Beside Your Heart

by Mary Whitney

  Maybe his posh accent added to the judgmental vibe, and ironically, he ended his interrogation by saying, “You have a distinct Texan accent. Have you always lived in Texas?”

  “Always,” I said. “I’m sort of stuck here I guess.”

  Sylvia groaned. “That’s how I feel about Cambridge. I can’t wait to leave. I want to live in New York.”

  “You would leave your poor mother and father behind?” Adam’s mom said it jokingly, but she was a mom. You could tell she meant it.

  “Sorry, Mum,” said Sylvia. “But I want to be where the action is—somewhere cosmopolitan. London would do as well.”

  “Bloody right. I’ve had enough of the countryside,” Adam said, helping himself to another serving of dessert.

  “Well, just as long as you don’t stray too far,” Mrs. Kincaid said, “I’ll be fine with it.”

  Adam shook his head. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. “Don’t worry about that. I don’t think I’m cut out for living abroad.”

  My heart heard every word of what he’d said, and it ached. He was never coming back. I took a deep breath. Remembering that I had decided to forget the future, I quickly swept it away with all my other feelings.

  After we ate, his family wandered upstairs. Well, his parents did. Sylvia hung around for a while, until Adam pointedly asked her, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” She was nice to me as she left, but she still walked off in a huff.

  Adam’s home was much larger than mine. There was a big TV room off the kitchen with French doors shutting it from the rest of the house. We settled in there with a couple of Cokes, and he showed me the choices of videos.

  “You know that I’m going to sleep through half the movie, so you should pick what you want to see,” I said.

  “Okay. Then it will be The Mambo Kings.”

  I snuggled up next to him, but still in my own space, and he frowned. “That’s not any fun.”

  With a giggle, I nudged my way closer as he put his arm around my shoulders. I couldn’t have been more comfortable.

  When I woke up in his arms, I remembered having seen the opening to the movie, but that was about it. He kissed my cheek and mischievously smiled. “You know my mum walked in about twenty minutes ago.”

  My eyes widened at the thought of her seeing me asleep with her son holding me. “Did she say anything?”

  “No. She just smiled.”

  Of course I was wide awake for the second half of the movie, which had some hot sex scenes with more than one pair of naked breasts. Given I was cuddled up with Adam, it was hard to ignore being completely turned on. At one point, we caught each other’s eyes, and I saw where his mind had been as well.

  In seconds, his lips found mine, and it was just like our times in his car—long and hot, with neither one of us pulling away. Then I remembered where we were. “I don’t want to ruin my goodwill with your mom. Is she going to walk in here again?”

  “You would have to do a lot worse than kiss her son to ruin the soft spot she has for you. Besides, I think she suspects that we’ve snogged already.”

  “You think so?” I giggled.

  He gave me a quick peck before he reassured me, “When she turns the lights off in the kitchen, you won’t see her again until the morning. The same with my father. And Sylvia knows better.”

  I glanced at the doors, which were as dark as the kitchen behind them. When I turned back to Adam, he gently caught my head and pulled my mouth to his while our bodies mashed against each other. This was a kiss like no other. It was full-bodied and direct, and he punctuated it with a murmured “I’ve finally got you alone.”

  I gasped, “Yes,” and without any forethought, I hiked my leg over his hip. My skirt crept up to my hips, leaving my entire lower body exposed if not for my tights. I couldn’t have cared less; I was too busy grasping onto the muscles of his arms. When my crotch bumped into his hard-on, it felt incredibly intimate. I jerked my hips back as if I had touched something hot, which I had. Then he startled me. He skipped a base.

  His left hand was no longer on my waist in the expected position for heading toward first base. Instead, his hand ever so gently stroked me right between my legs. There was only sheer nylon between his hand and me. His fingertips first just tickled me down there, which drove me wild, but then the tip of his index finger explored and bingo. He hit the spot.

  He pressed into the nylon of my tights and began quickly touching me just like I did every night in bed when I was alone thinking about him. I went nuts, involuntarily bucking and mewing. I was so excited that at first I didn’t notice his other hand had started pulling down the waist of my tights. When it did register, I snapped out of it straightaway.

  “Uh, Adam. I’m not sure—”

  “It’s okay. I’ve got something,” he said in a husky voice.

  Something? Like a condom? Oh my God. He thought we were going to have sex. I had planned on eventually telling him I was a virgin, but I didn’t think we were at that stage yet. Why hadn’t I prepared for this?

  I found some courage and sputtered, “This is a little weird because of what we’ve been doing…but you need to know that I haven’t had sex before.”

  When he stopped touching me, I dreaded what was next. Oh no.

  “Really? You’ve never…” His voice was quizzical.

  “Yes. Why is that hard to believe?” Then it dawned on me. “Do you think David and I had sex?”

  “No. I just thought you and your last boyfriend were very close.”

  “We were…until we weren’t.”

  “I understand. It hasn’t been that long for me. My first time was with my old girlfriend Kate.”

  With that little bit of disclosure, I thought maybe I could get some more information out of him. “So how many girls have you slept with…if that’s not too personal a question?”

  “Not too personal at all. The answer is two, unless we’re going to count you falling asleep on me, which you’ve done twice now. Then it would be three.”

  “Very funny.” I grinned and punched him in the arm. Two—that meant this Kate character and Meredith. Somehow I felt a little more at ease.

  “I thought it was very funny,” he said, rubbing his arm. His smile told me it didn’t hurt, and he soon pulled me to him. “Come here.”

  Brushing the hair out of his eyes, I tried to explain myself. “I’m not saying I don’t want to be with you…just not in that way…not yet. I’m not ready.” I looked down. I hated bringing the subject up, but it was an issue. “I’m kind of damaged goods right now. I’m kind of…well, I’m already a mess…and…”

  “Nicki,” he said with the kindest eyes. “I don’t think you’re damaged at all. And the sex thing really doesn’t matter to me. I just want to be with you.” I gave him a suspicious look, and he laughed. “Okay. That’s not the whole truth. It does matter to me because I’ve fantasized about you only about a million times.”

  Adam Kincaid fantasized about me? My heart jumped out of my chest right there, but I recovered and said, “I’d be a little worried if it didn’t matter to you at all. Maybe you should go out with Lance, then.”

  Before he could say anything else, I leaned over and gave him a kiss. He pulled away. “Please just tell me if I’m doing something wrong or that you don’t want.”

  “I can’t imagine that happening.” I laughed.

  Things got quiet after that as we both watched the end of the film. And when Adam dropped me off at home with a much less passionate kiss than we’d had in days, I got a little concerned. Had he begun having second thoughts? Had I blown it? I tossed and turned most of the night worrying.

  Chapter 16

  THE NEXT MORNING, I awoke to a note from Mom announcing she was out running errands, but that she expected me to clean the house while she was gone.

  Great. What a fun day.

  Unfortunately, the housework only occupied my hands; my mind was free to concentrate entirely on me screwing things up with Adam.
Why’d I have to have a scruples attack the night before? If Adam didn’t call me by school on Monday morning, I was in serious trouble. My gut wrenched at the thought.

  As I moved the vacuum cord from one outlet to another, I heard the doorbell. Yikes. I wasn’t really presentable this morning. I hadn’t showered because I knew I would sweat while working around the house. My hair was on top of my head in a ponytail, and I was wearing my usual housecleaning garb—one of Dad’s wife-beaters and a pair of boxer shorts.

  Peeking into the peephole, I saw Adam standing there looking toward the street. Uh oh. My heart raced. This had to be bad, and of course, it was happening when I looked and smelled like shit. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  “Good morning,” Adam said with a grin.

  I must have looked ridiculous to him. He, on the other hand, looked unbelievably hot—unshaven with his hair kind of wild like he had just rolled out of bed.

  “Hi.” I smiled and tapped on the door. “This is unexpected.”

  “I’m sorry for not phoning. Do you have a minute?”

  Anxiety punched my gut. A tense date the night before had led to an unannounced visit in the morning. The situation had all the warning signs of terrible. I swallowed hard. “Yeah, come on in. My mom is out.”

  Closing the door behind him, he said, “You look adorable.”

  Was he nuts? “Er…thanks. I should warn you that I haven’t showered. Do you want something to drink?”

  “Cheers. I’ll have some water.” He reached over and touched my ponytail. “I like your hair like that.”

  “Why?” I asked, laughing. “Do I look like a cheerleader?”

  “No, actually. Better.”

  Tingly warmth and anticipation came over me. Trying to stay even-keeled, I said, “Let’s go to the kitchen.”

  He followed me there, and as I filled a glass for him, I said, “So, what’s up this early? I thought you might be the Mormons.”

  “Mormons? The missionary boys?” He smirked and tugged at the waist of my tank top. “It wouldn’t be very kind of you to address those nice boys in this.”

  I looked down. Oh God. I hadn’t really thought about what I was wearing when I’d opened up the door. I was braless, in a see-through shirt with gaping armholes. You could spy my breasts from the side, and through the cotton my nipples were visible and, of course, erect. My cheeks heated with a blush, but it felt like it spread across my entire upper body. I handed him the glass of water. “Yeah. Let’s go in the living room.”

  After we sat down on the sofa facing one another, Adam took my hand. “I wanted to see you this morning because it felt like things got a little bit off-kilter last night.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You were understanding…all things considered. I wasn’t really clear.”

  “I didn’t like the way things ended. I thought I’d rather apologize to you in person than on the phone.”

  “Well, there’s nothing for you to apologize for.” I smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Although I’m happy you dropped by, even if you are seeing me and smelling me at my worst.”

  He leaned in to sniff my neck. “You’re just as pretty…maybe a little bit musky…in a nice way.” Looking into my eyes again, he continued, “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

  “Please don’t worry about it. Because if you do, I’ll start to worry.”

  “Okay. I’ve said my peace, then.” He pointed to my chest. “So, how often do you wear men’s undergarments?”

  “Only around the house.”

  After studying my shirt for a few seconds, he crooked his index finger and ran it along my stomach. “What’s this?”

  My scar. He could see my horrible scar through the thin fabric of my shirt. I crossed my arms over my middle. “That’s a scar…I’ve got a few, as you’ve probably noticed. They’re from the accident, but…well, the ones on my torso are mainly from the surgeries. They’re pretty hideous compared to the others.” I grimaced. “When I said I was damaged goods, I wasn’t joking. I’m kind of permanently disfigured. Luckily, people don’t see these.”

  “I bet they’re not as bad as you say.” He shook his head with sympathy. “Show me one.”

  I froze for a moment, but soon I accepted reality. He already had a pretty good view of most of me. I lifted up my shirt with my right hand to right below my breasts. My scary scars were exposed. I pointed to the ugly abstract pattern of purple slashes across my torso. “This is the main one here, but there are more. They cut me open because of my ruptured diaphragm, but then they did more surgery because of some internal bleeding. So the big scar starts up here but goes all the way down here. I also had some gashes and little cuts, so I’ve got random stitches here and there.”

  I pulled my shirt back down and lowered my boxers to show my abdomen. The worst scar extended around my belly button and covered most of my stomach. I summed it all up. “They’re gruesome.” Finished with the show, I pulled up my boxers and wrapped my arms around my front again.

  Adam nodded, his expression grim. He pulled me to him and set me on his lap. Kissing my forehead, he said, “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks,” I whispered. He was so kind that I had no words, and really what else was there to say?

  “Can I see them again?” he asked.

  Unfolding my arms, I leaned back again and lifted my shirt just a bit. He gently touched the scars, and God, did it feel good. His brow slowly knitted together in thought, though, and he stopped. Taking my hand, he asked, “Can you tell me what happened to you in the car?”

  The story. Adam wanted to know the story that I hadn’t told anyone other than Dad, and I’d only done that when I was doped up on painkillers. I looked at Adam and sighed. I knew I shouldn’t trust this unknown boy so much, but when it came down to it, I wanted to. So I told him. I told him everything—from the bickering about dinner to the Jaws of Life to waking up to Dad and Grandma. I didn’t talk about the funeral or Lauren, really. I kept it to just the facts about the accident, but that itself was hard enough.

  He was quiet as I spoke, only occasionally asking a clarifying question. When I stopped talking, he asked softly, “When did you find out about Lauren?”

  Looking down, I teared up, and I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. When I looked up again, I choked out, “I knew it before I heard it. I knew it almost immediately.”

  Then I cried a steady, wet whimper on his shoulder.

  “Oh, Nicki,” he said, stroking my hair. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make this worse for you. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  “It’s okay. Actually, I feel a little better. I just haven’t talked with anyone about it.”

  “What about your family—your mum or your friends?”

  I wiped my eyes but still shed a few tears as I shook my head. “Lisa and Rachel never even ask. I think they feel it’s their job to make things easier for me, so we avoid talking about it. And my family…that’s a long story.” There was no way I could talk about the accident and Mom and Dad in one morning.

  He kissed my forehead. His face was a little scratchy from his stubble. Eventually, I stopped crying and laughed as I wiped my eyes. “I’m really the worst date.”

  “No, you’re not.” He played with my ponytail. “And this isn’t really a date, right?”

  “Uh. No.” I smiled. “I try to dress better than this on a date.”

  “I’ll come over any time when you’re dressed like this,” he said with a wink. Then he gave me a look like a warning, and he raised my shirt up a bit and began tracing my scar.

  Uh oh. It felt too good, and I floated away in silence on another mood swing while he continued caressing me. Eventually, I had to say something. “That feels very, very nice.” I tried being calm, but he had to have noticed my staccato breathing as I spoke.

  He didn’t stop touching me, and his eyes and smile became bright. “I sort of like this. It’s a bit like a map painted on a beautiful body.”
>
  My cheeks were on fire—as was my entire pelvic region. I reached up and gave him a kiss. “Kind of a funny map.”

  Tickling my tongue with his, he pulled up my shirt a bit more. That I could expect, but when he moved his lips to my stomach and began kissing my scars, I was in shock. Yet somehow I instinctively felt safe enough with him to lean back and watch this beautiful boy kiss all my ugliness. The kisses were wet and soft. So many emotions whirled around me, but I was also incredibly aroused.

  He followed the scars down my stomach, but stopped at the top of my boxers. As his mouth went lower and lower, it took all my willpower not to squirm, and I had a twinge of disappointment when he reversed direction upward. Wanting him to continue, I started stroking his hair and neck, urging him on.

  When his mouth got near my sternum, he looked up at me and asked, “Can I?” I knew what he meant. With only a smile, I lifted my top over my head and dropped it on the floor. There I was, totally exposed to him—32A boobs and frightening scars. He seemed unfazed, though, because he smiled as he moved his mouth from my scars to my breast.

  With a hand on each one, he squeezed them and alternated tonguing and sucking on each nipple. It was hot as hell. He looked like he was enjoying it, and I most definitely was.

  “God, you’re gorgeous, Nicki, and you smell…you smell so sexy.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. Why do you say that?”

  “I’m a prime candidate for plastic surgery between my scars and my boobs, and I stink. Most guys would be scared off by now.”

  Shaking his head, he snickered and gestured to his dick. “Total rubbish. Do you see this? I get a stiffy after one bloody kiss when you’ve got all your clothes on. It’s a little bit embarrassing, actually. So imagine what’s it’s like for me now that you’re naked and letting me touch you.”

  “It feels great,” I whispered.