We spend Saturday morning and afternoon the same way we did last night. Lip locked and teasing each other. And it feels amazing! Nothing has ruined my mood. The little voice in my head isn’t telling me we’re probably going too fast, and my mind isn’t playing tricks on me. It’s just us here. Like it should be.
Unfortunately, Freddie comes into the room demanding Owen’s presence at a basketball game in the courtyard so we reluctantly stop sucking face and head into the kitchen to grab some food before we head downstairs.
Being held in Owen’s arms as he worshipped my mouth was better than any fantasy I ever had. Mary would be proud.
Owen kisses the side of my head and lets me know he has to grab something from his room.
I finish up my cup of tea and stand.
Freddie walks into the kitchen shirtless with black shorts on when I’m at the sink washing my dish. He leans on the counter beside me with a smile, his eyes never straying from mine. That’s one thing I like about him. He never makes me feel uncomfortable.
“Hey, uh, look I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t know you were here and I may have said some crude things when that girl came over.”
I turn off the faucet and turn toward him. “Did Owen tell you to apologize?”
He shrugs.
I shake my head at him playfully. “It’s okay. I just hope both of you had a fun night.”
Freddie stands up smirking. “Oh we sure did. Danielle even liked hearing your soft moans. I swear to God she wanted to go into Owen’s room to see what the fuck he was doing because you two were so quiet but she found it hot.”
My mouth drops open.
“Don’t worry, I made her focus on my dick so she wouldn’t go over there.”
“Thank you,” I say sarcastically.
He slaps my shoulder lightly and then starts to leave, throwing a grin at me over his shoulder. “Owen’s outside, you joining us?”
I look down at my navy blue tank top and Huskies sweatpants that I leave here for emergencies. With my hair up in a messy knot I deem myself good to go.
We head out of the apartment together. Owen is leaning against a wall in the hallway near the elevators only in gray shorts.
I never watched him play a full game. I always had my nose stuck in a book while him and his friends ran around the court grunting and swearing. Their sweaty bodies rubbing up against each other trying to steal the ball from one another wasn’t my kind of thing but today I have no book with me.
I plan on watching him play.
I plan on working up the nerve to kiss him all night and try to actually touch him without clothes getting in the way.
When I reach Owen, I slip my hand in his and I feel my body relax. It’s like staying in on a cold winter day with a steaming cup of tea in your hands, doing nothing besides staying in bed.
I want to continue feeling that when I’m with him.
Freddie hits the call button and we get into the elevator when the doors open. We stop on the third floor and a group of guys get on. Two of them nod a hello, and one of them fist bumps Freddie before all of them whip out their phones and find something to do.
It gets a little cramped but the air feels stuffier when I feel eyes on me the second the doors close and we descend to the lobby.
I look up, catching a pudgy guy leaning against the elevator wall leering at my chest. I look away quickly, wanting to cross my arms over my chest but that would just add more attention to my boobs.
Owen snakes his hand out and grabs onto my hip, pushing me behind him so he blocks me from being ogled.
I know he wants to say something but he won’t because we’re in such a confined place and I could get hurt if one comment turns badly and all hell breaks loose. We’ve seen too many fights happen on campus over the smallest things. Owen would never willingly put me in harms way.
We reach the lobby and we wait for the group of guys to leave. When it’s all clear, Owen searches for my hand and we head out. His eyes follow the guy leave the building as we head in the opposite direction toward the courtyard.
I see the way his jaw clenches and the way his eyes narrow. I don’t want him to go after him. Owen does have a slight temper when it comes to guys looking at or touching me. Over the years I never let anyone touch me besides Owen. He’s caught onto that. At least the guy didn’t make a crude comment toward me. “Hey, after the game do you want to watch a movie with me?” I ask, trying to get him to focus on me. “Your choice.”
Owen’s eyes shift to me and I feel the anger slowly bubbling in his veins start to simmer when his shoulders become less rigid. “I have to finish an assignment and send it in before eight. After that I’m all yours.”
I lean forward on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “I can’t wait.”
Freddie walks in front of us, shoving the courtyard door open. He catches a basketball that appears in the blink of an eye. “Have to be faster than that, Cole!” He shouts, shooting the middle finger at someone. He glances back at us. “Try not to suck today, O. You need to impress the pretty lady.”
Owen flips him the bird.
I find a spot in the shade near the side of the building dead center of the basketball court. “I’ll be over there.”
“You won’t be bored?” he asks, shielding his eyes from the sun as he starts to walk backward.
I give him a deadpan expression. “I’m sure the group of good-looking men dribbling a basketball will keep me interested.”
He stops walking and quirks an eyebrow at me.
It makes me chuckle.
“Try not to suck,” I tease.
I know he’s pretty good at basketball. Freddie likes to screw with him because it gets him to play a little harder.
I take a seat on the cool ground and watch them get ready to play. Out of the ten guys on the court, seven are shirtless. They all start to blend together when they’re running past each other but Owen stands out. Maybe it’s because my eyes are only focused on him.
He moves effortlessly, calculating every step. Someone passes him the ball and when he’s running toward the basket, his eyes drift my way. I try not to distract him with a wave or something cheesy so I smile. I catch his eyes light up and it’s something I haven’t seen in awhile because I’m never looking hard enough.
He has the same look he did when we were five. He’s happy, and I let myself believe it’s because of what we’re doing.
My eyes follow him as he dunks the ball into the basket. I can’t help but stare at his body, sweat glistening everywhere as time goes by. He shouts a few commands, calling out someone for doing something wrong.
He wipes sweat off his forehead with his arm and I don’t know what comes over me in this moment but I can’t stop eyeing him.
Something hot flashes throughout my body, shooting right to my core. I raise my legs and squeeze them together but it doesn’t help the pressure that’s building between them.
Holy crap.
I don’t think I’ve ever been turned on by a sport.
But watching Owen play sure does it right now.
Maybe it’s because I’m finally letting myself be with him that my body is ready for more of what happened last night and this morning. It’s making up for lost time I guess.
My cheeks grow hot and I have to fan them every few seconds to try and keep myself in check.
I stay that way for another twenty-five minutes, the game officially ending with Owen’s team winning by seven.
Knowing that Owen has homework to do, we head back upstairs where he takes a quick shower while I spread out on his bed with my kindle in my hands. It doesn’t help that I read a couple of hot scenes between the main characters so I click my kindle off and turn onto my stomach, smothering my face in Owen’s pillow.
I breathe in his scent and groan.
How am I going to survive waiting while he does homework and we watch a movie?
Fresh out of the shower, he walks into the room. I sneak a tiny peek by lifting my head up from the pillow. His towel hangs low on his hips. I shouldn’t have looked.
I hear him fumbling around the room and then he’s on the bed, sitting up against the headboard with his laptop on his legs. “You okay?”
I nod, turning onto my back, my eyes on his hands as they type something up. The way his fingers move over the keyboard turn me on even more. Jesus, just inhaling his smell is getting to me.
“Owen?”
His fingers stop moving.
I look up at his lips longingly. “Do you think we can…fool around for a bit?”
His fingers still don’t move. His lips part and I watch his tongue dart out and someone help me I think I’m going to die. “Are you sure?” he asks, his lips curving into beautiful shapes as the words leave his mouth.
I nod.
He closes his laptop slowly and moves it onto the small table beside his bed. He doesn’t move, almost like he’s afraid he dreamt the words I spoke.
I’d be a little stunned if I were him too.
I prop myself up on my elbow and tilt my head back, grinning at him. His eyes are on my lips, which is a good sign.
I turn onto my side and stretch out so I can kiss him. The second our lips touch he shifts toward me, pulling me up higher so I fall onto him.
His hands are on my hips, squeezing with the right amount of pressure to get a small groan to vibrate out of me. His leg nudges its way in-between my legs and I shamelessly press down on it trying to create some friction.
“You can touch me,” I murmur, kissing his jaw.
One of his hands is now splayed out on my lower back and the other is still holding my hip. I blindly reach for that hand and drag it up my stomach, flicking my tank top out of the way so he feels how warm my skin is and so he knows I want him to touch me.
His fingers twitch when I leave them near my boobs. And then he finally moves them, cupping my right breast over my bra. His thumb glides over my nipple back and forth, back and forth.
My hand moves down between us, stopping over the bulge in his sweatpants. My breathing slows. I’m touching him.
“Zo,” Owen groans, moving his head down so he gets lost in my neck, sucking on the skin below my earlobe.
He pushes my bra cup down, palming and kneading my breast. His hips shift forward, pressing his length into my hand a little harder.
I’m about to pull the waistband of his pants down when he grabs my wrist and stops me. My eyes focus on his chest, confused. “If you touch me it’ll be over within a few seconds.”
A shy smile meets my lips and I nod, understanding. I flick my hand so he lets go and then I snatch his, guiding his hand onto my stomach. He seems to understand where I want him to go next because his fingers glide down my body slowly.
Keep going…
His hand slips under my sweatpants and my underwear.
My eyes flutter closed and I tilt my head back when his fingers finally touch me.
Owen uses his chest to gently push me down until I’m lying on my back, my legs falling open wider for him.
Everything is going perfect until I feel more of his weight on me, and his breath hits my ear. His fingers slide into me while his lips kiss his way back to my mouth but it doesn’t feel like him anymore.
I feel like I’m trapped, begging for this to stop because it hurts. I’m not with Owen anymore, I’m transported back to when I was seven and I first felt a man’s hand up my legs.
“How does this feel, baby girl?”
“It hurts. I don’t want to do this,” I cry.
“It’ll feel good, just relax. Be a good girl for me, okay.”
My eyes snap open and I freeze. Jesus, not right now. Please not right now. It’s just us in this room. Owen is not pinning you down. It’s his hand between your legs. It’s just you and him.
He’s not doing anything bad to me, he’s not even fully on me. He’s holding himself up on his arm while the other is down my pants but my mind is already twisting things.
I’m not ready…I thought…why can’t he touch me?!
“Stop,” I choke out.
Owen stops touching me. He pulls back to look at me and I wish he hadn’t done that because all I see is his eyes, and I feel his weight on me, and he’s not him anymore.
No…
“Zoë?”
My breaths become ragged and I shove Owen back, sitting up quickly. I cover my face with my hands and I want to scream and cry. Why is this happening? Today was perfect. Why is that monster always ruining every good thing?
“Zo, did I do something?” When he touches me, I flinch.
It was too fast. You weren’t ready, Zoë.
Maybe I have to touch him first?
Jesus Christ, maybe I have to touch myself first.
I’ve never gotten off on my own. It felt too dirty to even think about touching myself when Michael invades my thoughts at night so I stayed clear of it. I thought having Owen touch me would be different. I was wrong.
I’m so fucked.
“I’m sorry, I have to go.” I adjust my tank top and sweatpants when I jump off of the bed. I’m a walking disaster as I grab my things, never once looking at my best friend as he continues to follow me, wanting to know what happened.
We’re powerwalking toward the elevator when I finally have to face him because the doors don’t open immediately. “Jesus, Zo, you’re shaking. Talk to me.”
“I-I thought I was ready,” I stutter, my eyes finding his briefly. “I wasn’t.”
The elevator doors open and I slip inside, hitting the lobby button repeatedly. Owen stays outside, watching me.
Before the doors close I mutter a weak, “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry I can’t be with you because I see your dead father when you touch me.
Echo notices something is different with me when I pick her up from the airport Sunday night. She’s turned toward me, her eyes glued to the side of my head so I feel pressured to look at her after I merge onto I-5.
“You two had sex, didn’t you?” She starts slapping my arm in excitement. “Zoë, tell me everything! He’s huge, right?! I wouldn’t lie about that. By the gleam in your eyes, you enjoyed it.”
“We didn’t have sex,” I divulge.
Her slaps stop and she deflates in her seat. “Why not?” she asks, heartbroken. “When you said…I thought…who spends the entire weekend with that sexy man and doesn’t fuck him?”
“Clearly me.”
Her mouth opens and closes twice before she shakes her head. “Sweets, I have to ask you something, and I’m not judging you at all.” Echo bites her lip and leans forward so she can look at me without me having to take my eyes off the road. “Are you a lesbian?”
“What? No. You know how I feel about Owen. We didn’t have sex, but we did make out Friday night. And yesterday.” Her eyes get wide so I try to talk before she explodes with feels. “We didn’t do anything else. I thought we could. I literally begged him to touch me but when he did…” I shake my head. “I freaked out and went home. I’ve been avoiding him all day.”
“Why did you freak out? You’re not a virgin, right?”
I squeeze my eyes shut briefly and then shake my head. I’m not. I lost the last bit of my innocence when I was fourteen.
“He was so gentle with me, Coco. He kept asking if I was sure that I wanted to do whatever we were doing.” I swing my gaze her way, fighting back tears. “I’ve never been with someone who cared so much about what I was feeling. Looking into his eyes while he…” I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, “I know he would never hurt me but for a split second, my mind tricked me into thinking he would.”
Echo blinks a few times. “I don’t understand. Why?”
“Coco, I…” What are you doing, Zoë? “I never told anyone except my therapist this but I…” A lump forms in my throat, trying to prevent me from saying the next few words. “I…”
I’ve kept it a secret for so long I don’t think the words will ever escape my lips.
Why would you dim her light by telling her this sickening story?
It’s the same reason why you were hesitant to tell your therapist. It’s too vile. You can’t tell this secret. You can’t.
She reaches out and pulls my hand off of the steering wheel, lacing her fingers through mine. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” She squeezes my hand once and I try to tell her but the words still won’t come out. “Something bad happened to you?” she asks softly.
I nod, not looking at her.
We’re quiet for a few seconds when she says, “I’m here for you, Zoë. Whenever you want to talk.”
When I look at her, her eyes are on her lap. She looks so sad, so heartbroken. I can’t imagine how she’d look if I said the truth.