Language of Love

Interpretari

I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes. He looks at me, waiting.
"When I was sixteen, we really needed money. There was this guy at school, he kept asking me to hook-up with him. I always said no, until I ran out of money. So, the next day, I agree to sleep with him, for 200 bucks. He agreed and gave me the money. I slept with him 12 times, 200 bucks a time. It kept food on the table. Then, I was late. Really late. I was pregnant." I say and wipe a tear from my face. He shakes his head, not knowing what I'll say next.
"Did you have the baby?" He asks.
"No. When my mom found out, she took me into the bathroom and pulled down my pants. She took a coat hanger and bent it. She rammed it up me, it killed the baby." I say. Fitz gasps and looks down at my waist.
"I went to the hospital after she fell asleep, they kept me from bleeding out, but I'll never be able to have a baby. I'm infertile, forever." I say.

"Can I hug you?" He asks.
"Please." I choke out. He holds me to him, I can hear his heart beating. I look up.
"I'm supposed to hate you right now," I say, looking into his eyes.
"That can wait until tomorrow." He says. After a while, I feel better.

"My mind keeps trying to paint you out as this horrible guy who takes advantage of high schoolers and has bad intentions. Fitz, you aren't, you're perfect." I say.
"I wouldn't say perfect, but I'm not exactly trying to kill you." He says. I laugh.

"Can you stay over?" I ask.
"I can unless you want to stay at mine." He suggests.
"Sure," I say.

He opens the door to his room and it's messy. Very messy. He shoots a look back at me.
"This is one of my flaws." He says. I laugh.
"Much better than sleeping with high schoolers, I guess," I say.
"It's a lot more legal." He comments. He pulls back the comforter. I sit on the mattress. He pulls off his shirt and lays down next to me.

      He places his head along my scalp.
      "Apples." He whispers. I look up at him.
      "What?" I ask.
      "You always smell like apples." He explains. I laugh. He kisses the top of my head.

       The next morning, his alarm goes off. He rolls out of bed and shuts it off. I sit up.
      "Good morning," I say. He smiles.
      "Day 12!"
      "Woo," I say, sarcastically. "I guess I should head back to my place and shower."
      "Me too, you don't have to go home. Shower here. With me." He suggests. I get nervous.
      "I um..." I start. He interrupts.
      "Right, sorry."
      "No, let's," I say.

     He opens the door to his bathroom, which is much cleaner than the room, but not great. He locks the door and takes off my shirt. He smiles.
     "You sure, you don't have to." He adds. I nod. I don't know what he plans to do, have sex or just feel each other up.
      "I'm good," I say. He pulls off his shorts and I take off mine. I pop my bra and look into his eyes. He pulls down his boxers and I can't help but look down. I'm not disappointed. I pull down my own panties and follow him into the shower.

The water runs down my face, he scoots under the shower head. His body touches mine in almost every way. He pushes me up the wall and kisses down my neck. It tickles and I find myself giggling. I slide my hands down his body. He takes the soap bottle and we wash each other. I was relieved that while it was pretty intimate, we didn't actually do it.

I wrap myself in a towel of his. He smiles and walks into his closet.
"I just realized, I have no clean clothes," I say. "So, I get to walk to my apartment in a towel. Yay." He laughs at my dilemma.
"At least put on your panties." He says.
"They are dirty, you may not be opposed to wearing the same thing twice, but I very much am, so if you excuse me I'm going to literally run to my apartment. I'll bring back the towel." I say. He chuckles to himself.
"Oh, and I didn't iron anything." I groan.
"Would you like to wear something of mine?" He asks.
"I doubt you ironed either," I comment.
"I buy clothes that don't need to be ironed." He remarks.
"I should start doing that. I'm going to grab undergarments and pants, I'll return your towel and I'd love a no iron shirt if you don't mind." I answer. He laughs.
"Go." He says.

I put on underwear and a bra, then grab my least wrinkled pair of pants, a cloth skirt. It's thick and great for traveling because it doesn't wrinkle. I slip on a tank top, one much too skimpy for work, but it works for a dash to Fitz's place. I open the door to his bedroom and he smirks.

He tosses me two shirts. One is pink with checkers, very preppy. While northerners found this weird, the boys I met while living in the South seem to be fond of it. The other is a white button down with pockets on the breasts. I choose the white, it'll look nice with my emerald skirt. I toss back checkered shirt. He wears a green button down with a wide neck, grey sweater over top. I slip on the shirt and button it up. It's very baggy and not meant for a woman's body. He smirks.
"It looks better on you." He says.
"Thanks," I say.

I eat lunch in my classroom because I'm really behind on grades. A girl I don't recognize walks in.
"Salve. Mini nomen est...." She starts. She finishes, completely in Latin, roughly translating to, "Hi! My name is Ivy, I'm a freshman and I'll have you for Latin 1 next semester. I think my Latin skills are worthy of me being moved up to AP Latin. Can you help?"
"Of course I can help! I'm very impressed. Would you mind coming in and taking a placement test?" I ask.
"I'll take it."

I print her the test, she gets started the moment I hand it to her. Courtney walks in.
     "Oh my god. There's this girl in my 5th period....oh you have a student." She realizes.
     "Go on, I have to hear it now," Ivy says. Courtney walks closer.
     "This girl picks her nose, not with one finger, but two." Courtney elaborates.
      "How do even get two fingers up there?" Ivy asks.
      "Wait, who are you?" Courtney asks.
      "Ivy, freshman, I love Latin. I'm a Latin geek." Ivy answers.
      "She's taking a placement test," I explain.
     "Ivy, you're hanging out with the right teacher. She is the biggest Latin nerd, ever." Courtney remarks.
      "Am not!" I exclaim.
      "Please, I asked you what so great about Latin and you rambled on about declensions and language quirks with the more passion than you talk about Fitz with," Courtney says.
       "Courtney!" I exclaim when she mentions Fitz.
      "Just saying." She says. I make a hand gesture to Ivy. "If she can hear about my booger girl she can hear all about your boyfriend," Courtney adds. The way she said "boyfriend"—which we aren't officially—makes me cringe. 

       "C'mon we can be besties," Ivy says, "Tell me about this Fitz guy."
      "I'm going to have to pass, just finish your test," I say.