Silva and the Stars

8 | I don't need a sex education

Later that night I hear a light knock on my door. 

I'm in my boxer-briefs about to get into bed and I turn, knowing that it can only be Rachel - unless someone broke into the mansion and decided to tell me about it.

I open the door to find her in a matching pyjama set; dark blue shorts with pink lacing and a buttoned-up top, they're made of some satiny material that slips over her skin. She looks adorable. And sad.

She tries to smile, but the edges of her eyes aren't crinkling and there's a pungent shadow of grief in her eyes. She takes a deep breath. "Can we do something together? Watch a movie?"

Her arms go around her waist as if she's trying to provide her own comfort. "I don't want to be alone."

Her words are a quiet admission. Honest. Brutal.

A pang goes straight through me and my heart aches for her. I want to wrap her in my arms and crush her to my chest so that she realises that she isn't alone, in the vain hope that it could protect her from the hurt she is so obviously feeling.

She takes a short, shallow breath. The kind of breath one makes to prevent themselves from crying. And she looks away from me, blinking rapidly.

I lean against the doorjamb, pretending this is normal. "There's this show I've been meaning to watch actually, we could start it tonight."

I'm not imagining the relieved fall of her shoulders and the tentative smile that glimmers on her lips. "That sounds good, thanks."

I smile. "It's on Netflix, I think the TV in the living room has it."

I indicate down the hall, but Rachel stops me. "We could watch it in here?"

Her gaze drifts behind me to flick over my bedroom.

I glance around my room and at my laptop propped on the tallboy in the corner.

"We could watch it on my laptop, I guess."

"I just, I don't –" Rachel stumbles over her words for the first time in my presence. "I can't be in that big family room. It just reminds me of my lack of."

"It's okay," I tell her gently. "I understand. And you don't need to explain yourself to me."

"We don't need to watch it on your laptop. There's a TV in your room." Rachel motions inside and I step back to let her pass through, a hint of frangipani flaring around me in her wake. 

She's in my room. My gaze devours her legs on display, as she walks authoritatively toward my bed.

"There is?" I ask, dubious. I haven't seen any indication of a TV anywhere. 

She presses a button on the cabinet at the foot of my bed, and a TV starts to raise out of it.

"Holy crap." I had been wondering why I couldn't open that damn thing.

I feel slightly too naked in my boxer briefs so I pull out a pair of sweat pants from the tall boy and put them on. "That's pretty neat."

Rachel snickers, climbing onto my bed. "I can't believe you didn't know."

"Hey, I don't think it's that intuitive to think that a cabinet is hiding a TV."

Rachel opens my bedside drawer and pulls out a television remote and I realise how little I pay attention to superfluous, useful features in a room that are too hidden away for their own good. Maybe I can only see what is right in front of me.

And right in front of me is Rachel. In my bed. Slipping under my covers.

She's using the remote to presumably flick through shows. "What did you want to watch?" She's still looking at the screen but my next words draw her gaze to me.

"Sex education."

"Seriously?" Hazel eyes meet mine. "Do you need one?" There's a teasing note to her voice that has me smiling back at her. I'm happy that she's poking fun at me, I prefer that to the sadness that was swallowing her whole.

I don't think humans are built to withstand prolonged sadness alone. You become too aware of your lonely existence. The way we're all existing in our own universe; with a singular timeline and an isolated consciousness. 

Too long spent in sadness alone, leaves you with a crippling sense of dread for what the future holds. For in the future, there is undoubtedly hurt that you have failed to predict, that could send you hurtling back into that inescapable, infinite darkness.

"Believe me, I don't need a sex education." My voice is bordering on growly. I'm chalking it up for her benefit, and I can see that she loves it.

I walk closer to the bed, looking at the screen as she finds the program.

"Move over," I tell her because she's hogging the whole bed.

She shuffles over and I slide under the sheets beside her, beginning to feel like this could become our life if we were some old, domesticated couple.

"I'm not above getting some sex pointers though," I say, knowing that Rachel will be unable to resist biting the end of that metaphorical carrot.

She glances toward me. "Do tell."

I lean on one arm, looking into Rachel's smouldering hazel eyes. Her black hair is falling in loose waves around her face, slightly mused, and I can't think of a sexier sight. 

My eyes flick to the buttons of her top, I wish I could undo them one by one. Hear her breath hitch at the sensation and my audacity.

"I think it's important to learn what pleasures the woman you're with. What makes her claw your back and tremble beneath you in ecstasy."

"Uh huh." Rachel shifts under the covers, tugging more of the blankets over her. "I think that's important too."

I grin. "I'm glad you approve," I say teasingly.

Rachel wets her lips, her gaze lingering on my own as if she's thinking of testing out their softness for herself. "So, are we going to watch this thing or not?"

I chuckle, settling myself further into the bed, fluffing the pillow behind me. "You're the one with the remote," I point out.

With the hint of a blush warming her cheeks, she presses play.

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a/n: Thanks for reading! I'd be so grateful for any feedback you have so feel free to vote and comment your thoughts. ♡