I shrugged my shoulders and I heard him exhale loudly. He grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back and away from him, trying to see my face.
"What is going on up there?" He asked, now a little irritated.
"I don't know. I'm just a little worried." That was the best I could give him.
"Worried about what, exactly?" It took me a few moments to build up enough courage to answer him, but I knew he wouldn't accept my dodging any more of his questions.
"I'm just worried that I'm not, that my body's not, what you like."
"You think I don't like your body?"
"No," I said exasperated. "Yes." I sighed. "I don't know." I breathed in and out a few times and then looked him in the eyes. "I think you enjoyed that, I mean, I could, uh, feel you enjoying it. But I'm not stupid enough to think that any sixteen-year-old guy wouldn't enjoy feeling a girl up. I guess I am just worried that I'm not what you want."
"What do you think I want? I'm here with you, Bit. Why would I want to be anywhere else?"
I shrugged.
"I don't know. Maybe you like girls with bigger boobs or girls who have bigger butts. How will I ever know if every time you put your hand up my shirt that you're not wishing I had a little more, uh, boobage?"
"Boobage?" He asked, chuckling.
"Don't laugh, Asher! This is serious. You didn't say one word while your hand was up there. That left a lot of room for interpretation."
"I didn't say anything because my brain was malfunctioning. I was living the dream I'd been having for months, maybe years, when my girlfriend let me get to second base."
"Well, a little positive reinforcement would have been appreciated. I was practically moaning and grinding on your lap and you gave no indication that you enjoyed my boobage." I had to admit, I was being a little bit of a brat, but sometimes insecurities brought out the ugliness in me. I was glad he smiled at my new word. I didn't want him angry; I really just wanted reassurance.
"Babe, you're perfect. I couldn't imagine a girl more perfect for me. And as for your boobage and granting me the supreme privilege of rounding the next base in our relationship, well, I really really enjoyed it. Really," he said, bumping his forehead lightly against mine. I reached behind me to clasp my bra and then laid my hands on his chest.
"Could you just do me a favor and remember, for future occasions, that sometimes a girl needs a little reassurance?" He tilted his head a little and had a confused look on his face.
"I will do my best to give you whatever you need, but I think you're missing something here, Bit." He pushed my hair off my forehead, sliding his fingers behind my ears, securing my windblown hair. "I never look at you, at your body, and wish for something else. You're all I've ever wished for, all I could ever hope for. When I'm touching you, when you let me put my hands on your skin, the only thought running through my head is how lucky I am that I get to be the one, how lucky I am that you've let me close to you in this way. I'll be forever grateful for the privilege of you."
My heart fluttered and my insides melted. I was the lucky one.
"Come on," I said as I pressed a kiss to his lips quickly. "We better get going." I stood up from his lap and started walking down the path towards the bridge we spent so many days under throughout our lives. He was a few steps behind me as I was trying to give him a little room to calm down from our new base rounding. I heard footsteps rushing up next to me and I felt him take my hand, but he didn't slow down and started pulling me towards the bridge. I had no choice but to keep up with him, a smile growing across my face at his playfulness. We ran down the embankment and ducked under the clearance of the bridge.
Suddenly, Asher pushed me up against the wooden support, our bodies hidden from view. It was dark under the bridge, most of the light blocked, but I could just make out his silhouette. His face was close to mine and I could feel his breath puffing out against my lips. I felt his hands come to cradle my face and he pressed a tiny, gentle kiss to the very corner of my mouth.
"When you run from me it makes me crazy," he whispered. I tried to swallow the lump that appeared in my throat.
"I wasn't running from you," I answered.
"Yes, you were. The conversation got deep and you took off. What are you afraid of?"
I thought about his question. What was I afraid of? Nothing. Everything. My hands came to rest upon his forearms and I felt his thumb start to slide back and forth across my cheek, silently comforting me, giving me courage to answer his question.
"I'm afraid that I'll let you in, you'll see me, and you'll realize that you don't want me anymore."
He pressed his mouth against mine again, slowly and softly. He stopped kissing me, but didn't pull away, leaving his mouth resting against mine.
"I love you," he promised against me.
My heart hammered in my chest and my hands gripped his arms. His mouth pressed into mine again, kissing me until my mind could wrap around what he'd said.
He loved me.
We never said those words to each other before, never verbalized what I felt so deep in my body and soul. It was never necessary. I knew how I felt about him and hoped that he felt the same way. Hearing him say he loved me brought me a lightness and euphoria I didn't know I was missing. His mouth pulled away from mine again, this time far enough away that I could catch my breath.
"I love you Bit. I love everything about you: your mind, your mouth, your body, your sense of humor, your hair." He slid his hands back through my long hair as he rattled of his list. My eyes closed at the sensations of his hands sliding down my hair, but also because I wanted to hear him; I was listening with everything I was. "I love you, in every sense of the word, in every capacity imaginable."
"I love you too" I whispered. It was so quiet, I wasn't sure he heard me, but he pressed his lips to my mouth and I felt him smiling.
Part II
Chapter One
"Charlie, it's time to go soon. Are you ready?" I heard my father yelling up the stairs to me. I looked around my room. Even though all my furniture remained, along with most of the decorations hanging on the wall, the room seemed empty. I tried to push away the sadness that was trying to force its way in, but found it difficult to focus on the exciting parts of leaving for college. I just kept thinking about my father here all alone. He didn't deserve to be alone. I gave my room one last look and headed down the stairs with my overly-stuffed duffel bag.
"Dad, I think I should stay here and just go to the community college," I said as I met his eyes. He cocked his head at me and smiled.
"Charlie Bear, I will be fine. You've worked too hard to go to the community college. Besides, Reeve and Asher will be with you too. This is going to be the most exciting thing you've ever done. Don't think you have to stay here to keep me company."
"I just don't want you to be alone." The thought of my dad spending every evening by himself was devastating. I looked over at his recliner, which he already spent too much time in already, and had images of him sulking in it every night. It made something inside my chest squeeze my heart. My dad deserved to be happy, not lonely.
"Just because you won't be around all the time doesn't mean I'll be a sad, pathetic lump on the recliner. I promise. Besides, who's to say I'm not just waiting for you to be out of the house before I turn into an eligible bachelor." He raised an eyebrow at me, obviously trying to make me smile. I smiled for him, but not because what he said was funny, but because what he said was true. My dad was an eligible bachelor. In his mid-forties, he was devastatingly handsome. He still maintained his built physique simply by working at his construction job, his dark salt-and-pepper hair made him look distinguished and dapper. I only ever saw him wearing blue jeans and tee shirts but once, for my senior banquet a few months ago, I saw him in a suit and I almost didn't recognize him. Even all of my friends at the event commented on how handsome he was. I always knew he was good-looking, but just recently I accepted that he was truly beautiful.
"Are you going to start dating?" I asked curiously. He hadn't been on a date in all of my eighteen years except, of course, with my mother. He shrugged his shoulders, a trait I picked up from him, and looked away from me, perhaps a little embarrassed.
"I don't know. Maybe. I was thinking about it." His head dropped low as he tried his best to keep his eyes from mine. "Would that bother you?" My heart hurt for him.
"No, Daddy. I won't mind. You deserve to be happy. Mom wouldn't want you to be alone." Silence fell over both of us at the mention of my mother. It was still hard to think about her being gone, but the truth was, it had been eight years since she passed. My dad put his sadness aside and had done an admirable job raising me alone ever since. I couldn't fully grasp what it had taken for him to pull himself up and be both parents. I knew that some days were harder than others for him, but he was the best dad I could have ever asked for, and that made it difficult to leave him, even though I knew I needed to. "I'll be back to visit soon, Dad. Corbett is only a few hours from here," I said trying to move us out of the painful memories of my mother.