His forgiveness meant the world to me in the beginning, especially since I felt incredibly guilty that he had no idea what he was forgiving me for, and if only he knew earlier on, he could’ve prevented all of this. But that just makes me sound selfish, because I should’ve been able to prevent it – and chose not to.
“You do?” I ask, treading lightly as to not cause another argument. I was so tired of fighting with him.
“Yeah. I love you, and I’ll support your choices, even if this doesn’t really seem like your thing.”
This time I didn’t say it back, I simply smiled at him and nodded, before replying,
“Yeah, it’s not. But in a way it’s good that I’m pushing myself with it. It started out as a surprise for you and -”
“Do you believe that I’m not sexually attracted to you?”
At this I go shy, and look back down at my feet, as his words fluster me and make me feel foolish to have had that thought cross my mind.
“Dove, no short skirts or change of personalities will make me feel differently about you. I know I don’t really show it, but you’re so beautiful to me, and I of course want you in those ways too.”
“Really?”
He pauses for a moment, thinking something over, before suggesting something I didn’t expect to have come out of his mouth. A tinge of lust taints his eyes for a split second, and he asks,
“Do you maybe… want to try it on for me?”
What?
“I’d love to,” I giggle, extremely shocked at his sudden bravery and my sudden confidence. I’ve never modelled anything on for anyone, not even close female friends back home, and I’d even shoo Lilian out of the room when I needed to change, and the bathroom would not do its justice. Sam has never seen me naked – not even when we were little kids, or even seen me undress. Come to think of it this was extremely weird, and made for me changing into such an inviting uniform all the more intimidating.
“Wow,” he breathed, taking in my appearance. The tank top moulded to every curve on my body, accentuating the curve of my breasts – during practice I always felt self-conscious about the way in which this top clung to me so snugly, and so because it wasn’t a requirement to have it on display at practice, I’d always throw on a sweatshirt over it and sometimes even wear yoga pants and get away with it instead of the skirt. The skirt – it barely covered the top half of my thighs – it made me feel sexy for a split second after putting it on, but the more I wore it the more I hated the way in which it made my short legs appear. I certainly didn’t have the slim body of a model, like the girls on the team, whose thighs were the same width as their upper arms. I had body, and I hated it.
Sam didn’t seem to mind though. Theo certainly didn’t, later on. But let’s remain in the moment for now.
“Do you like it?” I ask in a timid voice, and do a little swirl, causing us both to laugh.
“I mean it’s… different.”
“Bad different?”
“No,” he shakes his head shyly, and a small smile plays on his lips.
I close the space between us, not needing to go on my tip-toes in order to reach him, which I was glad for because I wanted to try something, and I wanted us both to feel as comfortable as possible while doing it.
“Kiss me,” I beg, and his hands rest gently on my hips as our lips part and make contact. Although there’s no tongue, it felt good nonetheless. It was the best kiss I had shared with Sam, and it felt very intimate. I snake my hands around the back of his neck, my fingers finding their way to his hair and gently tugging at the root. And then images of Theo pressing me roughly against the fence, his lust filled eyes staring into my own, his tongue moving skilfully inside my mouth – all these flashes come rushing back, and I squeeze my eyes shut tightly as to rid myself of the memory.
But it just kept coming.
I pushed my lips more forcefully to Sam’s, in an attempt to rid myself of Theo’s touch. I begin to walk back, holding tightly onto Sam’s neck, until I can feel the frame of the bed against my heels.
“Touch me,” I breathe against his lips, and move to place his hands lower, then hook one of mine in the space between his belt and the jeans.
“W-what are you doing?”
“Shh, it’s okay. Just keep going,” I say, surprising myself a little at how far I was willing to take this.
“Dove, stop,” he pleads, but I shake my head and fumble with his belt, trying so hard to undo the buckle.
“Dove, not tonight.” He sternly says, and breaks the kiss by gently pushing me back by the shoulder.
“What’s your problem! Why do you always do this?”
“Do what?”
“You know exactly what! Sam we agreed to try. Why aren’t we trying?”
He looks me over with a puzzled look on his face, as if I’ve grown three heads.
“I didn’t mean so soon, I – I need time.”
“But why? Why do you need time? Time for what – to think about whether or not you really want this, whether or not you’re ever going to be able to give me this? Sam, this isn’t normal behaviour!”
“No Dove, you’re the one who’s not behaving normally! Why do you keep pushing and pushing. What’s gotten into you? You start cheerleading, and now all of a sudden you decided you’re ready to have sex! God, we’re still so young! Why are you rushing – we have all the time in the world.”
But the truth was, we didn’t have all the time in the world. Because the more he kept pushing me away and denying me these needs, the less time we got to ourselves. And the more time he was getting from me instead.