my swimsuit and get under the covers made my heart melt.

  Something inside me felt calmer when I was under the sheets, even though the lights were still on. This, I could do. Tal slid under the covers next to me, still in his boxers. I snuggled up against him. “Not fair,” I whispered. “I can’t be the only naked one.”

  “Anna, are you sure? I don’t want you to feel like you have to . . .”

  “I don’t have to do anything. I know. But I kind of want to try something.”

  Standing at the pool made me realize . . . my naked-fear really went into overdrive when I was standing up, dropping clothes. What if . . .

  I grabbed Tal’s hand and pressed his palm to the top of my breast. “Kiss me,” I whispered. “Right here.”

  “Let me get the lights.” He started to roll out of bed before he was even finished saying the words. But I caught his wrist, pulled him back to me.

  “No. I’ll take care of the sheet. You take care of me.”

  Tal grinned in response, pulling my face to his and kissing me so insistently, so hungrily, I thought I would burst. There it was—that feeling. He just had to keep going.

  Silently, just the way I loved, he kissed his way down my body. When I gasped or moaned, he lingered, giving me every ounce of attention I wanted. With one hand, I lowered the sheet an inch at a time, focusing on breathing steadily when his hand cupped my breast and he licked along the hot curve where it met my ribs.

  My boobs were out in the open, the room’s lights stil
l glowing, and I’d be damned if they weren’t gorgeous—round and full and sexy. Especially with Tal’s lips devouring them. It let me relax with enough confidence to trail my hand down his stomach, which made him moan in exactly the same way it always did. When my fingers circled his heavy length, already rock-hard and pressing into my thigh, I couldn’t take it any more—I had to have him inside me, lights be damned.

  “Anna . . . are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you want to take this slow?”

  The care and concern and worry on his face pushed that feeling that had been dancing at the edges of my heart all the way inside it, twisting and burning and utterly changing me. “The difference between what happened then and what’s happening now,” I said between desperate kisses, “is that I was getting naked then to prove I was beautiful. Now I already know, because I trust you when you tell me.” I pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Because I love you, too.”

  A smile crept slowly across his lips, stretching them into a wide grin before he kissed me, hard. “Yeah,” he said, “I know that look when I see it. You sure do.”

  He started kissing down my neck again, lowering his hand between my legs, flicking and rubbing with his fingers in exactly the way he knew I liked. But I had no patience for that.

  I pressed my body fully against his, and used my weight to flip him on his back. Swinging one leg over him while grinning at his stunned face, I let the sheet fall away and sank down on top of him. His eyes rolled back and he nearly sobbed.

  I loved it. Slowly, I started moving, rocking back and forth again and again, taking all the control and making sure he hit exactly the spots I loved. Soon, our moans mingled, through the room, and I wasn’t thinking at all about my body—that is, until Tal spoke, panting.

  “It feels so good, Anna. So fucking amazing. I’m trying so hard not to close my eyes, because you’re so goddamn beautiful it hurts.”

  The look on his face was so sincere, so loving, that all I wanted was to be pressed up against him. I bit my lip and batted my eyes. “Tal, just take me.”