I looked into his eyes, not entirely certain as to how I’d come to this point and even less certain as to what was next. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Maybe he’d only wanted a kiss. Maybe he didn’t want more from me than what he’d taken already. Maybe he just wanted to have sex and get it out of his system before he ditched me. My heart sank at the thought.
“What happens now?” I asked, trying to breathe through the anxiety, looking into his eyes for answers.
“What do you want, Cam?”
“To kiss you again,” I answered quietly, honestly.
He smiled and pulled me into him again. His sweet lips were against mine, the smell of him in my nose and his solid chest under my palms. Then my fingers cupped his jaw. Then slipped into his hair. His hands found my hips — nearly circling them — and he pulled me down just enough to feel him pressing against me.
I broke away and peered at him, afraid for the first time since he’d kissed me. “I … I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”
“I’m not either.”
I pouted a little.
He chuckled, brushing my bottom lip with his thumb. “What I mean is that I care about you enough that I want to do this right. This isn’t just … I don’t know. Messing around. Not for me. I don’t want to screw it up by rushing things. You just …” His eyes found my lips. “I didn’t know you could kiss like that. You’ve been holding out on me,” he said with a smile.
It was my turn to laugh, and the nerves and anxiety slipped away. I felt like I was on a roller coaster, equal parts terrified, elated, and trying not to puke.
He was still smiling at me, one hand on my hip, the other catching my chin between his thumb and forefinger. The look on his face nearly killed me — it was full of adoration and awe.
If ever a boy could get a girl knocked up from across a room, it was Tyler Knight.
“So,” he said, his smile climbing on one side, “besides more kissing — which I can most definitely provide, on demand and at your leisure — how do you want to do this?”
I thought about it and had zero answers. “I … I don’t know, Tyler. I’ve never done this before.”
Shock passed across his face. “Wait, you mean … are you a …”
My entire face was on fire. “A virgin? God, no. I mean,” I scrambled, “I’m not what you’d call super experienced or anything, but I’m not a virgin.”
Relief was his new expression. “Do you mean boyfriends then?”
My blush deepened, somehow. “To answer your question, yes, I’ve had boyfriends. I’ve just never lived with anyone I’m dating, and I’ve never dated anyone who was already my friend.”
“Me neither.”
“So we’re in uncharted waters. What should we do?”
“Wing it,” he said definitively.
I smiled. “Can I kiss you again?”
“On demand and at your leisure.”
And I laughed and kissed him until my lips were swollen, sure they’d never get their fill.
Tyler
Over the course of a few minutes, kissing Cam became one of my most favorite things in the world.
I don’t know what it was about it, exactly. I think she could read me just as well as anyone, better than anyone. She anticipated me, knew somehow what I wanted or needed and gave it to me. She gave and gave and gave, her small body pressed against mine, her hands in my hair as little moans and sighs slipped past her lips.
I hadn’t kissed a girl so much in one sitting since high school, but I wasn’t frustrated now like I had been then. Instead I savored every second, every moment as it stretched into the next. I kissed her until her mouth was red. I kissed her until she was breathless. I kissed her until we lay stretched out on the couch with her in my arms.
I don’t know what time it was when she curled into my chest, when her breath slowed as my fingertips traced circles on her back. I knew she was asleep, but I didn’t dare move, lying just like that for a long time, with music playing softly from the kitchen and her small body against mine. I smiled up at the ceiling, happy — deep-down soul happy — for the first time since I couldn’t remember when.
For most of my life, I’d worn a label. The Good Guy or The Tight End with Promise or Carl Knight’s Son. Always something. Inside of that, I’d always been me. But people wanted those labels to give themselves one of their own. Tyler Knight’s Friend. Girlfriend. Coach.
But Cam didn’t want my label. She had her own. Truth be told, I think she was afraid of mine.
I can’t say I blame her. Most of the time, I was too.
She wasn’t like the other girls I’d dated. She was real and good and true, and she wanted me. I felt more safe with her than any woman I’d ever been with.
My eyes began to close, but I didn’t want her to have to sleep on the couch with the lights all on. So I turned and slipped an arm underneath her back, then her knees. She half woke up when I stood, picking her up. She was the slightest thing, just a wisp, and I carried her to her dark room, laying her down, tucking her in. I slipped off her glasses and brushed her hair from her face, watching her for a moment before taking a step away.
Her small hand slipped into mine. “Stay,” she said, her voice rough from disuse. And there was no way I could refuse her, even if I’d wanted to.
“All right,” I whispered and unbuttoned my shirt, stealing into my room to put on sleep pants. When I came back, she hadn’t moved, and I pulled back the covers to slip in behind her. She shifted until she was pressed against my chest, and I wrapped my arms around her and drifted away to sleep.