We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) (13 page)

His hands pressed my legs apart and he sat up on his knees between them. “Did you shout out vulva?”

I covered my head with his pillow. He pulled and I held on tight, wishing for a quick, soft, down-filled death to claim me.

Unfortunately, he was stronger and the pillow went flying across the room.

“I’m pretty sure you said vulva.”

“I don’t think so.” With my eyes closed, I shook my head against the mattress. If I couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see me. “Who would say such a word out loud? Ever.”

“I said it in the car less than an hour ago.” He tickled me and I peered at him through my lashes.

“Well, that makes one of us.” I widened my eyes in faux innocence. “You’re probably the only guy to ever say that word.”

He crawled up my body and kissed my left nipple. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“Why would I be embarrassed? I didn’t say anything.”

He dragged his teeth over the sensitive area, causing the nipple to rise in a salute. “Vulva.”

“Stop!”

He lifted his mouth away from my skin. “You want me to stop kissing you?”

“No, keep doing that part. Stop speaking. No more words.”

“Vulva?” He rubbed his nose over my ribcage to the other breast.

I scraped my nails over his scalp, and then yanked on his hair.

“Ouch. Okay, I’ll stop.” He sucked on a spot below my ear.

I sighed in relief.

“What are your feelings on labia?” he whispered, and then stifled my annoyed mumbling with a searing kiss.

We spent all of my spring break at his apartment. Mostly naked, although we did drive back to Olympia to pick up some clothes from this decade. He might have loved to torture me with anatomically correct vocabulary, but he wasn’t so cruel as to make me do a walk of shame in a caftan.

It poured rain every single day. Friday afternoon the sun peeked out and we literally ran outside to witness it like a rare comet. Blinking into the bright light, he suggested we go to Alkali Beach, west of the city. It wasn’t a warm, sandy beach in San Diego where my friends had headed, but it worked.

We stopped for groceries and rented a movie at the video store on the way back to the apartment. As we passed through the lobby, he paused to get his mail. An envelope from Ohio State stuck out on top, his name typed in neat lines.

“What’s that?” My curiosity got the better of me. I’d promised myself not to ask anything about the future after this week. I was a freshman. He was a grad student. No way would this thing between us have a chance of lasting.

“Oh, nothing.” He tucked the letter under a copy of
Scientific American
.

“If it’s nothing, then why are you hiding it?”

“It’s not important. Come on, you promised me your famous Campbell’s tomato soup if I made grilled cheese.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but wasn’t going to let this come between me and grilled cheese with tomato soup.

I managed not to burn the soup and his grilled cheese skills impressed me. As we watched
Bull Durham
, the stack of mail on the chair by the front door kept calling to me. I didn’t understand what needed to be secretive about a letter from Ohio. He attended grad school at UW already, why did it matter?

I half watched the TV and spent the rest of the time shooting dirty looks at the mail.

“Why are you staring at the door?” He stroked his hand down my hair where my head rested on the pillow in his lap. “Are you expecting someone? Or wanting to leave?”

I rolled over to face him. “What makes you think I want to leave?”

“Every time you look away from the TV, you move your head. Even with the pillow, it rubs across my lap like the world’s slowest, worst attempt at stimulation.”

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. Unless you thought you were turning me on. In which case, I have better suggestions.” He tapped my nose.

I sat up, then straddled him. “What did you have in mind?”

Instead of touching me, he laced his fingers behind his head. “What’ve you got?”

“You want me to take charge?”

Closing his eyes, he nodded. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. A week’s worth of beard growth covered his jaw. The wave of hair over his forehead earlier this year now reached past his brows. I brushed it back.

A small group of freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. I removed his glasses and leaned back to set them on the coffee table, giving one more scowl at the mail before sitting up again. I traced his bone structure with my fingertips, running them along his cheekbones and down his jaw. He lowered his hands to my hips, but didn’t open his lids. His only encouragement was a gentle squeeze.

My index finger outlined his lips and the faint smile lines in the corners of his eyes. Each action committed him to memory. I tugged his sweater over his head and the shirt underneath came off as well.

I read his skin and muscles with my fingertips. He had a small pox vaccine mark on his shoulder and another scar, maybe from the chicken pox under his left eye. A mole on his right pec blemished the smooth expanse of pale skin. A small patch of chest hair centered his chest. I scraped my fingers through it before moving lower to his ribs.

As I continued, the truth of us came to be.

He would be leaving. Ohio. Or someplace else would offer him a job, a future. He’d take it because that’s what academics did. They followed the dream job, the promise of tenure, the perfect research position.

What was I going to do? Ask him to stay? Wait for me?

This wasn’t a beginning.

This would be good-bye.

“You stopped.”

I focused on his deep blue irises. “You’re leaving.”

“Where am I going? I can’t even get up with you sitting on me.”

“No, not right this minute. Or tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week.”

He furrowed his eyebrows together. “Eventually we’ll have to leave the apartment again for food and condoms.”

“I mean Seattle. That’s why you won’t tell me about Ohio.”

He closed his eyes for a beat before he nodded. When he reopened them, his gaze was steady, but held regret. “I applied for post-doc programs months ago. I don’t even know if I got accepted.”

“It’s a thick envelope.”

“It could be filled with all the reasons why I suck and they’d never accept me.”

“That’s probably it. You’ll be stuck teaching freshmen about sex forever.”

“There are worse jobs in life.” He tightened his arms around my lower back. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I should have told you the truth. Instead, I made it about crossing some ethical line with you.”

I rested my head on his shoulder. “Let me understand this. You’re saying you have no morals, but you do have ambition?”

His laughter made me bounce on his chest. “Maybe I should give up biology and join Kevin in politics.”

“You do have nice hair. Like a Kennedy.”

He kissed the top of my head. “We can still hang out until summer. I’m not going anywhere before June, if not later.”

Tears pricked behind my lashes. I couldn’t invest more and have it end. As tough as I pretended to be, I still had a heart.

Rather than answer him with a lie, I stood up. Taking his hand, I led him to the bedroom.

We never did get our answering machine fixed. It made it easier to move on from Jason if I couldn’t get messages from him. He thwarted me a few weeks later with a note left on my bulletin board. A sweet good-bye I didn’t really deserve. I put it in my boxes being stored for the summer.

There once was a girl who shouted vulva

So loud it was heard from here to Russia

I’ve never met a girl like you

Now you’re gone, I’m feeling blue

Something something something rhymes with vulva

(I suck at limericks. Even more so at good-byes.)

Benton Grant, 19

Economics and Finance major

Sophomore

What moment changed the course of your life?

Bombing in statistics.

Yes, I’m serious.

Having to get help. No, having to admit I wasn’t perfect and maybe I did care a little bit changed everything. For the first time in my life, I cared.