His Debt

21st Debt

Worth It

        TUMULTUOUS FEELINGS SURGED through him; euphoria, adrenaline, triumph and all the optimistic sensation meshed into one. Despite the lingering silence between them, his mind was in pandemonium. Both of their tops were bared. Even though it was the end of their session, he still couldn't forget the sensation of having grazed her warm stark skin against his hands. He couldn't sleep.

        She was responsive and her mewls sounded tingly in the ear.

        Nathaniel rolled over to the side and turned to look at her. Her eyes were closed, but he knew she was still conscious. "Hey," he murmured, poking her cheek.

        "I'm trying to sleep here, idiot," she grumbled, covering her face with a pillow.

        "Don't cover your face!" he admonished, extracting the pillow from shrouding her.

        "This is just...," she trailed off, flushing scarlet, "embarrassing."                                   

        He heaved out a sigh. "We're both adults and I'm pretty sure that you had experience when—" he halted as she coughed awkwardly. "Wait! You're a virgin?!" he surmised incredulously.

        The brightness of the dim lights was enough for him to see her abashed expression. Her brows furrowed. "Why do you sound skeptical? It's not like it's a big deal."

        "I don't know, you're just, uh...," he tried to grope for the right vocabulary, "beautiful. I mean, I'm sure you've dated a lot of guys and all that."

        Devon exhaled deeply. "I've only dated three guys in my whole life," she confessed, "You're the third, and hopefully the last."

        An overwhelming feeling flowed through him due to the last part of the sentence she proclaimed. He had hoped that she was the last person he'll be with, until his last breath, too. The future was uncertain for the two of them, but he still looked forward to it.

        He had no idea how he fell for her so deeply in just a short span of time. Devon wasn't even close to his type. Love was indeed unconventional for the two of them. "Tell me about them," he blurted out. "I know JC... I mean the first one."

        "Why?" Devon asked, "I don't think it's worth to tell."

        "I can't sleep, so tell me a story," he muttered.

        "What am I? Your nanny," she said snarky.

        He threw his legs over her hip and wrapped his arms around her. She seemed surprised by his gesture, but before she could open her mouth and asked, he explained, "I love holding you. And to be honest, hugging you is more comfortable than a pillow."

        Devon didn't protest. She leaned her head on his chest, pressing her ears as if she was listening to his heartbeat. He suddenly started feeling nervous about how close she was to him; her soft blonde hair brushing against his chest; their skin touched; his pulse accelerated as the unidentified creatures began to flutter in his stomach.

        She grabbed his limp hand, tracing the lines of his palms. They were bestowed with silence. It wasn't an awkward silence, rather, one that provided solace.

        Devon was the one who ended the silence when she said, "Do you still want to hear a story?" The question surprised him.

        "Yeah," he affirmed.