Page 54 of Loving the Sinner
“No one else, Wes. You already know I’m a… I’ve never had sex. I only want you.” And that’s the truth. I was only a virgin because my religion practically demanded it. I was only waiting until marriage because that’s what I thought needed to happen, but when Packer ended things and I realized I could have sex with whoever I wanted, I just… didn’t. I was still too scared to commit such a “sin.” Now that I’ve explored my body and have gotten comfortable “sinning” I’m ready to take the next step.
Ready to take the next step withWes.
And apparently he’s ready for me too, if the hard thing poking into my thigh is any indication.
“I’m glad to hear that.” Wes kisses the tip of my nose and sits back on his heels, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m sorry I got carried away just now. I’m not going to do anything in the middle of nature, where anyone could come across us. When we’re together for the first time, we’re going to take our time, Elli. Not because I don’t think you can handle it, but because it’s what you deserve.”
I have a bit of whiplash from the change in mood so suddenly, but I can tell Wes needs the space and the reassurance that I’m okay.
“Never apologize for being you, Wes. You’re never going to be too much for me. I appreciate that you want to take things slow.” I reach up to his face and pull him down for what’s supposed to be a quick peck, but turns into a slow, leisurely makeout session.
When we finally come up for air, Wes groans, then gives me another peck on the lips before standing and holding his hand out for me. “Come on, baby. Let’s skip some rocks.”
I grin as he helps me up. He guides me through the process of which rocks are the best for skipping, and which ones will just sink. He teaches me the right wrist flicking technique, and after a few practice rounds, I’m feeling pretty confident.
“How about we skip these last rocks together and see who makes it furthest?” I suggest.
“You’re on.” We stand side by side, and Wes counts down from three.
When he hits “one” we toss our rocks and watch them sync up and skip one, two, three, four, five, six, seven times.
And sink to the bottom together.
Wes’s breath hitches, and I know he’s thinking it too.
Maybe the fairies are real, after all.
Chapter 25
Wes
I’m not a religious man. I don’t believe in some Sky Daddy who controls the universe or anything like that. I’m not sure I believe in fate or karma, but even I have to admit the seven skips and sinking thing was such a specific, unlikely thing to happen. I don’t believe in fairies, but it’s almost like a sign from the universe that Elli and I are meant to be, despite all of our differences.
After skipping rocks, we lay on the blanket and just talked about everything. Conversation comes so easily with her, it’s almost scary.
Elli told me more about growing up in Utah, how the winters were brutal but the spring and fall were gorgeous. How she never really felt like she fit in as ateenager, and was only doing things to please her parents. She wanted to be a chef, but that wasn’t considered a “good mom career” so she decided to go into human resources. She was going to go to culinary school, but her parents refused to let her live at home if she didn’t pick a better career choice. I know my childhood was bad, but Elli’s was rough in a different way. I always knew who I wanted to be and the expectations for my future may have been low, but I always had support in some form whether it be Jess, or Grandma, or Claudia and Ernie. Even now, I have Robin, Matt, Sean, Drew, Sav, and the kids that support me.
Elli only has Izzy.
And now me.
I tell her about the first time I ever played in front of an audience at our high school talent show. I was so nervous I threw up backstage. In the end I think I did a pretty good job, though.
I lean in to kiss Elli, right as her stomach grumbles and ruins the romantic moment. She blushes in embarrassment, but I laugh it off and offer to stop and grab food on the way to her apartment. She refuses my offer and says she’d really like to cook for me instead.
I’m not going to turn down a homemade meal, so I agree.
She doesn't let me help her with dinner, but I watch as she easily maneuvers around the kitchen. She seems at home there, and it’s mesmerizing to watch her chop things and cut vegetables so quickly.
When the chicken is cooked, and the noodles are done, she combines the sauce, the chicken, and the noodles all together with a bit of pasta water and puts them on a plate with a slice of french bread slathered in butter.
My mouth waters as she sets the plate in front of me, then joins me at the counter on the other barstool.
I take a bite, and it’s so good I have to refrain from shoveling everything into my mouth like a rabid bear.
“Elli. This is fucking amazing. I have to have the recipe.”
“Thank you. I um, I don’t have a recipe.” She says shyly, shrugging. “I just make it up as I go, usually. I had asparagus and mushrooms that needed to be used.”
