Puddle Jumping(28)

He started watching people more closely, and I could tell he was trying out certain mannerisms or phrases the other interns probably used. While I had been the catalyst for his journey to become more social, at least according to his mom, the internship was what really brought him out of his shell. Maybe it was because the other interns were guys, as well. Or maybe it was because he got to talk art all day: eat it, breathe it, live it.

Whatever it was, I was glad. No matter how much I missed him. This was what I wanted from day one.

We still emailed when we could. We still saw each other as much as possible. But the extreme difference from the initial time we’d been together, seemingly glued at the hip, to the sporadic moments we got at that time, was a difficult transition.

For me.

If it was hard for him to be away from me, I wouldn’t have known. He fell into his groove and just went with it like it was just a natural progression.

Our physical relationship slowed down a bit, since we hardly had private time together except in the car. There were a few days where we’d been driving to school and his hand would wander up my leg and I’d have to debate on whether or not to skip first period just to get some interaction him. I certainly didn’t want the school calling his parents about him being tardy or absent, but . . . dammit. I missed him.

For a while my conscience won me over and I was proud I decided to keep driving until we got to the school where we would kiss for a few minutes before heading to our lockers. But . . . I wasn’t always so strong. In fact, I started picking him up a few minutes early sometimes; just to give us the option of finding a side road to park on.

I had no idea how much I craved his touch. How much just hearing his voice, no matter how limited his words. He’d become everything to me so quickly I hadn’t had time to see it happening until I was too far gone.

I was so far gone. I had no idea.

The week before prom, I’d been up to my eyeballs in everything. I was busy getting my dress and things ready, along with schoolwork and trying to keep up with my friends and my boyfriend. I’m sure I was spaced out more than usual, and the ride to school with him by my side was probably quieter than we’d become used to. But I had so much on my mind; I didn’t think anything of it.

We were on our way to school, passing by one of the few side roads we’d claimed as our own when our need to be with one another was way too much to ignore, when I started up a conversation.

“Are your friends at the museum going to prom with their girlfriends?”

Colton’s hand was squeezing mine a little tighter than usual before I felt him shift in his seat and he spoke loudly into the quiet car. Placing our hands on my lap, he asked the most heart obliterating question I’d ever heard. “Lilly, would you enjoy it if we…”

I’m not going to repeat it here. But you probably get the gist. It’s pretty much third base. Okay, it’s almost a home run.

The car fishtailed from my foot hitting the brake so hard and unexpectedly. I slammed into the steering wheel, hitting the shit out of my sore boobs and stared at him like Bambi watching his mom getting killed.

“What?” I’m pretty sure that was my eloquent response. “I mean we’re already pretty . . . physical.” I knew what we had and had not done and it shouldn’t have surprised me that he was suggesting it, but to hear him say it was a completely different beast all together.

He straightened in the seat and looked at me for a moment. “Justin and Keith talk a lot about their girlfriends and the things they do. . .” Then he went on a very clinical diatribe about my lady business and what they suggested that he do to it. And also what they liked their girlfriends to do to them.

“Yeah, no. I get what you’re saying.” I tried to stop him with my hand up as I attempted to keep from laughing, and dying, at the same time. I drove for a bit, considering my next sentence carefully. Pulling to a stop on a desolate stretch of wooded gravel road, I killed the engine and turned in my seat to appraise him.

We were definitely going to be late that morning.

We’d never really talked much about that part of our relationship - it had just happened organically, but I guess hearing about it from two people he would consider ‘neurotypical’ had made him focus on it a lot. A lot a lot.

“Is it something you’d like to do?”

His eyes were looking out the window as he thought. “I’ve seen things before. I’m not entirely sure what the point is, though.”

So he’d been watching videos.

See? Just like a regular guy after all.

“I guess it’s because it feels good. Like when I touch you while we kiss.”

Sly smile. Of course it did.

“It’s not really necessary, you know. It’s not something people have to do to show their affections.”

At the time, I had no idea why I was trying to talk him out of it.

Maybe I secretly knew.

“Colton?”

He looked at me with those eyes, and his lips were so soft looking, and his face was so confused.

“Would you . . . would you like to? I mean, we don’t have to.”

I loved him. I wanted to. But only if he wanted to.

He had to want to. Not because of any other reason than it was his decision.

It was hesitant, his yes. His looked unsure and I’ll be honest, so was I.