“No, don’t be self-conscious. You enjoy your food so much; it makes me feel good to watch you eat. I’m glad you aren’t like most girls who pick at their food and just order a side salad with no dressing.”
“Well, you won’t catch me ordering a side salad for my main course. I love food and I’m not a picky eater, which is why I have a difficult time dieting.”
“You’re not trying to diet right now, are you?” Liam questioned, concerned.
“No, not really. Although I probably should consider it.”
“Why? You’re perfect.”
I believed him, but I still felt uncomfortable by his candid honesty. “Thanks,” I mumbled.
“Really. You are beautiful.” He soft brown eyes stared longingly into mine and held there until I smiled.
After dinner, Liam unexpectedly turned the opposite direction from where we parked, strolling down the street, passing a few heat lamps, until we ended up at Café Zucchero.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, puzzled by the second Italian Restaurant.
This one seemed fancier, with its rich brown canopy and outdoor heat lamps. Two hostesses stood beside a fixed lectern dressed in black, hair tied back, a smile fixed on their pretty faces, greeting the people as they strolled by, and the gourmet dishes that filled the crowded room looked expensive.
“We, my dear, are getting dessert.”
My eyes bugged out as we faced the glass cases by the door, lined with delicate pastries, cakes, and gelato. The smells of rich chocolate, creams, and espresso beans lined my nose. Although the seams of my jeans were already tight against my content belly, I couldn’t control the urge to taste something sweet.
“Wow.”
“Would you like to eat here or take it back to my place?”
“I’m stuffed. So we should probably take it to go.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Have you tasted cannoli before?”
Question marked my face. “No, but I’ll try it.”
“Okay, we’ll split one because it’s kinda large.”
The man over the counter carefully packaged one cannoli in a white Chinese-take-out-style box and handed it to me. A cannoli looked like a crispy pastry tube filled with thick white cream, sprinkled with powdered sugar, and dabbed at the ends with miniature chocolate chips.
“What’s the filling made out of?” The texture looked thicker than cream.
“Ricotta cheese. It’s good. Trust me.”
“I trust you.”
And I did trust him. Ever since I met him, his perfection left me wary but his actions and words were filled with honesty and careful concern for me. His attention never deviating to an obviously attractive, suggestively-clad girl that stood across the street. He was always fixed on me, ever so carefully, as if he was worried that I’d run away or break apart.
Once we got to his place our stomachs miraculously made room and we dispatched the cannoli in a couple bites.
“Mmmm…” I murmured.
The shell was buttery and flaky, as it crisped into the soft pillow of thick, sweetened ricotta custard. The mini chocolate chips added a bittersweetness to the dessert. It was delicious.
I followed Liam to the living room. Carefully watching, as he lit the fireplace and a candle, left the lights dimmed, turned on Amelie, and brought a blanket to the couch. He motioned for me to sit directly in front of him, angled so we both faced the screen, feet stretched out on the couch, his chest as my pillow, his arms wrapped around me, hands tangled in mine, and the blanket covering me as I was covering him.
It was difficult following the movie, not because it was French and I had to read the subtitles, but because Liam was behind me, pressed against me, constantly smelling and petting my hair, leaving his warm breath on my skin, his lips lightly kissing the crown of my head.
The movie finally ended. He let go, I let out a deep breath—I didn’t realize I was holding it—and was mentally preparing myself for the date to end.
“The movie was good.”
“Yes,” he murmured as he returned the movie back into its case and changed the settings on the TV from movie to music. My pulse quickened as I began to realize that Liam hadn’t meant for the night to be over quite yet. He had other plans.
I froze quietly on the couch, sucking in my breath, as he headed back toward me. He sat next to me as he leaned in to kiss me in one, fluid motion. His lips softly met mine, lingering hesitantly at first, lovingly. My lips instantly parted against his and his tongue took its cue to explore—hot and wet, but not as hungry as it was at the beach. His hands started to roam along my back, pressing me closer to him. He moved calculatingly fast.
The next moment I was lying beneath him, his lips never leaving mine, his haggard breath waiting patiently for some oxygen, his chest bare and skin hot. My eyes hazed over as I desperately tried to regain focus. I noticed a large tattoo inked into his left arm, tried focusing on it, but I couldn’t make out what it was.
My body sent chills downward as his hands started down my neck, along the dips in my shoulders, lingering, ever so slightly, against my quivering skin.
My reaction to his touch delighted him in many, unforeseen ways. His eyes seemed dazed and cloudy, his mind was shut-off and numb, but his body was writhing, constantly, against mine. I felt his urgency heighten and soften. His motions animalistic and in a way somewhat innocent.
My body began to crush under his weight and I felt something harden uncomfortably against my thigh. I tried twisting slightly to lessen the jabs but I was held captive against him, under him.
While my body was thrilled and excited, tingling for more, responding to his, my mind was frantic and terrified, wondering when he would stop and how far he would go. I seemed to be having an out-of-body experience. And by some miracle or another, my clothes stayed where they should, on my body.
I felt a tiny relief when he stopped. Composing himself before he lost complete control—funny, I thought he let go completely, but I guess a part of him was able to turn the switch in his brain back on.
I was quiet and still as I watched him. He looked haggard but happy. His eyes dancing and his face beaming with a childish grin. Looking down, I noticed what was jabbing my thigh a few minutes ago and I gasped. He definitely enjoyed himself.
29
The drive to my house was quiet and uncomfortable. Then, as if he knew I needed some reassurance, Liam cleared his throat, “So, I wanted to explain the whole status change on MySpace. I wanted you to know that for me, I am very committed to you. I don’t feel like I need to look around for something better because I like what we have going. And for me, there isn’t anyone better.”
I just sat there listening, so he continued, “I feel like I have a responsibility to you…a responsibility to make your first relationship special and wonderful in every way that I can. I understand that everything is new for you so I am fine with going as slow as you want. Okay?”
All I could muster was a faint, “Okay.” He seemed fine with that for now as he leaned in to kiss me good night.
We can go as slow as I want? That’s what I heard but that’s not what happened. No. I shook my dizzying head. No, that’s definitely not what happened.
Of course I didn’t stop him, I didn’t say anything really except for “No” when he tried reaching for the clasp, which thankfully, I was able to do. What’s going to happen next time?
Everything seemed to be progressing to the next level each time we met. What should I tell him? He seemed so happy and enthralled by my presence—I couldn’t assume he would be satisfied with my performance…or lack thereof—and here I am, so stirred up in the fantasy of it all.
~ Liam ~
30
Returning home, my heart continued to pound and my limbs were still trembling from the mind-numbing excursion. Feeling as if I had taken a feel-good drug, I was oddly rejuvenated and carefree. The experience left me in a daze; I all but floated back to my room. Somehow I w
as able to get ready for bed, and as my head connected with the pillow, my body instantly retreated into the most restful, deep and dreamless sleep of my twenty-three years.
The next morning I woke up grinning like a bastard, humming the Happy Days theme song.
“Hey Bud, you’re in a good mood,” Dad commented, his eyes puzzled but content.
“Yeah I am. It’s a wonderful day.”
“Uh…okay,” Dad said as he glanced out the window, catching a gust of wind strangling an already limp hibiscus, blurred by the gray fog that blanketed the morning sky.
Whistling now, I smeared a thick slab of peanut butter across two slices of toast at once, squeezed a squiggle of honey over it, poured myself a tall glass of OJ, and brought it to the table to enjoy.
Dad watched me now, carefully, as I wolfed down my breakfast and chugged my glass of OJ.
He cleared his throat and then casually asked, “So, how’s Sophie?”
“She’s wonderful,” I gushed.
“That’s good.” Hesitantly, he continued, “You know, you should probably take it easy…you don’t want to get hurt…like your old man.”
“Dad, don’t worry. Sophie isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. She’s special. Hell, she’s not like anyone you’ve ever met, either. Actually, you probably should worry more about her than me.”
“What do you mean?” He asked, puzzled and concerned. Shock plastered his face as he continued, “You’re not forcing anything on her, right?” His tone was stern and shockingly parental.
“Dad, I’m not a perv.”
He let out a harsh breath, “I know you’re not…so, what do you mean?”
“Just, that she’s naïve, sweet, and pure. She’s twenty-one years old and I’m the first guy to ever approach her and notice her…well probably not the first to notice her, but I am the first to ask her out and take her on an official date.”
“Really?”
“Yup. So don’t worry. I’m careful, but she is probably more careful about me than I am about her. Also, well, I’m already too smitten by her to backtrack now. It’s too late. All I can do is hope she feels the same way about me.”
“Good luck, then,” he said as he gave me a hard pat on the back. He turned so I wouldn’t notice the shimmer in his eyes.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Opening my general Chemistry book, I decided to get a head start on Monday’s lecture. I booted up my computer, first checking my email, and my eyes widened as I spotted one unread message in my Inbox from my angel, Sophie:
January 22, 2006 4:08 PM
Subject: …about last nite
Body:
Hi Liam,
First I just wanted to say that you’re a great guy and I enjoy spending time with you. Last night was really nice, but I’ve been thinking A LOT about where I stand in relationships as a whole and I wanted you to know that I don’t see myself having sex anytime in the near future.
First off, I always valued the idea of saving myself for my husband and second, I just don’t think I can handle worrying about the chance of getting pregnant, etc.
I just wanted to let you know this so you can determine if you want to continue in a relationship with me. I totally understand if you don’t because I know it’s difficult…for anyone, but that is where I stand. I didn’t know how to bring it up in person but we’ll talk about it later after you had a chance to think about it.
So, if you’re okay with this I’d love to be your girlfriend and if not, I understand, but I don’t think we could continue being in a relationship.
-Sophie
Her pure, honest words struck my heart and brought tears to my eyes. Thinking back to last night, the way I allowed my needs to take on a life of their own, made me cringe. I overstepped my bounds and took more from her than she wanted. I felt a twinge of resentment…only a twinge, for I couldn’t help what I did. I couldn’t help my feelings for her. They were even hard for me to understand. It happened so fast and my desire for her grew to be more, much more. I needed her in my life.
I reread and reread her message, each time confirming her importance to me. A girl like her didn’t come around and fall in your lap very often; hell, it probably only happened once in a lifetime or once in a century of lifetimes. I found her and I will do everything I can to be a part of her life. I love her.
I clicked to her MySpace page and instantly my worry ceased; I was again grinning like a bastard. She changed her status to In a Relationship.
January 22, 2006 5:39 PM
Subject: RE: …about last nite
Body:
Hi Sophie,
I am completely fine with that, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for being honest and open with me.
I agree with your feelings on not wanting to bring a child into the world that I’m not ready to care for fully, and I admire so much that you’re wanting to save yourself for marriage. That is SO rare these days. You shouldn’t feel at all ashamed to feel this way, it just means that you are a woman of intelligence, strength, and high moral character. You’re setting yourself up to have a great life, Sophie, and the more I learn about you the more I want to be a part of your life.
I’ll talk to you soon :)
-Liam
Focus Liam, Focus. I tried focusing my attention on the thrilling laws of Thermodynamics instead of thinking about Sophie, but the laws of manipulating energy with heat and work just made me think about her more. That’s it. I can’t focus. I needed to see Sophie. I must see her. Especially after she adamantly voiced her concerns.
Without thinking it through, I closed the bloated textbook—which would be best served as a paperweight or doorstop—and grabbed my keys as I headed out to see her.
31
Standing in front of her door, I felt a little stupid. I should have called her first and asked if I could come over. Moron. What if she doesn’t want to see me? Too late. If she’s not ready to see me, I’ll leave. But what if she’s not there? I would actually have preferred that over Sophie glaring at me with disgruntled eyes. A thin film of sweat lined my brow and the air seemed to clog my throat. My hands became cold and clammy. My nerves crescendoed when I heard footsteps near, but my tension lessened when Sophie—my Sophie—opened the door.
She looked beautiful, with her hair loose and flowing, her shirt clinging to her gentle curves, and a pair of lounge pants that looked soft against her thighs. Her eyes were dazed from studying and then surprise—a good surprise, I noted—took hold.
“Hi,” she mustered, as the shock of me standing there started to wear off.
“Hi,” I said as I closed in to embrace her in an affectionate and long hug. “Sorry, for barging in on you like this, I just wanted to see you.”
I could feel my face heat up and I couldn’t shake the goofy grin that must have been planted squarely across my face. I felt like a huge dork.
“Oh wow, no, I’m glad to see you too. I’m just surprised.” Her skin glowed and her eyes sparkled.
“Can I come in?”
“Oh yea, sorry, please come in.”
Disappointed that she didn’t lead me back to her room, I sat with her on the couch in the living room.
“I won’t stay long.” Hearing that, she loosened up a bit. “I just wanted to see you and tell you thank you in person. I’m really glad that you feel comfortable enough with me to be honest and open about where you stand. It really makes me feel good.”
Sophie shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my eyes, so I continued, “The more I know you the more I like you.”
She seemed to be contemplating my words before replying, “Thanks for being so understanding and respectful…I feel lucky.” She smiled then, a soft and slow, beautiful smile.
“No Sophie, I’m the lucky one.”
I put my hand over hers and held it there for a brief moment so she could feel my sincerity. Her eyes met mine and I longed to hold her close and never let go. I resisted the urge.
As I left, I kissed her softly, lo
ngingly on her luscious lips; before we parted, I whispered, “I saw your profile.” She fluttered her lashes in response, which, embarrassingly enough, started to arouse me. I turned and left before my urges could take over.
32
Throughout the week we chatted mostly through instant messages, seeing each other briefly between classes. Because we only saw each other on campus, I was only able to hold her momentarily and kiss her gingerly on the cheek. At times I had to clench my jaw and ball my hands into fists so I wouldn’t take more, demand more, reminding myself that all this tension and restraint would be rewarding one day.
Our hours of online conversation bounced through our thoughts, our upbringings, and to our growing fondness of each other.
On Monday, we discussed the topic of hickies and the good-bad-and-ugly of being an obedient kid:
Pinkie16 (5:52:29 PM): Tiffany got a big ugly hickie on the back of her neck today!
Itchy Bonsai (5:52:42 PM): HAHAHAHAH!! Was she embarrassed?
Pinkie16 (5:53:14 PM): Yea, she’s embarrassed every time. Ethan loves to give her hickies and she hates covering them up.
Itchy Bonsai (5:55:13 PM): Haha. Well you know what that’s all about, don’t you?
Pinkie16 (5:55:48 PM): No, what?
Itchy Bonsai (5:56:02 PM): indirectly or directly, it means that he wants EVERYONE to know that Tiff is his property. I think hickies are passive-aggressive.
Sophie's Smile: A Novel Page 13
