Page 68 of Warmer, Colder

My hand palms her thigh, slipping up, up, up, and then the next thing I know I’m brushing against the smooth fabric that stands between me and her perfect cunt. Lightly, I tease my finger against the front of her panties. She leans back into me as I trace the outline of her labia and slip them across her center. The positive response of her mouth dropping open and her ass digging into me spurs me onward, but when I slide one nail under the edge of the elastic, her demeanor entirely changes.

“Stop.” Like a domino effect, each of her muscles stiffens. “Wait,” she breathes out through clenched teeth as she battles memories she’s been trying so hard to escape.

“Okay. Why don’t we sit down?” We both sink to the floor while I hold my hands up and nod, assuring her that I understand. “Becca, you’re safe.” My hands itch with the need to pull her against me, but that will only make things worse. I’m helpless to do anything but watch.

“I’m sorry,” she cries, and it tugs at something deep inside me. “I thought I was getting better, but I’m still so messed up.” She tucks her hair behind her ears with unsteady fingers, then begins to rock herself back and forth, self-soothing.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Becca,” I insist.

“There is,” she gasps with frustration. “Affection shouldn’t be anxiety-inducing. Touching me shouldn’t be like walking on eggshells, just waiting for me to shatter.”

“Everyone is different; there is no normal when it comes to being intimate with people.” I tuck her hair behind her ear and catch her gaze. “You need to go slow? No problem. You want me to avoid touching you in certain ways? Okay. Pleasure comes in all different forms, Becca. And I intend to learn all the ways I can make you feel good.”

“Every time I think I’m making progress, I end up right back here. I’m just broken.” She shuts me down, and I allow her to think she’s won the argument for now. This isn’t the state to be pushing her in—when she’s raw and reeling. But if there’s one thing about me, it’s that I’m a determined son of a bitch and I’m not willing to give up on this. Not when I know that she wants it.

There’s a way forward for us. I just need to figure out how to be what she needs.

Part III

Chapter 30

Becca

50 Days Dead

“Come on. I want to show you something.” Stasi drags me out the window and leads me up the ivy-laden ladder that’s attached to the side of the house. The view from the roof is beautiful; even though it’s one story off the ground, it feels like you’re so much closer to the sky here. The small distance from everything else in the world makes this space feel sacred—always has.

That awe is obvious in my voice as I turn in a circle taking in the view. “I haven’t been up here since I was little. Probably like eighth grade.” Not since I was a kid. Not since that sunset I didn’t know would be my last with her, my childhood best friend, the one I tried so hard to forget. I never came back up here, never shared an ice cream cone with someone again, neveraccidentallylet my fingers tangle with another girl’s while they lay between us. “Do you come up here a lot?” I redirect the conversation.

“It’s one of my favorite places.” Stasi sits down with her legs crossed and leans back on her splayed hands like she’s completely at ease on the hard shingles.

Joining her, I’m reminded that everything feels different now. Edges are dulled, surfaces are softer, and there’s cushioning between us and the rest of the world. “I forgot how pretty the sky is when you’re a little bit closer.”

“Yeah, I love to come up here and think.”

“About?” She’s piqued my interest.

“Everything. Life, death, what I would have done differently. What I’ll do for the rest of forever.”

“You think we really have forever?” I haven’t allowed myself to put much thought into it. The concept of forever is terrifying, something I never had to consider before. It’s such a vague amount of time that I can’t even wrap my mind around it and honestly, I don’t really want to. I spent my entire life planning and preparing. The future was the vast majority of what I put my energy into and look how that turned out. Near the end there, it became a matter of just getting through every minute, every hour, every day.

“Who fucking knows?” Stasi lies back gazing up at the stars and I follow suit.

“Who cares.” Something about her relaxed demeanor is infectious.Everythingabout her is addicting. She’s opened my mind, my world to so much in such a short period.What could eternity be like with her?The thought chases off that momentary peacefulness I achieved.Where did that come from?

“Stop overthinking and just be here with me.” Stasi interrupts my thoughts, forcing them to halt and redirect. Giving me a mischievous smirk, she stands and cups her hands around her mouth, then screams at the top of her lungs. “Hello!” It echoes into the night around us, not a soul stirring at what would ordinarily be a bizarre disruption in such a quiet neighborhood. “Nobody can hear us. Nobody can see us. Nobody even knows we exist.” She sinks back down beside me on her knees, taking my hands cautiously in hers. I don’t even tense. “We’re completely alone in this world. Don’t you get how freeing that is?”

“I don’t think it’s something I can conceptualize. I’ve never felt free a day in my life.” I laugh because if I don’t, I’ll cry, again.I’m so goddamn tired of crying.

“Let’s change that. Put your hands like this.” She cups her mouth again.

“Fine.” I bracket my mouth with my hands.

“On the count of three.” Her laugh confirms this is ridiculous but at least we’ll embarrass ourselves together. “One. Two. Three.”

“Hello!”

“Hello!”

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