The Feel of Water

Twenty-Seven - Now is the Time

My eyes slowly open. The first thing I see is his hand right in front of me, still resting loosely on my own. I shift, letting go and turning onto my other side. I pull the covers up to my chin and lift my knees to my chest.

"How long was I out?" I mumble.

Sean takes a breath. "About two hours."

"Are you still reading?"

"Actually, I just finished," he says.

"Good. Now hold me."

I hear Sean move down and promptly feel his arm come around me. I scoot against him and jolt when he softly kisses the back of my neck. "So this is what I could be doing instead of running around a football field," he mumbles against my skin.

I turn around in his arms, turning so we're face to face. "I hope the coach keeps having babies, and I hope his assistant stays in Aruba."

"We can do this every day once playoffs are over."

"What? Be in bed together?" I ask jokingly. When I try to get up, Sean brings his hand to my jaw, turning my head. My eyes follow his lips until they're pressed against my own. He guides me on top of him and I do so slowly, wondering if now is the time.

Finally we're alone without alcohol or drugs or Jen getting in our way. The house is empty and I have nowhere to be but here. Sean kisses me deeply and I try to wipe my thoughts away. His hands glide down my sides, all the way from my ribs to my thighs. Feeling him underneath me, his body, reminds me of when we were in his truck before homecoming. I unbuttoned his shirt and ran my hands all over his bare torso, and remembering that moment reminds me to do such things now. I slip my hands under his shirt and pull the fabric up. Sean breaks our kiss to finish the job and tosses it to the floor.

Sitting up, my gaze washes over him. Again his palms rub my thighs, and I take a breath. "Sean?" I ask softly, "Is now the time?"

"Only if you want it to be," he says.

I wait for a second, and instead of giving a verbal answer, I steadily peel off my top, pulling it over my head and feeling my hair brush against my back as it falls. Sean's chest rises and drops.

This must be the right time. I'm not under the influence or in the back of a car. Sean and I are in a relationship, and he's nice to me—he's always nice to me. My friends make such an act seem like a chore to check off my to-do list, but deep down it matters to me. Who I'm with matters to me. Being comfortable matters to me. The last thing I should do is give myself another sour memory, something else to take a bite out of my soul. There isn't very much of myself left, and I can't risk losing any more.

I don't like to think about how much trust I'm putting in Sean because it's more than I am willing, and the thought of this being a mistake terrifies me. The thought of Sean hurting me—it's like two hands squeezing my throat.

Suddenly, Sean switches our places, bringing me onto my back so he can hover above. My lips part and he comes down to kiss me, but it only partially distracts me from the undoing of my jean shorts. He pulls down the short zipper and my blue underwear is on show.

Sean leans back to slide my shorts off, but an alarming, fiddling sound from downstairs makes us both freeze. The squeal and shut of a door signals a panic in my gut. Sean reaches over to the bedside table where his phone is, and he reads the screen. His face hardens. "Damn it," he mutters. I hold my breath beneath him.

"What?"

"Sean?" A woman's voice calls. "Are you home?"

We both stare at each other then spring up to frantically dress. "Yeah!" He calls back. "Danielle is here."