Perfect (25 page)

model.…
What is she talking about?

“I don’t have an eating disorder!”

I’m practically shouting, something

that becomes obvious when Yummy

Guy’s head snaps in my direction.

I lower my voice. “I am in perfect

control and know exactly what I’m doing.”

She starts to say something, changes

her mind.
Here comes your dad.

But, honey, you are way too skinny.

You definitely have a problem,

and when you’re ready to ask for

help, I will be here for you.

Who the Hell

Does she think she is?
I
have

a problem? She’s the one who

is marrying some loser guy ten

years her senior. He settles in again

across the table, head swiveling

back and forth between Shiloh and me,

nothing but love for either of us reflected

in his eyes, and I feel like a total bitch.

You two didn’t have to wait for me.

Dig in, girls!
He takes a giant bite

of a very big turkey sandwich, and

is trying to manage chewing it when

I hear the door open behind me.

Suddenly, food flies out of his mouth.

Who the fuck is that with your sister?

Guess it’s time for Dad to meet Andre.

Sean

It’s Time

To quit overthinking.

Quit plotting. Planning.

Worrying about outcomes.

Time

for action. Reaction.

Putting things into motion.

Emotion, something it

isn’t

easy for me to communicate.

But there’s more. Lust.

This snarling inner animal.

Always

in the past I have controlled.

it. For her. But pleasing a girl

is confusing. You can be

on your

best behavior and still not

make her happy. And she won’t

tell you what’s going on in-

side

her head. You generally find

out the hard way. So I’m taking

a risk. But it’s definitely time.

I Have Never Insisted

On Cara having sex with me.

She didn’t seem ready for

the longest time, and being

in love with her meant more

than getting off with her.

It was enough to hold her.

Kiss her. Inhale the “her”

of her. Enough to gather

in the heat of her skin,

knowing that she was mine.

Then something changed.

That night in the truck,

something had opened

inside her—some sudden

bloom of womanhood I didn’t

expect. She was a wildcat,

come into season—enough

to drive any man crazy,

and that’s what I became

when I couldn’t give her

what she wanted. Practically

begged for. Betrayed by

my own body! Thank God

she didn’t think I was gay

or something. She gave me

another chance, and tonight

we will make serious love

right here, right now, on

Chad’s sweat-reeking, not

real comfortable couch.

Those girls on the TV are

beautiful. But I’ve got

the real deal, stripped

down to nothing but skin,

beneath me. She moves like

an eel. Sinuous. Cautious.

My kiss is a question.

Her tongue answers.

Now she pushes my head

lower, asking for much more.

She tastes of soap and salt.

A knockout combination.

It makes me high. Makes

me thirsty. Makes me hungry

for even more. This could

easily become addiction.

Tonight my body hints

zero treachery. Tonight

it wants to go for hours.

“I love you,” I promise,

though she can’t doubt it.

I prove it with my mouth.

My fingers. My tongue.

This is her first time,

so I want her to be ready,

and I think she has to be.

“I don’t want to hurt

you,” I tell her. “Ever.”

She is flushed, her skin

hot as summer sand.

I’m crazy again, this time

with the need to make

this all real. I lift myself

over her, working forearms.

Biceps. She closes her eyes,

moans as I move into place

right up against her sweet

spot. Pause at the resistance.

“I need you,” I say, before

kissing her. Before going all

the way with her. One push

and we will be joined in

the most amazing way.

Connected by love. Now.

I have to have her now.

But just as I test the barrier,

everything screaming yes,

go, she opens her eyes.

And out of her mouth

comes a single word:
No.

I Heard Her Wrong

I know I did, and even if

I didn’t, I know she means

now, not no, so I go ahead

and push. Hard. Oh. Oh.

And her eyes pop wide

and she screams,
Stop. I said

no. Stop, goddamn it.
And

her little fists try to pound

against my chest, which

only feels good and I can’t

stop, even if I wanted to,

and I so don’t, so I won’t.

And she starts to cry and

I don’t understand so I tell

her, over and over again,

“I love you. I love you.

I love you.” Rhythmic.

In perfect time with my

body’s rhythmic beat.

“I love you. I love you…”

There’s A Strange Buzzing

In my ears. With a final

thrust, there’s a brilliant

flash and the emptying

is syncopated. My head

clears as the mist slowly lifts.

And I see what I have done.

Cara lies, stiff as old toast,

tear-glossed eyes staring

up at me.
I told you no,

she whispers.
Why…?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What

the hell just happened?

“You wanted this! You