Annie looks up at me with a laugh caught in her throat, but she suppresses it¸ lets it out lower than a whisper. We just rocked the bed and are gearing up for round two. Although I didn’t take her all the way, I’m determined to change that. I know it’s harder for girls. I know it’s near impossible on the first try, but I want Annie to have that. My ego was hoping to gift it to her on the first go around.

I pull my phone off the nightstand. Would you let me hear your voice? There I asked. I’ve wanted to ask for some time, but she’s careful not to use it, so I figure it might be a sore subject. My weak Internet research on the subject of signing brought me to some interesting YouTube videos, some of which addressed the topic of speaking. It’s more than touchy. Some people felt it was too painful to even try in fear of others judging them. I need Annie to know I’d never judge her, never think less of her if she had a difficult time with it. I just want to hear the sound of her beautiful voice and drink it down. Just once would suffice. Now that would be music, any word my favorite song.

Annie bites down on her lower lip and shakes her head. That smile I put on her face never leaves.

“Why not?”

She curls into me wrapping her arms and legs around me, shivering. I reach for a blanket and toss it over us, tucking the edges into her back.

I roll over a bit into the stream of moonlight so she can see my mouth clearly.

“I bet you sound beautiful.” Hell, I know she does.

Annie reaches for my phone. I sound like a cross between a ninety-year-old woman and a goat.

A dull laugh trembles through me. “What makes you think that?”

Her brows rise as if she’s about to make a point. I went to a regular school when I was younger (up until 3^rd grade). My parents thought integration would be best. I was in special ed with an interpreter. I talked all the time.

I give her a thumbs up. She takes the phone back before continuing.

The kids would tease me. I remember a girl telling me those exact things (the old lady, the goat). I suspected they were true. My brothers wouldn’t tell me if they were or weren’t. They said I talked like a pro. I’ve had a ton of speech therapy. My therapist says I’m okay at it, that I should speak whenever I like, but that girl is still in the back of my mind. I guess out of all the people in my life, it was her I chose to believe.

A heavy sadness covers me as I take the phone. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I wish I were there for you. I would have protected you. We could have been best friends. My fingers comb through her hair.

Annie giggles softly. Annie is a work of art. I trace her tiny nose, her well-defined lips that bloom out on the sides like wings, her eyebrows that hitch up at the corners and give the world the impression she’s constantly amused. I touch my finger over her tiny ears and silently beg them to open for her.

Annie texts back. We could have done all kinds of inappropriate things together. She grimaces and types something else in quick. Not that this was inappropriate. *foot in mouth* This was beautiful.

“It was beautiful.” My lips find hers and stay there for a while before she pulls back and smiles at me. “You’re beautiful.” I touch my fingers to her lips. I wish she could hear me say those words.

She types into my phone again. In a few weeks there’s an oral exam in my Digital Studios class. It’s just a presentation.

“Annie—are you going to do it? You should.” I bear into her, pleading.

I’m afraid.

Afraid. I let the word swill around my mind for a minute. I didn’t fear much until I lost my brother. It takes losing something that’s vital to your life to put you in that position to begin with.

I borrow the phone from her. You said you’d help me hop back on a bike. You do this, and I’ll take you for a ride after. In fact, I’ll come and stand by the door. Cheer you on. I’ll be your biggest supporter.

I’d like that. She cringes a little before taking the phone back. The idea of speaking to a room full of my peers is hard enough, but with you there, I’ll be that much more self-conscious. Something in her loosens. I’ll do it.

“Yes.” I pull her in and hold her a good long while before responding. I’m so proud of you, Annie. I know you’re going to kill it.

A quiet laugh drifts from her. It will be the shortest speech known to man. Thank you by the way.

I hold my hand out and shrug as if to say for what?

For being there for me unconditionally. And…for what we’re about to do next.

I offer a tight squeeze, subtracting any space between us before reaching for the phone.

You can thank me when it’s over. I pull the blanket back just enough and glide my hand up and down her body. “Because it’s far from over.” I pause a second looking at her before typing in one last message. I want you to know that I hate the idea of anyone being cruel to you, Annie. I may not have been there in the past, but I’m here now and I’ll do whatever I can to keep that from happening. A part of me wants to add that I know about the girl who tripped her, the same one that smothered my face in her tits tonight. I want to tell her that she shouldn’t let her brothers treat her like a second-class citizen, but I don’t want to drag any of those people into this bed with us. Instead I land my lips onto hers and move over her like a love song. I race my tongue down her neck, down her chest and lap over her perfect nipples. I float down to her belly button, dropping off a kiss before diving down to my final destination. My mouth settles over her wet slick, and I love her right there, love the fact she’s writhing beneath me, love the way she’s tugging the shit out of my hair. I tongue Annie for hours but can’t seem to bring it home for her. Annie pulls me up, laughing with a hint of sadness at the same time.

“It’s me,” she whispers. “My body is silly.”

“We’ll get you there.” Eventually. I feel terrible that I wasn’t able to do that for her.

A dull grin rides up my cheek as I pull her moist chest to mine.

Practice makes perfect. And I intend to practice a hell of a lot.

---

Annie and I make love well into the morning. I make sure my lips become acquainted with every nook and crook that her body has to offer, and Annie returns the favor. Annie tastes like powdered sugar, soft and buttery, sweet as Christmas morning. I don’t see how she can ever leave my bed again. All kinds of crazy thoughts sail through my mind, like the fact I can drive her to Whitney so she never has to go back to her dorm again. A dull smile comes and goes. I’m sure her brothers will love that idea. My arms float over her waist, and I pull her in from behind. My hard-on is already ripe to greet her. I try to fall back asleep, but the sun sizzles over my lids and demands I stay the hell up. I keep meaning to find a damn curtain for that window.

Annie groans, and I hear it, her beautiful voice strumming through her vocal cords. I kiss her cheek softly as she rolls into me.

“Morning,” she whispers. Her eyes are half opened. Her hair is rumpled, her makeup smudged just enough, and she takes my breath away. Annie is sheer perfection 24/7, and this, right here, just proves my point.

“Good morning, beautiful.” I kiss her temple. I’m not sure if she saw my lips, but I couldn’t help myself. “Don’t move.” I reach over, grab a condom and roll it on. I push in from behind nice and slow. I’m sure she’s sore as hell from last night. Annie tucks her hips into my stomach, and I go for it. My hands cup her chest, and Annie and I say good morning with our bodies in the best way possible. Every now and again she gives a moan like a dove being released from a box trap. I’m still waiting for something tangible like my name, an entire sentence just for my ears only. I’d take a fuck off at this point. Anything would be a gift. I reach around and try to bring her there with me, but Annie’s body isn’t having it. I’m starting to feel greedy coming on queue, and here she is just along for the ride.

“Want to hit the shower?” I nod to the bathroom as my hand glides over the curve of her hip.

“With you?” she mouths.

“Yes, with me. But if you’d rather go at it alone, I totally get it.”

She shakes her head. “Let’s go.” She gives it in a heated whisper.

We head on in, and I get the water going, pulling Annie’s naked body to mine once the temperature is nice and warm.

“You should never wear clothes.”

“You should never wear clothes,” she whispers. I’m beginning to admire her tenacity in refusing to use her voice box.

“We’ll cause a scene wherever we go,” I mouth.

“We should always cause a scene,” she whispers, pulling me into the heated stream. I watch as she bends her head back and slicks her hair to her skull. Water trails off her creamy skin. It beads off her supple and alive. Each bead its own magical universe with Annie as the nexus, the giant sun in this watery solar system. I can’t look away.

I’ve showered with girls. Hell, I’ve done most everything with girls, but everything with Annie is like the first time. This feels new. This feels beautifully raw and amazing. Water melts over her skin, her lips, her face and I kiss her wet mouth, dip my fingers back inside the warmth of her body where they’ve found their new home. I try again to bring her to the next step this time with my hand, but after a while Annie gently pushes me away with a mournful smile. I get it. I’m not bringing her closer to a climax, I’m just making her sore. Crap. I need to fix this. My ego can only take so much. I’d take back every orgasm I’ve ever gifted any other girl just to give one to Annie.

We finish up and dry off. Annie tosses on my T-shirt, and I love the way it clings to her damp skin. Just when I think she couldn’t get any hotter, Annie Edwards proves me wrong.

She flashes her phone at me. I’ll make you breakfast, under one condition.

“As long as you’re cooking—anything.” I mouth the words slowly. It seems unfair that she has to go the extra mile to communicate with me, and all I have to do is measure my words out a little slower.

You stay naked. She bites down on her lip mischievously.

A wicked laugh drums through me. “Done.” And how did I meet the perfect girl again? Who knew it was going to be a blessing and not a curse the day I went to Whitney Briggs to inform my counselor that I needed to drop my classes.

Annie is the blessing, and Olivia is the curse.

Now there’s something to chew on.

And I’ve yet to tell one about the other.