Page 4 of Use Me Up

I’ve never been kissed like that in my life. My heart is beating out of rhythm, and my pajamas are wet from where his rain-soaked clothes have pressed into me. I feel damp and overly warm and excited and unsure.

I can’t quite make sense of whatever it is I’ve just agreed to.

Part of me is certain that the next thing he will do is simply walk out of my apartment, leaving the door wide open, and I’ll be left here, panting against the wall while the sounds of thunder echo against my ears, all alone.

But he simply stands there, looking down at me, and he seems uncertain as well.

Time passes, moments of silence that stretch out between us. I can hear my own heart beating. I can hear my sharp intakes of breath.

I begin to become aware that I should probably say something, because this is some kind of awkward silence and I should fill it, but I can’t think of what I should say. I wonder if I should offer him tea again.

He lets out a shaky breath. He backs up and runs a hand through his wet curls. “Fuck am I doing,” he breathes, to himself, I think.

Okay, so now, this is when he leaves.

I wait.

He takes the towel that I gave him from around his neck and holds it in front of himself. He tugs it tight between his fists, and I see the tendons tightening in his forearms and I’m aware of the sheer physical reality of him, right here, right in front of me.

He kissed me.

He looks up at the open door to my bedroom. He looks back at me. “Uh, it’s dark in there. That’s probably good.”

Shit. That hurts. Maybe it shouldn’t. I know what I look like and I know what he looks like, and someone like him doesn’t actually find me attractive.

But he must see something on my face, because he says, “Not because of you. You’re fine. You’re just not her. And I thought maybe I could think about her while I…” He grimaces, tugging the towel tight again. Then he loosens his grip. His voice is softer now. “Go in there, take everything off, and lie down.” A pause. “Unless you don’t want to. I’m not going to force you or anything.”

I don’t think I can stand up. I concentrate on trying to do that, not on whether or not I’m going to go and lie down in the dark so that he can do whatever he’s going to do to me while thinking about my brother’s wife. I have shreds of self-respect, and I don’t want my first time to be like that.

I manage to move away from the wall, to stand on my own shaking feet.

Who am I kidding? When it comes to him, I have zero self-respect. I don’t care. And it’s not as if I’m saving myself for someone else, for something else, for…

I go into the bedroom.

I turn as I get to my bed and see him out there. The light from the living room illuminates him from behind, and he is only a shadow, a beautiful silhouette of a man.

There’s a moment, both of us still, facing each other.

Then, I start to peel my pajama shirt over my head, and he turns his back on me.

That hurts, too, but I don’t stop. I take everything off, and I think belatedly about how I don’t, um, haven’t really… groomed…

I know about doing that, but it’s always seemed stupid and too much effort, and I feel hotly embarrassed as I climb into my bed and lie there. Not only does my face feel hot, my whole body feels hot, every bare part of me. I make another noise that sounds like a moan, an agonized moan. I should tell him not to.

He staggers into the room. “You should tell me not to.” His voice isn’t strong.

I’m lying on my back, totally naked, my hands at my sides. I clench them into fists, searching for my voice.

“This isn’t the way it should be, not your first time.” His voice is husky. He takes off his shirt, but it’s dark, and I can’t see much except glimmers of his bare chest. Anyway, I’ve seen him without a shirt before. He steps up to the foot of the bed, and he looks down at me, and I wonder what of me he can see.

I think about my terribly sloppy pubic hair and I want to die.

“Hannah.” His voice is guttural. “Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to stop?”

I shiver, but maybe because I’m cold, even though my whole body feels hot. “No,” I whisper.

He sucks in a noisy breath, and he pulls something out of his pocket. I see it glimmering in the light from the hallway. It’s a condom.