metanoia

Chapter Three

She came over at 4:30 the next day.

She settled into my arms on my couch.

"We hardly know each other." she said.

"I know. But I like you." I replied.

"But you don't know me." She said.

"I like the vibe you give off." I smirked.

"I'm into mindless sex." She smirked back.

"Cool." I said.

And then she kissed me.

It wasn't sweet, innocent, or awkward, like a first kiss should be. It was hot, passionate, hungry, and dead sexy.

So we did it again, and again, and again. We kissed and kissed and kissed again. She bit my lips hard, and I moaned. She giggled.

"Boys say girls are weak," she said into my wide opened mouth, "but we don't moan and get a raging erection after making out for three minutes. That's weak." I laughed.

"I bet I can make you moan in less than three minutes." I said smugly. She laughed.

"Bet how much?"

"Twenty bucks."

She laughed. "Whatever. It's your money, bucko."

So I worked my way on top of her and kissed her harder. My hand made its way to her boobs, and eventually I stuck my hand up her shirt and she made a noise.

"Was that a moan?"

"No... It was a whine. Besides, its been 4 minutes. You already owe me twenty bucks."

"Since you gave me a boner, you owe me satisfaction."

She laughed.

"Whatever."

So we kissed some more, her hands wandered, and so did mine. Eventually, the only clothes left to take off were hers, so I undid a button on her pants. She sighed and reached down to undo the other button, and she unzipped the zipper too. I just had to pull her jeans off and get her on top of me.

We ran into trouble when I tried to take off her shirt.

I was lifting it over her head when she shrieked, "STOP!"

I dropped my hands, but it was too late.

"What... What are these?!" I asked.

Little scars covered her tummy. Her ribs were clearly visible, and there was a long scar that stretched from one hipbone in an arc to the other hipbone. There were little red dashes on her belly too.

"Shut up and kiss me." She sighed.

"No! I'm not letting this go! What are these?"

She stuck her hand down my pants and rubbed, and no matter how good it felt, I wasn't going to take it. I pulled her hand out by the wrist, where more scars showed, and looked her in the eyes.

"Why." I asked, more like a demand.

"Go home." She said.

"No! I-"

"GO. HOME." She yelled. She was on the verge of tears, and I knew I had to go. I scribbled my number on a napkin, kissed her wet cheek, and ran out the door, fighting my own tears.