Page 69 of When The Rain Falls

"Yeah." She nods.

I check in on the girls before leading Nicole to my room. When I close the door behind me, we undress each other between gentle kisses. I guide her to my bed and our mouths roam. We're a flurry of lips, and hands, and arms. Finally, I reach into my bedside drawer for a condom. I slide it on. It's the first time I've used one in over a decade. I almost feel like a teenager again. My heartbeat quickens and my chest tightens. Am I really ready for this?

I give myself a pep talk before turning my attention back to Nicole. She plants kisses down my neck as I hover over her. I take a deep breath, line myself up, and press into her. Shearches her back and I thrust again. But something's not right. Nothing's happening. There's just soft flesh against soft flesh. She realizes it, too. She looks up at me with a confused look on her face.

"Why'd you stop? Why'd you pull out?"

"I didn't," I say. Her brows furrow and my gut clenches in the horror of what I think is happening.

I thrust again but it's pointless. I'm not hard. Not even a little bit. My head feels like it's slowly filling with boiling water. The heat creeps down my neck then into my chest. I pull out and avoid eye contact with Nicole. I feel sick to my stomach. What's happening? Why can't I control my own fucking body?

"What's wrong with it?" she asks. What's wrong with it? What the fuck kind of question is that?

"Jesus, Nicole," I say defensively. "Nothing's wrong with it."

"I've never had this happen to me before," she says. It sounds like an accusation.

"Just give me a minute. It's been a while." I rub my hand up and down myself, conjure every dirty magazine picture I've ever looked at, and concentrate on bringing him back to life. Nicole just stares at me blankly. Jesus. That's not helping. She could try to help me out here.

"Well?" she asks.

"I'm probably tired," I tell her, giving up. "Maybe you should go," I suggest. Despite my words, I don't want her to go. Not yet. I want her to sit with me, to tell me it's ok. To help me find some warmth to battle the chill forming inside my chest. But I don't feel like that's something I can ask for. And it's not what I deserve. I sit on the edge of the bed and try to calm the panic rising in my gut.

"Yeah," she says. "Ok." She stands up and reaches for her clothes. I pull on my boxer briefs and then my shirt. Then I sit inawkward, embarrassed silence for the next several minutes as she gets dressed.

"I'll let myself out," she says, slipping quietly out the door.

The second she's gone, I run for the bathroom and empty my stomach into the toilet.

The bane of my existence is 5’9”, has shaggy hair that keeps falling into his eyes, and is wearing a t-shirt that says,Pt. Evans Wrestling Team.

"Uh, hi." Rocky gives me a nervous smile when he greets me on the front step. I hear Ruby stomping down the stairs at my back. When Rocky darts his eyes in her direction, his features relax. Just a little.

"Rocky," I say as I extend my hand. His jeans aren't baggy. He doesn't have any facial tattoos or piercings. No sign that he's associated with any satanic cults. He looks, well, normal.

"Hi, Mr. Hudson." He takes my hand. I shake it, just a little too hard. So he knows what he's dealing with.

"Finn," I say. But wait. No. That's not quite right. I don't want him to feel too easy around here. "Mr. Finn," I correct. I open the door and usher him in.

"Hi, Rocky," Ruby says. She smiles and clasps her hands innocently behind her back. I try not to roll my eyes at her act. Ruby and I reached an agreement. She could go on a "date" with Rocky. But it had to be here. I promised to give them space and not to roll up the sleeves of my shirt over my biceps. She promised they'd keep her bedroom door open.

As I shut the front door, I notice something bright in my driveway. It's a yellow Mustang convertible.

"Whose car is that?" I ask, jerking a thumb over my shoulder.

"Mine. My grandpa gave it to me when I got my license." He holds up the key fob and pushes a button. The lights on the car flash and I hear the sound of doors locking. Show off. The key fob for my van doesn't even work anymore. I have to lock all the doors by hand.

"I'll give you a tour," Ruby says, her voice suddenly sweet and cherubic. "We have a really cool backyard." I try not to choke on my own spit. She hasn't stepped foot in the backyard in years. She said there were too many bugs back there. Rocky follows Ruby down the hall. I trail behind them. I know I promised to give them space, but I'm still meeting this kid.

"Where do you live, Rocky?" I ask.

As we enter the kitchen, Rocky turns to face me. "Stoneridge Heights," he says. I want to whistle at that. But I don't. Stoneridge Heights is a new gated community. All the houses are in the seven figure range. He's not going to be impressed by a tour of this place.

"Anyway," Ruby says, "this is the kitchen. The garage is in there." She waves at the garage door. It opens a crack and Rocky peaks in.

"Sweet squat rack," he says and my ears perk up. I walk in front of him and throw the door wide.

"You lift?” I ask him.

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