Charlie
I shouldn’t have said it.
Why’d I say it?
Cards?
That song?
“Dreaming Alone.”
I never knew why I loved it so much until I stood in that motel room staring at Nixon and remembering how we lost our virginity together, in that tiny tent, in that amazing national park.
We spent ten days either hiking, dreaming or discovering the wonders of sex.
We didn’t go all the way that first night. Nixon had no protection, so instead we found different ways to reach climax. Talk about a heady rush. Nixon’s fingers were supernatural, his tongue a freaking wand of pleasure.
I’d kissed every inch of his skin, watched his face as my touch brought him to orgasm. It’d been a thing of beauty.
The next morning, we’d crawled into the sunlight and made it our mission to find condoms. I thought I’d be nervous and scared about actually going all the way, but experiencing it together like that somehow eased the pressure. We were figuring it out, like two partners in crime, laughing through that first awkward encounter where he came within twenty seconds, and then slowly learning and building until waking up beside each other led to hours of passion, then dozing, then more passion. We’d break for food—candy bars, usually. I remember licking chocolate off his lips. My giggles got sucked away by his hot kisses, and then we’d be naked again and trying out another position.
When we weren’t high on pleasure, we were hanging out—talking, dreaming, planning a future together.
Our excitement would lead to kisses and yes, more sex. It was a honeymoon of sorts, and I’d never experienced anything like it again.
I hadn’t slept with another man since Nixon.
I’d kissed a few but as soon as things got hot and heavy, I’d pull away. The thought of another man touching me in those intimate places just put me off.
My body belonged to Nixon Holloway. I couldn’t seem to give it to anyone else.
“Dreaming Alone” finished on a strong beat, jerking me out of my stupor.
I blinked and rubbed my forehead, struggling to breathe.
“You know, I just, um…realized I don’t have any cards. So…”
Nixon looked down at the faded bedspread and nodded. “We should probably have an early night anyway. There’s still a long way to go. I think I’ll just read, then go to sleep.”
I nodded. “Sure, yeah. I’ll just, um…” I indicated to the bathroom with my thumb.
“I’ll go find us some pizza.” Keeping his eyes down, he quietly walked out of the room while I zombie shuffled to the shower.
Closing the bathroom door, I pressed my forehead against the wood, shutting my eyes against the burning tears.
“What a waste,” I whispered. “It was such a waste.”
I’d wanted him for months. It hadn’t been love at first sight for me. But Nixon had grown on me faster than I expected. My serious crush started halfway through my junior year, and then came that awkward fear that I’d somehow screw things up if I let on.
So we kept playing a game of pretend, enjoying each other’s company and growing more in love as the days ticked by.
We spent every waking minute we could together.
His parents didn’t like me. I was a threat—unpredictable, too like Reagan for their fears to rest.
So we spent most of our free time hanging out at my place. My parents loved Nixon. Who wouldn’t?
We’d listen to music, play games, read beside each other…whatever.
Just be.
We were really good at just being together.
“Why Don’t You Love Me” filtered under the bathroom door.
I snickered and coughed out a cynical laugh. “Seriously?”
The music taunted me with another memory.
I used to lie on my bed, clutching a pillow to my chest and belting out those words, wishing Nixon would love me the way I loved him. Not even realizing that he did.
We’d wasted all of senior year.
And then that magical summer Nixon crossed a line…and it was perfect.
Until we got back to LA with our dreams firmly intact, only to have them torn to shreds by a father who knew I’d never be good enough for his son.