“Oh, my God, Lindsay,” I say gruffly, sitting up, getting off her. “Did I hurt you? What’s wrong? I didn’t mean to -- ”
She grabs me and sits up, burying her face in my chest, her arms wrapping around me. My heart beats so hard it’s like I’m punching her in the face.
“No, no,” she says, muffled. “I’m not crying because of pain.”
“Well...I...” Shit. I can barely say the next few words, but I have to. “Was the sex that bad?”
She half-coughs, half-laughs, half-sobs. “No! No! It was amazing. You’re amazing. We’re amazing together.”
I let out my breath. Didn’t realize I was holding it.
“I don’t know why I’m crying!” she confesses, her mouth against my nipple. The vibration feels weird, chaotic and out of order. I swear it makes my heart skip a beat.
I cough. It’s instinctive, but my rhythm resumes.
“It’s okay. Shhhhh,” I say, soothing her, brushing her wet hair off her face, kissing the salty tears.
“It’s not okay. I’ve been such a bitch to you. I couldn’t trust you.”
I choke, the air shooting out of me, surprised by her words. “What? That’s why you’re crying?” We’re naked and sweaty, covered in each other’s slick, and she’s crying after the most phenomenal emotional moment of my life because she’s been mean to me?
This can’t be real.
“Y-y-yes,” she whimpers. “I didn’t know I could love someone this much. I knew I loved you, Drew, but not like this!” Her little fists rub her tears away. She sniffles. “And you’re the first person I’ve ever asked to do that. To be inside me. I didn’t know it would feel like this.”
“Like what?” I prod gently, trying to understand. I run the tip of my nose across the crown of her head, breathing in the tropical scent of her shampoo, her hair impossibly soft.
“Like I’ve been living in half the world, not knowing the rest existed.”
I’m dumbfounded.
What the hell do you say in response to that?
“That’s exactly how I feel,” I confess, tightening my hold on her. She wiggles closer, into my lap. We link ourselves, breathing as one, until I untangle our bodies and bring her to the bed. An afterthought, for sure, but she relaxes in my arms when we’re under the covers, as if she feels safer.
Covered.
Not quite so exposed.
Only our naked bodies underneath the surface know the truth.
Her tears subside. I understand them now.
“I never told anyone who the fourth man was in that video.”
“You didn’t? Not a single person? Not even your dad?”
She shakes her head. The admission makes me feel good for some reason.
“Why not?” I gently ask. Prodding this truth out of her feels like it’s a fulcrum that allows me to crack open the future.
“Because I couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe you’d do that to me. Just...let them.”
“I didn’t.”
“I know. Even in the face of what looked so obvious, I just...knew. I knew you wouldn’t do that to me, but God, Drew, it hurt so much.” She tightens her hold on me, her body starting to tremble. When you’re pressed naked, toe to shoulder, against someone, you feel everything.
“So you had to hold two truths inside you at the same time. Two truths that couldn’t co-exist.’
She jolts, her head popping up, eyes beseeching. “Yes. Exactly. How did you know?”
“Because that’s what I hoped for four years. That some part of you trusted me enough to know that the obvious couldn’t be true.”
“It’s the same with that picture they texted me. The one with you and part of my red scarf.”
Breathe, Foster. Breathe.
Bzzz.
“Reality,” I sigh, letting out a sound of relief that I pretend is frustration as I search for my phone. Lindsay ends the sound by kissing me. The sound turns, twisting into a decidedly different groan.
“Thank you,” she says.
“No need.” I kiss her forehead. We just breathe together, so much unsaid.
We have time.
Bzzz.
Or not.
“Besides,” I add, standing grudgingly, searching for my clothes, knowing the phone’s in there somewhere. “This time, you’re not stealing my weapon.”
The laughter pours out of her like a contagion and she sits up, pulling me back to the bed. It’s hopeless. I can’t not laugh. I curl up around her, cocooning her, arms and legs tucked in.
She’s shaking in my arms, the vibration making my skin tingle.
It’s good to hear her laugh.
It’s even better to laugh together.
“I’m sorry,” she finally gasps. “I couldn’t trust you.”
I stop laughing.
Her skin is dewy and warm, a light trace of heat along the pores making her flush.
“Talk to me,” I say. “Tell me more.”
She sighs, a little sound of vulnerability. It makes my throat tighten. That’s the sound someone makes when they are about to be real.
I’ve wanted nothing more than the real Lindsay this whole time.
Thank God she’s finally here.
“Drew,” she says, her hand snuggling on my bare chest, the lines of her tendons standing out as she moves. “They broke me. Ripped me apart – literally.” Her thighs shift and my shoulders tighten.