I’m facing away from him so we can’t talk much. I couldn’t talk if I wanted to after a declaration like that.
He slides his hand between me and the mattress and finds my clit, and within a few lunges, he has me clutching at the sheets, with his greedy cock taking every inch of me with short, shallow thrusts, then long, slow pushes.
I turn my head so I can kiss him, and when I come apart, he grunts against my lips and comes with me, pushing me into the mattress with a hand at the small of my back.
I climb naked up the bed and slide under his covers, and he comes with me. I face him so we can talk, even though I want nothing more than to curl into him.
“Did you mean that thing you said earlier today?” I ask.
“What thing?” He grins at me, so I know he remembers.
“The thing about loving me.”
He runs his soft fingertips against my inner thigh. “Yes, I meant it.”
“How do you know?” I wring my hands together.
“Because I think about you all the time. I want to be with you all the time. I can’t breathe when I think about you sometimes, and I don’t know how to tell you how I feel.”
“That’s pretty good.” I sniff back a tear.
“I know you don’t love me back,” he says. “Not yet, anyway. But I can wait for you.”
I stop his hands from moving. “I do love you. Why do you think I kept your baseball cap? I was intrigued. Then I was enthralled. Then I was beholden when you learned about my scars and you didn’t care. Then I was in love with you.”
“When did you know?”
“When you kissed all the scars on my stomach, when we were on my couch. I knew then that you were special. And then when you put the kite tattoo on me, I knew that you knew me. And I knew I wanted to know you. I want to know everything.”
“I asked your dad if I could marry you one day.”
I jerk to attention. “What did he say?”
“He said when I’m ready to formally ask, to bring him cigars.”
I laugh. “That’s Emilio.”
“Your family is pretty awesome.”
“So is yours.” He pulls me forward to lie on his chest, and he turns the lights down low. I burrow into him, knowing that this is where I’m supposed to be.
***
The next morning, I wake up to someone shaking my shoulder. I look up and find Ryan. “Wake up,” he says.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your parents are here.”
“They are? Why?” I brush my hair out of my eyes.
“Something happened. I’m so sorry.”
My heart thudding, I jump out of bed and get dressed.
I step into the living room and Marta and Emilio get to their feet. “Lark,” Emilio says. “Stay calm.”
“Someone should probably tell me what’s happened,” I suggest.
“You remember when I lost my phone yesterday?” Ryan says, wincing.
“Yes. Why?”
“Apparently I didn’t lose it. Samantha stole it.”
“And?”
“And she sold your pictures to the news outlets.”
“What pictures?”
He winces. “The before and after pictures of your scars and the tattoos.”
Emilio flips on the TV and finds a channel where the news is playing. “In entertainment news today,” the announcer begins.
I fall onto the couch, my knees weak as I see my original scars and hear the story of how I got them, of my parents dying in the fire, and my suicide attempts.
“People know,” I tell them.
“What do you want to do about it?” Emilio asks.
I square my shoulders. “Call a press conference,” I tell him.
“Are you sure, mija?” Marta asks.
“I’m positive.” I’ve never been more positive about anything in my life.
“Okay,” she says softly.