Lavender

Chapter Nineteen

Holden sits upright. "Do you have any paper towels?"

What? "What? What do you need paper towels?" I'm still loopy and my bones are complete mush. How long does this high exactly last? I personally never want to come down from this cloud, but it is starting to fade away.

"To clean yourself up," he says and glances down at my legs.

I follow his eyes and blush. "Oh... I didn't know." I close my legs out of pure embarrassment over something normal. He laughs to himself, and I blush all over, I'm sure of it.

"I'll be back," he promises and climbs over me to stand up. He scoops his shirt off the ground and pulls it over his head, then leaves.

I let go of a breath I wasn't aware I'd been holding. I still can't believe I just did that with Holden. My mind is taking forever to catch up to present times, still trapped in the sensation of his hand between my thighs. Thinking about it now makes me rub my thighs together to calm down a feeling he unleashed and now craves more. But I have to slow down, or I'll burn out. I did assume he'd want me to return the favor and touch him, even though I don't know how to; he could have explained it to me. Imagining my hands touching him the way he did me tonight causes the soft wetness between my thighs unbearable. I wrap the blanket around my waist and stand up and pace around the room. I try to pick through the millions of emotions flying through me and land on disbelief and doubt.

I just experienced the most intimate experience of my life with a boy who is crueler and more irritating than he is kind and decent. But does that really matter? Sure, I never thought I would be touched like that. Not by him at least. I actually didn't think I'd be touched at all. I wasn't planning to become a nun for the rest of my life or anything, but the idea never crossed my mind. The farthest I've gone is touching, over the clothes. Never did I imagine a boy would see me in my bra or panties, nonetheless put his hand in my underwear. Feeling the memory traces of his fingers gliding down my neck, down the valley of my breasts, down my stomach makes my skin tingle and my heart to race. But what happens now between us? Do I breakup with Wyatt and date him? No. Among many reasons we shouldn't date, there's the fact that he doesn't date—he sleeps around. Only he didn't have sex with me. Why did he do this and not want anything in return? My mind goes straight to him playing some sort of game, but I stop short. He wouldn't do that. How bored could he be to conjure up a game just to touch me. What reward would he even get? Doesn't everyone do this?

Wyatt wanted to do this with me and many other things, including sex. But I did this with Holden. What does that say about me? Am I as vile as I think I am, or even worse?

Oh, Wyatt. I didn't even think about him while he was touching me. Mostly because that would be weird, but also self-destructive. Meaning I would self-destruct like a bomb I forgot about would cause me to implode.

I stand in front of the mirror in the corner. I hear once you look at yourself the first time after having sex, you look different. You glow. But when I look in the mirror, I see a girl who just betrayed her boyfriend.

"Enjoying the sight of a girl who just experienced her first orgasm?" Holden's voice makes me jump. I look at the door and see him closing it behind him. His smile is mischievous.

"No, I was just..." But I kind of was staring at myself in the mirror.

His smile grows, and he sits on the bed and waves me over. "Come here."

Red from head to toe from embarrassment, I walk over to him and sit down on the edge beside him. He hands me a wad of paper towels and gestures to my thighs. My cheeks burn even brighter. He wants me to do this in front of him? With him watching?

He laughs and turns around. "There, you have some privacy to wipe off."

"Thanks." I smile and remove the blanket. I awkwardly swipe the paper towels across the sensitive area until I'm all clean and free of anymore embarrassment. While he's turned around, I grab my panties off the ground and slide my legs through them. When I finish putting on my shorts and tie the string tightly, he turns back around with a cheeky grin. I notice his tongue swipe across his bottom lip as his eyes drop down to my bra. I couldn't find the t-shirt. But I surprisingly don't feel shy or embarrassed. I'm more comfortable around him after what we just did.

"I see your unfortunately all covered up," he says.

"Shut up." I blush and playfully push his arm. He laughs and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me to straddle his lap. I expect him to start kissing me and ask why I'm taking so long to touch him, too, but he doesn't do that. He just stares up at me with a look of satisfaction? Relief, maybe? Whatever it is, it worsens my blush and brings a giddy smile to my face. How does he make me smile so stupidly with only a look? It's both infuriating and impressive.

"I like your hair when it's down. You look really pretty," he says, which surprises me so much I'm taken aback for a long while. He takes my silence as rejection and looks at the ground. But I just needed a second to process him complimenting me. And meaning it.

I lift his chin up, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Thank you. That means a lot to me." That makes him smile his infamous dimpled smile. But, really. Him saying something so out of character and out of the blue makes me want to jump around with joy. It's a sign he's changing, for the better? I don't know. But a lot less bad, I can say that with some confidence.

"Um... Holden?" I say.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you want me to... um... do something for you..." I stop myself from humiliating myself any further. I don't know what to say or how to say it, and I don't want to make a fool of myself. I can't even imagine him rejecting me. I think I'd die from embarrassment.

"No, I'm fine. You don't need to give me handy or whatever."

My eyes snap open wide and my cheeks flush. Will I ever get used to his colorful language? "O-okay then."

He laughs. "But when I do want something, I'll make sure to call you first," he says it in a playful tone, but my mind is too slow to catch up with my mouth.

"Are you sure you won't call Sophia or the other ten girls in your phone before calling the virgin?"

His face falls slightly. "Why would you say that?" His sudden serious tone makes me want to take my words back. A shiver of regret runs down my spine, and I can feel his fingers loosening around my hips, his tenderness turning freezing.

"I just thought... you finally got into the virgin's pants. Aren't you done with me now?" Why do I keep digging my grave deeper? But I am curious as to his intentions. I was sure he kept kissing me before because he has feelings for me. But now that I shared my most intimate experience with him, won't he just leave and never look back? I bet he's never been with a virgin and I was his experiment. I sound ridiculous thinking this and don't dare voice my thoughts. Maybe I'm overthinking this and he's a misunderstood guy who's clueless to dealing with girls after he beds them.

"You're making me sound like an asshole for no reason, well as of late. I came here because I wanted to check on you. Honestly. But now I regret even coming here." He looks hurt and disappointed, emotions I thought were unknown to him.

"I'm sorry..." I start to say, but he's already putting me down on the bed and walking out of the room. I jump as he slams the door behind him.

What is wrong with me?