She stares at me for a long time, and I wish I could read her thoughts. Then, without a word, she moves her hand and steps out of the alcove and into the glare of lights from the party. I reach for her hand and she stops walking. The blood drains from her face, and her jaw drops open. She points over her shoulder toward the front yard.
“I’m…I’m going…inside to wash up.” She turns and walks away without waiting for me.
Warning bells go off in my head, and I catch up to her, thinking more about what she’s said. Wondering why she said she’s inexperienced and why she’s acting like we didn’t just practically climb inside each other’s bodies.
“Are you okay?” I ask, feeling like I’ve missed something she wants me to know.
“Uh-huh. I just want to get cleaned up.” She goes in the front door and ignores the people milling about in the kitchen. I follow her upstairs to her bedroom. She opens a dresser drawer, grabs a pair of underwear, and then heads into the bathroom.
What the hell?
I’ve been in Delilah’s room a dozen times, and it’s never felt so cold, so lonely. I feel like I don’t belong, when, if anything, what we did should make me feel like I belong even more. She comes out of the bathroom smelling like soap and scented body lotion. Three seconds ago I preferred the heady scent of desire, but right now I don’t know what to think. I go into the bathroom to give us both some space to think. When I come out of the bathroom, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the seam of her shorts. She smiles up at me, but it’s not a real smile. It’s her hesitant smile, the one that means she has something to say, but she doesn’t always come forward with whatever it is.
I kneel before her and place my hands on her thighs. “Delilah, if you regret what we did, you need to tell me.”
She shakes her head, and tears fill her eyes. “I don’t. I promise.”
Tears. Oh, Delilah, what is it?
“What is it, then? Because seeing you sad makes me sad. Please talk to me. I thought we just connected like I’ve never connected with anyone in my whole life.”
“Me too.” She blinks through her tears.
I reach up and wipe them with my thumb, then gather her in my arms. “I wish you’d share with me whatever’s upsetting you. I can’t help if I don’t understand.”
“It’s everything. I feel so much for you, but I feel guilty for feeling it, and I know you deserve to be with someone who will hold your hand and hold their head high out there at that party, but…” She pulls out of my arms and turns away.
“But?” I sit beside her, trying to rein in the thoughts racing through my mind and convince myself not to jump to conclusions, which is pretty difficult given what she’s just said. I’m not sure I can go through being someone’s secret girlfriend again, and I get the impression that’s where she’s headed.
“But my parents really fucked me up, Ash.” She turns pain-filled eyes toward me. Her hair curtains her face, and her voice is so soft I have to lean in close to hear her.
“I never…you know…did any of that before last night because my parents were so against it, and—”
“Last night?” Holy shit. Are you kidding me?
She swallows hard, and I know the answer before I ask the question.
“You were with Janessa?” I can’t keep my voice from shaking.
“Not really the way I was with you.”
That helps a little, but something tells me she’s not being straight with me. “What do you mean, not really?” I grip my thighs to keep from fisting my hands.
“She…I…” She walks to the other side of the room and leans on her desk, her back to me. Her head drops between her shoulders. “She helped me learn how to…”
“Helped you…? So you were with her like that.”
“No. Yes.” Delilah pushes from the desk and paces. “You can’t be upset with me. You and I weren’t even together yesterday. I did it so I could be with you, Ashley. Not because I wanted to be with her.”
I feel like my throat is closing. She’s not even making sense. I pray I’m misunderstanding what she’s trying to say.
I rise to my feet, and our eyes lock. “Tell me if I’m understanding this correctly. You had sex with Janessa so you could have sex with me?”
She shrugs. “I had no experience.”
Just thinking about Delilah kissing Janessa, touching her like she touched me, and vice versa, makes me want to run back to my apartment, but I force myself to stay and figure it out. I want so badly to be with Delilah. This can’t be happening. I’m clinging to a hope that doesn’t exist rather than accepting the truth.