Instead of You(5)

“Kenz, it’s me, don’t freak out.” Cory’s voice was instantly recognizable, and it took me from terrified to irritated in a flash.

“What are you doing?” I whisper-yelled, my eyes starting to make out the features of his face in the darkness. He stepped closer to me, his hands moving down my arms, then landing on my waist and moving upward. It had been exactly one year, to the day, even, since Cory had started touching me less like a best friend and more like a boyfriend. I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t take a while to get used to. But I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t like it.

I pushed his hands away halfheartedly, grinning when they only started at my waist again and moved up. He was hard to dissuade, I’d found.

“It’s our one-year anniversary, Kenzie. I was lying in bed thinking about how much I love you, and I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to come over here and tell you to your face.” His lips found mine and I could feel his smile against my mouth. His hands traveled north again, stopping very high along my ribcage. “Sweet Jesus, you’re not wearing a bra.” As if to prove his point, his hands moved all the way to my back, feeling for my bra strap. “Tiny sweet baby Jesus,” he whispered as his hands moved toward my front. I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn’t see me. I swatted his hands away just before they covered my breasts. Not because I was particularly against him touching me there, but more so because I knew it would frustrate him and he’d just woken me from a very deep sleep. Karma was a bitch.

“Girls don’t normally sleep in bras, Cory.” His hands came to my hips again, but this time they moved south. He let out a soft groan when his hands smoothed over the edge of my nightgown, which only fell a few inches below the curve of my rear. Suddenly, his hands moved down even farther, wrapping around the back of my thighs, lifting me. I stifled the yelp I wanted to let out in surprise, and wrapped my arms and legs around him.

He slowly lowered me to my bed, letting his body cover mine, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other pressed against the mattress by my head.

“This is the best anniversary gift ever.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, watching a smile spread across his face before he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin of my neck. “I wasn’t expecting you, Cory. I didn’t put this nightgown on for your enjoyment.”

“That’s not going to stop me from enjoying it.” His mouth moved along my neck and I bit down on my bottom lip to keep quiet.

“My parents are just down the hall,” I whispered.

He pulled away and looked me right in the eyes, his nose an inch or two from mine. “Then you’re going to have to be really quiet.”

Before I could think of a response his lips were kissing mine. As if it came naturally, my knees spread, making room for him, and I felt every movement as his hips settled between them. The rubbing of his denim jeans against the bare skin of my thighs, the zipper of his hoodie snagging on the soft cotton of my nightgown; I felt it all.

This wasn’t necessarily an uncommon occurrence for us. We made out often, as any seventeen-year-old couple would. Almost any chance we got alone we spent exploring each other, but I had never let it go very far. Up until that point, our clothes had always remained on, and he’d only ever felt me up on the outside of my shirt. So to feel him hard, pressing against me, well, that was something new to experience.

It had taken me a while to warm up to being Cory’s girlfriend. It felt strange and awkward at first, as though it were forced, which made it uncomfortable. But then, one day, I had a moment of realization where I stopped looking at Cory as the boy everyone expected me to spend the rest of my life with, and looked at him as though he were my boyfriend in that very moment. No history, no future aside from our plans the next weekend.

I took the pressure off our relationship and realized it was easier to be with him, easier than constantly thinking about how much everyone expected of us. And even though I wasn’t looking into the future with Cory, he definitely was. He’d immediately told me he loved me, which caused an epic panic attack. It was two weeks after his sixteenth birthday. He’d taken me to a fancy restaurant, and from across the table, with a lit candle flickering in between us, told me he loved me. He said he’d always loved me. And while I’d always loved him too, it’d been my best friend I’d loved, not my boyfriend.

When I couldn’t say it back, when I wasn’t even sure I’d ever be able to say it back, he simply reached across the table, took my hand in his, and told me he’d wait forever—that he knew I’d come around. He’d been waiting almost a year to hear me say those words, and I still wasn’t ready.

There were nights I’d lie awake and think about him, think about us, and wonder if I was being fair to him by staying with him, but caring too much about someone seemed like a terrible reason to end a relationship. Because I did care about Cory, so much, but I worried it wasn’t the same way he cared about me. I also worried that even though he said I’d come around in time, I never would.

All these heavy thoughts seemed to float away like vapor when he kissed me though. When his hands drifted over my body my mind shut down and I didn’t think about anything except the way he made my body feel. Tonight was no exception.

My nightgown was a very thin divider between us and offered no buffer to the way his hands were roaming over my breasts, the way he tentatively palmed me through the cotton, gently squeezing. I gasped, my mouth breaking free from his, and my back arched off the bed. I wanted more friction, wanted him to not be so tender with me, but a tiny voice in the back of my mind told me that was slutty, made me feel dirty in some way for wanting those things. It was hard to wrap my mind around, especially when Cory’s hands were on me, doing things to me that made me feel good. I just always seemed to want it to be… more… in some way.