“I'll help you,” he said. “We'll figure it out, Sydney. It'll be okay. I just want to watch you.”
His smile was so sincere, and his face not nearly as chiseled as it is now. His beard was nothing but a patch of fuzz, a five o'clock shadow because he never cared enough to shave. Yet, I knew it was him, and I knew this memory was real.
I open my eyes and stare down into his eyes. This time, I know those eyes. They're vividly familiar. I remember that I'd lost my virginity to him all those years ago, and I loved him back then. Dearly. More than I could even comprehend at the time.
“I remember you, Jack,” I whimper, throwing my head forward and planting my hands on that hard, toned chest. “Oh God, I remember you – ”
He stops moving for a moment, but I keep moving my hips. Keep fucking him. I want to feel him buried deep inside of me, to feel all of him. The memory and all the feelings that have come rushing to the surface only heighten my arousal, and I grab onto Jack's body, digging my nails into his flesh, as I cry out.
“Oh God, I'm going to – ”
As if on cue, and as if he can read my mind, he thrusts himself deep into me again, and I scream. Pleasure tears through my body and I thrash wildly on top of him. Jack holds me tight, his face twisting as if he's concentrating really hard, but I know that face because I've seen it before.
“Come, Jack – yes, come with me, baby,” I moan. “Please, baby.”
As if my words give him permission and unlock something inside of him, a growl pushes past his lips as he pulls me down hard onto his cock. My pussy spasms around him, squeezing that thick shaft tight as I come. My own orgasm brings out his, and together, we ride out the waves of pleasure together. Eyes locked on one another, watching as we both shudder with absolute bliss.
When the pleasure subsides and we're both spent, I collapse on top of him, my body weak, my mind still spinning. The words he spoke at the time ring as clear in my head in the moment as they had back then.
“I love you, Sydney. I love you more than anything in this fucked up world.”
“I love you too, Jack.”
“Promise?” he asks me, a teasing tone.
“Yes, silly. I'm putting off college for you, aren't I?”
“You shouldn't do that. We'd survive you being in Berkeley. It's not that far away, you know.”
“It's too far. I never want to leave your side.”
It brings a smile to my face. Ahh, young love, I think to myself. More like young, na?ve love, now that I can look back at it with the experience of life. I open my eyes and see Jack watching me, carefully. Those words may have been said years ago, but I can see in his eyes that they still hold true today. He still means it to this very day. All of it.
“Don't look so serious,” I tell him, kissing the tip of his nose. “That was pretty amazing, wasn't it?'
“Oh God, it was,” he says. “It's just – you said something during – well – you said you remembered me.”
“I do,” I say quietly. “At least some of it. I remember the first time we had sex. Being with you just now brought that memory back up and into my mind.”
His eyes grow wide, but he doesn't say anything. I sit up and help him remove the condom, which is soaked with his cum, before tossing it in a trash can next to his nightstand and then fall down beside him on the bed. I'm still smiling as he curls up beside me. He still looks very serious.
“Do you remember anything else?” he asks slowly, as if afraid of how I might answer the question.
I think about his question for a bit before answering. “I remember how much I loved you. And that you loved me just as much,” I say. “I remember that I put college off for you, even though you told me to go anyway.”
He nods. “You eventually went after all.”
My smile falters as I start connecting some dots in my mind. “Is that why you went into the Marines?”
“Something like that.”
“I'm sorry, Jack,” I say. “I'm sure that hurt you. My leaving you like that.”
He props his head up on his hand and stares at me intently, the light of love in his eyes shining no less brightly. I can see that he's wrestling with something in his mind though. It's almost as if he has something to say and he's debating whether or not to say it. I don't want to press him – even though I'm dying to know what it is – and decide to wait him out.
After a few moments, he seems to nod to himself as if he's come to a decision. I can see it in his eyes.
“No, Sydney, you don't understand. I hurt you,” he says. “You would have given up anything to be with me, and I couldn't let that happen. You had your whole life ahead of you and I didn't want to fuck that up. At the time, I was going nowhere, and you had the whole great big world in front of you for the taking. You were so much better off without me.”
“Well, I can't remember exactly what happened,” I say, scrunching up my face. “But the older me understands and appreciates you looking out for me.”
“I'm not so sure you'll feel that way once you remember everything.”
“I am,” I say, cuddling up to his warm, naked body as I push the doubts away. “And let's just focus on here and now, please? That's what matters to me right now.”
“Of course,” he says and then places a soft kiss on the top of my head as he holds me close. “I just want what's best for you, Syd. I always have.”
“I know, Jack,” I say softly. “I know that now.”
ooo000ooo
“I hate you, Jack Bronson. I hate you so much,” I scream.
“Well, good. Because maybe now you won't fuck up your life,” he says. He doesn't look at me. “I only wanted to fuck you anyway. Wanted to bust that cherry. And now that I've had that tight, virgin pussy – ”
His head is rocked to the side when I slap him across the face. The sharp crack of flesh meeting flesh echoes in the air around us and he shuts up almost instantly. He glances up at me and rubs his red cheek.
“Stop being a child, Sydney. You know I'm an asshole,” he says. “I screw girls and dump them. That's what I do. You were just another conquest. Did you really think you were special or something?”
“I don't believe you.”
“Not my fault you're stupider than you look.”
I reach back to slap him again, but there's no fight left in me. I let my arm fall to my side and feel the tears, fat and warm, rolling down my face.
As an adult, I can see it now. Jack isn't looking at me when he delivers those horrible words. More than that, there's an unmistakable, profound pain in his eyes. He's intentionally pushing me away.
“I never want to see you again,” I spit.
“Sounds good to me,” he says. “I already got what I came for.”
He turns and walks away. I shout again, at the top of my lungs, desperately trying to wound him as deeply as he's wounded me.
“My dad was right about you. I hate you.”
He doesn't turn around, but he does stop. He stops walking away from me, and I think maybe I've won. Tears stream down my cheeks and my throat hurts from screaming. But after a moment's hesitation, Jack keeps on walking.
“Did you ever love me, Jack?” I call out.
He doesn't answer. He just keeps walking. At the time, that was the only answer I needed.
I wake up in with rivulets of sweat rolling down my face. I sit bolt upright in bed, shaking my head, trying to clear the cobwebs out of my brain. I feel disoriented as I look around the room and it takes me a long time to remember where I'm at. The man next to me is snoring peacefully, oblivious to the pain I'm feeling. I stare at him for a long time, and even more memories come back to me.