I flop back against the bed. “Oh, thank God,” I rush to say. “I thought I hurt you or made you unhappy or something.” I lift my head. “You’re really okay?”
She gets up, picks up my t-shirt and pulls it down over her head. She points to my dick, which is still wrapped in a used condom. “You might want to take care of that. We made a bit of a mess.” Her cheeks flush and I look down to find light pink blood on my quilt.
I jump up and take care of it all, grabbing a fresh quilt as she takes care of herself in the bathroom. I knock on the door when she hasn’t come out. She opens the door a crack and walks away from it. Steam billows out of my bathroom from the shower, and I go in to find her getting in it. My t-shirt is in a lump on the floor, and her naked bottom disappears behind the shower door.
I run a frustrated hand through my hair. I have never really cared how a girl felt after sex, but all I can do is care about how this one feels, because I care about her more than I could ever imagine.
The shower door opens. “Do you want to come in with me?” she asks. She looks down at my quickly hardening dick and bites her lower lip.
I do what any honorable man would do. I go get another condom and get in the shower with her. “Are you sore?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not yet.” She grins at me and turns her face to the water.
I put my hands on her shoulders and step close behind her, my dick already reaching for her heat. But then I feel it. She’s trembling. She looked so composed and so happy and she was so soft in my arms a minute ago. But now she’s stiff as a board and she’s shaking.
“You’re not okay, are you?” I ask next to her ear.
She leans her elbows on the shower wall and presses her forehead against the tiles. Then she shakes her head.
I gently take her shoulders and turn her to face me. I can’t talk to her with her facing away. She leans heavily against the wall. “Did you come in here because you needed a minute away from me?”
She nods and looks everywhere but at me.
Okay. I’ll give her that. I have no idea what’s going through her head, but I know it’s my fault. I know she needed a break from me and she still needs a break from me. Or from what she’s feeling. I don’t know which. Maybe both.
I want to draw her into me and cuddle her, but I don’t think that’s what she needs.
I want to give her every single thing she needs.
I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my hips. The mirror mocks me, telling me I’m a stupid bastard who went too far.
I crack the door of the shower and she looks at me. I can’t tell if she has water in her eyes or if they’re swimming in tears. “We went too fast, didn’t we?” I ask.
She nods, holding my gaze with hers. It’s almost as though she stabs me in the chest with a knife when she jerks her eyes from mine and dips her face into the spray.
I walk out of the bathroom, not knowing what the hell I’m supposed to do now.
Lark
I sink down to the shower floor and sit on the cool tiles, tipping my head so that the spray of the water hits the crown of my head. I stay that way until the shaking subsides. Then I wash my hair with his shampoo, wash with his soap, and turn off the water. I’ll smell like a man, but I don’t care.
I look around the room. Pieces of him are everywhere. There are notes stuck to the mirror and pictures he drew. He likes to draw cats and turn them into cartoons with silly sayings on them. I laugh out loud, and then I cover my mouth, because I don’t want him to think I’m laughing it up in here. Then I remember that he couldn’t hear my chuckle, and my shoulders ease.
I stare into the mirror and wipe away the smudged mascara that’s still under my eyes.