finding you

sixty five

The sun is shining into my room; a blanket of bright light is stretched over my bed. I yawn and stretch my arms over my head, welcoming the sun's intrusion.

I feel my body. Oh. I'm sore.

Memories from last night come rushing back to me and I feel myself turn red.

My truck. The grid road. Our bodies... Oh God. I can't believe my first time was in a truck.

I move over on my side to grab my phone. It's 10am and I have a couple of texts from Rhys.

Rhys: Good morning, beautiful girl.

Rhys: I want to see how you're doing and please don't ignore me.

His texts make me smile even though I don't know how to respond to him. I don't even know myself how I'm doing. Am I doing okay? Do I regret it? Well, I'm not curled up in a ball having a mental breakdown about it, so I'd say that's a good sign. I send him a response, giving not much away, but I'm still processing this myself so it's the best I can do.

Me: I'm doing fine, don't worry about me.

Okay, I'm not sure about the tone of my text. Oh well, hopefully he doesn't read much into it.

I spend several minutes scrolling through Instagram and I almost forget about him, but I don't. He didn't respond yet. Hm.

I decide to not spend my time thinking about it and hop in the shower. Once I'm finished washing myself, I throw on a pair of sweats and a crop t-shirt. I have my glasses on and hair is wet and combed out, making it look longer than usual. I lay back down in my bed and throw my phone to the end of the bed when I see that he hasn't responded.

Don't overthink it. Do not overthink it, Theo.

I don't realize I've been staring at my ceiling for about 15 minutes when I suddenly hear voices upstairs. My dad's home, but there's another one. Who the heck is here? The voices are low but then I hear a laugh. I instinctively pull up my covers when I hear footsteps approach the top of the stairs. Oh hell, no. Dad, is that you? It better be...

I have my comforter pulled up to my nose by the time the footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs.

Rhys is walking straight towards me with two coffee cups in his hands. He's looking absolutely glorious and the morning sunlight is making him glow like some angelic God. His black cropped sweats are hanging dangerously off his hips. He's rocking the all-black today with his matching Henley sweater, as well. Okay, he is dang delicious.

Hold up. Rhys Collins is in my room.

Rhys Collins is in my house. My house where my dad also is. My dad who is upstairs and who was talking to Rhys just now.

Oh, God. Oh, no, no, no...

I don't think even my white sheets can cover up how red my face is right now. This is beyond disturbing me right now. What is he doing here?

He comes waltzing over to me with a grin only excited little boys have when they get something they like. I can't not roll my eyes.

"Hey," he smiles, looking down at me. "Your dad kind of loves me," he boasts. "I got him a coffee, too."

The look on my face is of horror and it makes Rhys chuckle. He places the coffees down on my dresser and suddenly he's jumping on my bed, sitting on my legs.

"Get out from under there," he whines. "Come on." He spanks my legs and I groan, sinking deeper into my pillows. "This is exactly why I came over. I knew you would be all in your head today."

I pull my blankets down far enough so I can speak. "I'm not all in my head."

He raises a skeptical eyebrow and squeezes my thigh, making me contort. 

"Stop it!"

He ignores me completely and grabs the entire blanket and literally throws it off my body. I squeal and try to fight him. He just laughs making me scowl. 

I decide to just curl myself up in a ball without any blanket. "I'm tired, goodbye."

Despite my cranky attitude, I'm actually over-the-moon he's here right now. Also, despite the fact he had to walk straight past my dad to get in my bedroom. Ugh.

"Theo..." he warns. "Get up. I'm not leaving you until you're dancing with life; and also after you tell me every single thing on your mind."

"Nothing's on my mind," I lie. Well, not completely, I don't really have much on my mind. I just feel... nothing at the moment. How am I supposed to feel? Dirty?

"Theo, sit up or I'm going upstairs to talk with your dad. I know he'll appreciate my visit," he says, standing up from my bed as if to go upstairs.

"No!" I yelp. I jump up and grab his arms to bring him back down on the bed with me. He chuckles and lays himself down on my pillows, pulling me down with him. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me close.

"Now answer me, honestly. How are you feeling this morning?"

We're facing each other. Our noses are almost touching. "I don't know," I say, honestly.

"Do you feel bad? Like sad?" He questions, his eyes suddenly looking concerned.

"No. I guess I just... don't really know how I'm supposed to feel. It's not regret or anything. I just.. I don't know, I think I was expecting to feel bad about it... but I don't."

"Why should you feel bad about it?"

"I don't know, Rhys. I'm messed up in my head." I frown and try to avoid his gaze. He keeps me firmly in place.

"No, you're not, Theo. Don't say that. I want to talk this out with you. I hate that you feel any bit of this right now. Nothing is wrong with what we did, Theo."

"It just feels wrong to me. With... everything that happened with Lyle. Every touch of intimacy I have ever experienced since then has always felt wrong and dirty."

"Because what Lyle did to you was wrong. It felt wrong because it was fucking wrong, Theo." I can feel Rhys get tense, and I can tell he's getting worked up about it.

I rub his back in a soothing gesture; my attempt to keep him calm. "I know... so you can understand why I'm feeling conflicted with this," I say sadly. I graze my fingers along the back of his shoulders and neck. "I don't regret it, Rhys. I feel conflicted because I wanted it. My brain is making me think I should feel dirty or something... used... the way it was with him. Intimacy still brings it back... every touch can be startling to me."

He just stares at me, not saying anything. He looks truly sad for me. I don't want him to be sad for me. I just want him to listen. He suddenly nods, pushing my hair from my face to behind my ear. He kisses my forehead and lingers for moment. "It, sadly, is making you a lot more understandable to me," he finally says. "You were terrified of me."

"I'm not anymore." I try to smile, in hopes he will smile back. He doesn't.

"Do you think... you maybe weren't ready? For last night I mean..." His voice is so quiet. He still sounds so sad.

"No, Rhys," I say, placing a hand on the side of his face so he looks at me. "It was actually perfect. For me, anyway. I felt in control the whole time."

He suddenly smiles at me, a knowing look, and it makes my insides stir in some kind of hunger. "Yeah, because you were in control. You were riding me," he breathes, half laughing.

"Oh my God!" I turn bright red. I am so embarrassed. "Do not speak like that with my dad right upstairs. I'm dying right now." I cover my face with one of my pillows.

Rhys laughs one of his hearty, full-of-joy laughs, and even though he can't see it, it brings a big smile to my face.