"I'm sleepy," she whispers into the darkness, and that tells me exactly nothing.
After the shower, I stripped and washed us both off, mostly because Kayla was pretty boneless. A man should take pride in that—and I do. Then I dug around in her dresser for some old sweats and a t-shirt that I have here. We ate and watched a movie. It's been a great night, but it didn't go as I thought it would. Somehow in my mind, us having sex, or even just sharing what we did, was the cure-all. Once that was done, we'd either be on solid ground as just friends, or this fantasy of being with Kayla would be out of my system. Neither of those things happened. I'm still so fucking hard it feels like the top of my dick is about to explode. Worse, it feels like Kayla is pushing away from this arrangement even more. How did it go so wrong? I was supposed to tie her to me and stop her from backing away. Fuck, if the opposite isn't happening. Jesus, I used to be able to handle women so easily. They begged for my attention. Now, I feel like I’m the one on the verge of begging.
"Do you want me to go?" I ask because we're lying in her bed watching a movie. She's lying on my arm, her head curled so that it's right under my head. She's pretending to watch television.
"No," she whispers, then after a minute she adds, "Unless you want to."
"I'm good, honey," I tell her, kissing the top of her head. My fingers are moving back and forth in her soft hair without purpose other than I just want to touch her. I'd be totally relaxed if it wasn't for the elephant in the room. "Kay—"
"White—"
"You first," I tell her.
She's quiet. I want to throw something against the wall. It shouldn't be this difficult. Loving on Kayla, making her come, was the single most beautiful thing I've ever shared with a woman. How did I go from that to being pretty damn positive she wants nothing to do with me? As much as I hate to say it, it may be time for me to call my mom. If anyone understands Kayla more than me, it would be her.
"What we did…" she starts, and deep in my stomach I feel a knot form. Don't say it, Kayla. Don't say it, honey. "That probably shouldn't have happened."
And… she said it.
"Why?"
"Why?" she repeats.
"Yeah, honey. Why? Didn't you enjoy it?" I'd like to see her deny that.
"I don't think ‘enjoy’ is the right word," she stalls.
"I think it's the perfect one. Did you enjoy having me finger that sweet little pussy and eat you out?"
She squirms in my arms, but I don't let her go, choosing instead to hold her tighter.
"Answer me, Kayla."
"I think it's pretty obvious that I did," she grumbles.
"Do you want it again?"
"What? No!"
"I think you're lying. I think you do. I think you want it just as bad as I want to give it to you," I respond, kind of glad I'm not looking her in the face, just in case I'm wrong. I don't want to see the rejection there.
"It's not about if I enjoyed it. It's just, well..."
"Tell me. If you don't tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, there's no way I can guess it."
"White, this whole thing… sex, making a child… it's going to cause things to go weird between us."
"No, it won't."
"It will! It already is! We're barely speaking," she says, pulling away to sit up on the bed. This time I let her so I can do the same, leaning back against the headboard.
"The only person barely speaking here, Buttercup, is you."
"I don't know what to say!" she cries, her voice laced with panic.
"Why do you have to say anything? Why does this have to change the way we always are with each other?"
"Because it's sex! You had your face… there!"
"I did, and I plan on having it there again."
"White—"
"I do. So you might want to get used to saying the word ‘pussy’, Kayla."
"I hate that word."
"I happen to like it. What would you prefer I call it? And if you say ‘lady garden’, so help me…"
"Why do we have to call it anything? And why are we talking about this? I just told you I think it was a mistake."
"I'm hearing what you're trying to say. I just don't understand why."
"We're best friends! Friends can't be lovers!"
"I think we proved that wrong in the shower. In fact, I think we are fucking amazing together."
"You can't say that. You didn't even get to… you didn't get to release."
"Release? Jesus. Say it, Kayla. I didn't get to come."
"White—"
"Say. It."
She lets out a large overdrawn breath and shoots daggers at me with her pretty brown eyes. "Fine. You didn't get to come."
"I sure as hell didn't. But I'm going to make up for that after that damn doctor's appointment."
"White—"
"And I’ll tell you something else, Kayla…"
"What?"
"You and I in that shower, me having you in my arms and tasting your sweet cream on my tongue?"
"White," she whispers, but I can see need flash in her eyes, so I know I'm getting to her.
"What we did together in that shower Kayla was the best I've ever had with a woman."