It turns out Sage’s favorite form of aftercare is cheeseburgers and onion rings on the trunk of my car. After I spent an hour forcing water down her throat and cuddling her until I was sure she was okay, I insisted she eat, and this is what she chose.
She groans around a mouthful of burger, a dollop of ketchup at the corner of her mouth. I smile before licking it off her face. With a laugh, she shoves me away.
“You’re so obsessed with me,” she teases, and I smile, leaning toward her.
“Maybe I am,” I reply, stealing a bite of her cheeseburger. Then I press my lips to her cheek.
A few months ago, I thought this was impossible. I couldn’t see myself with a girl like Sage. Hell, two weeks ago, I was sure that whatever this is would be temporary. A fling.
And now…I’m stuck. Blissfully stuck.
She’s like glue and with every touch, I’m more and more unable to pull myself away. And honestly, at this point, I’ve just stopped trying. Everything about the church and the sex club feels so arbitrary. Like she said, those things can coexist, and so can we.
I think I might be falling in love. If this is what love feels like. Infatuation. Obsession. I always assumed that love would feel more painful, and I’m not sure why. But nothing hurts when I’m with her.
“So…” she says as she balls up the empty foil wrapper.
“So?” I ask.
“How are you feeling? After that whole thing?”
My eyes narrow in confusion. “How am I feeling? Shouldn’t the question be, how are you feeling?”
“You’ve already asked me that a hundred times while we were still at the club, and I told you—I’m fine.” She knocks her fist against my shoulder playfully. “Good job, Church Boy. You’ve mastered aftercare.”
With a chuckle, I reply, “Thanks, Peaches. But why are you asking me how I feel?”
“Because that matters too. What we did was intense and new for you. I know you struggled with it, so I just want to see how you’re feeling afterward.”
I settle myself between her knees. Then I take a long, deep breath before replying. How am I feeling? I’ve been considering this question ever since we finished up at the club.
Dragging my hand up her spine, I wind my fingers in her hair at the scalp and I tug on it, loving the way she moves with my commanding grip. Looking down my nose at her helpless body in my hands, I groan. “Feeling so good, I want to do it again.”
“Oh yeah?” she replies with a wicked smile before biting her lip.
My hand relaxes as it eases down to the back of her neck, touching her with tenderness this time. “I can be myself around you. You make it safe for me to let go.”
Her smile reaches her eyes as she nods. “I feel the same.”
“My upbringing would have me believe this is the devil’s hold on me, but I don’t think that’s it.”
She lets out a quiet laugh. Then she wrinkles her nose. “Yeah, I don’t think so either.”
After we laugh for a second, I brush a lock of pink hair out of her face and delicately run my fingers along the constellation on the side of her neck.
“I think you and I needed to play these roles, especially for each other. And I don’t think I could ever do that with anyone else.”
“Neither could I,” she whispers, and I feel my blood pressure start to rise as it moves through my veins. My heart is pounding with hope—hope that I’m not alone in these feelings.
I pull her a little closer. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think we might be perfect for each other.”
Immediately, she smiles, easing the worry in my chest. Then she leans her head closer so our lips are mere inches apart. “I get that feeling too.”
“I don’t just mean for sex,” I reply in a low whisper.
“Neither do I,” she says just before our lips touch. Suddenly, Sage and I exist only in the intimate space of our kiss, and it feels ethereal. My hands wrap around her, gently pulling her closer until we’re practically one.
This has to be love. There’s no other name for it, but it sure as fuck doesn’t hurt. It feels like the greatest thing I’ve ever felt.
It’s too soon to say it. I’d be an idiot to say it so fast, but it’s enough to know I feel it.
When our tender kiss ends, I stare into her eyes as I remember something.
“At the end of the month, my mother is getting an award. A Good Samaritan award, and there’s going to be a ceremony. I’d love for you to go with me.”
Immediately, she starts to look uneasy. The last time I took her to an event, my father threatened her, and she was publicly ridiculed, but everything feels so different now. With a calming hold of her arms, I quickly quiet her worries. “I don’t mean like a charade or part of the plan. I mean… I want you to go as my date. My real date.”
“I don’t know…”
“I’ll keep you by my side the entire night, and I’ll make sure that asshole doesn’t even look in your direction.”
She lets out a disgruntled huff. “Your family is so fucked up.”
“I agree,” I reply with a nod.
“Why does everyone just pretend everything is okay?” she asks, but then quickly shakes her head. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“No, you’re right,” I say, running my hands along the bare length of her thighs to keep her warm. “I wish I didn’t, Sage. I wish I could turn my back on him for good, but I’ve already lost my brother. I can’t bear to lose my whole family.”
“So expose him,” she says. “Isn’t it worse to let your mother stay with someone who actively betrays her?”
“It’s not that simple,” I reply.
“Why not?”
I love what a challenger Sage is. I do. Just not when I’m the one she’s challenging. I don’t always appreciate the mirror in front of my face when I don’t like the reflection.
“Because…” I mutter with frustration. “She’d stay with him. And I don’t know if I can bear that. I think it might actually be worse.”
“You don’t know that, Adam. You don’t know for sure she’d stay. Doesn’t she at least deserve the benefit of the doubt?”
“I know you’re right, but what you’re suggesting…”
“Feels impossible,” she says, finishing my sentence. “Trust me. I’ve been there. When my mother stopped caring about me, I thought it’d be impossible to leave her. I blamed myself for months for being a bad daughter, but it took time for me to realize that blame was never on me. I didn’t deserve having to make that choice in the first place, so I sure as fuck shouldn’t have felt bad for making it.”
She takes my hands in hers, rubbing a thumb over my knuckles. “The guilt of telling your family the truth shouldn’t be on you, Adam. Not when he’s forcing you to make that decision in the first place.”
What she’s saying is true, but being true doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
“Let me get through my mother’s award, and then I’ll tell her. I promise.”
“Of course,” she says with a smile, pulling me closer so she can wrap her arms around my neck. “And I’ll be there when you do.”
I bury my face in her neck and find my comfort there. If she is with me, then I have nothing to fear. With her, I can do anything.
