Our Own Private Universe

by Robin Talley

  She hesitated. Then she pulled back, her whole body lifting off me. It was awful. I didn’t know what I’d done wrong.

  I propped myself up on my elbows, my head spinning as she leaned over the side of the bed. I was about to ask what was going on when I heard a rustling sound. She was opening the packages. Ohhh.

  She pulled out a purple latex glove and rolled it onto her hand. It was funny, and I giggled because it looked like she was getting ready to do the dishes. She giggled, too, at first. But then she rolled back on top of me and pulled off my shorts, and then her hand was between my legs again, and we weren’t laughing anymore.

  She kissed my lips and touched me through my underwear. I kissed her back. Her nipples felt like pebbles under my palms. She reached for the waistband of my underwear and tugged it down slowly. I sucked in a breath. We’d never done that before. Taking off underwear made this feel really serious. Official.

  She pushed my underwear halfway down my thighs. I felt crazily exposed. It was a good feeling and a not-as-good one at the same time. I felt self-conscious, but I also wanted to kiss her more. I wanted to everything her more.

  She slid her hand up the inside of my leg while we kissed. My heart was pounding harder than it ever had, all nervousness and anticipation and basically every other feeling I’d ever felt combined into one overwhelming sense of desperate need.

  Then she touched me, and I seriously thought I might explode.

  I’d thought the glove would be weird, but it just felt smooth and warm and good. Almost too good. She kissed my neck and my breasts while she touched me, and I arched up into her mouth and made sounds that weren’t words and weren’t moans, either. I didn’t know what they were. I might’ve been embarrassed, except we were way past the point of embarrassment now.

  She moved her hand back, and then I could feel her fingertip pressing right there. My face was on fire. We’d never done this before. Her finger pressed more, and more, and then it was inside me. Only the tip, but it was so much.

  I squeezed my arms tight around her back, my nails digging into her shoulder blades. She slid her finger farther in. It didn’t hurt, but it was so intense it was hard to breathe. I wound my hand up the back of her neck and into her hair, twisting the strands around my fingers.

  She moved her finger deeper, and it was so much, nearly too much. A new current was pumping through us, from her into me and up through my entire body.

  I cared about her so much. More than I could ever imagine caring about anyone.

  She started to press deeper, and I grabbed her elbow to stop her there. She must’ve thought I wanted her to stop altogether, because she pulled her hand all the way out, fast. I gasped at the shock. I’d wanted it to last longer.

  She peeled the glove off and tossed it over the side of the bed. I could barely move. My heart was still pounding so hard.

  “Are you okay?” She leaned over me, frowning.

  I nodded.

  “Was that all right?” She bit her lip.

  I nodded again and finally found my voice.

  “Yes.” I tightened my arms around the small of her back, pulling her to me. “Yes, it was perfect.”

  She ducked her head. I propped myself up on my elbow and kissed her. I could feel her smiling against my lips.

  My heart was slowing down, but I still felt so warm. I loved the way she felt against me. Like she was all mine.

  We rolled over until I was on top of her, and right away I reached for the zipper on her shorts. She was breathing so fast. I undid the zipper, then ran my hand up and down her thighs. She made a high-pitched noise that I loved. I wanted to touch her everywhere.

  I peeled her shorts down, then her underwear, leaving them partway down her thighs, the way she’d done to me. Her hips squirmed on the bed, and I looked down at her, fascinated by her body. I’d never seen her like this before. She was amazing.

  I found the package of gloves on the bedside table and fumbled for one. It took me forever to roll it on, and the glove kept bunching up together. Christa had slipped the glove on so fast it had seemed sexy, but I felt like I was ruining everything.

  She didn’t seem to mind, though. She lay on her back with her eyes closed, her hand running up and down her rib cage.

  God, she was hot.

  I finally got the glove on and moved back down to her. Seeing her this way was so interesting. She didn’t look so different from me, except that her skin was lighter.

  She made little moans and grunts as I moved my fingers over her, rubbing lightly. Touching her with the glove, with no underwear between us, felt different from when I’d touched her before. I had more control now. I didn’t feel quite so nervous.

  When her moans and grunts started coming faster, I reached down farther between her legs and found the right spot. Somehow, it surprised me a little that her body worked exactly the same way mine did, even though it should’ve been obvious. I pressed the tip of my finger in, moving as slowly as I could.

  She gasped. I nearly pulled back, but then I remembered how it had felt when she’d done this to me, and I stayed where I was. I waited a minute, then pressed in deeper, and she gasped again. It was amazing, seeing her react this way to something I was doing.

  I pushed in farther, waiting for her to stop me. She didn’t. Was I hurting her? It didn’t look that way. Her eyes were closed, but her whole body was pulsing. My finger was halfway inside her. I pulled it back a little, then pushed it in again. Her eyebrows creased together, and she made a low sound.

  Then she grabbed my wrist so fast I jumped and pulled my hand away from her. Her face creased. What had I done wrong?

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said. “Crap, I’m so sorry.”

  Her eyes were still closed, her face still creased. “It’s all right.”

  “Did it hurt? What did I do? I’m sorry! I swear I’ll never do it again.”

  She shook her head. Her breathing came in heaves. “It’s totally fine. It was just—a lot. Come here.”

  She pulled me by my shoulders. I leaned down against her, my face pressed against her chest. Her chin rested on the top of my head.

  I didn’t understand what had happened. Everything had been going perfectly at first. Next time I’d have to go slower, more gently.

  Or maybe she’d felt the same way I had when I grabbed her elbow. It hadn’t been bad. It had just been—wow.

  I peeled the glove off carefully and tossed it over the side of the bed. I thought about how we’d look if you saw us from the ceiling—two mostly naked girls with a couple of damp rubber gloves below them, as if we’d been performing surgery—and I giggled.

  “What’s so funny?” Christa’s words sounded funny, almost slurred.

  I smiled and kissed the top of her breast. “I was thinking about how if somebody saw us, they’d think we were, you know, doctors, or something. Because of the gloves.”

  She didn’t say anything at first. Then she started laughing. Her body shook under me.

  “Yes,” she said. “Doctors. That is totally what they would think.”

  I started laughing, too.

  We held each other, and we laughed. Everything about the world seemed so absurd right then.

  And I felt that same rush of happiness again.

  This time it didn’t go away.

  CHAPTER 18

  It was the happiest I’d ever been.

  Christa and I were sitting side by side on the bleachers in a massive football stadium while Christian rock blared across the speakers. The band was on a stage in the middle of the field, playing an endless song about following the Lord into the wilderness. Giant screens showed the musicians droning into microphones with their eyes closed. The close-ups were so extreme we could see their nostril hairs.

  And I was so, so h
appy.

  I barely noticed the band. All I could focus on was the feeling of Christa’s finger moving up and down my arm, hidden under the cardigan we’d draped across our shoulders like a blanket.

  That morning, she’d drawn a tiny heart on the inside of my wrist with one of her markers. Her hand kept drifting back to it now. Every time she touched me on that spot I had to force myself not to start beaming like a fool.

  All day, I’d wanted to do nothing but touch her. When we’d woken up together, her head cradled on my chest, it had felt like perfection. I didn’t want to move an inch. But eventually I had to because I needed to pee. Then before I was even out of the bathroom (by the way, having a real bathroom after three weeks of outdoor showers was amazing), Gina and Olivia were knocking on our door shouting for us to come help make breakfast. Christa was dressed in a flash and out the door, so I followed her to the dorm’s tiny kitchen where she found eggs, cheese and frozen vegetables in the fridge and somehow put together a feast for ten of us. Everyone else raved about the food, but all I wanted was for them to go away so I could pull Christa into my lap and bury my face in her neck.

  By then, though, it was time to get ready for the Bible festival. When we got to the stadium, Christa and I found places in an area of the stands where we didn’t know anyone, and for an hour, we pretended to listen to the concert while we took turns tracing patterns on each other’s arms under Christa’s cardigan.

  Our movements had gotten more and more elaborate. At the moment, I was pretty sure Christa was trying to spell out letters on my forearm, but I had no idea what she was saying. The very idea that she was touching me was enough to make me shiver.

  The song finally ended and the lead singer announced that it was time for a prayer. Reluctantly, I pulled my arm away from Christa. I bowed my head and closed my eyes, listening to the rustle of thousands of other people doing the same thing. The singer called on God to help us keep our minds open that we may receive His guidance during the festival today. He went on and on about it, until I got the sense he loved the sound of his own voice more than he loved our lord and savior. I played a David Bowie song in my head to drown it out. When at last he said amen, my hand stretched back to meet Christa’s reaching fingers as we all echoed the word together.

  Even though the prayer was over, the singer was still talking about sharing our faith with others and nurturing our personal relationships with Jesus. Maybe it was totally blasphemous, but right then the only relationship I wanted to nurture was with the girl sitting next to me.

  I waited until the band started playing another song, a slow one, before I slid my fingers along Christa’s arm. She slumped lower in her seat and covered her smile with her free hand. I skittered my fingers up past her elbow to the inside of her biceps. She giggled and squirmed. I faked a shiver in case anyone was looking and pulled up the cardigan to cover our shoulders. We were both wearing the same T-shirt everyone else at the festival was wearing—it was light blue and said I’M FINDING MY FAITH in fluorescent green letters across the front—and I’d already memorized exactly how those letters looked spelled out across Christa’s chest. I had to force myself to face forward as I slid my hand all the way up the inside of her arm until my fingertip was resting where the edge of her T-shirt met bare skin. She didn’t move a muscle as I dipped my fingertip under the fabric, a fraction of an inch, then farther, until I was tracing my finger down around the outside curve of her breast. I held my breath the whole time.

  After a few seconds I didn’t dare keep going, so I pulled my hand away and straightened up in my seat. My face felt so warm I was sure I must be giving off a signal to the entire stadium, but no one turned to look my way. Christa, still slumped down in her seat, wound her fingers into mine and squeezed my hand tight.

  The band played a dramatic drumroll then and the singer yelled, “That’s it for us, you guys! Now you have a break for lunch, but come back at one o’clock because Pastor James is going to lead you in an awesome workshop on finding your truth!”

  Everyone stood up at once. I didn’t want to look weird, so I leaped to my feet. So did Christa, her face bright red. Her cardigan and our purses tumbled to the ground. I bent to pick them up, trying to smooth my braids out at the same time. I’d never felt so flustered. I didn’t even want to think about how I looked when I stood back up and came face-to-face with Jake.

  “Uh,” he said, glancing back and forth between me and Christa. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I pushed my hair back again. Had he seen us fooling around? Would he say anything if he had? “Where are you sitting?”

  “Down there.” He pointed several rows below us. Good. “I saw you guys when we were getting up. Did you like the show?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Whatever. Did you?”

  “Nah, I can’t stand these guys.” Jake jammed his thumb in the direction of the stage as we stepped aside to let people past us. “Give me Jars of Clay any day.”

  I nodded, trying to look as though I knew the first thing about Christian bands and wondering if Jars of Clay sounded anything like David Bowie.

  “Anyway, so I’ve been getting about a million questions about the debate.” Jake was trying to act nonchalant, but I could tell he was at least slightly annoyed at me for being MIA all morning. “I’ve been trying to find you. We’ve got a lot to figure out and only a few days before it’s supposed to happen.”

  “Right.” I sighed. I hadn’t thought about the debate since I got off the bus yesterday. “The debate.”

  “Can we talk over lunch?” Jake pointed at the stadium gates. “There are food trucks outside with about eighty different kinds of tacos.”

  I glanced at Christa. “Want to come eat?”

  “Nah.” She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I need to find a computer. Lots of Instagram to do after three weeks offline, and I want to write some emails, too.”

  “Okay, cool.” I turned to Jake. “Can I come meet you in five minutes?”

  “Sure. I’ll get a table.”

  I followed Christa down the steps and out of the stadium, waving at the people we knew. We filed out through the gates with the crowd.

  “Will you come meet us when you’re done?” I asked her. “I want to make sure we can sit together during the next session, too.”

  Christa bit her lip. “Do you think that’s really a good idea?”

  At first I thought she was seriously worried. Then she started giggling, and I laughed, too. I wanted to take her hand again, but I resisted. “Who do you need to email?”

  “My parents, mostly. They’re really annoyed we haven’t talked at all. And I should write to Steven.”

  Of course. Steven.

  I glanced at the phone in Christa’s hand. She hadn’t been on it that much since we’d been down here. I’d thought she and Steven would be texting all the time. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s good.” Christa wouldn’t meet my eyes. “He might go back to Milwaukee at the end of the summer. That’s why I want to write to him, to see if he knows for sure what the plan is.”

  “Whoa. Milwaukee? That’s really far.”

  “That’s where he used to live. His grandmother’s sick, so they’re thinking about going back.”

  “You mean for a visit, to see his grandmother?” I wondered why she didn’t just text him to ask.

  “No, they might move, for real.” Christa kept walking, unconcerned, as if she was telling me the list of taco flavors.

  “Wait, so does that mean you’d—” Were she and Steven going to break up? I didn’t want to say it out loud. If you tell a wish, it won’t come true. “What would that mean for you and him?”

  She shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. Anyway, it’s just a maybe. Don’t worry about it. You need to go meet Jake and do important debate stuff.”

  She smiled at me ou
t of the corner of her eye. I felt myself smiling back. I was physically incapable of not smiling back at this girl, apparently.

  “Okay. Let me know what Steven says.”

  “I will.”

  I wished I could kiss her goodbye, even though we were only going to be apart for an hour or so.

  When I got to the taco trucks, I expected to find Jake sitting by himself, but instead he was in the middle of a group of girls. Gina was there talking to Hannah and Olivia. Once I sat across from Jake with my paper plate full of tacos covered in cheese, onions and guacamole, I realized another girl had joined them. Lori.

  “Hi, Aki,” she said.

  I set down my food, trying not to look at her. It was startling to hear her say my name. Startling and...actually, kind of nice. As though maybe the world was going to right itself again after being upside down for so long. “Yeah. Hi.”

  “Lori and I were talking about debate plans,” Jake told me. “She has some great ideas.”

  “Really?” I didn’t mean to sound skeptical. Okay, maybe I did. I took a big bite of taco, smearing my lip with guacamole in the process.

  “Really,” Lori said, ignoring my tone. “For one thing, I think the debate needs to be a whole afternoon, not just an hour after vespers. Otherwise there’s no way you’ll get through all the speeches on time.”

  “But we’re supposed to be working during the day.” Even though Jake and I had made up the whole plan just the day before, it felt like Lori was interfering. Like she thought she knew better than us. “The chaperones aren’t going to let us take off a whole afternoon.”

  “Yes they will. I talked to my aunt. She said we’re ahead of schedule on the fence and they were going to give us Friday afternoon off anyway.”

  I glared at her, trying to think of something to argue back with. We were still fighting, right? “You talked to her before you asked us? That’s not okay.”

  “Jake said it was fine.” Lori’s voice was cool.

  I turned to frown at Jake, but he just looked tired.