A Rhapsody Of Sorts

25- You Would Never

November 17, 2012.

I rarely, if ever, thought about it, but Matthew and I slept together when we were seventeen.

It happened on one of the hottest days of the year, a morning in June when the sun was so strong that, even beneath the shade of the oak tree in the back garden, we couldn't keep cool. The air conditioning at the diner had broken the night before and when my boss called to tell me not to bother coming in for my morning shift, I had smiled and dressed as quickly as I could before I'd grabbed my guitar and headed down the street to Matthew's house, sweat building on the back of my neck as soon as I stepped outside.

Lying around on his bed side-by-side and staring up at the ceiling fan spinning overhead as I weakly strummed my Hummingbird, Matthew had turned to look at me. Whatever he wanted to say kept rising in his throat only for him to swallow it back down again, as he nervously drummed his fingers against his thighs. He'd never liked to be pushed into anything, so I waited for him to work up the courage to spit out whatever it was that was bothering him.

I was humming under my breath, ignoring the way his intense stare burned through the skin at my temple when he finally blurted out, "What's sex like?"

My eyes widened and my strumming came to an abrupt halt, as I snapped my head to the side to look at him, meeting his self-conscious stare as his cheeks grew a faint shade of pink.

"Uh, it depends," was my response. I shrugged my shoulders, turning my face into the cool pillow behind my head. "Sometimes it feels really good and sometimes it's just all right. Different every time, really."

Conflicted, he pulled his brows together and bit down on his knuckle before he asked in a small voice, "Is it scary?"

My breath caught in my throat and I set my guitar down on the floor before I turned on my side to face him head-on. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, biting down hard. Finally, after releasing a scraggly breath, I said, "It can be. Not really in a bad way, though. I don't know how to explain it. It's—it's...vulnerable, I guess, and that can be a bit scary." I reached out to push my fingers through his hair. "Why, what's going on, Matty?"

"I don't know." His eyes fell shut. "It's just something I've been thinking about. You know how I am with, you know, people," he mumbled. "Like—" He paused, reaching between us to play with his bottom lip. "Like, what if I just never find anyone who I trust enough, you know?"

I sighed so deeply that his eyes flew open again to watch me with trepidation.

"You're talking nonsense. You don't need to worry about that."

"But I am. I'm worrying. You know I can't help it." He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down a few times as he glanced out the window to take a peek at the tree outside. "I just already know that I'm comfortable with, well, you. And I was thinking—"

"You want to have sex with me?" I interrupted, raising my eyebrows in surprise.

He rubbed his lips together, and he whispered, "I just...I trust you so much. I trust you with everything."

I was nodding along as he spoke, watching the pucker form in his brow. His eyes filled with certainty — certainty that if he were to pour all of his thoughts and feelings out, I would cup them in my hands and never let a single drop spill.

"Okay, Matt," I mumbled, scratching my fingers over his scalp. "Okay."

We'd moved slowly, both of us conscious of his trembling hands and racing heart. But once it had begun, the way we touched each other felt safe and familiar, and as I held his face in my hands and pressed my lips to his crown, he'd looked at me with trust-filled eyes, unafraid.