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Chapter 53

When I woke up, Robbie was still asleep. He was curled up against me with one leg over mine and one of my hands in his. It was still dark outside, so I reached over to try to see what time it was. As I shifted over him Robbie moved to lie on his back and wound his hand in my hair,  his thumb caressed my jaw.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes closed, and his voice raw from sleep.

"Checking the time."

"What does it say?"

"It's 4 in the morning."

"At what time do you usually wake up?" He asked.

"5."

I climbed over him and went to my bathroom.

"I think that if you want to go home and pick up your uniform, you should get up now," I said, putting a glob of toothpaste on my toothbrush and brushing my teeth. It was the only thing that would fully wake me up at this time.

I finished brushing them and saw he was still sleeping.

"Come on, Robbie," I said, shaking his shoulder.

He rubbed his face and then got up and dragged his feet following my earlier path to the bathroom. I slid back into bed. It was cold, and the bed was so warm.

He came back out with my toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

"Hey! Gross!" I protested sitting up.

"I washed it with soap beforehand and I'll wash it afterwards, or I'll buy you a new toothbrush."

"That's still gross."

"Your tongue was in my mouth yesterday. What's the difference?" He said, walking back into the bathroom.

When he finished, he came back to lay down next to me.

"Robbie, you're going to be late."

"I have rec first, and I don't have to go back home. I just remembered I have an extra shirt in my gym bag, and I can just wear yesterday's pants. I've woken up at 4 in the morning the past few days, just a few more minutes."

He took the blanket and covered himself with it closing his eyes. I didn't argue, I was having one of those moments when I was taken aback by how good-looking he was.

My heart sunk at the thought of this being a one-time thing. I laid back down on my side, and he turned to face me.

His eyes were half-open, and his hand stroked my hair. I wanted to be closer to him. I needed to be closer to him.

As if he could read my mind he pulled me in close, resting his chin on my head. 

I buried my face in his chest his Robbie smell was driving me crazy. My body was so responsive to him. His scent, his proximity was enough to make me wet and achy without him even touching me. I grasped his shirt in my fists and pulled myself even closer, and took a deep breath. I didn't even care if he thought I was a weirdo anymore.

I felt him laugh, and I felt him kiss the top of my head. This all felt like a dream I never wanted to wake up from.

"What do you want me to say?" I blurted out.

"What?"

"I don't want this to end. But I don't get what you want from me."

"Lia."

I climbed up on his body, kissing his neck his jaw. I licked the hinge of his jaw to his ear. I felt him shudder and swallow hard. His hands stroked down my body and then back up the sides of my breasts. He was trying to be careful, I could feel a coiled tension in him.

He did that thing where he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to find control of the situation.

It frustrated me.

"Stop," I said.

"Stop what?"

"Doing that thing where you shut me out."

"Lia, I never shut you out."

"Yes. You do. It's confusing. You've slept with, I don't know how many girls, yet you now have a problem if we even kiss for too long. What?"

"I told you that was different."

"Explain it."

He paused as if gathering his thoughts.

"I feel like if we were to have sex, it would change everything. It's one thing for you to leave now and we stay friends. It's another for us to have sex, and then you leave and never talk to me again."

"That wouldn't happen."

"What wouldn't happen? You leaving, or you not talking to me?"

"Both, I told you I don't really want to date anyone. Robbie, I never even did anything with a guy before you." I said, kissing his neck. 

One hand slid up to tangle themselves in the curls at the nape of his neck. I could hear him start to breathe hard again and took it as an encouragement to grind myself into him. He groaned and buried his face in my neck, his hands going down to hold my hips. I thought he was going to push me off, but then he brought me down again. I nipped the soft skin of his earlobe. He shuddered and then froze, stilling me with his strong grip on my hips. 

"That's the other thing. You've never had sex before."

This time I froze.

"Lia, don't you want your first time to be with someone that you love?" He looked at me. His green eyes were soft and imploring. As if he was asking me a question within that question. I felt that's how he talked to me lately. Everything he said had another meaning. His words were like Russian nesting dolls, all of them leading to the same end. I just couldn't figure out what.

My hands slipped around from his neck and fell to his chest.

"Exactly." He said, kissing my nose.

"It doesn't have to be," I said, "with someone, I love I mean."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"I mean, I know girls who had sex with someone they love and then got their heartbroken. Or had a bad experience. I mostly just want to feel safe, I guess. I feel safe with you."

"You feel safe with me?" he asked. His thumbs brushed over my hips.

"Yeah, I know you aren't going to push me to do anything I don't want to do."

"I wouldn't, but I want your first time to be more than that, Lia."

"Why? What more could there be?"

"A deeper connection. I rather you wait till you find someone you love."

I laid my head on his chest, my ear to his heart.

His thumb stroked the apples of my cheek.

"What if I don't find someone? My dad says I'm cold. Maybe I'm not someone people fall in love with and vice-versa."

"That's not true. You're not cold, Lia. There's no one you could see yourself falling in love with?"

I wanted to tell him that I could see myself falling for him but that I probably wouldn't be able to handle it when he decided he wanted to move on.  

How do you say that to a guy without them getting weird with you?

"Who? I spend all my time at school. I don't have time to meet anyone nor do I want to," I said. 

"Me."

I looked up at him, confused as to whether I heard him correctly. He looked at me with a careful expression, vulnerable.

I stroked his cheek, "of course I could fall in love with you. But what would be the point?"

The hurt look on his face surprised me, "What?"

"You have so many girls that want you. Isn't it better if we just kept it simple?"

He shook his head, "no."

"Robbie, come on. Be honest with yourself."

"How do we know if we don't try?" He asked, his voice small. 

"There's a lot of risk there for me."

"I would never hurt you. I thought you said you trusted me."

I sighed into his chest.

"Was your first time with someone that you loved?" I asked. 

"No," he said he had one hand on my head, his fingers in my hair, holding me to his chest, the other stroking my back. I slipped my hands around him, hugging him to me.

"Do you regret it?"

He sighed and kissed the top of my head.

"She was a friend, and I never really thought much into it. Until recently."

"Was it Abigail?" I asked. I figured it would be. 

"Yes. It was Abigail."

"Do you think she loved you?"

"I'm not sure. I mean, when we had sex, I thought I loved her. I thought I just naturally fell out of love with her.

"Why did you keep things going with her if you didn't love her?"

He sighed heavily, "Because I'm a guy, and she's a pretty girl, and I wasn't thinking beyond my... needs. I also just felt like I had to be with her. Pressure from my family. I thought I could just fall back in love with her."

"Did you ever cheat on her?"

"Geez, Lia."

"I thought you said I could ask you any questions, and you were an open book?"

"Yes. I slept with other girls. I'm not proud of it. I know I hurt her, and despite what you and Lana and Maria say she really isn't a bad person. I stopped doing that when I realized I was hurting her. I thought she felt the same way."

"So, you tried to fall back in love with her?"

"Kind of. Until I actually fell in love. I didn't realize I was just never in love with her, to begin with, and that I was trying to go back to something that was never there."

"And the girl you fell in love with? You were never with her?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because she didn't love me back."

I scoffed, "That's hard to believe."

"Why?"

"Because every girl in school likes you. They all practically throw themselves on you."

"It's all superficial. They like me because I'm a Bennett."

"I'm sure not all of them," I said gently.

"Trust me, Lia. It's just lust. I've entertained a few of them."

"I don't know, they talk so much crap about Abigail, and I know it's out of jealousy. Abigail is bitchy, but other girls are just as bad, and it's like they have it out for her. Despite Abigail being a jerk to me, I feel so bad for her sometimes."

"She can handle herself. Abigail has a lot of friends who look up to her. Trust me, I don't mean anything to those girls. It's a status thing."

"I don't think of you that way, you know that, right?" I asked him.

"Well, that's a relief," he said smiling, "I know, Lia. You barely want to be seen with me," he said dryly. 

"I just don't want any more negative attention. My locker was enough for one year."

He kissed my head, "I know."

"Hey, Robbie?"

"Mhm."

"The poem book in your room did you underline that poem for her, the girl you loved, I mean."

It took him a second to understand what I was talking about.

"You snoop," he said, and I could hear the humor in his voice.

"I thought it would just be a poem book. I didn't expect anything in it," I said blushing. 

"Yes."

My gut turned with jealousy.

"Wow. That's really romantic," I said, looking down at my lap. 

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course. Robbie, did she even know you were in love with her?"

He rested his cheek on my head, "No."

I looked up at him; he looked so broken, "you don't get it," he said, winding a loose curl around his finger.

"I don't get what?" I asked. His heartbreak? 

He squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed his face with his hand. 

I realized how painfully shy Robbie was. I genuinely believe that's where a large part of his arrogance came from —his overwhelming shyness. He always seemed so cold and distant, but he wasn't. Underneath it all, he was warm and tender and loving. I was irrationally upset with this girl.

I kneeled up and pressed a kiss on his lips. I didn't know how else to make him feel better; a hug didn't seem like enough. I felt my heart would burst if I didn't. His hand came up to my neck, and he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding into my hair. This kiss was different. It wasn't hurried or full of lust. He was gentle, and his lips were soft and pliant. I felt as if I were hanging on a tightrope I had slipped off of a long time ago. I had managed to cling onto the rope despite everything, and this kiss gently plucked each finger off—and I let it.

I felt so breathless.

"Fuck," he said, and I felt him shudder, and then his lips were on mine again. His hands grabbed my waist and pulled me close to him.

"Okay, let's try something else," he said.

"Something else?" I asked, confused.

"Mmm, give me a chance," he said, his lips brushing over mine.

"What?"

"To be with you, give me a chance. I know you don't think I can do a relationship. I promise I can; we'll do it on your terms."

"My terms?"

"No one will know unless you want them to know. You don't want that, right? It's fine. Whatever you want. Let me try."

"I mean," I said, trying to put words together. Robbie kissed me again then pushed me, so I was on my back, his lips never leaving mine. Every time I thought a kiss was over, he would start another kiss; I felt so light-headed. His hand traveled down my body, brushing over my breasts trailing down towards my shorts.

"Tell me if you want me to stop."

I nodded.

He kissed me again, his hand sliding down my body making stops to grab handfuls of flesh and pull me closer. His hand traveled in between my legs, pushing the fabric of my shorts and the underwear I was wearing to the side.

I let out a moan when he first touched me. His fingers teasingly slid up and down at first.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he said and buried his face into my neck, his fingers working in small circles and his lips nipping at my skin.

He slipped a finger in and then another, "this okay?"

"Hmm, it feels nice," I said, closing my eyes and biting my lip.

"You feel so tight. Fuck, Lia," he said, sliding his long fingers in deeper.

"Oh god," I said, "please."

"Like that?" he said, the heel of his palm pressing into me as his fingers curved up inside of me and hit a spot that felt so fucking good.

"Hmm, yes," I felt myself get close. My cheeks felt as if they were on fire.

I grabbed onto his arm, my hips rolling against his hand, "hmm, I love how responsive you are to me," he whispered.

He covered my mouth with his, muffling my cries as I came. His hand rubbing fast circles with his thumb. I tangled my fingers in his hair.

When I was done his kissed my cheek and pressed his forehead against mine.

"Good?" he asked, his hand cupping my face.

"Yeah," I whispered. 

He kissed me again a long kiss that left me breathless when he broke it off, "you have to get ready for school," He said.

"I need to shower," I said. I felt like I was trembling.

He chuckled, "Me, too."

"I'll be quick," I said and went to the bathroom. When I finished, I wrapped myself in my towel and walked back into the room.

"All yours, there are extra towels in the closet right outside the door."

"Did you paint this?" He asked, lifting up an old oil painting I made when I was in middle school. He sounded impressed? I remember painting it. I was really into fauvism during that time and felt inspired to paint the park and church by my house on a bright sunny day.

"Yes. A long time ago. Are you snooping?" I said amused. 

"I am." He said not bothering to make excuses and looked at it again, "Lia, this is really good. Why do you have it shoved behind your bed?"

I shrugged, "I didn't know where to put it. My mom was going to throw it out, and I had a moment of weakness. Now I keep going back and forth between keeping it and throwing it out. It's like the only painting I've been able to keep."

"Throwing it out? Why would you throw it out?"

"Because there's nowhere to put it, and I don't like clutter."

"Can I have it?"

"You want a shitty painting made by a 12-year-old who took herself way too seriously?" I asked raising an eyebrow. 

"Yes."

"Robbie Bennet you are an enigma. Fine, it's all yours. Go shower."

We left later than usual, but still in time to make it before the first bell.