Page 48 of Here for a Good Time

Removing my robe, I climb on top of him. We stare at each other like this is the first time we’re meeting. “Fuck,” he exhales. “So beautiful,” he repeats, as though the rest of the English language has left him.

“I’m on birth control,” I say, knowing that if there’s one person on this planet who finds responsible intercourse sexy, it’s Zwe Aung Win.

“I know,” he says. “You put it on the list the last time I went to the pharmacy.”

I feel my face burst into a grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept with someone who knew my exact brand of birth control,” I say, making us both laugh.

I have a vision of us seven years down the line, giddy and shy and hopeful as we talk about beginning to try for kids.

Are you sure? he’ll ask because he always double-checks, and I’ll want to laugh because I’ll have been sure for a very long time.

I’ll tell him I was waiting for him to bring it up, and he’ll tell me he was waiting for the same with me, and then we’ll both end up laughing, just like we are now.

I bend over just enough that I can tangle my fingers in his curls. He looks so gorgeous. Mine, a greedy voice in my mind revels. All mine . “I love you,” I tell him.

“And I love you.”

There’s some slight shifting, but the moment he pushes into me, my toes curl.

It takes a couple of minutes for us to find our rhythm, mainly because we can’t decide if we want to make this last for as long as possible, or if we want to give in and let the electric currents between our bodies flow as high as they can. Ultimately, we decide on the latter.

“Fuck, this is amazing,” I pant as we pick up the pace. “Who knew you were this good at sex?”

He laughs into my hair. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” I hiss, which makes him laugh again.

I want to do this forever, I think.

“I want to do this forever,” I say out loud.

“Forever?” Zwe slows down the pace, but not without gripping my ass with both hands. His nails dig into my flesh, and I want to arch even deeper into him. “What about that book you have to write?”

“What book?” I exhale. His chuckle comes low behind my ear.

Utilizing the decrease in pace, I lift myself up ever so slightly so I can put one hand between our bodies.

Right as I do, Zwe’s hand reaches in, too.

I meet his eye, and he makes a Can I? expression.

I want to nod and go along with the moment, but Zwe picks up on my hesitation.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Did I—”

“No!” I say hurriedly, almost desperately. “It’s just… it feels better when I do it. No offense.”

He lets out a relieved laugh. “Why would I be offended?”

“I dunno, because you’re a man ?” I growl the last word.

He shakes his head. “Come here,” he says, and pulls me closer to him.

He sits up a few degrees and puts my hand back where it was, albeit now at a better angle.

A low hum escapes my lips as I start rubbing my clit.

When I look down at Zwe, he looks positively mesmerized.

“I want you to come while I’m still inside. I want to feel you come around me.”

Already, my body is aching for the friction again. “Good,” I whisper. “Because I do, too.”

We rock and clutch, his warm, protective hands roaming my back, my ass, my hair. He keeps varying the speed and rhythm of his thrusting so that just as I’m close, my body has to readjust.

“Stop teasing me,” I eventually growl, feeling more animal than human.

His wicked chuckle confirms to me that he’s doing it on purpose. “Are you going to be a good girl and come for me now?”

My insides are violin-string taut at this point. “Yes,” I exhale. I couldn’t hold myself back even if I wanted to.

“Perfect,” he whispers, although it sounds so disjointed that I don’t know if he meant to say it aloud or even knows that he did.

You are, I think.

Afterward, we cuddle facing each other, my face buried in his chest, his arms locked around my back, his chin on top of my head. Two limp, tangled, happy bodies.

“Did you know—” he starts.

“Oh, fun fact incoming,” I mumble.

“You love my fun facts,” Zwe huffs.

I smile into his warm skin. “I do. So tell me. Did I know what?”

He makes a big show of clearing his throat. “Did you know that scientists predict that in several billion years, the Milky Way and Andromeda galaxies will collide?”

“Oh, yeah?” I hope my snorting doesn’t offend him, but it’s such a subject 180 that I have to laugh.

“Yeah, NASA has simulated photos and everything of what it’ll look like,” he says, not bothered at all by my reaction. “It won’t really matter to us, though, because humans will all be dead by then.”

“Well, that’s a… nice image.” I slide back so I can look at his face, but his eyes remain closed. Still, I reach to brush away some hair that was flattened on his forehead. “This is some top-notch pillow talk.”

His eyes open lazily, like he knows he can take his time opening them because I’m not going anywhere, and this is how it’s going to be every night and morning from now on.

He rakes one hand into my hair at the crown.

“Well, I think it’s a nice image,” he says with an eye roll.

“Because this whole time, there’s this tidal pull between the two galaxies.

Like, right now . Right while we’re having this conversation, the Milky Way and the Andromeda are moving closer and closer to each other, and at some point in the faraway future, they’ll collide and warp into one another, merging into a singular new, bigger galaxy with this bright core that will dominate the night sky. ”

I consider this. “After billions of years of steadily being pulled together, huh?” He nods. “Are you saying we’re two galaxies colliding after a billion-year wait?”

“I’m saying—” He returns his hand to the small of my back, the motion tightening his grip on me.

I wonder if he’s having the same fleeting moments of What if I wake up and this is all a dream?

as me. “That there were times where it did feel like I had been in love with you for a billion years, and that it would be several billion more before I found the courage to tell you,” he says.

I positively melt, and if I weren’t certain before, I am now: I am a goner. It feels like my heart is going to drill its way out of me to lie at his feet. Here you go, it seems to want to say. You have me. Do whatever the hell you want with me.

“Well, I for one am glad it only took us two decades and not a billion years. Or even a million.” I remember something. “I have to text Soraya.”

Zwe gives a dubious laugh. “That’s what you’re thinking of right now? Soraya?”

“I never told you this, but Soraya’s always thought we were going to end up together,” I say. There’s not a shred of surprise in his reaction. “You… knew?”

“The first night I met Soraya,” he says, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “She looked me in the eye and said, ‘What are you doing? Get your shit together.’”

“No,” I gasp. “What did you say?”

“I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about, and she rolled her eyes, muttered, ‘Why do men insist on standing in the way of their own happiness?’ and walked off. To be honest, it… was a good question.”

I shake my head, laughing. “I can’t wait to see her again. She’s going to flip when she finds out.”

A shadow of concern falls over his face. “Do you think maybe we should not tell anyone for a while? What if we mess it up?” he asks. “What if a year from now, we hate each other and we’re not speaking anymore?”

I smile. “Do you know what the most difficult part to write in a book is?”

“What?”

“The middle,” I explain. “The start is where everything is new and shiny, and the ending is where it’s all wrapped up in a neat bow.

But the middle—that’s the complicated bit.

It’s where the good things happen and the bad and where the characters have to figure themselves out.

The middle is the messiest bit, but it’s also the most fun bit.

Because it’s where everything happens . It’s where your characters make mistakes and then they learn how to fix them, and they ultimately become better people for it.

But they don’t get to the end unless they get through the middle.

That’s the toughest part, both for the characters and for the author.

“All that is to say—” I raise a finger to let him know that I do have a point to make.

“That’s what’s coming up now: the middle.

And yeah, it’s going to be real shitty sometimes and I’m positive we’re going to fight and we’ll accidentally hurt each other.

But we’re also going to have so many great moments that we’re going to walk through our door every day and think—”

“ Look at this beautiful life we’ve built together ?” Zwe’s eyes crinkle and shine at the corners.

Unable to stop myself, I go in for a long, delicious kiss.

“Yes,” I say after we pull apart. “I wish I could promise you a happy ending, but we won’t know that the ending is happy until we get there, and we can’t get there until we go through the middle.

You don’t get to achieve the big dream unless you’re willing to fall flat on your face in the process. Trust me, I would know.”

He plants a kiss on my forehead. “Okay, then. Let’s get through the middle together.”

“And we’ll start with you applying for that PhD.”

He stiffens, clears his throat like he’s having trouble breathing on account of my having sucked all of the oxygen out of the room. “What are you talking about?” he asks as if he doesn’t know precisely what I’m talking about.

“You answered that in your ideal future, you’d be doing a PhD,” I say.

“I said that because I thought we were going to die—”

“Exactly!” I jab his chest. “People are the most honest when they think they’re going to die. You say exactly what you mean because you figure there’s nothing to lose.”

“It’s a pipe dream.”