Part 23 (1/2)

He's grunting with every thrust, and I'm making noises I didn't even know I could make. I've never experienced anything like this before.

I didn't know it could be this intense. This raw. This animalistic.

I lower my face and press my cheek against the table.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I let him f.u.c.k me.

It's quiet.

It's so quiet, and I don't know if it's because we were both so loud just a few seconds ago or if he just needs a minute to recover.

He's still inside me, but he's finished. He's just not moving. One of his hands is still covering my mouth, the other still squeezing my fingers. His face is still buried against my neck.

But he's so incredibly still I'm afraid to move. I don't even feel him breathing.

The first thing to move is his hand, away from my mouth. He unlocks his fingers from mine and straightens them, pulling them slowly apart from mine. He presses both palms against the table and lifts his face away from my neck. He pulls out of me without a sound.

It's still too quiet, so I don't move.

I hear him as he pulls his pants back into position and zips them.

I hear his footsteps as he walks away.

He's walking away.

His bedroom door slams shut, and I flinch. My cheek and palms and stomach are still flat against his table, but now so are my tears.

They're falling.

Falling, falling, falling, and I can't stop them.

I'm embarra.s.sed. I'm ashamed. I don't have a clue what the h.e.l.l is wrong with him, but I have too much pride and too little courage to go find out.

This felt like an end. I'm not sure I was ready for this to be the end. I'm not sure I was ready for there ever to be an end, and I hate myself for allowing my feelings to get to that point.

I'm also angry because here I am, standing in his apartment, looking for my pants, trying to stop my ridiculous tears, still feeling the remnants of him sliding down my leg, and I have no f.u.c.king clue why he had to ruin it.

Ruin me.

I finish getting dressed, and I leave.

chapter twenty.

MILES.

Six years earlier ”You're getting an outie,” I tell her. I run my fingers over her bare stomach, and I kiss it. ”It's cute.”

I press my ear to her skin and close my eyes. ”I bet he's lonely in there,” I say. ”Are you lonely in there, buddy?”

Rachel laughs. ”You keep calling him a boy. What if he's a girl?”

I tell Rachel whatever he is, I'll love him the same. I already love him.

Or her.

Our parents are out of town. We're playing house again, except this time, we aren't really playing. It's kind of serious.

”So what happens if he really does propose to her this time?”

she asks.

I tell her not to worry. I tell her he's not proposing. He would ask me first before he did it. I know that much about him.

”We have to tell them,” I say to her.

She nods. She knows we have to tell them. It's been three months. We graduate in two. She's starting to show.

She's getting an outie. It's cute.

”We should tell them tomorrow,” I say.

She says okay.

I move away from her stomach and lie beside her. I pull her against me. I touch her face.

”I love you, Rachel,” I tell her.

She's not as scared now. She tells me she loves me, too.

”You're doing a good job,” I say. She doesn't know what I'm talking about, so I grin and touch her stomach. ”You're doing a good job growing him. I'm pretty sure you're gonna grow the best baby any woman has ever grown.”

She laughs at my silliness.

You love me so much, Rachel.

I look at her-at the girl I gave my heart to-and I wonder how I got so lucky.

I wonder why she loves me just as much as I love her.

I wonder what my dad is going to say when he finds out about us.