Page 180 of Choosing You

“Because I feel like you don’t want me now that Blake’s been all over me.”

“No! That’s not it at all. I just thought it was too soon. You don’t talk to me about it. I don’t know what’s going on with you.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. It’s over. I need to move on but I can’t when you’re acting like this. When you won’t even touch me.” I take his hand and place it under my shirt, moving it over my skin. “I need you. I need us to be like we were before.”

“Okay,” he says, almost in a whisper. He lies down again and gently kisses me. He’s taking this slow, which is exactly what I need. I don’t admit it to him, but Iama little afraid I might freak out when he’s on top of me.

I lift his shirt up until he lets me take it off. Then I take off mine and inch closer until we’re touching. I need to feel his skin against me. We kiss some more but I can tell he’s still unsure if he should go farther.

“Garret, I’m not afraid of this.”

He takes his pajama pants off and tosses them on the floor. I guide his hand to my panties and he slips them off. Then he finally kisses me like he used to. Like he wants this. Like he wants me.

We’re lying facing each other. I flip on my back, encouraging him to move to the next stage. My heart is beating really fast because now I’m not sure I want him over me. I can still feel Blake’s heavy body holding me down and I don’t know if I’m ready to feel trapped like that again.

“Get on top,” Garret says, as though he could sense my fear.

I sit up straight. “What? No. I can’t. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He lets out a short laugh as he lies on his back. “You can do it. It’s easy.”

“No. Really. I don’t know what to do.”

He lifts me up and I position myself on top of him. He places his hands securely on my hips, guiding them for me. Soon I’m moving on my own, although I still feel like I’m not doing it right. I know Garret’s been with a lot of girls and I’m sure they all had way more experience than me. It’s not the time to think about that, but my mind goes there anyway until I hear Garret’s voice.

“Why did you stop?” he asks.

“Oh. I didn’t mean to.” I was so worried about my lack of experience that I’d stopped moving. I get my hips going again. “I don’t think I’m doing this right.”

He pulls me down for a kiss. “There’s no right way to do it, Jade. Just do what feels good.”

“But I don’t know what that means for you.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m a guy. It all feels good. And I liked what you were doing so keep doing it.”

I try again, feeling more confident now that he said that.

I’m sure it’s not the greatest sex he’s ever had and it’s not the best I’ve had either. But even if it wasn’t the best sex, at least I was with Garret again.

As I lie in his arms afterward, an image of Blake flashes in my mind and I pull Garret’s arms even tighter around me.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m just sleepy.”

He covers us with the blanket and kisses my forehead. I feel like we’re even closer than before. And part of me even feels safe again.

Sunday we have our usual pancake breakfast and then study in Garret’s room all day. Thursday is the last official day of class before winter break, but all of our finals are Monday through Wednesday. Most people are gone by Thursday so the professors hold class but nothing’s really planned other than to turn in any remaining assignments, which you can do online. So basically everyone skips Thursday classes, which is what Garret and I plan to do.

“I’m sick of calculus. I need to switch to a different topic.” Garret shuts his book and sets it aside. “Did you finish writing in your English notebook?”

I reach into my backpack and pull out the blue notebook, tossing it to him. “You might as well give me yours.”

Garret and I are supposed to read each other’s notebooks and make comments after each entry. We’re supposed to write in them at least a couple times a week, but neither one of us has been doing that. I tend to write a month’s worth of entries at a time but I never know what to write about so it takes me forever. The notebooks have to be turned in this Tuesday, the day of the final, and there has to be a comment on each entry.

I flip through Garret’s notebook. “How am I supposed to write comments about your description of a football game? I don’t even understand what you wrote here.” Garret tends to only write about sports or current events.

He laughs. “Yeah, and yours is so much better.” He holds it up and reads dramatically. “I have a new appreciation for donuts. This morning I had—”

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