I wonder if he’ll try to explain himself, tell me why he pulled out, maybe say he just wasn’t sure if he should, or not. But he never does. Maybe he’s waiting on me. But I never say anything about it, either.

To stir the silence between us and cut some of the uncertainty in the room, I playfully wriggle my hips on top of him and laugh a little.

“You gotta let me recuperate first, babe.” He smiles back at me and smacks my ass with both hands.

I let out an exaggerated yelp, pretending that it actually stung and then I wriggle on him some more.

“You better stop,” he warns me, his dimples deepening in his cheeks.

I do it again.

“You think I’m playin’? Do it again and you’ll regret it.”

Of course, I do it again and brace myself mentally for whatever he plans to do to teach me a lesson.

He reaches between us and grabs both of my nipples in his fingers and squeezes them just enough to make me freeze for fear of moving too abruptly and risk them getting ripped off.

“Oooowww!” I let out a peal of laughter and grab his hands, but he pinches a little harder when I try to pry them away.

“I told you,” he shakes his head at me, putting on such a serious face that I’m impressed at how convincing it actually is. “Should’ve listened.”

“Please, please, please, let gooooo!”

He licks the dryness from his lips and says so casually, “Are you going to be good?”

I nod fast about ten times.

He narrows those devilish green eyes at me, stringing me along. “You swear?”

“I swear on the grave of my long-lost dog, Beebop!”

He pinches my nipples one last time, making me wince and grit my teeth, before letting go. And then he raises himself upright on the bed and wraps my legs around his waist. He leans inward and traces each of my breasts lightly with the tip of his tongue, kissing them afterward.

“All better?” he asks, staring into my eyes.

“All better,” I whisper. Then he kisses my lips and makes love to me gently before we fall asleep, curled up with each other, sometime after three in the morning.

11

I thought I’d have a much worse hangover than I do this morning. Last night was the first time I’ve had a drink in months, but I’m not complaining. I roll over on my side, and when I see the clock next to my face reading an hour and a half past the time Andrew was supposed to be at the airport, my eyes pop open and I shoot upright on the bed.

“Andrew!” I say, shaking him awake.

He groans and rolls over, barely opening his eyes a crack. He reaches out his arm and tries to bury me underneath it so he can go back to sleep, but I push it away.

“Get up. Missed your plane.”

The only part of his body that moves are his eyes popping open much like mine did, and when reality sinks in, the rest of his body follows suit.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” He gets out of the bed and stands in the center of the room, naked.

I never get tired of looking at him—naked or clothed, it doesn’t matter. How I ended up with him still defies my comprehension to this day. He raises both hands to his face and runs them over the top of his hair, resting them on the back of his head, his arms hardened with well-defined muscles. And then a long, defeated sigh deflates his chest.

“I’ll have to catch a later flight.”

I climb out of the bed and grab my robe from the floor so I can get in the shower.

“Not that I mind staying here with you for a few more hours,” he says, coming up behind me.

“I don’t know, Andrew.” I slip the robe around my body and tie it at the front. “I was kind of looking forward to getting rid of you.” I’m totally smiling with my back facing him.

Silence bathes the room.

“Are you serious?”

His stunned voice makes it impossible not to laugh. I whirl around and kiss his lips.

“Hell no, I’m not serious. Maybe I was the one who turned the alarm off last night. Maybe I planned this all along.”

His smile widens and he kisses me back and then walks around to the side of the bed to find his boxers.

“Did you?” he asks, stepping into them.

“No, I didn’t. But it’s a good idea. I’ll remember it for next time. Want to shower with me?”

At that second, there’s a knock at my bedroom door. Knowing it’s probably my mom, Andrew’s posture stiffens a little and he sits down on the bed to cover his lower half with the blanket.

I open the door to see my mom in all her bleached-blonde glory standing there. She’s wearing a light pink button-up top and soft pink blush in her cheeks to match it.

“Are you up?” she asks.

No, Mom, I’m sleepwalking. She’s funny sometimes.

I notice her glance at Andrew once. She has already expressed her worry about me getting pregnant again, but surely she can’t expect us not to have sex. It’s what she wants, but yeah, not gonna happen.

She smiles weakly at me and asks, “Do you want to go with me to Brenda’s today?”

Definitely not. Love my aunt Brenda, but not so much being choked to death by her cigarette-smoke-filled house.

“No, I’ve got plans with Natalie.”

Really, I don’t have any plans at all, but whatever.

“Oh, all right. Well…” She glances at Andrew again and then back at me. “Thought he was going to Texas this morning?”

I tighten the rope around my robe and cross my arms.

“Yeah, well we overslept, but he’s going to take a later flight out.”

My mom nods and looks across the room at him one more time. She smiles slimly and he does the same. Awkward. She really likes Andrew, but she’s definitely not used to a guy sleeping with me in my room, even if he’s been here with me for two weeks. If I wasn’t almost twenty-one and engaged to him, he definitely wouldn’t be in here at all. At the same time, she knows we love each other and after what happened with the baby, she wants him here for me. But it’s still awkward. For all of us. Yeah, Andrew and I are seriously gonna have to get a place of our own.

A place of our own… here in Raleigh. My chest feels like there’s something heavy sitting on top of it all of a sudden.

My mom finally leaves us, and I gaze over at Andrew, who looks all uncomfortable with the sheet draped over his lap and a sort of nervous frown.

“Shower with me?” I ask again, but I can tell he’s not up for it anymore.

He flinches. “I think I’ll get one after you.”

I chuckle at his boyish awkwardness and then soften my face. “I’ll look for a place this weekend. I promise.”

He stands up. “If you want me to look with you, just tell me. I only suggested Natalie in case you wanted something to do while I’m gone. Y’know, get that girl opinion on drapes and color palettes ’n’ shit.”

I laugh out loud.

“I won’t be picking out any drapes,” I say. “Curtains maybe, but drapes are for interior designers and rich cougars.”

He shakes his head at me as I leave the room and head to the bathroom down the hall.

I feel like Jekyll and Hyde. All the time. When in front of Andrew I put on my happy face, but not as if I’m faking it. I am happy. I think. But the second I’m alone again, it’s like I become someone else. I feel like someone invisible is always standing behind me, flipping a fucking switch inside my brain. Off. On. Off. On. O—no, On.

I sit in the bottom of the tub with my knees drawn up against my chest, and I let the hot water stream down on me forever. I think about the inevitable apartment I’m bound to find, the good time I had at the Underground last night, the load of laundry I need to start, and how that logo is starting to fade from the top of the soap bar. When the water begins to cool, the change in temperature wakes me up enough from my strange daydreaming to take notice of how long I’ve actually been in here. I don’t even shave before I shut the water off and get out, purposely avoiding the bath rug because I hate the way it feels underneath my feet. I throw a clean towel over it and then I just stand here, gazing at myself in the mirror. Absently I begin to count the flecks of toothpaste staining the glass. I stop at fourteen.