I need to stop thinking and get out of my ownhead.
“Alana?” he’s kissing me. “What’s wrongbaby?”
“Nothing, why?” I try to kiss him back, butI’m losing momentum.Shit.
He pulls his face away with adon’t be abullshitterexpression. “Don’t lie to me Alana, I can feel it,something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I try to pull his lipsback to mine, but his head won’t budge. He just stares down at mewith a forceful glare.
Resigned, I ball my fists over my eyes andsigh. “What do you want me to tell you? I’m insecure? I’m tryingnot to think of all the women you have all over you? Or of all thewomen you’ve had?”
“You’ve been with other people?”
“Oneother person Ryan. One otherperson besides you, and it was a disaster. I don’t even think itcounts.”
“What do you mean?” he asks confused.
We never did dredge up my intimacy issues ortalk about my sexual past, if you could even call it that. One boymy sophomore year of college, the all-around nice guy I could neverpull the trigger with. Even though I tried, desperately. I couldn’tmuster up enough courage to go through with it. I was so messed upafter Ryan; I had trouble letting anyone in.
Sexually that is.
We’d start but never finish. And the one timeit got to the point of penetration I absolutely freaked. We stoppedspeaking after that and I swore off men ever since.
“Intimacy was hard for me,” I tell him,“because I was always afraid I’d wake up, and whoever I spent thenight with would be gone. I didn’t want to hurt like that again.” Ilook away from him. This conversation sucks. I don’t want to lookweak. It’s a character flaw embedded by my father. Remingtonsaren’t weak. They don’t show emotion. They don’t even haveemotions.
I’m not a very good Remington.
“Alana,” he coos, and I want to slap him.Maybe kiss him. “I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t want you to know.”
“You have to talk to me.”
“Talking isn’t my problem, Ryan.”
Thinking is.
“You didn’t tell me,” he stipulates. “Do youreally think I’m not going to be here in the morning?”
I shrug, because for all intents and purposesI do believe he’ll be here tomorrow, but there’s still a hurt,eighteen year old girl inside me who needs to come to terms withwhat happened. That Ryan didn’t leave because he wanted to. He madea choice that affected more than just us. And it hurt us both thesame.
“I don’t want to disappoint you,” I mumble;and now I’m beet red. I’m pretty sure when Emily told me to bevulnerable in Ryan’s arms, she didn’t mean like this.
“Alana, you could never disappoint me,” heshifts while still on top of me. “I may have had more lovers thanyou, and I may take my clothes off for countless women, but you arethe only one who can strip me bare.”
I take a deep breath, his words are like holywater washing over me; a baptism of the soul.
His declaration is all it takes. And justlike I reassured him all those years ago,it will be perfect,it’s with you,he reassured me all these years later.
We’re even now.
I smile at him. A genuine, indisputable,unquestionable smile and pull his lips to mine.
There’s no hesitation for either of us. It’sright. It’s the right time, with the right person, in the rightplace.
Ryan rips my dress open, disintegrating thestring. Both of us hot and heady and breathless, and in no time atall there’s nothing between us; no clothes, or doubts orinhibitions.
He pushes inside me and I cry out, clingingto his body.