Page 45 of Every Time We Touch

“Drive carefully, darling.”

I hang up and try to focus on the cars in front of me. On the hum of traffic around me. On anything but what my mother just said. Because I can’t tell her this. For the sake of my family, of my bond with them, I’m no longer sure I’m on my way to a relationship. I should be driving toward a breakup instead.

When Clancy opens the door to me, it’s a world away from how it went down last night. Instead of hungrily pulling me inside, she wraps me into a warm embrace. As though she wants to preempt what I might say.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers in my ear.

Her gladness is all over her face when she looks at me. She’s dressed in denim shorts and a tank top, both too tight and short for me to ever resist her. Her hair is up and her smile radiant. But the vibe is different, because we can’t just start kissing again. It’s not that I don’t want to, but we need to talk.

“I have to tell you something,” Clancy says, her face darkening, as though a cloud just appeared to block out the sun. “Come.” She takes my hand and leads me to the den, in which I spent zero time last night. We sit, our bodies angled toward each other, knees touching, like we can’t bear any more space between us. “Eric came to see me today.”

My heart drops. “What?”

“He, um, wanted to know if I might change my mind about me and him.”

Poor Dad. I shake my head. “Oh, no.” I don’t know what to say. My dad clearly still has feelings for Clancy. It’s not something you can just stop when someone breaks up with you. It’s even harder when someone just gave you the night of your life—and seems completely into you.

“I’m sorry,” Clancy says. “I thought you should know, in case it came up in conversation with your family. I don’t want to keep things from you that can affect you.”

“We can’t do this,” I say, but I can’t really mean it because I can’t even move my knee an inch away from hers. Like there’s an invisible thread holding us together. Like it would hurt too much—even more than hurting my family—if I pulled away. “My family’s already suspicious. We’re too close for me to keep a secret like this.”

“Fuck.” Clancy scoots backward, breaking contact. “I get it, but… the alternative seems even more impossible.”

“I know.”

Clancy reaches out her hand to me. “We don’t have to make the decision now. We can figure it out later.”

We can surely dream. I look at her hand, at those beautiful fingers. If I take it, it will be like saying yes to something I can, realistically, only say no to. As though unable to fully commit, but wanting to leave the door ajar, I brush my finger against hers.

“Tell me to stop,” Clancy says.

I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Not a word, not even a breath that could pass for one.

That invisible thread pulls tight, and I let it. I grab for her hand and cover it with mine. And even though it’s only our hands touching, it feels like so much more. How am I supposed to walk away from this?

“I can’t say it,” I whisper. Nor can I do the right thing. Because I know very well what’s right, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I’m too drawn to her. There’s too much possibility here. I feel, in every cell of my body, with a certainty I shouldn’t have, that this is not something you walk away from.

So I let my hand slide upward to her wrist. I circle my fingers around it and pull her close.

“What the fuck is this?” I ask.

“It’s something…” Clancy’s knee pushes against mine. Her other hand lands on my thigh. “Very real.” She finds my gaze. “And very mutual.”

And just like that, my brain is out of the equation once again. I lean in and kiss her with all the unchecked desire running through me. And it’s just another level of confirmation that this is not something I can choose to ignore. It’s too powerful. She’s stirred too much in me. The two of us together eclipses any sense of realism I may have left.

When we break from our kiss, there’s a smile on her face. I smile back because it’s the only thing my lips want to do when I’m with her—smile and kiss her. And I know very well what infatuation can do to a person. How it leaves your brain, basically, impaired and blind to the most serious consequences. How you develop tunnel vision and the hormones raging in your bloodstream make it so you can no longer see reason.

Ironically, I did a lot of research on the topic when I called myself self-partnered. And I found great pride in being able to resist this brain-altering state, this good-for-nothing condition that leaves you more a fool than a rational human being. But this, I can’t resist, nor give up. Not even Clancy telling me that my dad asked her for a second chance has the ability to stop me. I don’t consider myself a selfish person, but I only have my own interests at heart when I kiss her again. When I let her push me down into her sofa. When I let her slip on top of me, deepening our kiss.

“All I can think of is fucking you,” Clancy whispers in my ear. “I messed up so many steps today.” Her lips stretch into a smile against my cheek. “I think more punishment is in order.” My pussy clenches at the prospect—and the memory of last night.

“You can’t blame me for everything,” I say, while I inhale her divine scent, and luxuriate in the softness of her body all over mine.

“Says who?” Clancy sinks her teeth into my earlobe.

Infatuation is also silly conversations going nowhere and that incomparable sensation of melting into another person when she kisses you and then, always, wanting her over and over again.

I’m well and truly fucked already, I think, as Clancy and I make love again.