Blame Gravity

Chapter 31

We study, and then we pick up Maya from kindergarten. When we get home, we talk.

"So what's your favorite book?" I ask.

He sighs. "I don't know. There are too many." He slumps down on the bed and looks at the ceiling. "I guess if I had to choose, I'd say Dune." 

I let out a laugh, and he looks at me, smiling with a slightly questioning look. 

"What?"

"Nothing, just... It makes sense."

He nods hesitantly and looks back at the ceiling. "What about you?"

I sigh as well. "November 9., I guess."

"You read Colleen Hoover?" he smiles.

"Yes." What, does he think there's something wrong with that? I decide to ask him.

He suppresses a smile and looks at the ceiling. "It checks out, I guess." He looks at me. "So you read romance?"

"Among other things, yes."

He sighs, beaming. "I love romance readers. They're so cute and innocent."

I look at him, frowning. "We read smut."

He laughs. "Still." He looks at me, smiling softly.  "I mean, rather than anything else, you want to watch two people fall in love. That's wholesome as fuck."

I can't help but smile. The way he perceives the world is adorable. I love listening to him. I look into his eyes. Fuck, he's so cute like this. I kiss him before I can think better of it. His lips are soft as always, and he sighs into the kiss.

"Damn it, Canmore," he whispers. 

I get on top of him and grip his shirt as I deepen the kiss.  There's something desperate in the way I'm behaving, and I don't like that he has this effect on me, but decide not to ignore it for now.

He pulls away, and looks up at me, smiling softly. I wince at the absence of his touch. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. 

I blush and kiss him to hide that. 

His hand touches my calf, and I flinch. I freeze for a moment, but decide to ignore it and go on. He ruins my plan by pulling away.

"What's wrong?" he asks, frowning, his voice rough, breath hitched, seeming determined.

"I..." I study him for a long moment, then shake my head. "Nothing."

"No, don't lie. What's wrong?"

I look away for a moment and sigh. How do I explain to him that I hate it when someone touches that part of my leg because of something irrelevant that happened almost ten years ago? I turn my head back in his direction but refuse to look him in the eye. "I just... Please don't touch my calf." Well, that's a sentence I never thought I'd say.

He nods. "Of course. Sorry." He studies me for a long moment. "Can I ask why out of curiosity?"

I concisely shake my head. "No."

He nods, some sort of strange seriousness in his eyes. "Alright. I'm sorry."

I kiss him again. He puts his hands on my waist, which immediately makes me more comfortable. 

Honestly, all I want right now is him inside me. I push my hips to his, hoping he gets the hint. He inhales sharply and moves his hands farther down.

Right at that moment, Maya bursts through the door. We quickly scramble away from each other.

"Lucy! I'm hungry!" she announces. So am I, you know!

"Right," I say, clearing my throat. I know that I'm blushing, and I refuse to look at James. 

I wake up on the couch, in a chaotic and kind of uncomfortable position on top of James, not remembering the last few hours. My head hurts like shit, and so does my arm, but that's just because of the position I slept in. I panic for a moment, thinking that we'll be late for class, but then I remember it's Saturday. I sigh and lie back down.

After a moment, I jerk up again. What the fuck happened? I look around. There is a huge mess around us. Two empty wine bottles, one of them in pieces, and all other types of garbage that I don't pay attention to. Did we drink...? I notice a cut-up pineapple on the floor, half of it mushed. Colored pencils are scattered around it. A bowl of some sort of cake batter is on the table, half of its batter on the floor. Cereal boxes are spread across the room, the closet door wide open with some more boxes inside it. On the floor next to us is the packaging of a condom. The kitchen counter is messily covered with a black blanket. On the couch are different airplane designs, and some messy drawings of some girl that could have been pretty if the artist's hand hadn't been shaking so much. Goldfish crackers are on the carpet, some of them have obviously been stepped on.

I look at the clock. It's 9 AM. 

I shake James awake. 

When he wakes up, he looks at me, his eyes half-closed, smiling like an idiot. "What a way to wake up."

"Shut up!" I whisper-yell and I stand up. "What happened?" I ask. "Do you remember?"

He groans and sits up. He looks around, smiling every once in a while. Then he looks at me, seeming panicked. "Do you remember anything?"

"No," I say.

He sighs, relieved, and lies back down. 

"What are you doing? Get up and tell me what happened!" I demand.

He opens his eyes and smiles at me. "I can't recall everything, either. But let me tell you what I do remember."