Livvy (34 page)

“Not this?”

“I like it. But it’s not as intimate,” I explain. “You’re not vulnerable. I like it when you’re vulnerable with me.”

“I just like making you come,” he says. “I don’t care how.”

“I know but–”

“Livvy?” The motions of his fingers cease. I wasn’t ready for him to stop.

“Yes?”

“Can you please shut up, baby, so I can do my job as a good and loving boyfriend?”

“But–” He stops me with a kiss.

“No buts,” he whispers after he takes a breath. His hand begins to move again. “Unless you don’t want me to do this.”

“No, I do,” I admit. “I really do.”

“Good.”

I close my eyes, focusing on the feelings and imagining that we’re making love. Once that thought is in my head, my muscles work with him to create the movements my body craves. I’m close, but I need more.

“Make love to me, please,” I beg him as I slide my hand back beneath his briefs. He’s definitely turned on. I know he wants to, but he doesn’t help me to remove the rest of his clothes. I open my eyes warily, feeling moisture in the corners. “Please?”

“Not now, baby.” Before I can argue, he disappears under the blankets, kissing my body over my clothes all the way down.

In a matter of seconds, I forget that I ever wanted anything else from him. I realize the final cry of his name was probably loud enough for people on the street to hear.

I feel something snap under his fingers before he makes his way back up my body. “Souvenir,” he jokes with me, and I realize he’s broken the other lace string of my bikini.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “You know, not for forcing me to go commando in front of my friends, but for the thing before that.” I push against him in jest.

“You ready?” he asks.

“For?”

“My turn. Let’s go downstairs.”

“Finn and Katrina are there... we can’t do anything while they’re at the loft. We don’t have a bedroom door.”

“There’s a bathroom door,” he suggests.

“No way. Things echo in there!”

“I’ll be quiet,” he tries to barter with me.

“No!”

“I’ll go get protection then. I’ll be right back.”

“Jon, I’m cold,” I tell him. “Feel my ears.” He cups his hands around my ears. His hands are so warm against my skin. He kisses me, nudging my nose with his.

“Your nose is like an icicle. Let’s go downstairs. You can put on some warm clothes and we can make a fire or something.”

“Is that okay?” I ask.

“I’m not going to make you freeze to death out here. It’s fine.” He slips out from beneath the covers, still in his underwear. I glance down tentatively, feeling a tinge of guilt when I see him. He finds his jeans and puts them on carefully, wincing a little as he zips them up.

“You okay?”

He shuts his eyes tightly but answers. “I will be.” He takes the top blanket and folds it up, holding it in front of his body. I take the other, wrapping it around my shoulders in an effort to stay warm. I’m exhausted, and my limbs still feel like jelly.

When we get downstairs, Finn is just leaving the apartment.

“Leaving so soon?” Jon asks.

“She’s tired,” he answers. “She fell asleep watching TV, but it’s fine. I told Gabby I’d play a game with her before bed tonight anyway, and it’s getting late.”

“Okay. We’ll see you both tomorrow?” Jon pats Finn on the shoulder, then slips inside the apartment, still walking a bit stiffly.

“With Dad and Diana. What time are you guys going over there?”

“I think around two.”

“I’ll be there around two,” he says. “I’m already anxious to see her again.”

“Good.” He gives me a hug goodbye, which isn’t returned since my arms are wrapped up tightly in the blanket. “Be careful going home.”

Jon corners me the second I get inside the loft, kissing me hungrily. I push him away, looking around. He hands me a slip of paper.

“I’m exhausted and going to bed. I’ll be up around nine, but wake me if I need to be up sooner. Katrina.”

“And you think this means–”

“Yes,” he says as he picks me up. “I think it means
yes
.” He sets me down by the bed, but I kick my shoes off and tiptoe down the hallway to see if the guest room door is closed. It is, and the light is off. I feel his arms snake around me before he kisses my neck. “I swear I won’t make a sound.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I warn him. “Hey, didn’t you say something about a fire?” He looks at me impatiently. “All I’m saying is that the fireplace is on the complete opposite end of the loft, behind a second wall. Do you see where I’m going with this?” I ask him.

“I’ll start the fire.”

“I’ll get some pillows and blankets.”

“Olivia...”

“No,” I whine. “It can’t be morning.”

“You keep telling me that these curtains do, in fact, block all sunlight, but I’ve yet to see you make that happen, baby.” Jon says. I burrow my head into his back.

“How’d we end up like this?” I ask, finding it odd that I’m spooning him.

“You hurt your leg,” he says, “and you refuse to sleep on the other side of the bed.” I move my legs and feel the tender muscle immediately in my left upper thigh.

“
You
hurt my leg,” I correct him, remembering. “Does
your
leg bend that way?” I challenge him.

“I’ve never tried, but probably not. I am really sorry.”

“Next time, just warn me,” I tell him before kissing his tattoo.

“Maybe a hot bath would make it feel a little better.” He rolls over onto his back and waits for my response.

“It sounds nice.”

“I’ll go start the water, then. Okay?”

“Okay.” I try to stretch the muscle again. I definitely pulled something last night. After it happened, he carried me around the apartment at my whim, taking me to get water, to find some socks, to turn on some music, and even to the restroom to freshen up. He waited by the door and carried me to bed. I’m not sure how I’ll get around today. There will be no way to disguise a limp, so I start trying to think of a story.

“Ready?” Jon asks, waiting by the bedside. “Want me to carry you?”

“No, I better try to walk it out.”

“I’ll help,” he says, putting his arm beneath mine to support my weight as I take my first step.

“Oh, God, it hurts.”

“Are you gonna be okay? Do you think it’s serious?” He guides me slowly toward the bathroom.

“I think it’s seriously painful, but I know I just pulled a muscle. I’ll take some ibuprofen. Maybe put a heating pad on it before we go. What time is it?”

“Seven,” he says, checking his watch that was sitting on the bathroom counter.

“You should put on some more clothes, in case Katrina gets up early,” I tell him as I tuck my finger under the waistline of his boxers.

“Yes, ma’am. Should I help you undress?”

“I’ve got it from here,” I assure him, hanging on to the corner of the counter. “You can bring me some clothes, though. I’ll just wear my pink flannel pajamas. Would you mind?”

“I’ll get them.”

“Can you bring my phone and put on some music?”

This time he glares at me. “I’m going to be paying for this until you’re healed, aren’t I?”

“In more ways than you realize,” I taunt him. He sighs in mock protest, and pulls the bathroom door shut on his way out. A few minutes later, after I’ve sunken into the hot bubble bath, Jon returns with clothes and the music I’d asked for.

“Is the volume okay, miss?” he asks.

“Shut up.” He stands at the door, as if waiting to be dismissed. “It’s perfect, Jon. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Put some more clothes on!” I yell after him as he closes the door.

The water is soothing, and I try to massage some of the tension out of the sore muscle. My cheeks flush when I remember the moment the injury happened. We were both feeling pretty good until then. Not sure how I’d be able to stand on my own to wash my hair, I spin around in the garden tub and start to run the water again, dipping my head beneath the stream and lathering my hair with shampoo.

Getting out of the tub proves to be more of a challenge than I thought it would be, but I finally manage, using the shower curtain and a towel rack to help steady myself. I also make the decision to not let Jon pick out my clothes anymore, either. He’s brought me black lace underwear, its matching bra and the flannel sleep shirt I asked for. Nothing else.

I peek out the bathroom first, looking for Katrina. Although I’d learned to be much less modest than I was before I went to college, I’m still not entirely comfortable walking around in underwear in front of my roommates. I leave the flannel shirt unbuttoned to reveal the bra, just to make a point to Jon. He was deliberate about his choices. He wanted to see me wearing the fancy underclothes.

Accepting that it’s still just me and Jon awake this morning, I limp toward kitchen where I smell something spicy.
Chai tea.
I love chai tea on cold mornings. Jon looks surprised to see me come into the hallway. “Is this everything you envisioned?” I stop, resting my weight on my good leg and pulling the shirt off my shoulders. Jon tucks his head in his hands. “What?” I laugh.

“Good morning, sweetie.”

I cover up quickly, stumbling as I turn around to see my mother standing next to the oven. “Mom! Hey!”

“That limp looks pretty bad...”

“Yeah, my heel slipped out from under me when I got out of the car last night.”

“So this was after you twisted your ankle running from the crowd at the restaurant?” she asks, looking at Jon.

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “I guess the odds were stacked against me last night. What are you doing here? Is Dad–” I don’t bother to ask the question, instead choosing to hobble in a circle to check my surroundings. I don’t see my father, but I do see a mess of blankets and pillows by the still smoldering fireplace, and my bed with the linens half-stripped from one corner. It’s obvious what happened last night.

“He’s at home with your brother and Kelly, getting things started for lunch.”

“Thank God,” I sigh.

“I wanted to bring Jon some pumpkin bread. Kelly made it fresh this morning. I was just heating it up for him.”

“That was nice, Mom. Jon, did you want to put a shirt on or something?” I ask him meekly. He doesn’t answer me, but he moves quickly past me toward the closet.

“Do you want to put some pants on?” Mom asks me.

“Yes, I do.” I lean into the counter, taking the weight off my leg, just as Jon throws the flannel pajama pants at me. They land on my head.

“Thanks, babe.” I shake my head, feeling more than a little embarrassed. I have to sit down on a bar stool to pull them up my legs, and even then I strain to reach my left foot. Jon sees my struggle and leans down to help me, pulling his own t-shirt down after I’m dressed. I run my fingers through his messy hair, trying to tame it.

“Did you just have a hunch that he’d be here?” I ask my mother.

“No. If I thought that, I would have had the doorman call up and not just used our key, and saved us all from this awkwardness. I was going to suggest you take it to him at his dorm. I knew he’d appreciate it.”

“I do,” Jon says, “and Emi, I’m sorry for this.”

“I mean, we know it’s going on,” she says. “I just thought with Katrina here that... I don’t know what I thought. She is here, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she went to bed early. She was really tired, and...” It does seem rude and oddly inappropriate that we had sex while she was shut in a bedroom. “We’re in love, Mom.” It’s the best answer I can come up with. Jon links his pinky finger with mine in quiet solidarity.

“I promise I will call from now on,” she says.

“Thanks. Because this is kind of a permanent thing,” I explain. Jon moves to stand behind my chair, rubbing my arms slowly. “I don’t want to be apart from him any more than I have to be.”

“The weeks without her are bad enough,” Jon adds. This makes my mom smile.

“You crazy kids,” she says.

“Are you going to tell Dad?”

“Let me worry about your father. He likes to live in denial when it comes to you embracing adulthood. Whatever I decide to do, I’ll wait until this week’s over. No use spoiling his family time.”

“Good idea,” I concur.

“Anyway, I think the bread’s probably warm now. I brought butter, just in case you didn’t have groceries, but I see someone’s stocked a few things.”

“That’d be Jon,” I tell her.

“Thank you,” she says to him, getting her purse and moving toward the door. “We’ll see you at two?”

“Yes,” Jon answers. “Thank you again. It means a lot.”

“I hope it brings a little bit of familiarity to your holiday.”

“It’s perfect.”