Page 40 of Run
I remain quiet.
He tries to pull my underwear down, and again, I stop him. “Sean, no.”
He scoffs, pushes away from me, and sits on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “Christ, Ari. What are we doing? I thought you wanted this. I thought you wanted me. All of me!”
“I do,” I say, sitting up.
“Well, you sure aren’t acting like it.” He lets out a long breath, then moves to stand. “I guess I’ll just see you around. You let meknow if you’re ever done playing games and you really want me, because I’m done being hurt by you.”
I shoot my hand out and grab his forearm before he can get up. “Wait. What?”
Sean raises his arm, and my hand falls away as he cups the side of my face. “I’ve told you all along how much I want you. I mean, look!” With his other hand he strokes his erection. “I am in physical pain over here with how much I want you.”
I look in his eyes and then away.
“But”—he drops his hand and caresses my thigh—“if you don’t want to, I won’t force you. But then I gotta walk away. Because I can’t do this anymore.”
I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Confusion seeps in.
“What if we just wait until I move out in a few weeks? I just hate it here and I don’t want the memory of our first time ruined by all my memories in this house.”
Sean sighs and squeezes my thigh. “I get it, baby girl. But, like I said, you’re killing me here.” He slides his hand up my thigh. “Besides, I’ll wipe out all those bad memories you have in this house. Just give me the chance.”
Running his hand up over my pelvis and hip, he curls his fingers over the waistband of my underwear, then looks up at me. “What do you say?”
I swallow, and do my best to turn off my brain. Then nod.
He peels my underwear down my legs and crawls on top of me, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra, yanking it off and tossing it aside with a chuckle. His mouth comes down harshly on mine, and I hope he doesn’t intend to be that rough the whole time.
Sean’s hands grope my exposed boobs that are squished between us. “You may not have much here, but what you’ve got is so soft.”
I close my eyes and try to enjoy what’s happening.
Sean settles himself between my legs, then trails a hand down to feel me. “Relax,” he says in my ear. “You have to be ready for me or it’s not going to feel good. Here, this will help.” He brings his hand up to his mouth and spits into it, then smears it at my entrance.
“Did you go on the pill like I told you to?” He grabs himself while looking down between us.
“Mmhmm,” I nod beneath him.
“Good girl.” Then I feel him start to sink in and I regret everything that led to this moment—kissing Sean, seeking his attention. I even regret kissing Ethan because all it did was make me want to feel again the way I felt with him—and I know I never will.
So, I do the only thing I can think of.
I stretch my arms out to my sides and grab handfuls of the sheets. With my eyes closed, I imagine the sting I feel is the wheat grass whipping my limbs. I imagine Sean’s breath against my neck as the wind caressing my face. And, to drown out the sound of his grunts and pants, I imagine the sound of my feet hitting the ground while a country song filters through my earbuds.
And until this is over, in my mind, I run.
***
“Woohoo!” Sophie cheers as we jump up and down like kids on Christmas morning in the tiny, dark living room of our tiny, dark apartment. “I can’t believe we are actually doing this!”
“I know!” I squeal as we bounce into each other for a hug.
“God, I never thought Meg and Lars would go for this,” Sophie confesses. “They are so overprotective. They totally wanted you to just move back into their house, but I convinced them this was best for us, to learn responsibility and shit.”
Fanning ourselves, we look around at the place that is completely ours. Well, technically it’s not because we rent, but it’s ours for now. It’s hot as holy hell on fire along the equator right next to the sun, and seeing as our dingy little apartment doesn’t have any air conditioning, it’s nearly suffocating in here, even with all the tiny windows open.
I’m wearing a sports bra and athletic shorts rolled up while Sophie is wearing a pair of capri jeans—she says she doesn’t wear shorts due tochub rub—and a tank top that hugs her love handles and stomach rolls. We are both sweaty from unpacking.
