Beautiful Together (27 page)

I climbed into another peak as I felt his release spilling inside of me, that pure, unadulterated warmth. He was claiming me, taking me, owning me. He twitched inside of me, and I loved it.

We moaned together, rocked together, gripped each other so tightly that it was almost painful, and then soon after, we started to slow. I watched as he calmed, watched as the muscles relaxed first in his flushed face, and then downward.

Still inside of me, he collapsed forward. I lowered my legs into a more relaxed position.

"That was incredible," he said, totally out of breath.

"I know."

The twilight felt palpable.

Jesse kissed my cheek, and then went back to my lips. We made out again, kissing with the same aggression that had begun the whole ordeal. He traced his fingers across my chest, moving slower as he passed my nipples, and then he hugged me.

I couldn't believe what had happened. My head spun like I was on a merry-go-round from hell. Here I was with Jesse Evans, in a luxury suite in London, and I'd just had the best sex of my entire life. I held him so intensely I worried I might squeeze the life out of him.

Emotional, post-sex tears trickled down my cheeks. I maintained my grip. I didn't want him to see me crying right then.

But despite my best efforts to hide it, he sensed immediately. "Naomi, what's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"It's stupid," I said. "I'm crying for no reason."

"It's okay," he said, kissing my forehead. "It's not stupid."

"I didn't expect this," I murmured. "I never expected this."

"Me either," he said. "I was in love with you for so long. I never thought it would happen. I never thought
anything
would happen."

"Why didn't you say something when you had the chance?" I said, almost angrily. "You should have said something."

"I couldn't do it," he said softly. "I didn't know if you felt the same. I was terrified that I would screw up everything we had by admitting it."

"Well, you did that anyway," I chided. "All this time apart. For
no
reason." I gripped him tighter, trying to lovingly emphasize my disgust at how things had been handled.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I messed up. But I never stopped loving you. I still love you now."

The tears just kept coming. "Oh, Jesse," I whimpered softly.

Even though it was late, we cuddled in silence for what seemed like a long time, listening to each other, just being present.

And then we made love again, the second time even sweeter than the first.

It was everything I needed, everything I had wanted for so long but I hadn't realized it until that night.

And he felt the same.

28

I woke suddenly, like a bomb had gone off outside and shaken me awake. But nothing was moving, nothing was out of place. No one was in my line of vision, just the ceiling, an unfamiliar ceiling bathed in shimmering sunlight. Nobody was screaming—well, not
yet
.

The comfortable swell of blankets went all the way up to my neck, and I didn't want to leave the soft warmth. So I didn't. My arms were at my sides, wrapped up tightly like I was a mummy.

Where am I?
I thought. I definitely hadn't seen the place in the daylight, so yeah, I was a tiny bit confused.

I knew that if I moved, I'd figure it out immediately. I liked the mystery, at least momentarily. And then, the gears of my mind started turning and spit the answer right in my face.

I hadn't been
blackout
drunk, but I had been
pretty
drunk nevertheless. Carefully, I brought my arms higher until I could lift the blanket and confirm the insanity that my brain was hinting at. I pulled it away and swallowed hard.

There he was, Jesse Evans, right next to me, naked and still sound asleep.

Suddenly, I was questioning everything that happened, feeling it ebb and flow in my mind like a high tide. It felt like a panic attack was about to hit.

What did this mean?

It was so hard to sit still, but I made myself do it. I didn't
need
an answer right then, but my brain was trying to forcefully produce one. Oh, God, I had crossed a line—but was it a line I actually wanted to cross? Was it a
good
line to cross?

My panic gave way to positive memories, memories of our daylong aimless stroll through beautiful London, of our coffee and French food and wine, of our surprise movie experience.

Of our mind-blowing sex.

"Shit," I mouthed silently, biting my own lip. This was complex.

I needed a physical moment entirely to myself. Naked, I slid out from under the blankets as furtively as possible and went straight into the bathroom. Everything was marble and gorgeous, but I wasn't all that appreciative of it right then. I caught a glance of my ridiculous sex hair as I passed by the huge mirror, another reminder of what had actually taken place.

I went to the bathroom and then continued sitting there on the toilet, staring into the beautiful shower like it was a black hole. It was a rain shower with a big glass door, and I'd never used one like it before. As simple as it was, the shower was a good distraction from the heavy stuff, a random object to focus my attention on.

Not long after my mindless staring party began, I started to get incredibly cold. I couldn't hide in the bathroom any longer. I finished up and crept back into the room, sliding back under the warmth of the heavy blankets.

"Oh, hey," Jesse said after I was back in place. "There you are."

I jumped a little, but I don't think he noticed. "Hi." I turned my head—he was gazing at me, smiling, the sun illuminating his skin.

He scooted closer and then hugged me. "You're so cold," he whispered, drawing me closer to him.

"It was just cold in the bathroom," I said. "So I rushed back."

"Well, it's warm here." He kissed my cheek. "You're so beautiful," he said.

I blushed, but felt myself starting to laugh. It was enough to balance out the compliment. "You're beautiful too," I added. I wriggled my hand loose and fondled his pec. "No joke."

Jesse groped me back and I squirmed. His playful assault had thoroughly disarmed me. He kissed me gently, and I kissed him back. We lay there in silence for a minute or two, close to one another, sharing the growing body heat.

Near the end of the silence, I noticed he was already hard and pressing against my leg. The reality of the situation overwhelmed me again.

"Jesse," I whined.

"What?" he asked, almost defensively.

"Do you really think I don't notice that
thing
stabbing into my thigh?"

"I can't help it," he said. "You're too hot."

I shrugged and looked up at the ceiling, worried that I was sounding bitchy. Uncertain thoughts were rushing through my head again.

We were naked, and we had had sex twice. Jesse Evans and I had sex
twice
. Last night.

"Jesse," I started calmly, "what does this all mean?"

"Last night?" he said. I could hear his tone morphing as he spoke.

"Yeah. What we did," I said. "What do we do now? We're not drunk anymore."

He shifted onto his back, lying beside me instead of spooning. "It was one of the best nights of my life. And I hope it happens again. Are you... unhappy, Naomi?"

"No, no," I mumbled. "It was... amazing." It felt almost like a bad word when it came out, but I meant it. I gazed over at him for just a second and then returned my eyes to the ceiling. "But did you really mean what you said? About loving me?"

"I did," he said quickly, no hesitation at all. "I mean, I
do
love you. I'm sorry if it comes as a shock but... it's the truth. I should have said it a long time ago, but, yeah, I didn't."

"Wow," I said, frozen, feeling like I was trapped in an incredibly sensitive moment. Last night had been incredible, but everything felt like it was moving too fast.

He cleared his throat. "I mean, I understand if like you're not prepared to drop everything and run off into the sunset with me. We're both adults now, reunited after a long time apart. You've got a life and stuff."

"Barely," I said.

"Regardless, I needed to say it. I loved you then, and I love you now. It's not a demand. Love is patient, right? It's an admission. A promise. And it's never gone away. I want you, Naomi."

Sadness brewed inside of me. I looked over at his face, his expression nearly sullen. "Do you realize that you're the first person I've slept with since Mason?"

His expression became quizzical. "Wait,
seriously
?"

"Yeah," I said. "I guess I've fooled around a couple of times, but never the real thing."

"But you've
dated
other guys, right?"

I shook my head. "No, not really."

Jesse cleared his throat. "I hope this doesn't sound callous," he started, "but
why
? Did you become super religious or something?"

His mention of the word
religious
was enough to reanimate the cold, dead feelings inside of me.

My mind raced through a number of memories, throwing them into focus, making them fade away. Suddenly, I was drowning in emotion. Suddenly I was reliving moments of my past, reliving Mason's death, reliving the fight with my mom that destroyed our relationship.

"No," I said firmly.

"What is it then, Naomi? What kept you from moving on? You know you can tell me anything."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "This is so stupid," I said abruptly, "but I need to say it."

Jesse slid his arm beneath me and cradled me toward him; it felt good, safe. Like a place I wanted to stay. "Anything, Naomi."

"You know how I was never all that religious, right? When I lived at home? I mean, neither of us were. We just went through the motions because of our parents."

"Yeah," he said. "I remember."

I went on from that intro to tell him about my family trip to the cabin and my desperate prayer motivated by nothing but immaturity, hormones, indecision about my future, and mild greed. I explained how no matter how much I told myself I had nothing to do with Mason's death, the sensation of the emotional wound was still there, even if logic told me it was wrong.

I had felt it seriously, and it had been permanently imprinted into my mind. And that, paired with my mom calling me a slut, had kept me basically celibate. She drove the knife in deep, and then twisted it while I was still reeling.

Jesse gently stroked my arm, occasionally running his hand through my hair as I talked. When I finally reached the conclusion of the story, he paused, visibly digesting my words.

"You
have
to stop blaming yourself," he said firmly. "It has to stop now."

"I don't blame myself," I retorted. "Not anymore."

"But I don't think you totally believe it. Look at me, Naomi," he demanded.

I stared back into his eyes, my belly full of tension. I
knew
that look from my childhood, that look that meant
this is for real now
. You didn't mess around with that look. "What?"

"You are not responsible in any way for Mason's death," he said. "It doesn't matter what you prayed for. It had nothing to do with Mason's suffering. It was a coincidence, just a stupid coincidence paired with your mom's instability. She exploited you when you were most vulnerable."

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered unenthusiastically. I was trying to let his words sink in, but it hadn't happened yet. "Just a stupid coincidence. Right."

"This
has
to end," he said, his expression fiery and demanding. "It ends now. You're an adult, Naomi. It's time
to move on. You have to enjoy life instead of feeling like a perpetual victim."

A moment of intense silence broke out. And then, something finally clicked. How or why, I didn't know. But it did. Like the butterfly effect. The flapping, tiny wings had caused an earthquake a thousand miles away—and I couldn't stop it.

When I felt the tears coming, I accepted them. They came slow at first, but then the floodgates opened. "You're right," I whined. His words felt like bullets, and although it really hurt, it was a good hurt. It was a proper hurt.

"Here," he said, handing me a tissue. He rubbed my back in tiny circles.

I wiped my eyes. "You're right," I said again. "Why have I been clinging to this? I've been doing
nothing
because it was easier than accepting the truth."

"Maybe you liked having a reason for your behavior," he said. "Maybe it was comfortable. Maybe the pain became a part of your self-identity." He hugged me tightly. "But it's okay now, Naomi. I promise."

"It's not okay," I contested. "I've been partying constantly and leeching off Arielle's dad because I didn't want to take charge of my own life. I'm pathetic."

"You're not pathetic, Naomi," he said. "Stop beating yourself up. You dealt with a bunch of traumatic stuff, but it's all behind you now. You can make it better. A bad attitude isn't gonna motivate you to do it, though. So cheer up."

"I'm trying to!" I pleaded.

"The past can't hurt you now. Not unless you let it."

Everything he said was true, and
all of it
was confusing. I was crying in bed, naked, with my former best friend in a luxury suite in London while he comforted me.

But despite all the confusion, for the first time in years, I felt like I didn't
need
a clear answer. It was what it was, the present, nothing more or less.

Just
now.
Somehow, he had broken through. Somehow he had succeeded. He was right—the past would only keep hurting me if I let it.

I eventually got myself under control, and, since we both reeked of sex and sweat, we ended up taking a shower together, my first experience with a rain showerhead. It was so wonderful and steamy and luxurious. I was super impressed.

I ended up using the same peppermint-infused soap I smelled on him last night, some natural stuff he had brought along from home. The scent immediately sent my head spinning, reminding me of what had taken place between us. I felt a bit drunk again.

Jesse was naked before me, gorgeous, muscles glistening, hair soaked and stuck to his scalp as hot water poured over us. He had made me come three times last night. And yet, he was also my former strictly platonic best friend who had hidden his true feelings from me.

I still didn't know how
it would affect things going forward.

"You're by far the most beautiful girl I've ever been with," he said, interrupting my daydream.

"Thanks," I said. "And just how many girls have you been with?"

He shot me a wry smile, and started counting with his fingers, one at a time, saying the names quietly enough that I couldn't hear them over the sound of the water. When he reached
thirty-five
, I had to stop him.

"Jesse! Are you kidding me? Do I need to get tested for STDs?"

He started laughing. "Yes, I'm kidding. I've been with four. Always used condoms, too. I was just testing you to see how far I could go before you freaked out. You're pretty accepting, huh?"

"Does
four
include me?"

"Five, if I count you."

I shrugged, feeling a bit odd. It wasn't
that
big of a number. It was more than me, but my circumstances definitely weren't normal.