“It’s not that I didn’t trust you, but this is heavy shit. You’re in college, Landon.” I look down to his shaking hands in his lap and back up to his eyes. “You have exams to worry about and a life to live. You’re young, you shouldn’t be worrying about this kind of shit.”
He stands and his arm swings across, knocking into the wooden headboard. “You don’t tell me what I should be worrying about!”
I join him on my feet. “You aren’t even supposed to be this involved in my life!” I shout back at him.
“Okay, Nora. You go ahead and try to flip this around and make this my fault. Make up your mind: either you want me and we can figure this out together, or you don’t.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“What?” he repeats, his hands in the air.
I feel the tear drip down my face before I can stop it. “I can’t believe after all this, you’re still trying to be accepting . . . and want to give me another chance.” I could live a thousand lives and never deserve him.
He shakes his head and stops pacing around the room. “Well, what’s it going to be? You decide.”
“What about Dakota?”
His eyes spit fire at me. “What about her?”
“You’re going to Michigan with her. You two will be alone . . .”
“Are you kidding me? That is what you’re worried about?” He sits down on the bed and drops his face into his hands.
I had expected this to go a different way. I thought we would go into his room and decide this was just too messy to continue, and he would be sad when I left, but he would be fine tomorrow. My head aches.
Maybe I can compete with Dakota? Maybe he would choose me?
The story of her brother haunts me, haunts them. The way Dakota went into the convenience store after Landon while I just stood there on the sidewalk. I watched her take his hands in hers, and I watched him not pull away. When she finally walked away, she sobbed into her hands. The reality of it is, my first love is long over, but theirs isn’t.
“Touch me,” I tell him. I walk over and stand right in front of him and beg him to touch me. I need one last night with him. His hand hovers over my face and I close my eyes as he brushes his thumbs over my cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” I say when his finger glides over my lips. I don’t tell him what I’m sorry for, but soon enough, he will get it. He will thank me for backing away from him now. Better late than never.
I know how to end this, how to overpower and distract him while I end this.
My hands move to his stomach, to the hard muscles, and I pull at his shirt, to bring him closer to me. His mouth is soft when it touches mine. I could kiss him and kiss him and kiss him and never get my fill. I push him back to the bed. I push at his shoulders and climb on top of his body. I take all of him, circling my hips over his. My hair falls down my back, wet and cold, and Landon’s hands move up to fondle my breasts. I take my time with him, slowly scratching my nails down his taut stomach as I move over him. He sighs, he pants, he says my name. I tell him that I can’t get enough of him and he agrees, pulling my body to his chest as he comes. I feel him shuddering in pleasure and I try not to cry.
What happened to me? Who is this weak woman crying over the body of a boy she’s too complicated to be loved by?
I lay my head on his chest and close my eyes before the tears can fall. I breathe in and out, hoping he doesn’t recognize my emotions.
When he falls asleep, I gather my clothes and leave him in the quiet of Brooklyn.
• • •