Then

Carys ~ 15 years old

LYING ON MY STOMACH, I fruitlessly attempt to block out my misery. I want to support him, I truly do, and he needs to do this, but I’m devastated.

His palm gently rests on my lower back, his warmth seeping into me, and my eyes flutter closed. I’m going to miss this, his touch, his nearness. I better start getting used to missing him.

On my next inhale, I twirl and leap from the bed, spinning on my heel to face him.

“What do you want?” My anger at the unfairness of it all is irrational and the last thing he needs, but I can’t seem to help it.

“To talk.”

“I think you said more than enough at dinner.” I turn in the direction of the door.

He latches onto my arm before I even clear the bed, pulling me into his torso.

“I’m going to talk, then. I leave tomorrow and I’ve got something to say.” His voice is low, yet loaded with authority.

“Not my problem.” I scowl like the teenager I am.

“Get dressed,” he orders. “Put on pants, we’re going for a ride.”

“Earth to Evan, not sure if this whole joining the Army thing is messing with your mind, because in case you forgot, you don’t have a car. So I don’t know where you think we’re riding to because I’m not hopping on the subway at this time of night.” My voice is snarky and unattractive.

“We’re going on my bike.” My eyes widen in astonishment. “You’ve got ten minutes to get out of that sexy-as-fuck dress and get your ass outside in the alley.”

“A bike? Sexy?” I blurt out incoherently.

Evan reaches the door and turns to face me. “Sweetness, you could wear a brown paper bag and you’d be sexy. Ten minutes, and Sweetness…” He pauses, making sure my eyes are on him. “Don’t make me have to come upstairs to get you. You’ll regret it.”

As he shuts the door, I gaze at my full-length mirror. I want to see what he sees. My hair’s piled high in a messy bun, my dress is wrinkled, my cheeks are flushed, my eyes glassy and lips red. I look disheveled, not sexy.

The boy’s on crack, but I don’t care. He thinks I’m sexy. A wave of excitement surges through me, but it’s quickly doused by the reminder that he leaves tomorrow. Anger steamrolls my joy. I’m almost tempted to disobey, to see how empty his threat is, but I want to go for a ride.

As quickly as possible, I’m outside in the alley in skinny black jeans and a long-sleeved white linen tunic. Evan’s backing out his striking motorcycle, his helmet already on. The air is thick with heat and humidity and the night sky is black, no stars visible with the city lights.

He marches over to me with an extra helmet in hand and gingerly places it on my head, tucking a few stray strands of hair into the sides. My head feels heavier, but it fits perfectly. His fingers brush my neck, sending a shiver down my spine as he secures the clasp.

“Smart thinking, an extra helmet for all your girlfriends,” I say, even though we’ve been seeing each other exclusively for the past year.

He’s my boyfriend, and he’s never had sex. He’s told me he’s waiting for me. He says there’s no one else but me, but what does that even mean, with him leaving? My ire is alive and well, despite my high at being mere moments away from mounting the beast in front of us.

“This is your helmet. No other girls are getting on this bike with me but you.” His voice is firm.

It’s silly and not surprising, but I needed to hear that. I needed to know that even though he’s going, I’m still the one. He takes my hand and leads me to the bike. Hopping on, he pats the space behind him and I straddle it, scooting as close to him as possible.

I dangle my arms at my sides and Evan wraps them tightly around his hard abdomen. My chest is plastered to his broad back and the closeness makes me quiver. Before I can catch my breath, he taps my thigh, signaling the start of the ride.

I hang on for dear life as the wind assaults us while we bob and weave through the city toward the quieter roads. The lights and sounds are a tilt-a-whirl zipping by me.

Goose bumps bloom along my skin and my belly rockets with the roar of the engine rapidly climbing in speed. Tightening my hold, my fingers curl, digging into the steel ridges of his stomach. My breasts are heavy, on fire with the delicious friction caused by rubbing against him.

I’m drowning in the pulsing of this beastly machine between my legs and his hard body tight along mine. His spicy, masculine scent only intensifies the indescribable ache building within me, crawling from my core to my chest, searching, screaming for something.

It’s insatiable. Uncomfortable. Almost unbearable. I cling to him, resting my helmeted head on his back and briefly closing my eyes to get a grip. My senses are on overload, but I don’t want to miss a thing.

His strong, steady heartbeat can barely be heard over the mighty engine and whipping wind, but its rhythm echoes within me. I don’t think I’ll ever be closer to Evan, and I’m loving every single overwhelming second of it.

Lifting my head at the cessation of the hypnotic humming of the engine, I see we’re back in the alley back behind the bar. I glance down at my watch, realizing we’ve been gone for two hours—the shortest but most exhilarating two hours of my life.

Helping me off the bike, he unclasps and removes my helmet. I stand in the alley finger-combing my unkempt hair while he puts the bike away. The ride was awesome. I’m lighter and less angry, although we haven’t talked.

There’s nothing to say. I want to be supportive, but if I’m being honest, I don’t want him to go. I can’t imagine what he has to say. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing to help me come to terms with this. He’s leaving me.

“That was amazing!”

Evan strides to stand directly in front of me. The tips of our shoes touch as the street light illuminates his handsome features, his deep, expressive eyes twinkling and the scruff along his jaw making him rugged and wild. His eyebrows lift as he grins, accentuating his delicious dimples.

“Yeah, it was.”

“When did you get the bike?” I try to hide my disappointment at not knowing about that, too. Seems like he has a lot of things I don’t know about.

“I got it for my birthday using some of the insurance money.”

“Your birthday’s in April and it’s August, that makes no sense.”

He chuckles. “You remember, for my 18th birthday, Ma gave me some of my inheritance? I used some of it for the bike. It’s one of the few things I’ve always wanted. I was determined to get it before I left.” His tone is smooth, heavy, and promising—promising what, I’m not sure.

I nod, knowing he has always wanted a bike. With a one track mind, I switch the conversation to what I really want to know.

“What time do you leave tomorrow?” I inhale, preparing for the answer but knowing I won’t ever be truly ready.

“Early,” he whispers.

Biting my bottom lip to stifle my displeasure, I steel myself for the days to come without him.

“Evan, why are you leaving me?” I whimper, sadness spilling out with my words.

I’ve already asked him, but can’t seem to come to terms with it. Normally I’d be more considerate, try to hide my hurt from him, but I’m lashing out at the unfairness of it all. We’ve run out of time, all because of him. He never gave us a chance.

“I’m not leaving you. Never.” He advances, and I match him step for step in the opposite direction until my back hits the brick wall.

His hands rest on either side of my head, his body now pressing into me. His proximity sucks all the air from my lungs, and a whoosh flies through my belly, causing me to shiver.

“You cold?” His warm hands rub along my upper arms.

I shake my head as words elude me; having him near is like a dream and a nightmare. I want all of him, but he’s been taking his time with me, never going too far, and now, will we ever get a chance?

He hasn’t even left, yet his absence is a wide chasm where my chest used to be. Raw. Agonizing. Dark.

Softly, he peppers kisses along my jaw before his mouth covers mine. Fastening my hands onto his waist, I draw him in until we’re glued together.

His tongue fills my mouth; we’re thoroughly tasting each other. I bestow every bit of my love, longing, and desire into our kiss. Not knowing when or if there will be a next one is what keeps me lost in him.

A growl emerges from his lips as his hands bunch my hair, holding my head in place. Breaking our kiss, he peers down at me, his unruly dark locks falling into his eyes. I tenderly brush his hair to the side. Cupping my face, his thumb softly glides over the apples of my cheeks.

While we’ve only just begun, have only been truly together for a year, it feels like the end. I struggle to keep my emotions under wraps, to keep the water brimming in my eyes from spilling. My mind is whirling with a myriad of questions and regrets. I’m not only mourning the loss of tomorrow, but also of yesterday.

“Sweetness.” Evan calmly and quietly takes me in his arms, holding me tight to his body, and I can’t help but collapse into his embrace. I love him so much. Even when I’m upset with him, I can’t resist him.

“I’m sorry about this, I really am. I love you,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head.

“No, don’t apologize for leaving. You need to do this and I support it, but know this: when you get back—and you will come back—you and me?” I motion my finger between the two of us. “We are on!”

His chuckle vibrates in my chest, weakening my knees and sending a spiraling need through my belly. These sensations are thrilling and devastating because I don’t know what to do with them. I want him so badly, but he refuses to go all the way with me.

“Hell yeah.” His low rumbling words are still on his lips as they land on mine. It’s a chaste kiss, but no less sweet or wanting. “You bet your ass we’re on when I get back. It’s a date for the rest of our lives. Know this: loving you is never a conscious choice. It just is, always. I can’t recall a time when I didn’t love you, when you weren’t my everything.” He kisses me again. “But Sweetness, you must promise me something.” His voice is now serious, the weight of his gaze on me.

“What?”

“While I’m gone, you live your life. I’m not encouraging dating, but if you want to, date. I don’t want you waiting, biding your time until I come back.”

“You’re fine if I date?” My incredulity is clear in my voice.

“I’m not wild about it, but I’m not going to be a dick and say you can’t.”

“Wait a sec, you’re fine with me dating, kissing, making out and having sex with other guys?” My voice is no longer calm.

“No,” he grinds out. “That’s not what I said. I’m not fine with fucking any of it, but I’m not going to shackle you to me before I’m back here in front of you ready to start our life together.”

Folding my arms, I seethe. I don’t know what to do with these emotions. I’m not one to be told what to do, but I find myself wanting him to tell me now.

“What about you?” I ask, abhorring the possibility.

“What about me?”

“You’ll be whoring around?”

It’s a low blow. He’s never been with anyone but me. Anyway, he’s going into the Army, not a sorority house. Even still, a silly part of me can’t leave our separation or anything about it to doubt or uncertainty. I need to know what this distance means.

“Sweetness.” His voice is low and sharp. “I don’t fucking whore around. There’s only one girl I want to be with,” he says. His heated glare and his flaring nostrils convey just how serious and truthful he is.

“Okay,” I reply, my heart soaring at his words. “I won’t be with anyone either.”

“Let’s go to bed. It’s late.”

With a tight jaw and his lips in a firm line, he takes my hand, leading me back up to our apartment.

He kisses my forehead before leaving me to get ready for bed, but he doesn’t leave the room. He goes into my bathroom. My heart’s hammering in my chest when I realize he intends to sleep with me. Is this it? Finally? He comes out in only his boxers. Holy shit! Is he going to sleep with me or sleep with me?

I’m already under the covers in my tank top and shorts when he scoots in behind me, pulling me close to his warm, bare chest. His arm’s snug around my middle and the feather-light flick of his fingers brushes my hair out of the way as his lips kiss the curve of my neck.

“We’re just going to sleep,” he whispers in my ear. “I want something to remember when my sorry ass is in some war-torn country halfway around the world.”

“I want more than sleep,” I whisper back, flipping to face him.

Evan’s finger traces my brow, then my cheekbone, before he responds. “I know this may not make any sense and it may seem cruel, but Sweetness, we can’t have sex tonight. I can’t have you, then leave you — not your first time, our first time.” His voice is pained but loving.

I love and hate what he’s saying. Why does he always have to do the right thing, be the good guy? Sometimes I wish he’d be selfish and take me. Over the past year, there have been some serious make-out sessions and we’ve even made it to third base, but no matter how much I whine, beg, or tease, he’s never given in on sex. He wants to wait until I’m a bit older. It’s fucking frustrating and sweet.

Now that he’s leaving and we have no idea what our future holds, I want to scream and demand he fuck me, but he won’t. Instead, I do as he asks.

“Okay, but I hate it. I want to have sex with you. So, since I’m doing you a solid, you have to do one for me.”

He laughs, the rumbling in his chest echoing in mine. “Always the negotiator,” he quips. “Shoot. What do I have to do for you?”

“I don’t want to sleep. We’ve only got hours before you go, and I want to spend them awake with you…” My voice trails off, not wanting to think about what comes after he’s gone, the emptiness that will set in.

Pulling me closer, he kisses my forehead. “That I can do,” he answers against my flesh, his hot breath sending shivers throughout my body. “I’ve got an idea of how we can pass the time.” His voice is suggestive and smooth.

Biting on my bottom lip, I fight to keep my smile in check while his hands roam my body. His intense stare peppers my skin with goose bumps, and the gleam in his eyes sweetens the prospect of what’s next.

“Give me your lips,” he murmurs, drawing me closer with his hand cupping the back of my neck.

With every intake of air, my small, sensitive breasts rub against his solid chest, pleasurably teasing me, hardening my nipples. Like he’s lit a match, my body burns to a bright fire, sizzling and crackling with an ache I can’t describe.

I have a want so deep and urgent, yet I’m not even sure of what I need. I’ve got Evan in my arms, but it doesn’t seem to be enough.

My desire for him is mirrored in his heated stare, every pleasurable touch, every languid kiss. Without words, he shows me how much I mean to him.

We kiss, long and slow, frenzied and hard, petting and exploring each other like we’re the only two people in the world, and we talk. We talk about so many things, things we’ve mentioned before, like me going to Columbia to get my business degree and dreams we can’t wait to fulfill, like getting married and starting a family together.

We make out, hot and heavy, sweet and loving. Arms and legs tangled and awkward, clumsy and exhilarating. I love every second of it and wish I could suspend us in this moment forever.

The night is quiet and goes by too quickly. After losing ourselves in each other, I lie spent, mindless, and blissful in his arms.

“I want you to know that when you’re gone, don’t think you’re alone, ever,” I say. “Even out there, doing whatever you’re going to be doing, you’re not alone. I’m with you, following you into the dark.”

His dimples pop as his lips curl into a smile at what I’ve said to him many times over the years. I’ll always follow him, no matter what.

Like a feather, his lips tickle mine and he murmurs, “And you won’t be alone either. I’ll follow you into the dark.”

“Evan, I love you.”

“Sweetness, I love you, too.”

In the early hours of the morning, I blink, surprised I fell asleep. I tried hard not to, wanting to be awake when Evan left, but I failed. It’s too late. In my twin bed, the chill of his departure is like the damp morning mist swirling around me, his absence already strong and aching. Gone is his arm around me and the warmth of his body encasing mine. Rolling over, I bury my head into his pillow, smelling his familiar scent, already missing him immensely. Love hurts so much.