Page 18 of Begin Again Again

He swept her upward, lifting her as though she were a toy. He buried his face in her neck, not kissing so much as rubbing his stubbled jaw along her skin. Beth laughed, startled by the intimacy, but he felt so good, smelled even better. Her skin prickled with the same strange feeling from earlier. The sense of an appointment met. A time and place agreed upon.

“Denounce horoscopes,” Byron snarled into her neck.

She tickled him, trying to break his hold. He tensed and it was like tickling a brick wall. “Let me down!”

“Denounce horoscopes.”

“Never!”

He lowered her onto the bed. It was even bigger than it looked, a cushioned spaceship at her back. The sheets smelled like aftershave and sunshine, and Beth let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. She’d suffered through some hideously greasy bachelor bedsheets, and it was a relief to know Byron wasn’t like that. But then of course he wasn’t like that.

Does his laundry—check.

He stood before her, a monolith in the darkness. Beth pushed herself up on her elbows. “Are you coming?”

“Just looking at you, Horoscopes.”

“I’m an Aries. Just FYI.”

“Shh. I’m trying to look.”

Beth closed her eyes and let him look, arching her back ever-so-slightly. The bed sank under the weight of Byron’s knee, and his hands brushed her shins. “I like your dress.”

“Thank you.”

He stroked her calves and Beth pictured the velvet sky, the moon, and Mars and clouds whispering off in the distance. She recalled Byron standing in the middle of the road, face set, muscles gleaming in the sun, the butterfly flicking past. His hands brushed along her thighs, slow and easy. “Do you like this?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You want more?”

“Yes. Please.”

He pressed his mouth to her left thigh. Goosebumps raced along Beth’s skin. Their first kiss. Or had they already kissed? No, this was the first. She ran her fingers through his hair, the feel of it against her skin so unexpectedly erotic, she moaned. “You’re so gorgeous.”

He kissed her other thigh. “Yeah, I remember you yelling that from the car.”

“No, you don’t. That was an illusion. We met some other, normal way.”

“Sure, we did, Horoscopes.” Byron kissed his way along her right thigh, making her skin buzz.

“Whatever happens between us, you arenotallowed to tell people I catcalled you.”

Beth was talking for no reason, barely aware of what she was saying. He was so close to her pussy, she wanted to die. It had been bad; some nights during lockdown, there were times she could have screamed from wanting sex. But this was worse.

“I like that you called out.” Byron rose up and over her like a living cage. “I wouldn’t have seen you otherwise.”

Beth shrank into the sheets. She knew that was true. If she hadn’t called out, Byron, the checker of so many bingo boxes, would have literally failed to see her as he crossed the road. But knowing that didn’t make it sting any less. It was sexist, she supposed, but it would have felt so much better if he’d been the one who noticed her. Approached her. Instantly wanted her as much as she’d wanted him. For the first time since she’d stood in the alley at The Vic, Beth craved tequila. She wanted to be the girl she could have been tonight. She could have been BETH!—sexy and wild and fun. Too drunk to care she’d done all the noticing and asking.

Then Byron laid his mouth on her neck and kissed her, and she let go of BETH!. She wasn’t real. Bethany Myers was. And maybe she wasn’t the kind of girl who made time and butterflies stand still, but she was the one in Byron’s bed, making him notice her now. She shifted beneath him, weaving her legs around his. He stilled, lifting his mouth from her neck.

“Is this okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

But he didn’t lie back on top of her. Beth put her arms around his neck and urged him down. He didn’t budge. She tugged. He still didn’t budge. He might have been made of concrete.

“Could you, um, do this for a while?”

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