Blame Gravity

Chapter 35*

A/N: Hey! Yes, I said I wouldn't write, but I had to get this out of my system. Don't expect anything from me for a while, tho. Thanks for the votes, I love you guys! Ok, ok, don't yell, I'm starting the story.

We're back in my room. We went inside after a while because he was concerned I'd catch a cold.

We're in my bed. We're kissing softly. He looks up at me for permission every time he touches a new part of me.

His fingers brush my waist, my stomach, my thighs, and he stops just at my knee, which I thank God for. His hands wander back to my waist, and his fingers explore my chest, but, like, in the least sexual way you could imagine. After that, he touches my arms and kisses each of my fingers. His hands go back to my waist again, and he brushes over my thigh, stopping at my knee again. He finally kisses me on the mouth, and he holds me by my waist.

He goes slow, and it feels so much different than all the times before.

"I love you," he whispers, kissing my neck and leaving marks, his words awakening butterflies in my stomach. "I love you so, so much."

I love him too, but I am unable to speak right now. I nod, and close my eyes, breathing heavily.

I urge him to go faster, and he does. I throw my head back and release a moan.

"Sh, I know, baby, I know," he whispers, breathing raggedly, still kissing my neck. I grip him by his hair and push him closer. My back arches.

"I'm... I'm clo-" He cuts me off with a rough kiss. I swallow hard and shriek when I finish. He finishes a few seconds later.

"Hm," He seems to be thinking really hard. He's painting my toenails, because, well, I asked him to, and we're talking about — drum roll please — sex. I just asked him how many girls he's been with. "Three. Plus you." He kisses my nose and I let out a giggle.

"You were my first," I whisper.

He doesn't know what to say to that and just fixes his eyes on what he's doing.

"What was your first time like, anyways?" I ask. I like these kinds of conversations. They're really interesting, I suppose.

Some sort of distant expression forms on his face, and he looks positively sad.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to-" I say rushedly, but he silences me.

"No. I want to tell you."

"Just don't go into details, okay?" I joke, and although I am not being serious, I still blush.

He chuckles, then his expression returns to puzzled. "Well," he starts with a bitter tone, "I was fourteen, for starters. There was this girl, Tessa, and she was, what, a year older than me? I really fucking liked her." He scoffs. I did not mean to upset him. I feel terrible.

It stays silent for a while.

"And then, well, it was the day before her birthday. November 2nd. And I had asked her out the day before, and we went to the movies. We then went back to her place, and she — and I was not ready for this — kissed me. And at first, it was not bad, I mean, I was fourteen, and the girl I liked was kissing me. But then-... Then she wanted to go further." He frowns. "And when I politely refused, Tessa started crying and kept saying that it was her birthday tomorrow." That bitch. "And, well, finally, I said yes." He messes up my nail and curses as he reaches for the nail polish remover.

Damn. That must have been terrible. Not nearly as nice as what I had; I mean, even though I hated James at the time, he was so, so respectful and kind. He didn't force me into anything I didn't want, unlike fucking Tessa. "I'm sorry, James."

He looks at me and smiles softly. "Don't be. It's not a big deal." He turns back to the nail polish. "And, you?"

"Do you not remember?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

He lets out a laugh. "No, I mean, have you ever dated any other guys?"

"No," I say. I'm not even lying. I have never dated anyone other than Mike, and well, soon, James.

He smiles. "Really?"

"I'm telling the truth!"

"Not even in middle school?"

I shake my head.

"I don't get it," he says, shaking his head. "You're literally perfect. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

I blush and look away.

"Aaand, done!" he says, putting down the nail polish, grinning like a little kid. "How'd I do?"

I observe my freshly painted toenails. It's actually pretty good. Where'd he learn that? The other three girls, a bitter voice in the back of my head says. I decide it's nonsense and push it down. "Surprisingly well," I smile, and I kiss him shortly on the lips. I then remember something. "Fuck!" I yell. "I have a French test tomorrow."

"Oh, well, then, you better go study," he says and kisses my forehead.

"But I don't want to," I say.

"Well, look who's work ethic is terrible now," he says, smiling, and kisses my hair. "I'll grab your book, just don't move. You don't want to mess up the nail polish." I nod, and a moment later he returns with my French book. "I'll leave you alone, and I'll go study in advance for English Lit. Okay?"

"I love you," I whisper.

He smiles. "I love you." He gives me a quick peck on the mouth, then sits down at my desk.

"Not right now, Lucy. Sorry."

"But I want you. Now." I start unbuttoning my blouse. "And I finished studying."

He looks at me, and his gaze lingers on my cleavage for a moment, then he shakes his head as if to shake out the 'dirty' thoughts, and returns his eye to his book. "Nope. I'm not going to screw while my mind is still at Dostoevsky's thoughts on death."

"Come on," I say, and I sit in his lap.

He sighs and looks into my eyes. "Damn it, Lucy. I don't understand how it's physically possible to want to shag three times a day."

I kiss his neck, and he gasps softly when I reach the spot I know he enjoys. Then, he pushes my head away. "No, no, no."

I get out of his lap. "Fine. I'll do it myself, then."

"Have fun," he says absently, his fingers tracing the edge of the page.

I pout and sit down on my bed. It's only noon. We should eat something soon. I'd rather be eaten, though. Nevermind.