Out of the Ordinary

Chapter 38

The weight of his body settled over mine, the heat between us causing moisture to bead on our skin, and we slipped together and apart more quickly, more easily, with less friction. He lodged his hips between mine again and again as his staggered breaths fell hot and moist on my neck, as his long curls tickled my face and my chest. Then, he ran his lips over my cheek, working quickly to find my mouth, and he kissed me deeply as he slid into me once, twice, three more...

Knocks.

"Maddie?"

My eyes flew open.

And I sat up quickly, yanking my hand out of my pants.

"Yeah?"

Emily opened the door, already in her pajamas, her blonde hair in a high, messy bun, and stared at me where I sat on my bed, all of my books still scattered around me. "Hey."

"Hey," I said, trying not to sound too breathless. My entire body was on edge. Like I was standing on my tiptoes on the brink of a steep cliff, and couldn't quite manage to regain my balance. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to see how you're doing. I'm heading to bed soon." Emily walked into the room, her eyes falling to my books for only a moment. "Almost done?"

"Not really. But I'm calling it quits in a little while. I'm wiped."

She pushed aside some of my papers, and sat down at the foot of my bed. "This semester's going to be the death of both of us."

I breathed a laugh through my nose. "At least we're going out together."

Emily smiled. "A joint funeral. Who's going to tell everyone I want to donate my body to science?"

"Who's going to tell my professors I hate them all?"

We both laughed, and when we fell quiet, I felt her eyes on me.

"How you holding up?"

I couldn't look at her. Only shrugged.

It had only been two days. Two days since he'd gone. And it already felt much longer.

"Has he called yet?" she asked next.

"No," I said, checking my phone anyway. "Should be soon, though. It's almost 9 o'clock out there."

Emily sighed. "I still can't believe he left."

I tried not to wince. "He had to, Em."

"Did he?" she asked, looking right at me. "Did he need to leave now? When things have been so..."

"So weird between us?"

She looked at me. "Sorry. I didn't mean -"

"It's whatever. We patched things over."

And we had. Last week after our fight, I made myself get off of the kitchen floor to wait for him after his shower. Made myself sit still when I heard him turn the water off. Crossed my feet where I'd sat on my bed so that I wouldn't get up and run away when I heard him open the bathroom door.

And I made myself talk to him. Apologize for the way I was acting.

To my relief, he'd sighed, almost smiled, and said, "I'm sorry, too." But after only another moment, he went on, "Which doesn't mean I don't think we need to have a conversation about this."

I didn't disagree. So he sat on the bed beside me, just where Emily was sitting now, except she was fully dressed, where he was in nothing but a towel, his chest and back and arms glistening, his long curls weighted down with moisture. And even though I was still upset, I wanted so badly to just touch him, to have everything be okay enough between us that I could just sit astride him and make love to him, with nothing separating us anymore.