“I’ll do anything. If you were mine, I’d doany-fucking-thingto make it all better. If you let me put it in, I’ll do anything to make it all okay.”
The guttural need slashing his face takes my breath away.
It makes me grab onto his wrist and whisper, “Will you…”
He goes all alert when I chicken out from actually saying the words. “Will I what?”
I swallow, dig my nails into his wrist, blush something crazy.
He notices it, the flush on my cheeks, and his eyes go all… liquid again.
All shiny and tender.
And he whispers, “What is it, baby?”
God, what is hedoing?
I’m not his baby. I’m not his anything.
I’m not…
And yet, I ask, “Will you wear a condom?”
I don’t know why I asked that. Why it entered my brain.
But it did.
As if all of this is actually happening. As if this is real.
It isn’t.
It’s all make-believe. It’s all his imagination.
He swallows. “You want that? You want me to wear a rubber.”
“Yes.” I nod, my heart pounding inside my chest. “You have to. I’m not… I’m not on the pill and…”
“And what?”
“Y-you’ve been with… other girls.”
There it is. That’s why.
That is why it entered my brain.
Because of other girls. Because of his… escapades, as he put it.
And God, I’m jealous.
I’m so so jealous.
I’m burning with jealousy. Like I was that night.
When he talked about those St. Mary’s girls, even though that was all make-believe too.
Staring into my eyes with his penetrating gaze, he says, “I’m clean. We get tested. For the team.”
“Okay.”