Touching Melody

18

Maddie

Like a Date





The smell of buttered toast infiltrates my oblivion. I roll over, groggy. Rub my eyes. Clear my throat. It’s parched, like I haven’t had water in a very long time. My eyes blink open and reality sets in. I’m not in my room. This comforter isn’t mine. This bed isn’t mine, and I lift the light blue comforter. There’s a t-shirt wrapped around my waist. It’s not mine.

“What the hell?” I sit up and search the room. The bedroom is small. Only a bed, a desk, and a chest of drawers. There’s a bathroom to the left of a doorway, which is wide open. Something about the room is familiar. I realize with a frightened start that the room is Kyle’s. I was here a few nights ago, saw it briefly before he escorted me out.

Last I remember I was talking to Abigail on the phone.

I’m not sure what to do. Alert Kyle I’m awake. Say nothing. Run from his apartment like a maniac.

Where are my clothes? I immediately notice them folded and sitting on top of his dresser. I’ve just about decided to climb out from beneath the covers when Kyle turns the corner carrying a plate and a glass of something. As soon as he sees me his face lights up.

“You’re awake,” he says, walking into his room. He’s in faded jeans and nothing else. The button is undone, like he quickly pulled them on. They are sitting low. So low, I can see his hipbones, and a little patch of hair leading down to… places I’ve never been. His hair is perfectly messy. His eyes are dancing with mischief. “Are you hungry?”

I am, in fact, starved. But I can’t tell him that. I seem to have lost the capacity to speak.

“There’s blueberries. You used to love blueberries.” He sits beside me, flashing the contents of the plate, which consists of blueberries, cantaloupe, and toast. His features soften. “Feeling better?”

“I-uh, how long have I been here?” My words catch on my scratchy throat.

He hands me orange juice and I take a drink. It tastes so good I can’t help but drink it all. I try to focus on his face, but his oh-so-almost-naked body is in view, begging to be noticed. There isn’t an ounce of fat anywhere. It’s almost disgusting how beautiful he is.

He offers me the plate and I take it. Buttered toast is my favorite food on the planet. There’s something about the smell of toast and sweet cream butter combined. The taste when the crispiness of the bread and melted butter hit my tongue. But my stomach is sick, and fettered, and twisted up in so many knots I doubt I’ll ever be able to unravel them all.

“At least take a bite,” he pleads kindly, lifting a berry to my lips.

I open my mouth, and he plops it inside. The juice explodes between my teeth when I bite down. “Mmmmm.” I smile, encouraged. He picks up another, and we repeat the process until they’re gone.

“Toast?” he asks, picking it up, and touching the edge to my bottom lip.

I search his features, curious about why he’s playing nursemaid. Feeding me. I’m enjoying it though. I sink my teeth into the buttery warmth. It’s so good. I take the toast from him and have another bite. When I’ve finished chewing I ask, “How long?”

“Since yesterday. You missed all of your classes today, including English. The irritating Ms. Spears was none too happy. But I sent her an email, calming her down, as well as your other teachers. Hope that wasn’t too forward of me. Most have responded, giving the assignments that are due next class.”

“How did you know my schedule?”

“I’m a TA. It was easy.” He shrugs.

“Gina!” I whisper-shout. She’s probably a wreck.

He places a hand on my shoulder. When I flinch, he pulls away. “Don’t worry. I texted her with your phone. She knows where you are.”

I can’t help my sigh of relief.

Kyle chuckles lightly. “You two have developed a bond, I take it.”

“We’re friends. Yes.” I nibble another bite of toast. It’s delicious. The bread is multigrain. My favorite kind.

“So are you going to tell me what happened? Your therapist, Abigail, explained that you and I have some stuff we need to discuss.”

At his words my face flushes. My therapist? I can’t believe Abigail told him. I’m sure that’s breaking the rules. “Oh?” It’s all I can say.

“What is it? Why didn’t you return any of my calls after your parents died? My letters. Did I do something?” Pain, a look I can recognize anywhere, shoots across his face. “I felt so bad when I heard your parents were killed. I wanted to be there for you, but you were suddenly gone.” His intense eyes find mine. “Tell me what I did that was so awful.”

He’s leaning into me, his lips inches from mine. His breath smells of orange juice. I’m floored. He must not know. His dad didn’t tell him about my accusations at the police station.

Kyle grabs me by the arms, his large hands completely circling my nonexistent biceps. “Please, Maddie. Tell me.” He shakes me slightly. His eyes search my face and I can see he’s desperate for answers. But I’m not sure how to begin, what to tell him. How can I explain all of the heartache I’m suffering because of what his father did?

And while I’m debating the words I need to say, his lips are suddenly on mine. Gentle. Tender. My eyes get big and I freeze. He’s watching me, a question in his eyes. At a moment’s notice he’ll stop. I sense it. But my body finally comprehends what’s happening, what I’ve craved for more than seven years. And my lips respond.

Tentative. Inexperienced.

My first kiss. His lips taste like orange juice.

“Freckles,” Kyle says against my lips.

I’m like a ravenous kitten. And his lips are everything I need. I can’t stop moving my mouth against his.

“Maddie.”

His hands move to my shoulders, his fingers digging into me slightly. My lust haze clears slightly. I lean back. “Oh.” My face burns hot with shame. “I’m sorry.” The truth is I’m not sorry, just humiliated. He’s experienced. Gina says he likes kinky, whatever that means. And I have no idea what I’m doing.

His beautiful lips. Those lips that are the most sensuous pillows I’ve ever touched, turn up in a smile. “Don’t be sorry.” He clears his throat. “I’m just shocked. I really am your first kiss?”

I pull the comforter over my head. I can’t look at him. He’s laughing and I can’t witness it. Plus, he doesn’t need to see my mortification.

He pulls the covers off my head. “Hey,” he says, moving my hair from my face. My eyes are closed. I feel him shift so he’s leaning over my body. He presses a tender kiss to my cheek. My earlobe. His warm breath exhales against my ear. And I’m no longer ashamed, but tingling everywhere. He kisses my neck, and my breath comes out like a whimper. I cover my mouth. He pulls my hand away, kissing my fingers. “So it’s true. You kept your promise.” I hear wonder in his voice and open my eyes. He’s looking at me, but I can’t read his expression. Is it pride? Awe? Exasperation?

I’m beside myself with shock that he even remembers the pact we made.

“Am I right?” He moves my body so I’m flat on my back, my bare legs dangling off the side of the bed. He lies on top of me. Everything, every muscle, every cell, every sinew tightens.

I gasp. “Yes,” I admit, watching his face.

He grips my hands, lacing my fingers with his. “Put your hands on my shoulders. Touch me.”

I can’t help the flush warming my cheeks. But I do what he says. He’s warm, so warm. Solid and supple at the same time.

“Relax your lips.”

I’m not sure what he means until he touches a finger to my bottom lip and massages it. I automatically loosen the muscles, and am surprised how tightly I had them scrunched together.

“Better.” Kyle winks. The mischievousness is back. He presses his body into mine and I feel his softness and hardness all over. “Wrap your legs around my hips, and lock your feet together.”

I’m like putty against him. The sensation of my body pushed against his, my legs clinging to his hips, it’s like nothing I’ve ever imagined.

Warmth swells and spreads along my lower belly, along my thighs. Kyle’s face changes. No longer playful, but serious. Hungry. For me. My heart is pounding in my chest. It’s so loud, so, so loud, I think it might shatter my eardrums.

“I know you prefer being the leader, and I promise you’ll get your chance, but this time it’s my turn. Okay?”

I nod, my tongue licking my bottom lip. Every nerve ending is bursting with longing, need. For what, I don’t know, but I want to find out.

Kyle groans, and pushes me deeper into the bed. Then his lips are on mine.

I immediately feel the difference. Soft against soft. He pulls back. “Delicious.” He smiles. His tongue licks my bottom lip. He suckles it. An electric current shoots through my belly, and I moan.

Kyle’s hands force my t-shirt up. He looks at my body. My chest. It’s heaving. “I want you to tell me about those tattoos.” His eyelids are heavy.

“Right now?” I ask. At this moment he could ask me for the moon, and I’d gladly find a way to get it for him.

“Later.” His hands skim along my sides.

All that is between us are his jeans and my underwear. He rocks against me again. Hot longing burns between my legs. My fingers dig into his back.

“Maddie. I’ve missed you,” he whispers. His lips are still pliable, but urgent. His tongue flicks inside my mouth, and I let out another moan. I never would’ve guessed this type of intimacy could feel so incredible. My tongue finds his. I shyly swirl mine around his. He delves deeper into my mouth, and once again I’m the starving kitten. I need him. Closer. Closer.

Kyle shifts under me and I feel his hardness pressing through his jeans, through my underwear.

I want it. Him. All of him. In every way. But at the same time an overwhelming fear crushes my heart. I break the incredible kiss. Turn my face from his. My eyes squeeze shut and my hands fall to the bed, grasping the sheets into fists.

He stops moving, places his hands on either side of my face. “Maddie, look at me.”

I can’t. He’s into kinky, and he’s had lots of sex. I’m probably letting him down. This boy who’s not a boy anymore, but a man, a beautiful man. The man I’ve always wanted. If I open my eyes and see rejection, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand it. But I can’t change the fact that I’m not ready. I wish I were. My body certainly wants to be.

“Maddie. Please open your eyes.”

I do, but focus on his collarbones, the perfect muscles on his chest. He tilts my face. “I’m sorry,” he says.

I’m shocked, surprised. I find his eyes. There’s pain stamped along the creases of his forehead, between his nose, at the edges of his lashes.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask quietly.

He gets up, and I miss the proximity of his body. “Because,” he runs both hands through his thick hair, “I don’t want to be your first kiss and first time all in the same day.” He covers me with the comforter and kneels next to me. “First kiss and first serious make out is enough.” He shakes his head.

I grab his shoulders and pull him close. My eyes search his. My body hums contentedly. I press my lips against his neck and cling to him like he’s my life raft in a sea of rugged, unknown waters. “I saved all my firsts for you.”

He doesn’t say anything.

Neither of us does for a long time. We hold each other.

Then he asks, “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

I can’t help the smile that breaks across my face. I didn’t let him down. And we are going to be more than duet partners. He wants to take me out.

“Like a date?” I ask for verification.

He grabs one of my hands and presses his lips to my fingers. “Will you, Maddie Martin, go on a real, no strings, just talking date? With me?” His expression is serious, worried even. I think he’s afraid I might say no.

I laugh. A real, genuine laugh. Like I haven’t laughed in seven years. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

He stands—more, bounces. And I wonder if all the talk about him being into kinky sex is a lie. A rumor. “I need a shower,” he says, and walks into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.