of me will somehow erase what happened between us. But I feel tender between my legs and I know nothing can erase what happened this morning. I can feel his eyes, damaging and acidic, through the wall. I put my back to him and wash the chlorine out of my hair.
I could blame this morning on my alcohol consumption. Instead I take full responsibility. Because I did it. I wanted it. This wasn’t a random guy or an accident. This wasn’t an unfamiliar man I met at a party and hooked up with. This was Kent Nicholson, a man who I was undeniably attracted to. Now that particular revelation has been set free, I force myself to think of what to say to him. I have to say something. A simple “I’m sorry” will not suffice.
Too many thoughts bombard me, problems begging to be solved. I don’t have a solution to any of them. Part of me doesn’t even want to face him anymore. How can I after this morning? After I tricked him. He thought he was getting something from me. He gave me something. He took me higher than no other man ever has. All I gave him was a lie. I pretended to be someone I wasn’t. I’m not couch material. I want more than a couch. I want a bed made of cotton and sheets made of silk. I am worth more than a sofa stained from his previous women.
Do I even want more, and if I do can Kent even give it to me?
Considering more makes my stomach sick. I don’t want more. It’s what my father couldn’t give my mother. She wanted him and he constantly showed her she shouldn’t, yet he sucked her down the entire way. Kent has shown me so much already. What else do I need?
I shut off the water, wrap myself protectively in my towel, and grab my toothbrush, scrubbing the inside of my mouth and washing away the tastes of last night. Memories of Kent’s tongue in my mouth come flashing back to me. The feeling of him massaging me, working me toward my end. Kent took me so high. When I emerge from the bathroom, his door is open and I can hear someone banging around in the kitchen. I duck into my room and get dressed, choosing comfy clothes after an uncomfortable night. After I’m dressed I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s almost three in the afternoon. I can’t sleep anymore. Even if I wanted to my bed is soaked.
My pink lace panties taunt me. How did he take them off so quickly?
He has a lot of practice.
I pick them up. They smell like chlorine and they’re ripped at the waist on both sides, as if he snapped them clear in half in a hurry to get to me. My current panties quiver in fear.
I hold them in my hands for a long time. I feel oddly nostalgic, as if part of me knows it will never happen again. Kent doesn’t do nice. He wants girls like Auburn Hair. He wants girls to punish because of Willow.
Willow…
Bitter thoughts form around her name. I bet if she were a virgin he’d kiss her feet and take her virginity from her. He’d make love to her in his bed and make her feel things she was too afraid to feel before him. I picture her beautiful face and them together. Kent and her, mouth to mouth, middle to middle, him thrusting into her the way he did Auburn Hair. He is her and she is him. They are one and I am by myself.
I’m usually by myself. Before Kent I preferred it. Being alone meant I couldn’t be left behind. Being left behind once was hard enough. Now thanks to Kent I am suddenly bitter of my preferred solitude. What do I expect? A commitment from Kent Nicholson? Forever from a man who doesn’t even do right now?
I drop my panties in disgust just as there’s knock on my door.
“What?” I growl.
“Are you going to stay in there all day?”
“Yes.”
“We need to talk.”
“Talk.”
“Open your door. Rain, please,” Kent begs softly.
His tone makes my eyes sting. I get up and open my door. He leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest, staring at me intently.
I meet his eyes unwillingly, shoving back the memories of his fingers inside of me. “Talk.”
“I apologize for my reaction. I don’t meet many virgins.” He pauses to