by Isabel Morin
It’s still not enough. I move my hands down to his ass, pressing him into me, and spread my thighs to hold him closer. I could almost come from the friction of him pressing against me, except it’s not quite enough. It’s so close, though, and I’m wound so tight, past thinking.
The moans that come out of me are deep and primal. I’m no longer surprised by how he makes me feel, I’ve skipped straight to the need, the want. I’m restless with it, skimming my hands over him, under his shirt, down to his ass, and I can feel how badly he wants me.
I’m not sure what comes next, I just know I want more of it.
He goes still, resting his forehead against mine. His breath is fast and uneven, his heart racing along with mine. Then he brushes the hair from my face and kisses me. Only this kiss is light and gentle, and when he smooths the hair from my face it feels tender instead of lustful. But he’s still hard, and I push my hips into him, restless and impatient.
He gives a shaky laugh and rolls off me. “Fuck, Hannah. You’re killing me.”
“Why are you stopping? That felt good.”
“If we keep going like that, we’re going to do more than we agreed on.”
“But what if I changed my mind? I didn’t know what to expect before.”
“I’m trying to do the right thing here. You don’t know how easy it is to do something you didn’t mean to because it feels good in the moment. I don’t want to be the asshole who pushed you too far.”
“Couldn’t we just keep kissing?”
“You have no idea how much I want that. But kissing you like that makes me want to touch you and lick you and make you scream. It makes me want to be inside you. The longer we go, the more likely we are to forget our reasons for going slow.”
My face heats, but it’s not with embarrassment. The thought of Casey doing those things to me, of wanting to do those things to me… I want to tear his clothes off until he loses control, even as I admire and trust him for stopping.
“Are you saying when you’re with other girls, kissing always ends in sex?”
“You really want to talk about what I do with other girls?”
“This is a lesson,” I say, impatient to hear everything. “I want to understand how things work.”
“A lot of the time it does end in sex, but not always. Sometimes it’s just messing around, and it doesn’t go any further. Sometimes neither of us has a condom.”
“Huh. So even if you’re super turned on and you both want it, you just stop?”
He hesitates. “Well, no.”
“Come on. Tell me. I need to know.”
“Fine,” he says, blowing out a breath. He pushes up so that he’s sitting against the wall.
I sit up as well. He’s mussed and a little sweaty, and I could eat him right up, he’s so delicious.
“When you get that worked up, you want a release,” he begins.
God yes, a release. I would kill for one right now.
“So most of the time I make a girl come, and usually she does the same for me.”
“How?” I have a pretty good idea, since I didn’t just crawl out from under a rock—but I want to make sure I’m not missing anything important.
“Hannah.”
“If you don’t tell me, I can’t decide if I want to do it.”
“Fine,” he says, getting up from the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m still hard as a baseball bat. It would be easier if I wasn’t right next to you when we discuss this.”
This shuts me up, but it also makes me look at him. Yes indeed, he’s still big and hard. I stifle a pleased smile.
Casey sits down in his desk chair, elbows on his knees. When he doesn’t start in right away, I prompt him.
“You were about to tell me what you do with a girl instead of having sex.”
“I didn’t forget. I’m just…never mind.” He smiles to himself, shaking his head. “A lot of the time I use my fingers. If I’m really into it, I go down on her.”
A sweat breaks out under my arms and in the small of my back. Behind my kneecaps. “Do you like it?”
“What? Oral sex?”
I nod.
“Hell yeah, and so will you.”
“And they…they give you blow jobs?”
“If they want to.”
“Do they like doing it?”
“Of course they—” he stops, frowning. “I think so. I’d like to think I could tell if a girl wasn’t really into it, but I guess I don’t know for sure.”
I’ve thought about blow jobs before, but it was always with some faceless guy, and the idea left me cold. It seemed like the kind of thing women did out of obligation. But the idea of driving Casey wild that way…
“I’m not crazy about the idea in general,” I say, “but I think I’d like it with you.”
Casey shoots to his feet. “Lesson over. You should head back to your room.”
“What’s wrong? What did I do?”
“All I can think about right now is having your mouth on me, so I think you’d better go.”
He looks dead serious, so I scramble off the bed. I stand there feeling awkward, not sure what to say.
“So I guess I’ll see you…”
“Oh, you’ll see me. I’m already thinking about lesson number three.”
His eyes are hot on mine, and another wave of lust threatens to take me down. I bite my lip and try to think of a reason to stay in his room, but it’s no use. He wants me to go, and it’s better this way. We should both cool down.
Until the next time.
I peek out the door, pulling my head back in when I see Ishaan leaving his suite. I wait until his footsteps pass before I step out into the hall.
Back in my room I lie down on my bed. I’m still strung tight with the need for release, but at least I can do something about that. No doubt Casey’s doing the same thing I am right now. I imagine him as I stroke myself, and it’s his voice I hear, his sure touch that sends me over the edge.
Chapter Twelve
“I hope this guy has better taste in plays than he does in documentaries,” Audrey says from her spot on the couch.
She’s flipping through a fashion magazine and waiting for her toenails to dry.
I sit down on the other end. “I don’t think he knows much about it. He wants to see it because a friend of his has one of the leading roles.”
“You don’t seem very excited, Hannah. Why are you going if you’re not into him?”
“He likes me, and he’s a nice guy. I don’t want to write him off without giving him a chance. I wouldn’t want anyone doing that to me.”
“Just remember, you don’t have to go out with someone just because they like you. You need to like them, too. And you don’t owe him anything.”
“Understood,” I say, giving her a salute.
She sighs. “I’m sorry if I sound bossy. I want you to have a good time, that’s all.”
“I know you do. So do I.”
“Well, you look hot. He’s not going to know what hit him.”
I smile, but I’ve been ready over half an hour, and the extra time has not been good for me. I’m not all that thrilled at the idea of seeing him again, so I’ve been giving myself a pep talk, trying to convince myself I’ll have a great time.
I’m supposed to meet him outside my dorm, since technically he can’t get into mine, but he knocks on my door just as I’m about to leave.
“Someone let me in. I hope that’s okay.”
It’s kind of annoying, actually, but I don’t tell him that.
“Sure. I’m ready anyway.”
“You look great,” he says, his gaze taking me in with appreciation.
“Thanks, so do you.”
I’m not sure if that’s a lame thing to s
ay or not. I mean, he looks fine, but guys kind of look the way they look from one day to the next. Casey looks pretty much the same every time I see him, it’s just that he’s always gorgeous.
But no more thoughts about Casey. I’m with Brian.
Brian Brian Brian.
“This is Audrey,” I say, grabbing my jacket from the chair.
“You kids have a good time,” she says sweetly.
“Don’t mind her,” I say, rolling my eyes at her as I shut the door behind us.
He steps back and lets me precede him down the hall, which is sweet but makes me self-conscious, too. I push through the door to the stairway and nearly hit Casey as he comes through the other side. He looks at me, then Brian, then back at me, taking in my brown leather boots, black skirt, and the thigh-high tights Audrey loaned me. I wasn’t trying to be super sexy, but the skirt is short enough that you can see a sliver of skin above my thigh-highs.
Heat rushes to my face at the memory of his body hard under mine.
“Hey, Casey,” I say, trying to sound normal.
“Hey, Hannah. What’s up?”
The words are casual but said with an edge. I’ve never seen him this way, sort of watchful and tense. He nods at Brian, acknowledging his existence, but there’s nothing friendly in it. He’s more like a cop who’s got a suspect in his sights.
If he seemed even remotely open to it, I’d introduce them. But right now I’d rather just get out of here as quickly as possible.
“We’re going to a play,” I say, hoping I sound normal. Meanwhile, my heart is beating frantically, and images of us in his bed race through my head.
Casey’s eyes narrow. “Oh yeah? Have fun.”
“Thanks,” I say, grabbing Brian by the hand and pulling him after me.
I just want to get out of here as fast as possible, but now Casey will probably think I walk around holding Brian’s hand.
I shouldn’t look back, but I do. Casey’s still standing there looking after us, and for a second I think I see something new in his face—pain or uncertainty—and then it’s gone.
I breathe a sigh of relief when we get outside. It’s a beautiful late September evening, the kind I always imagined when I thought of college. Students with backpacks slung over their shoulders and earbuds in their ears pass us, and I wonder if we look like a couple to them.
I let go of his hand.
“Who was that?” Brian asks.
“You mean Casey?”
“He seemed pissed you were with me.”
He’s obviously fishing, but two dates doesn’t grant him the right to know my romantic history. Which consists of one week’s worth of action, but still.
“That’s just Casey being Casey,” I say.
I can feel Brian wanting to say more, but he lets it be. Which is a relief, since Brian’s not the only one wondering what was going on back there. Was it jealousy? But no, that doesn’t make sense. First of all, Casey doesn’t want to date me, and second of all, we’re fooling around already, so there’s nothing to be jealous of.
Maybe he’s being protective. That’s probably it.
I try to focus on Brian. He’s really pretty cute. Not in a breathtaking, showy way like Casey, but in a normal way. Which is good, because looks like Casey’s are overwhelming, and that’s not always so comfortable.
It’s a ten-minute walk from my dorm to the theater, during which we talk about other plays we’ve seen. We discover that we both saw The Lion King on Broadway, and then Brian admits that he’s secretly a musical theater geek.
“I actually acted in a bunch of stuff,” he says, looking simultaneously proud and embarrassed.
“Like what?”
“Um, let’s see. Junior year I was Curly in Oklahoma, and senior year I played John Proctor in The Crucible.”
“Seriously? Those are starring roles. You must have been really good.”
“I was all right. I have a good memory, and I can sing pretty well.”
“I can’t imagine anything worse than having an entire audience looking at me. It’s pretty much my nightmare.”
“Come on,” he says, nudging me with his arm. “Someone as pretty as you must be used to people looking at her.”
Luckily, we’ve reached the theater, and I’m saved from replying by the crowd sweeping us inside.
The play is pretty good, a lot more entertaining than the windmill documentary, and Brian’s thigh touching mine doesn’t even phase me. It also doesn’t turn me on the way being close—or even far away from—Casey does. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have a good time with him. I’m going to really focus when we kiss tonight.
“There’s an open mic tonight in Whistler, if you want to give that a try,” he says as we file out of the theater afterward. “Some pretty decent people are playing.”
I hesitate for only a second. Open mics are hit or miss at best, but I don’t want to seem picky, so I tell him that sounds good. He’s probably paving the way for another visit to his room, and I can respect that. Besides, the whole thing is so new to me, I’m not about to turn him down when I’ve been kissed exactly three times. I need practice with guys other than Casey. That was the whole idea.
I glance up at Casey’s window as we pass Taylor, but of course I don’t see anything. I doubt he’s home on a Friday night. He’s probably out scouting for his next conquest at some bar or party. Or he is home, and he’s not alone.
The problem is, somewhere during the walk back to the dorm I start feeling like I’m being unfaithful to Casey. Kissing more than one guy under the circumstances is perfectly fine on my moral compass, but that doesn’t stop the weird guilt. I didn’t feel bad about Brian when I was kissing Casey, so it’s kind of worrisome. I don’t want to start thinking of Casey as anything more than he is—a means to an end. Even if he wasn’t the worst possible person to get attached to, my friendship with Jen makes the two of us together impossible.
Down in Whistler’s dim basement lounge the open mic is underway. A girl on acoustic guitar sings an original song, and she’s surprisingly good. She does a few more, then gives way to a white guy in dreads who thinks he’s way better than he is. We sit through two of his songs before Brian leans over.
“We can get out of here if you want,” he whispers.
I nod, ready to escape, and follow him out into the tiled hallway.
“We could hang out in my room for a while,” he says, like it only just occurred to him. “If you’re not too tired, that is.”
Finally. The entire night has been a lead-up to this, and I’m glad we’re getting down to it. He looks relieved when I agree, like he wasn’t sure I’d want to.
I wasn’t excited about tonight, but I really do like him, and I’m optimistic about making out with him. I’m pretty sure it was my nerves that kept me from enjoying it last time. I’m prepared to go further tonight, so as long as he doesn’t expect to go all the way, I think we’ll be good. No doubt he’s hoping to get laid, but he’s a good guy, and I think he’ll be okay with taking things a little slower.
Only he doesn’t start off slow. He starts kissing me as soon as his door is closed, like he can’t wait another second. He holds my hips and his tongue slides into my mouth, and I like knowing how much he wants me. I kiss him back the way I’ve learned to do and follow his lead, but my heart gradually sinks. It’s no different than last time—nice, but sort of like kissing a family friend.
Nothing is overtly wrong, but it’s not right, either. Maybe if I hadn’t kissed Casey, I wouldn’t know the difference, but all I can think about is how my hair’s caught on his sleeve and the scratchy wool of his jacket itches my neck.
Nothing’s distracting Brian, though. His breathing gets heavier and his hands go under my shirt, and he maneuvers me toward his bed until I’m lying flat on my back. I kiss him even as part of me stands aside, documenting
the events. He’s feeling up my boob. Huh, now he’s panting.
I let out a fake moan here and there, but the panting is real because I can’t quite catch my breath. I put my best effort into the kiss, hoping that somehow, it’ll ignite more feeling in me.
It doesn’t.
The kiss goes from being merely pleasant and uninspiring to unendurable. His weight presses me into the bed, trapping me in, suffocating me. It’s like I got dropped into someone else’s date, and I have to pretend to be her.
I break the kiss and push at his chest. “Brian, wait.”
It doesn’t immediately register on him, but finally he stops. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to breathe.” I push some more and he rolls off me.
The whole thing is so awkward—him with his hard-on and heavy breathing and me with my shirt shoved up above my bra. I sit up and pull my shirt down, suppressing the urge to cry.
“Did I do something?” He looks so worried, so earnest and wretched, like he might actually cry.
“No, of course not. I think I might be coming down with something.”
It’s a stupid lie, but right now all I want to do it get out of his room without losing it or making him feel worse. “I’m really sorry,” I say, sliding off the bed. “I probably shouldn’t have come out tonight in the first place.”
He doesn’t look convinced, and why should he be? I was perfectly fine until we started kissing.
He stands up and comes toward me. “I really like you, Hannah.”
I lean in and kiss his cheek, and then I open the door and hurry away before I’m forced to reply. I run down the stairs and burst through the front door of the dorm, relief turning to disappointment and frustration as I walk back across the quad.
Apparently, I can’t like a perfectly nice guy, a guy who’s really into me. No, I’m more excited by a guy who isn’t remotely dating material, and who I can only fool around with in secret.
