Page 55 of Walk With Me
Even though Sloane clearly needs to get home, we spend a few minutes snogging. The feel of her mouth on mine is quickly becoming an addiction.
I have Sloane pinned against the front door. I now have an ache in a place that will require some attention before the night is out. I may not be ready for sex with another person, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to sort myself out. I popped that cherry a few years ago.
“Jesus, Eden,” she whimpers. I didn’t realise I was rolling my hips. I’m mortified. We’re in the hallway of my house, with my parents just a door away.
“I think I just found another boundary I’m okay with,” I pant.
Sloane breathes heavily through her nose and licks her lips. “Okay, I need you to back away from me. Like six feet. Then I’m going to leave.”
“Okay.” But I don’t move. I feel rooted to the spot.
“Eden. Baby.” Her voice is almost pleading.
Shitballs. I’m so turned on. MaybeI’mthe one who needs to chill out. Sloane was at my door earlier, apologising for pushing me, and yet I’m the one whose thoughts can’t climb out of the gutter. Am I the one that is making our relationship all about sex?
That’s something to work through later.
Gritting my teeth, I do as she says and take several steps back. “Text me.”
Nodding, Sloane edges away from the door and, with what looks like a lot of effort, turns away and leaves.
With how my body is reacting, it must seem weird that I don’t want to go all the way with Sloane just yet. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex. I do. It’s just for me, taking that step, being vulnerable like that with someone, is a big ask. I want it to mean more than just the act. It’s another facet of my character. Pia thinks it’s from the Dark Ages. Waiting to have sex with someone you care for isn’t the coolthing, apparently. Although we both know she and Todd waited until they were serious. Also, I want to feel a little more confident. I know my body, but navigating Sloane’s is still new. I don’t want our first time to be shit. There’s only so much you can learn from TV.
Sloane and I have been together for a few days, although I think the time spent pining means we’re moving at warp speed. It’s like everything feels so much more when we are together than it would be with someone brand new. Ugh, whatever. It’ll happen when it happens, I guess. Setting boundaries has helped. It’s like we’re playing a game, conquering one level at a time until we get to the boss match. That’s Sloane and me getting it on for real.
I feel like I’m waffling now.
Huffing, I head for my studio. I need to paint away some frustration before masturbating away the rest.
It’s close to midnight by the time I finish. Instead of painting, I ended up sketching Sloane. It needs a few more hours before it’s done, but it’s not bad. I like being able to look at her pretty face whenever I want. Does that sound a bit stalker-y?
Jenna’s bedroom light is still on when I go upstairs. She’s usually out like a light by this time. I want to knock on her door and ask if she’s okay, but all I’ll get is a barrageof abuse so I don’t bother. Iwill, however, ask Sloane tomorrow what their convo was about.
Speaking of the golden-haired beauty, she sent me a message when she got home. I answered but never received a reply. My smile grows when I see a waiting text from her. It quickly disappears when I read it, though. Sloane is cancelling our morning walk. She doesn’t say why, just that she needs to spend some time with Becca.
I hope everything is good. Like Sloane, I have an inkling I know what Becca is struggling with. I think it’s a tiny pink-haired powerhouse called Bella.
Tomorrow I’ll make sure to grab some time with her. Bella is the friend that will keep things to herself. She always prioritises everyone else before herself, so if there is something going on between her and Becca she’ll lock it away.
After a quick shower, I say goodnight to Sloane and slip into bed.
It’s a no-gym day. In my life pre–Sloane I would’ve been on top of the fucking world knowing I didn’t have to interactwith Mr Ass Hat. Today, however, I’m not so pleased, simply because it means I have to carve out some of my personal time to complete the next app session.
My choices are as follows: climb out of bed now and do it, or wait until after school. If I wait until after school, it means I either have to spend less time with Sloane, or she does it with me and I end up sweaty and gross around her.
Even though the sun is rising, it’s still pretty dark out. I bet it’s cold too. Ugh, fuck my life. I didn’t get enough sleep to deal with such decisions. It was close to 1 a.m. by the time I’d relieved myself enough to fall asleep.
Now my mind is protesting at the thought of dragging my ass around the block. Not just my mind. My body doesn’t seem keen either. I bet Sloane would jump at the chance to go for a jog or something similarly hideous at the butt crack of dawn.
How are we dating?
The thought brings a smile to my face and finally gives me the kick up the arse to throw the covers back and fall out of bed. My gym gear is on my desk chair, waiting. I put it there on purpose, knowing that if I didn’t shove it in my face I’d find an excuse not to wear it. Walking/jogging in Doc Martens isn’t an option. I suppose the one upside toit being on the dark side this morning is there’s less chance people I know will recognise me on the street.
The reason I dislike gym wear so much is because it’s so tight. Now, I know I wear skinny jeans. But leisure gear takes it to another level. Especially the top half. I like wearing baggy hoodies for a reason. I might look like a beanpole, but I’m a beanpole with boobs. Maybe if I had more definition or shape I wouldn’t be so conscious of them, but I’m neither of those things. My tits were the only things that developed on me. Muscle certainly didn’t. It’s a miracle I have somewhat of a decent ass. That must be good genetics or something. I’ve certainly never done anything to boost the glutes.
Anyway, enough about my butt and boobs. It’s time to head out into the cold and get my heart rate up. Sloane would be so proud. I plan on telling her later. Hopefully, it will earn me an extra-long make-out.
Dad is sitting at the table when I shuffle in. He looks at me like I’m an alien. That’s fair. I can’t remember the last time I was up with my dad on a workday.
