40
WE DECIDED TO splurge on a hostel that night. It sounded like a better idea than sleeping on a park bench, though we would’ve had plenty of interesting company had we gone that route.
The Grand Street Hostel was on the edge of Little Italy, where it bleeds into Chinatown, and it looked decent enough from the outside. There were a couple of backpacker types smoking out front, and the guy at the desk was friendly in a stoned sort of way.
But Robinson and I quickly learned that the difference between a hostel and a hotel goes way, way beyond the minor distinction in spelling. When the s is added, you subtract things like privacy, comfort, and in this case, ceilings. The hostel was a maze of tiny, thin-walled cells, sloppily constructed inside an enormous hangarlike room.
“It’s a bit more prison-y than I might have expected,” Robinson said.
“No kidding,” I agreed, stepping over a lone boot in the hall. “I feel like we should have gotten fingerprinted.”
Luckily, we had our own room, with two single beds pushed right up against each other, and about six inches of floor space on either side.
“Well, the sheets look clean, at least,” Robinson said brightly. Then he gave me a quick kiss and headed down the hall to the bathroom.
I sat on the corner of the bed and looked up at the non-ceiling. I could hear one end of an unpleasant cell phone conversation from a nearby room. It’s not my fault you got kicked out, someone said. Everyone’s hated you for years.
I hummed a little, trying to give this person some privacy. The song was “Tangled Up in Blue,” but you wouldn’t know it, since I can’t carry a tune. I can’t play an instrument, either. “It’s okay,” Robinson used to assure me. “You’ll make me a great roadie someday.”
I hummed faster and plucked at the corner of the sheet. I realized I was nervous, but also excited. Robinson and I hadn’t been alone in a room together since LA, when we ever-so-chastely watched Puss in Boots. What would happen tonight, I wondered. How unchaste would we be?
This was another thing I definitely hadn’t planned for. It was a road I’d just have to feel my way along.
No pun intended.
When Robinson came in from the bathroom, his hair was wet and he smelled like Ivory. His shirt hung loosely on his shoulders, and he was wearing blue plaid boxers.
He placed his folded jeans on top of his backpack. The bed sighed as he sat down.
“Hi,” I half-whispered.
“Hi back,” he said softly. “Well. What do you want to do now?”
I knew the answer to that question, even if it kind of … scared me a little. I took a deep breath, willing myself to be brave.
I slipped my shirt over my head.
Robinson sucked in his breath. And then he gently swept the long waves of my hair away from the back of my neck and kissed me there. I shivered, goose bumps rising on my arms.
I could feel his breath, the impossible softness of his lips. I tilted my head back, and he ran a finger down my neck, stopping in the hollow of my clavicle for a moment before tracing each of my collarbones. He kissed along my shoulders, tickling me with the tiniest scratches of his unshaven chin.
We fell back against the bed, and above me, Robinson shrugged off his flannel. Then he bent his dark head down, and we were nothing but lips and tongues and teeth until we had to stop to catch our breath.
Then we lay there, our eyes locked in the half-light. Robinson was looking at me the way you’d look at something you’d lost a million years ago and never thought you’d find.
I gazed back at him in wonder, realizing how much of him there was still to discover: the scar on the inside of his palm, the blue veins in his wrist, the triangle of freckles on his chest, just to the left of his breastbone. These small, secret places. I wanted to know all of them.
But I didn’t know how far things would go tonight. I wanted to be slow—and I wanted to go fast.
Robinson cleared his throat. “Do you—?” he began.
“I don’t have any protection, if that’s what you were going to ask.” My voice came out too loud, and I shrank back against him in embarrassment.
He made a noise—a grunt? A half-laugh?
“I don’t want to have kids,” I blurted.
Then he really did laugh. “Whoa, Axi. Moving a little fast, are we?”
I pulled the blanket up over my face. This was all so new to me. Could I help it if I was doing it wrong?
But still, there was something I wanted him to know. I forced myself to keep talking, though part of me was ready to die of humiliation. “I didn’t think we were about to make a baby, Robinson. I meant it as a philosophical thing. Between the Moore family cancer genes and, like, global warming, any kid of mine would be doomed. She’d be born with blue eyes and a ticking time bomb inside her, just like the rest of my family. Talk about getting dealt a shitty hand of cards.” I tried not to sound as bitter as I felt.
Robinson was slowly stroking my fingers. “The blue eyes are so nice, though,” he said quietly.
I smiled and placed my hand on his smooth chest. His arm was tucked under my neck, and as we lay there, it felt like we were extensions of each other. Like our bodies and our hearts had to be together to make one whole, perfect person.