Page 51 of Counting Quarters

He was lying beside me, breaths heavy as we both stared up at the ceiling, when I finally returned to my body.

“That was…” he began, unable to find the words.

“Out of this world,” I finished for him.

And I was ready to do it all over again.

A couple of hours later, my eyes openly roamed around his room as I laid my head on his bare chest. It was decorated in the same vein as his apartment, with neutral, airy colors. There were little areas of clutter littered between the open, neat spots.

A hamper exploding with clothes sat in a corner beside his bare dresser. His nightstand was piled with random things that I assumed he pulled out of his pockets before hopping into his neatly made bed. It was a space so at odds with itself, just like its owner.

It fit him perfectly.

“We can’t tell anyone about this. Not yet.”

My fingers paused on his chest.

“I just don’t want to let anything get in the way. I want to explore whatever this connection is before we open ourselves up to the criticism.”

The criticism. My insecurities reared their ugly heads one by one. All the insults I lived with came barreling into my mind.

I talked too much. I acted rashly. I was too naive. I lacked social skills.

My skin was just a shade too dark. My freckles were off-putting. My hair was too different. My hips were too wide.

All of it slapped me in the face as I searched through them for any merit. For any chance that he might feel the same as all my bullies had. Did he want to protect himself from being on the receiving end of those insults? Was he hesitant to align himself with such a social pariah?

I never gave life to all the ugly things I’d been told throughout my formative years. I’d just absorb the blow and move on, pretending it didn’t affect me at all. Grammy was hard on me, but one thing she showed me was how to own who you are as a person. To flaunt those flaws and make them into strengths. And I tried. I tried so hard to be just like her in that way.

I grew my different-colored hair out long, so there was more of it. I refused to wear concealer to mask my freckles. I didn’t use clothes to cover up or hide my skin color.

But hearing someone I truly cared about mention it… that was difficult.

“You’ve gone somewhere,” Kyle said, his brows knitting together in worry. He reached over and swiped a stray hair out of my face, and his fingers left a chill in their wake.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“No, you’re not. Talk to me.” He sat up, shaking me off his chest.

The move only put more distance between us and fed my negative thoughts.

Why was I acting like this? Why did his opinion matter so much to me?

I wanted to keep the runaway train of thoughts to myself, but it was difficult to keep them guarded from him when I was spiraling so quickly. Unfortunately, he was able to access them all with ease. I watched his face shift into a defensive expression as he rushed to explain himself.

“Blaire, you need to know that every inch of you is perfect. Your hair, your eyes, your body… and your mind is undeniably the sexiest thing about you. I don't care what anyone else thinks. But I’ve done this before. I’ve jumped head-first into a relationship with someone who I thought was it for me. I don’t blame Asher for her choices—I know why she made every single one. That doesn’t change the fact that I was left behind, completely forgotten, with my heart ripped out of my chest.”

My mouth tightened into a thin line at the mention of his first love.

Why was he bringing her up? I'd never do those things to him.

“Just bear with me for a second, okay?”

He took a deep breath, readying himself to speak again.

“It’s been over twenty years since all that happened. I thought what I felt for her was this magnificent, rare thing. One I'd never find again. And I haven't. What we have, Blaire…”

He paused, struggling to find the words.

“It's like I can feel you deep inside in my bones. Whenever you're around, every part of me comes to life again. What I felt for her was only a fraction of the devotion I feel for you. So, yes. I want to take our time exploring this because it feels so much greater than anything anyone out there can comprehend.”

I didn't have a response to give him. Not to that admission. It felt like too significant of a moment for me to ruin it with my words. My insecurities.

Instead, I leaned up and placed a kiss on his waiting lips. Then, I moved down to the dimple on his chin. To the freckle on his neck. I made my way all the way down his chest and abdomen, until I reached his waiting erection.

Then, I kissed his tip and used my mouth to show him that his words had landed on their target.

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