Page 82 of I Blame the Rival

It looks really painful.

“Do you me want to…” I trial off, waiting for him to finish the sentence. Compared to Skylar’s quiet confidence about sex, I feel awkward and inexperienced when it comes to things as simple as a blowjob.

I have done it before, but only because it was expected. I never got the opportunity to discover my partner’s pleasure because it was never an option for me. Jerrell made the rules clear and firm, using guilt and manipulation to force my hand or my mouth to do the things he wanted.

It sounds pathetic, but at the time I didn’t know any better.

I do now.

Skylar studies me silently, his eyes seeing far more than they should.

“No. You’ve done enough tonight.” He pushes himself off the ground with a wince and walks to my door, “I’ll be back soon.”

I watch him leave, feeling the humiliation of my past crashing down on me. It’s been over two years, and I still can’t get my ex-boyfriend out of my head.

It’s been over two years and I’m still not normal.

Closing my eyes against the surge of tears, I hear the shower turn on just outside my bedroom door. I listen to the sound of water running, picturing Skylar stripping off his clothes and hopping in to jerk himself off.

All because I let some douchebag pressure me into sex.

Anger cuts through me, targeting the cowardly state of my current self. I just had the best sexual experience of my life, and here I am, letting the shadows of my past keep me from discovering the kind and thoughtful boy who buys me romance books.

Skylar deserves better.

Ideserve better.

Swallowing the fear rising in my throat, I snag my shorts from the ground and wiggle them on. I tiptoe from my bedroom to the bathroom door, hesitating before I slip inside.

The dorm’s bathroom separates into two stalls, one for the toilet and one for the shower. A quick glance confirms my roommate isn’t hiding out in the bathroom stall. I take a shaky breath and knock on the closed door of the shower.

“Skylar?”

There’s a moment of silence, then, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” An abundance of nerves hit me and it takes me a moment to swallow the lump in my throat.

“I was wondering if I could join you.”

The lock clicks open and Skylar peeks his head out. Wet hair is plastered against his forehead and water droplets slip down his face. He looks younger like this, less like the haunted boy I’ve gotten to know and more like the one I’ve always seen.

“You want to shower with me?”

His eyes rake down my face, peering through the mask nobody else seems to get past.

“Yeah.” Breaking eye contact, I look down at my chipped fingernails, “If that’s okay.”

“I’m not wearing any clothes.”

A laugh slips out, “I think that’s the point of a shower.”

Skylar studies me for a moment longer before disappearing back behind the door. I stare at it, at a loss for what to do, when it shifts open. Steam sneaks through the crack, the hot humidity washing over my skin in the most inviting way.

I’m trembling when I slip out of my clothes and kick them over to where Skylar’s lie neatly folded. Refusing to give myself a second to think, I pull open the door and step inside.

The steam of the hot water smacks me in the face, enveloping my naked body as I shut the door gently behind me. Skylar is watching me, his eyes carefully trained on my face.

I stare back at him, struggling to remember how to breathe. Nerves and fear have me glued to the spot, and now I'm wondering if maybe I do have asthma from the way my lungs have stopped working.

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