Page 25 of Skid
After disposing of the condom, he lay down next to me and sighed with utter satisfaction. It brought a smile to my face and a million thoughts to my mind. One thought led me to roll toward him and say, “I need to ask you something.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“It’s something I should’ve asked weeks ago.” I started to feel exposed and insecure, so I got up and grabbed my pajamas from the dresser. I started getting dressed as I continued, “I wasn’t sure how to ask before, but considering what just happened, I think it needs to be asked.”
“You’re killing me, woman. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“You serious?”
“Yes, I guess I am.”
“Only one girl I’m interested in, and she’s lying here next to me… or she was.”
“Okay, good.”
“Come here.”
I hesitated a moment, then slipped back in bed next to him. He slipped his arm around me, pulling me close. “I’m going to say this again. You can trust me. I know it’s just words, but one day, you’ll see that they’re true.”
We talked awhile, but eventually, Thatch got still and drifted off to sleep. I, on the other hand, was wide awake. I was surprised by how safe I felt lying there. I didn’t jump at every bump or noise I heard outside. I could just lie there and enjoy the soft sound of his breathing.
I kept replaying the night in small flashes. The warmth of his breath on my neck. The deep, longing sound of his voice. The goosebumps that prickled my skin whenever he touched me. The hum of my heart when he told me how incredible I was. They were just small moments, but they meant everything to me.
Before him, there had only been Baylor’s dad, and it was never like this. It was always rushed and awkward. It was more about him getting off than ever about pleasing me. I thought that was just the way it was. But tonight, I realized just how wrong I’d been.
Thatch didn’t just want me. He paid attention to me. He responded to me and cared about me in ways that left no doubt that my experience mattered just as much as his—if not more. My throat tightened with emotion, and I turned to look at him.
He was young and maybe a little naïve, but he handled himself with more loyalty and pride than most men could ever dream about. And he wanted me. That thought brought a feeling of happiness that radiated inside of me. This could be my life. I could be with him. He could stay, and together, we could have something good.
As quickly as that thought came, another seeped in and filled me with fear. I never imagined that I would have that kind of happiness. I’d been through too much. I was too afraid to hope.
It’s easier to expect nothing than to let yourself believe you have a chance for something more and lose it. It’s just one disappointment after the next. But when I looked at him, I wondered if this time might be different.
Maybe it could work out. Maybe he’d meant the things he’d said, and maybe he’d stay. It was scary to hope for such things, but as I lay there staring up at the ceiling, I couldn’t help myself. I wanted this. I wanted him.
I shifted a little, nestling in the crook of his arm, and pulled myself closer. And with that, I closed my eyes, and it wasn’t long before I drifted off to sleep. The next morning, I woke to the smell of coffee and the feeling of an empty bed. I rolled over with a stretch, scanning the room through hazy eyes, and found Thatch standing at the door with a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Morning,” he said with a lazy smile. “Morning.”
“How’d you sleep?”
“Like a log.” He walked over and offered me the cup of coffee. I took it from his hand as I asked, “How about you?”
“I slept ok.”
“Just okay?”
“Well, I was snoozing pretty well until the snoring started.”
“Snoring?” I gasped, sitting up in bed. “Are you saying I snored?”
“Like a lumberjack.”
“Oh, my God.” My mouth fell open with mortification. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“Don’t sweat it, babe. I sleep at the clubhouse with guys who snore ten times louder than you ever could.”
