Page 58 of The Only Time

“Does it feel weird when you come in here?” I ask him, opening a drawer in his desk.

He takes a seat on his bed then lies back. “Not really. I don’t really think about it. I’m usually in here just to crash for the night. I don’t really look at anything.”

Nothing but old school notebooks and pens. I open the next drawer.

“You being a little snoop over there?” he asks.

“I’m curious to know more about teenage Eric. You’re not much of a talker. That means I have to resort to snooping to figure you out. Plus, is it really considered snooping if you’re sitting right there watching me?”

Another smile from him. I feel like I’ve won the lottery tonight. He’s starting to loosen up around me, and my heart explodes with joy every time he does.

“Oh, jackpot,” I exclaim as I pull out the contents of the last drawer. “Yearbooks.”

I grab a stack of them and run over to the bed to join him. We both sit up and lean our backs against the headboard.

“Is this high school?” I ask as I open the top one.

He nods. “Looks like my senior year.”

I flip through the pages until I find the senior photos then skim the names until I find him. “Dang, you were sexy even at eighteen. I bet you got any woman you wanted back then.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I did okay.”

“When did you lose your virginity?” I ask curiously.

“Fifteen.”

“Someone in this yearbook?” I ask, feeling jealous all of a sudden of someone that got to have that special moment with him.

“Leah Pearce,” he says. “She was in my grade.”

I scan the pictures until I find her. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones. Why am I not surprised? She’s in a cheer uniform. The picture is only from the shoulders up, but I see the uniform.

“She’s pretty.” My words are sullen and bitter, even I can hear it.

I see his chest reverberate as he laughs. “Are you jealous of a high school girlfriend of mine?”

My jaw drops. I don’t know if it’s from shock that he would accuse me of that or if it’s seeing him so playful. “I am not jealous of someone you were with twenty years ago. That would be humiliating.”

His fingers brush against my cheeks. “I guess that’s why you’re blushing.”

“Maybe we should talk about the men that have touched my body and see how you like it.”

His smile fades. His jaw clenches as his eyes burn with a cold, dangerous intensity. “I don’t fucking want to hear a word about anyone else touching you.”

My body burns with desire. Watching this man rage with jealousy over me makes me feel like this thing between us is something—like we’re more—like I’m his. The moment is too tense, I have to look away.

I find a yearbook that looks much older, faded edges and paperback versus a hardback cover. I reach for it, and it opens perfectly to a worn-out page. At first glance, there’s nothing out of the ordinary about the page. It’s a collage of photos scattered about both sides. The kids in the picture look young, like eleven or so.

Then I notice a picture of two kids smiling at a camera. A boy and a girl. Only the girl is scratched out with a pen, her face barely visible.

“What happened here?” I ask as my finger traces over the pen mark. It’s thick, like whoever did it was pressing hard against the paper.

“That is Becca.”

I wait for more to come, but he doesn’t offer anything. “And why is Becca’s face scratched out?”

He sighs. “We were twelve at the time. I didn’t handle things in life very gracefully back then.”

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