Page 58 of Past Present Future

“No. Never about us. About… this.” I wave my hand at the bed, summoning the confidence to use real words, not euphemisms. “About sex. And, well, I don’t think we’ve ever really discussed it since that first time.”

A deepening of her blush, even though this is something she is usually so confident talking about. It was one of the things I admired about her during that endless night in Seattle.

The difference, I realize, is that this time it’s about us.

I want to talk about this without shame or fear, forcing every ellipsis and shaky word out of my voice. “Because I came into this without much experience. Because you haven’t had an orgasm the last couple times, and I’ve worried that maybe I’m not experienced enough for you, or not good enough for you.”

“Neil.” Her eyes fill with emotion as she tucks her knees up underneath her, nudges her body closer to mine. Just that hint of contact, of pressure, is enough to remind me that everything will be okay. “I have never thought that. Ever.”

“You’re sure?”

She is so solid here next to me, something I miss so desperately when we talk on the phone. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad we’re talking about it. I’ve probably been… a little distracted.” She brushes her bangs to one side of her forehead and then the other, never able to figure out what she wants to do with them. “With school, there’s just been a lot on our minds, for both of us.”

“And that’s okay,” I rush to say. “Perfectly okay and understandable.”

“What we do in here, the actual physical component—that doesn’t matter to me as much as just being with you. Even if we sat here staring at each other for five hours, I’d still love every minute of it.”

“That’s extremely nice to hear.” The relief is immediate. I reach for her knee, tapping a rhythm on her leggings. “If it ever seems like I don’t know what I’m doing… well, sometimes I don’t. But I want to learn. I really do.”

A flicker of a smile. “Here’s the thing. Whatever experience we had before we started dating, now we’re doing it together. And that makes everything feel new to me. Everything,” she repeats for emphasis. “Even if it’s not fireworks right away, the fact that it’s you…” She trails off, shaking her head, leaning forward to place a hand on my chest. My heart lifts to meet her touch. “I don’t think you fully realize the effect you have on me.”

The laugh that slips out is a small, disbelieving thing. I cover her hand, turning it over and tracing circles on her palm. I want to create fireworks for this girl every fucking time. “Trust me, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

We sit there like that for a few moments, me drawing a fingertip along her wrist, her seeming deep in thought.

“We could probably both be better at communicating,” she says after a while. “I want to think reading all those books has made it easier for me, and it has, in a way. But I’m still learning too, what it’s like to talk about this with someone who means as much to me as you do. If you’re not comfortable—”

“I am.” I say it solidly, steadily. The truth. “With you, I am. When we were texting… God. I want to be able to have that in real life.” I can feel her press even closer, her free hand landing on my thigh. “I want to be open with you in every possible way. You just… you make me feel like I don’t have to be ashamed of anything.”

Rowan just gazes at me for a few long moments with this soft, awed expression, so beautiful she should be at MoMA next to The Starry Night. “I really, really love you,” she says before her arms come up around my neck.

“So just to be clear,” I say, “you don’t want to sit here staring at each other for five hours?”

She laughs and pushes me down on the bed. My hands go to the small of her back, molding her body to mine. I will never not love the feeling of her on top of me. “I have a few other things in mind. If we’re getting better at communicating”—a kiss to my cheek, my chin, a sly smile—“what if you told me what you want to do right now?”

“I’d… really like to go down on you again.” This time, finding the right words is easy. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Her eyes are heavy-lidded, her mouth still swollen from the way we kissed when we first got here. I drag my fingertips up her spine, beneath her shirt. Slowly, slowly, one corner of her mouth kicks upward. I don’t know how the effect I have on her can be any fraction of what she does to me, these simple expressions able to completely unstitch me.

“Without any pressure,” I add. “Whatever happens or doesn’t happen—it’s okay. More than okay. I just loved feeling that close to you.”

“I’d like that. But if it takes a long time, I don’t want you to get bored or feel like you’re doing anything wrong.…”

I’m not sure how to tell her that it would be rather impossible for me to get bored with my face between her legs, how I’ve imagined it every night I’ve had my dorm room to myself. No amount of her could ever be enough.

“That’s not going to happen. I can promise you that.” Then, remembering, I shift to grab my backpack from off the floor. “I also, uh, bought a few things? Just in case.” I show her my haul from the adult shop, and her mouth drops open.

“Neil McNair,” she says, leaning forward so she can take off my glasses. “You are the very best surprise.”

We return to kissing, deeper and harder this time as I help her shed the hoodie and she reaches for the hem of my shirt. The rest of her clothes, I take off as slowly as I can bear, trying to draw out the anticipation. Make this as enjoyable for her as possible.

When I finally touch her with my mouth, she lets out the loveliest sigh, one that I feel all the way down to my toes. Another thing I’m not ashamed of: the fact that I did a little research on what, specifically, I’m supposed to do down here. Last time, I was so overwhelmed by those new feelings that I could barely keep myself steady. This time, I want to spell the alphabet against her skin and learn everything she likes.

“What is it?” she asks when I pause for a moment, a note of concern in her voice.

I channel the confidence from that night we texted each other with such heady abandon. “I just—I love the way you taste.” It’s the filthiest thing I’ve ever said, and I’m instantly obsessed with how she reacts, a breathy little whimper that leaves me desperate for more. I could probably come just like this, without her even touching me.

She throws her head back against the pillow, exposing the arch of her neck. “You’re perfect.”

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