I let out a whimper and he sets me back down. His breathing deepens, and he starts moving his body even faster, pushing and making sure to rub himself against me. It works. The tension starts to build and I rock with him as he finds my mouth again. And then all of a sudden, everything explodes. I have to break away from his lips, burying my face into his bicep as my orgasm bursts into waves.
He cups the back of my head and holds me as I shudder in euphoria and bliss and the high that turns me into a wild beast.
It only takes a couple minutes before it flits away, leaving me with a sinking feeling. Without the urges, my mind clears and the enormity of what I just did hits me cold. I break away from Lo, refusing to meet his eyes that follow me in utter concern.
I quickly grab my phone on the table.
“What are you doing?” he asks, insecurity bubbling in his voice.
A lump has taken residence in my throat, but I manage to mutter, “Nothing…just…clothes on.” I motion to his pants on the floor. I can’t look at him nearly-naked. I don’t trust myself anymore.
He fumbles around with his clothes while my heart beats wildly. And then…I find it.
“I think we just had sex,” I say in horror, staring at the small screen on my phone.
“What?” He frowns and walks over, still shirtless but at least he has his pants on.
I hold up my phone. “Non-penetrative sex,” he reads and then licks his bottom lip in thought. His eyes meet mine. “That’s not real sex, Lil.”
“That’s not what this says.” I continue reading. “Outercourse. I think we had outercourse! Oh my God.” My heart is going to detonate. I crossed a line. I let myself get caught up in all the mixed up feelings and I crossed a fucking line.
“Whoa!” Lo puts his hands on my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. “Take some breaths.” He waits for me and then says, “It’s Wikipedia. Not the fucking Holy Grail. You get to choose what you consider real sex for you. Okay?” His eyes look a little guilty, and I feel even worse for making him remorseful for something that I clearly wanted.
“Okay,” I say with a nod. “Then that wasn’t real. Outercourse doesn’t count.”
Relief fills him.
“But,” I continue. “I don’t think we should do it again.” I don’t trust myself.
He drops his hands from my cheeks. “That’s fine,” he says, sounding a little detached. “I just…” he shakes his head. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”
“I know.” I can’t let him go with that. “And it was the best present I’ve ever gotten. Honest.”
He smiles and kisses me lightly on the temple before picking his flask up on the desk.
I let out a deep breath. Never again. But as I remember the way he looked at me, commanding and determined and so very powerful, as though making me cry was his sole goal in life—well, I know I may never find that with someone else.
Never again is a very, very large price to pay.
But we’re not really together, after all. We’re just two friends playing make-believe.
{6}
A couple months at Princeton and I stopped going to class again. Seeing people walk around campus with smiles and laughs puts knots in my stomach, so I’ve been doing all the course work and attend only for the exams. I’ve been pulling Cs, which is better than failing.
Rose scolds me when I sit at home, moping again. I guess I just feel like February has turned into Day 1 without Lo—all the pain that crushed me from the first moment he left swallows me back in its dark, black abyss. I kept hope that he’d email me by now. And he hasn’t.
But my vibrator keeps me company. My fantasies do too. But I rarely climax. It’s like my sadness has eked out any possibility of feeling that high again.
To keep me busy and to lift my spirits, I decide to change my ways a little. For the past three days, I’ve consumed my time at Calloway Couture, making good on a bet that I lost with Connor. I promised him that I’d help Rose at her blossoming fashion company by being her assistant.
Which I’ve quickly found out just means being the errand bitch.
Although I do have my own desk that sits off to the side in a spacious city loft, the room decked out with racks of dresses, blouses, coats, boots, and handbags. Rose glances from her computer in her dictatorial office—a glass cubical that literally overlooks the whole room. She has two other girls manning desks near me in the center. They’re in charge of social media, websites, and inventory.