Reminders of Him(10)

Two minutes pass, maybe three. She doesn’t let go. She molds against me, soaking up the comfort my arms and chest and hands are giving her. I’m rubbing her back, up and down, my voice still trapped in my throat.

Something is wrong with her, something I’m not sure I even want to know at this point, but it’s something I can’t just leave her on the sidewalk and drive away from.

I don’t think she’s crying anymore when she says, “I need to go home.”

“I’ll give you a ride.”

She shakes her head and pulls away from me. I keep my hands on her arms, and I notice when she folds her arms over her chest that she touches my right hand with two of her fingers. It’s just a quick swipe, but it’s deliberate, like she wants to get one last tiny feel of me before she leaves.

“I don’t live far. I’ll walk.”

She’s crazy if she thinks she’s walking home. “It’s too late to be walking by yourself.” I point toward the alley. “My truck is ten feet away.” For obvious reasons, that gesture makes her hesitate, but then she accepts the hand I’m reaching out to her, and she follows me around the corner.

When my truck comes into view, she stops walking. I turn around, and she’s staring at my truck with concern in her eyes.

“I can call you an Uber if you’d prefer that. But I swear, I’m just offering you a ride home. No expectations.”

She looks down at her feet, but continues walking toward my truck. I open my passenger door for her, and when she climbs inside, she doesn’t face forward. She’s still facing me, and her legs are preventing me from closing the door. She’s looking at me like she’s torn. Her eyebrows are drawn apart. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone look so effortlessly sad.

“Are you okay?”

She leans her head against the seat and stares at me. “I will be,” she says quietly. “Tomorrow is a big day for me. I’m just nervous.”

“What’s tomorrow?” I ask her.

“A big day for me.”

She obviously doesn’t plan on elaborating, so I nod, respecting her privacy.

Her focus moves to my arm. She touches the hem of my sleeve, so I put my hand on her knee because I want it somewhere on her, and her knee seems like the safest place until she lets me know where else she might want my hand.

I don’t know what her intentions are. Most people show up to bars and make their intentions clear. You can tell who comes in for a hookup and who comes in to get shit faced.

I can’t tell with this girl. It seems like she accidentally opened the door and ended up in my bar and has no idea what she wants from tonight.

Maybe she just wants to skip tonight and get straight to whatever big thing she’s got going on tomorrow.

I’m waiting for a signal from her on what she wants me to do next, because I thought I was taking her home, but she hasn’t faced forward. It’s like she wants me to kiss her again. But I don’t want to make her cry again. But I want to kiss her again.

I touch her face, and she leans into my hand. I’m still not positive she’s comfortable, so I hesitate until she scoots closer to me. I position myself between her legs, and then she tightens her thighs around my hips.

I can take a hint.

I swipe my tongue across her lips, and she pulls me in until her sweet breath is in my mouth. She tastes like apples still, but her mouth is saltier and her tongue is more decisive. She leans into my kiss, and I lean into the truck, into her, and she slowly falls back across the seat, pulling me with her. I hover over her, standing between her legs, pressing myself against her.

The way she sucks in small gasps of air while I kiss her is driving me insane.

She guides my hand up her shirt and I grab her breast and she wraps her legs around me and then my jeans are against hers and we’re rocking back and forth like we’re in fucking high school and this is our only place to go.

I want to pull her back into the bar and tear off her clothes, but this is enough. More than this would be way too much. For her. Or maybe too much for me. I don’t know, I just know her mouth and this truck are enough.

After a minute of making out in the dark, I pull away from her mouth just enough to see that her eyes are closed and her lips are parted. I keep my steady rhythm against her, and she lifts her hips, and I swear the friction between our clothes is enough to start an actual fire. It’s so hot between her thighs, and I don’t think I can finish like this. I’m not sure she can either. We’re just going to drive ourselves crazy if we don’t find a way to get even closer, or stop altogether.

I would invite her to my house, but my parents are in town, and I’m not bringing anyone near those two.

“Nicole,” I whisper. I feel uncomfortable even suggesting this, but I can’t keep making out with her in an alley like she isn’t worth a bed. “We could go back inside.”

She shakes her head and says, “No. I like your truck,” right before pulling my mouth back to hers.

If she likes my truck, I love my truck. My truck is my second-favorite thing in the world right now.

Her mouth is my first.

She moves my hand to the button on her jeans, so I oblige and unbutton them while my tongue is dragging across hers. I slip my hand into the front of her jeans until my fingers slide over her panties. She moans, and it’s so loud against the silent soundtrack of this sleepy town.