Regretting You(74)

“Let’s just get the hard part over with first. Then we can do other stuff,” I whisper.

Miller nods, then pulls back and kisses me gently. I can feel him taking off his boxer shorts as he kisses me. He pulls away from my lips while he puts on the condom, but he keeps his mouth close to mine. His breath crashes against me in short spurts.

When he rolls on top of me, he’s looking down at me with eyes full of so many things. Longing, appreciation, wonder. I want to feel all the things he’s feeling as we experience each other for the first time, but all I feel is betrayed. Lied to. Stupid.

“Relax a little more,” he says. “It’ll hurt less if you aren’t so tense.”

I try to relax, but it’s difficult when all I can think of is how sorry I feel for Jenny. And Dad. And how this is the first time I’ve ever hoped that an afterlife doesn’t exist. At least not one where Jenny and Dad can see how little Jonah and my mother are grieving for them.

Miller’s lips meet mine, and I’m grateful for the distraction. Then something else distracts me. There’s a pain and pressure between my legs when he begins to push into me, and then an even deeper pain, coupled with a rush of air passing Miller’s lips.

I wince. He stops moving and kisses me gently on the corner of my mouth. “You okay?”

I nod.

He’s kissing me again, and this time when he pushes against me, I feel it happen. It’s a significant feeling, like there was a barrier deep inside me keeping us apart, but that barrier is gone and Miller is moving against me now and I just lost my virginity.

It’s both special and not.

It’s both painful and not.

I regret it and I don’t.

I lie still, my hands on his back, my legs around his. I like the feel of him against me, although I’m not sure I like the feel of what’s happening as a whole. My heart isn’t in it, which means my body is struggling to be in it. He’s being gentle and sweet, and the sounds he’s making are extremely sexy, but I don’t feel it in my soul. My soul is too full of resentment to allow room for any of what’s happening right now to enter.

Part of me wishes I’d have waited. But it would have been with Miller regardless. In the grand scheme of things, would dragging it out a few more months have even made a difference?

Probably.

Okay, all of me wishes I’d have waited. I feel bad that I rushed it. I feel bad that my anger fueled this rash decision. But Miller seems to be enjoying himself, so there’s that, at least.

Maybe I don’t really feel the way I expected to feel in this moment because I realized tonight that love is full of so much ugliness and betrayal and maybe I don’t want anything to do with it. What I think I feel for Miller is what Jenny probably felt for Jonah and what my father probably felt for my mother, and look where that got them.

Miller’s mouth is on my neck now. One of his hands is gripping my thigh, and I kind of like the position we’re in. Maybe the next time we’re in this position, it’ll hurt less, both physically and emotionally. Maybe I’ll actually appreciate how much he enjoys it next time it happens. Maybe I’ll actually enjoy it.

But right now, I’m not enjoying anything. My mind won’t stop going there. Their actions make me not believe in whatever Miller and I feel for each other, and that makes me sad. It hurts because I so want to believe in Miller and me. I want to believe in the way he looks at me, but I’ve seen my mother look at my father like that, so does it even mean anything? I want to believe Miller when he says he’s never craved anyone like he craves me, but how long will that be true? Until he grows bored with me and finds a girl he craves more than me? Thank God I don’t have a sister for him to fall in love with.

I pull Miller closer, wanting my face hidden against his skin. I hate having these thoughts, especially right now, but Miller is the only thing in my life that’s made me happy since they died, and now I’m scared my mother and Jonah have ruined that. Not only am I questioning them, and now Miller, but I’m questioning the whole stupid idea of monogamy and the validity of love and thinking how losing my virginity really isn’t all that special. Because if love isn’t real, then sex is just sex, no matter if it’s your first time or your fiftieth time or your last time.

It’s just one body part inside another body part. Big freaking deal.

Maybe that’s why people find it so easy to cheat: because sex is actually inconsequential. No different than two people shaking hands. Maybe having sex with your boyfriend for the first time means as little as having sex with your dead sister’s fiancé.

“Clara?” Miller says my name between heavy breaths. Between movements. Then he stops.

I open my eyes and pull away from his neck, allowing my head to fall back onto my pillow.

“Am I hurting you?”

I shake my head. “No.”

He brushes hair from my face and runs a thumb down my wet cheek. “Why are you crying?”

I don’t want to talk about it. Especially not right now. I shake my head. “It’s nothing.” I try to pull him against me again, but he separates himself from me and then rolls off me. I feel strangely empty now.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

I hate the worry in his eyes. I hate that he’s thinking any part of my reaction has anything to do with him, so I adamantly shake my head. “No. It’s not you, I swear.”