think minds began to wander. Nobody saw Rebecca reach for my cheek. She only wanted to brush away a piece of lint or something. Things happened so fast. When she cried out, they snatched her away. I don’t know what happened to her after that. They told me she was the daughter of one of our cooks, but I suspect she had been kidnapped.” Stella nodded at the bottle. “I believe you did have friends, so you need to choose.”
I took off my University of Connecticut sweatshirt. I had never been to Connecticut. I picked it up at a thrift store years ago. Dark blue. It went in our colors pile.
It didn’t take long before we were both in our underwear. Stella insisted that because her pair of gloves had started the game, things like shoes and socks had to come off in pairs, too.
My hand inched closer to hers on the table, but we dared not touch.
I knew we couldn’t touch, but I so desperately wanted to. I wanted to scoop her up into my arms and make love to her right there, and I could see that same desire in her eyes. I knew what would happen if I did, and I almost didn’t care. Just touching her for a second would be worth it. There was a heat coming off her fingertips, off her uncovered skin. She lit up the room.
Stella slid the bottle over to me. “Drink.”
“But you didn’t make a statement yet.”
“Drink.”
“And I think it’s my turn.”
“Drink, anyway. And it’s my turn.”
I raised the bottle to my lips and drank. There wasn’t much left. I left about a quarter inch at the bottom.
Stella took up the bottle and finished the tequila the moment I set it down. With a sly grin, she slid the empty aside. “Option two is no longer on the the table, and you are down to your skivvies.” She drummed her fingers. “Hmm. What should I say? What should I say…”
She stood and leaned back against the kitchen island, facing me. Her dark hair rolled down over her shoulders in chestnut waves. She had the longest, sexiest legs I had ever seen. “What to say…” she repeated softly. When she looked up at me, her eyes were glistening in the thin light. “Never have I ever…kissed someone I loved.”
I hesitated for a moment, thinking about this. Then I stood and slipped my thumbs into the waistbands of my underwear. I didn’t take them off, though.
Stella’s grin had returned, but there was a sadness behind it. She didn’t want me to see that, but I did. “Now is not the time to be bashful, Pip.”
“I haven’t, either. I’ve never kissed someone I love.”
She seemed perplexed by this. “You’ve never…?”
“Oh, I’ve done that. But never with someone I love.”
“What about that girl from the diner?”
“Gerdy.”
“What about Gerdy?”
“I loved the idea of Gerdy. I wanted to have someone to love, and she tried to be that for me. I feel horribly guilty for letting her try so hard and not giving back, not really. But I couldn’t love her. Not while knowing you were out there somewhere. Every time she held my hand, I thought of your hand. When she kissed me, I pretended her lips were yours. I think she somehow knew this and didn’t care. I think she made peace with it, and that made her death so much harder to accept. She did so much for me, and I gave her nothing in return.”
“I’m sure she felt loved.”
“I like to think so. I tell myself that.”
“You’re a good guy, John Edward Jack Thatch. She knew that. I’m sure your affection meant more to her than you can possibly realize. She was lucky, to have that closeness, to have shared that intimacy.”
A tear fell from her eye, and I went to her. I couldn’t not go to her. My finger reached out, came within a centimeter, but I didn’t wipe the tear away. Instead, my finger hovered there. I watched as the tear rolled down her cheek, off her chin, and splashed on her bare feet. She whispered, “All I’ll ever be, all I can ever be for you, Jack, my dearest Pip, is a pretty little thing to be looked at but never touched.”
“Close your eyes,” I said softly.
“Why?”
“Close them.”
She did, and another tear slipped free, following the first.
I reached back to the table behind me took an ice cube from my cup, the largest one I could find, and I