She didn’t respond, so I lifted her to a standing position and then hitched her knee to my hip.
She grabbed my ears and pulled me against her mouth, and I positioned myself, deciding in the moment to lower her onto my dick—slowly since she’d already worked me into a frenzy. I lifted her other leg. Just as I moved to position myself, I lost my footing. America squealed as I reached out, scrambling for something to save us, and then I resorted to bracing for the fall. The nylon curtain ripped from the rings, only giving us half a second before my back slammed onto the floor.
I grunted and then looked up at America, her hair dripping wet, her eyes clenched shut. One jade eye popped open and then the other.
“Christ, are you okay?” I asked.
“Are you?”
I breathed out a laugh. “Yeah, I think so.”
She covered her mouth and then began to giggle, making laughter erupt from my throat and rip through the apartment. Soon, we were wiping our eyes and trying to catch our breaths.
The giggles faded, and we were left on the floor, water dripping from our skin onto the tile. A droplet formed on America’s nose and dripped to my cheek. She wiped it away, her eyes shifting back and forth, waiting, as she wondered what I might say next.
“We’re okay,” I said softly. “I promise.”
America sat up, and I did the same.
“We don’t have to do what everyone else is doing to be happy, right?” Her voice was tinged with sadness.
I swallowed down the lump forming in my throat. It wasn’t that I wanted to do what everyone else was doing. For a long time, I’d wanted what they already had.
“No,” I said. For the first time since we’d met, I lied to America.
I was too ashamed to admit to her that I wanted those things—the rings, the vows, the mortgage, and the kids. I wanted it all. But it was too hard to tell an unconventional girl that I wanted a conventional life with her. The thought that we didn’t want the same things and what that meant terrified me, so I pushed it to the back of my mind, to the same place where I kept my memories of Mom crying over Aunt Diane, far enough down so that my heart wouldn’t feel it.
America
My toes sparkled in the sun, freshly painted with Pretty in Pink. They wiggled as I relished the thin sheen of sweat on my skin and the heat dancing off the pavement surrounding the turquoise water. I was surely burning under the bright rays, but I remained on the white plastic slats of my lounge chair, happy to soak in the vitamin D, even with the little shits in 404B splashing like heathens.
My sunglasses fell down for the tenth time, the salty beads on the bridge of my nose making them slide around like a stick of melting butter.
Abby held up her water bottle. “Here’s to having the same day off.”
I held up mine and touched it to hers. “I’ll drink to that.”
We both tipped up our beverages, and I felt the cool liquid glide down my throat. I set the bottle down next to me, but it slipped from my hand and rolled under my chair.
“Damn it,” I said, protesting but not moving. It was too hot to move. It was too hot to do anything but stay in the air-conditioning or lie by the pool, intermittently slithering in the water before we spontaneously combusted.
“What time does Travis get off work?” I asked.
“Five,” she breathed.
“When does he go out of town again?”
“Not for two weeks, unless something comes up.”
“You’re awfully patient about this.”
“About what? Him making a living? It is what it is,” she said.
I turned onto my stomach and faced her, my cheek flat against the slats. “You’re not worried?”
Abby lowered her glasses and peered over them at me. “Should I be?”
“Nothing. I’m stupid. Ignore me.”
“I think the sun is frying your brain,” Abby said, pushing up her glasses. She settled back against her lounger, her body relaxed.
“I told him.”
I didn’t look at her, but I could feel Abby staring at the side of my face.
“Told who what?” she asked.