Page 41 of Regretting You

He focuses on my face for a moment, as if he’s searching for a piece of me that’s lying to him. He forgets what a great actress I am. He finally stands up and unbuttons his pants, then kicks them off. He’s wearing boxer shorts with pineapples all over them.

“Sexy.”

He grins. “Thought you might like these.”

I lift the covers, and he slides into my bed with me but then holds up a finger. “One sec.” He rolls over and reaches to the floor to grab his jeans. When he rolls back over, he’s holding four condoms up like the choice is all mine. “Got them at the Valero on the corner. They’re fruit flavored.”

“Why are they flavored? Are condoms edible?”

My question makes Miller laugh. “No. It’s for ...” He suddenly blushes. “You know. If you put your mouth on it.”

His answer makes me redden. My question shows just how inexperienced I am. The furthest I’ve ever gone with a guy is when Miller took my shirt off and we made out on his bed for an hour.

I take the orange-flavored condom out of Miller’s hand and set it on the nightstand. “Not the orange one. It’ll ruin the moment. Can’t even believe you brought that into my house.”

He laughs. “Sorry. It was a vending machine in the men’s bathroom.

I didn’t get to choose what came out of it.

” Miller picks one of the remaining condoms and tosses the other two on the nightstand with the orange one.

When he turns back to me, he slips his arm under the covers and pulls me against him.

It scares me. The feeling of his skin against mine.

Knowing his boxer shorts are the only thing separating us right now.

He wraps a leg over me, and part of me is sad that I’m rushing it, because making out with him at his house was nice.

But this is different. This isn’t as intimate because so many steps are being skipped, and I know this, but I feel like I’m too far into it to change my mind.

I bury my face in the crevice of his neck because I don’t want him to look at me.

I’m afraid of what he’ll see when he looks in my eyes.

“I don’t have to put it on yet,” he whispers. “We can do other stuff first. I mean ... technically I haven’t even touched your boob yet.”

I grab his hand and slide it over my stomach, up to my breast. He groans, and then he’s the one burying his face in my neck.

“Let’s just get the hard part over with first. Then we can do other stuff,” I whisper.

Miller nods, then pulls back and kisses me gently. I can feel him taking off his boxer shorts as he kisses me. He pulls away from my lips while he puts on the condom, but he keeps his mouth close to mine. His breath crashes against me in short spurts.

When he rolls on top of me, he’s looking down at me with eyes full of so many things. Longing, appreciation, wonder. I want to feel all the things he’s feeling as we experience each other for the first time, but all I feel is betrayed. Lied to. Stupid.

“Relax a little more,” he says. “It’ll hurt less if you aren’t so tense.”

I try to relax, but it’s difficult when all I can think of is how sorry I feel for Jenny. And Dad. And how this is the first time I’ve ever hoped that an afterlife doesn’t exist. At least not one where Jenny and Dad can see how little Jonah and my mother are grieving for them.

Miller’s lips meet mine, and I’m grateful for the distraction. Then something else distracts me. There’s a pain and pressure between my legs when he begins to push into me, and then an even deeper pain, coupled with a rush of air passing Miller’s lips.

I wince. He stops moving and kisses me gently on the corner of my mouth. “You okay?”

I nod.

He’s kissing me again, and this time when he pushes against me, I feel it happen. It’s a significant feeling, like there was a barrier deep inside me keeping us apart, but that barrier is gone and Miller is moving against me now and I just lost my virginity.

It’s both special and not.

It’s both painful and not.

I regret it and I don’t.

I lie still, my hands on his back, my legs around his.

I like the feel of him against me, although I’m not sure I like the feel of what’s happening as a whole.

My heart isn’t in it, which means my body is struggling to be in it.

He’s being gentle and sweet, and the sounds he’s making are extremely sexy, but I don’t feel it in my soul.

My soul is too full of resentment to allow room for any of what’s happening right now to enter.

Part of me wishes I’d have waited. But it would have been with Miller regardless. In the grand scheme of things, would dragging it out a few more months have even made a difference?

Probably.

Okay, all of me wishes I’d have waited. I feel bad that I rushed it. I feel bad that my anger fueled this rash decision. But Miller seems to be enjoying himself, so there’s that, at least.

Maybe I don’t really feel the way I expected to feel in this moment because I realized tonight that love is full of so much ugliness and betrayal and maybe I don’t want anything to do with it.

What I think I feel for Miller is what Jenny probably felt for Jonah and what my father probably felt for my mother, and look where that got them.

Miller’s mouth is on my neck now. One of his hands is gripping my thigh, and I kind of like the position we’re in.

Maybe the next time we’re in this position, it’ll hurt less, both physically and emotionally.

Maybe I’ll actually appreciate how much he enjoys it next time it happens. Maybe I’ll actually enjoy it.

But right now, I’m not enjoying anything.

My mind won’t stop going there. Their actions make me not believe in whatever Miller and I feel for each other, and that makes me sad.

It hurts because I so want to believe in Miller and me.

I want to believe in the way he looks at me, but I’ve seen my mother look at my father like that, so does it even mean anything?

I want to believe Miller when he says he’s never craved anyone like he craves me, but how long will that be true?

Until he grows bored with me and finds a girl he craves more than me?

Thank God I don’t have a sister for him to fall in love with.

I pull Miller closer, wanting my face hidden against his skin.

I hate having these thoughts, especially right now, but Miller is the only thing in my life that’s made me happy since they died, and now I’m scared my mother and Jonah have ruined that.

Not only am I questioning them, and now Miller, but I’m questioning the whole stupid idea of monogamy and the validity of love and thinking how losing my virginity really isn’t all that special.

Because if love isn’t real, then sex is just sex, no matter if it’s your first time or your fiftieth time or your last time.

It’s just one body part inside another body part. Big freaking deal.

Maybe that’s why people find it so easy to cheat: because sex is actually inconsequential. No different than two people shaking hands. Maybe having sex with your boyfriend for the first time means as little as having sex with your dead sister’s fiancé.

“Clara?” Miller says my name between heavy breaths. Between movements. Then he stops.

I open my eyes and pull away from his neck, allowing my head to fall back onto my pillow.

“Am I hurting you?”

I shake my head. “No.”

He brushes hair from my face and runs a thumb down my wet cheek. “Why are you crying?”

I don’t want to talk about it. Especially not right now. I shake my head. “It’s nothing.” I try to pull him against me again, but he separates himself from me and then rolls off me. I feel strangely empty now.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

I hate the worry in his eyes. I hate that he’s thinking any part of my reaction has anything to do with him, so I adamantly shake my head. “No. It’s not you, I swear.”

He looks relieved, but only for a fraction of a second. “Then what is it? You’re scaring me,” he whispers.

“It’s not you. It’s my mother. We got in a really bad argument tonight, and I’m just ...” I wipe the tears away with my hands. “I’m so angry at her. I’m so angry, and I don’t know how to process it.” I roll over onto my side so I can face him. “She and Jonah are having an affair.”

Miller pulls back a little, shocked. “ What? ”

I nod, and I see the sympathy in his expression. He places a soothing hand on the side of my head.

“Earlier, when I got home, I walked in on them in the kitchen. I got so angry. It’s the angriest I’ve ever been in my life, and I think I might actually hate her.

Like ... I’m having all these thoughts about how much she’s betrayed my dad and my aunt.

I can’t stop thinking about everything I can do to get back at her and punish her because all I can think about is how she deserves to suffer too.

” I lift up on my elbow. “They haven’t been gone long enough for her to even be thinking about anyone other than my father.

Which is why I’m pretty sure it was happening before the wreck. ”

Miller is quiet for a moment, staring at me with a perplexed look, probably unsure how to comfort me when I’m this upset.

He falls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling.

“That’s why you called me over here?” His voice has a sharp edge to it, even though it’s still a whisper. “Because you’re mad at your mother ?”

His reaction is staggering. I reach out and put my hand on his chest, but he grabs my wrist and flicks it off him. He rolls over and sits on the edge of the bed, his back to me.

“No. Miller, no .” I’m saying no, but that word is a lie, and we both know it.

I place a hand on his shoulder, but he flinches when I touch him.

He stands up, and I hear the snap of the condom as he pulls it off and tosses it angrily into the trash can next to my bed.

He slides his boxers on and then steps into his jeans. He won’t even look at me.

“Miller, I swear. That’s not why I called you over here.”

He’s walking across my bedroom. “Why’d you call me, then? You weren’t ready for this to happen tonight.” He snatches up his shirt and finally looks at me. I expect to see anger in his eyes, but all I see is hurt.

I’m sitting up on the bed, the blanket pulled up to my chest. “I was , though. I promise. I wanted to be with you—that’s why I called you.” I’m desperately trying to recover, but I think I’ve ruined this. It’s terrifying me.

He takes a step forward, waving a hand in my direction. “You’re upset with your mother , Clara. You didn’t want me—you wanted revenge. I knew you weren’t ready. It was weird ... it was ...” He releases a frustrated rush of air.

I use the sheet to wipe some of my tears away. “I called you because I was upset, yes. But being so upset is what made me want to be with you.”

He’s already got his shirt over his head, but he pauses as he’s pulling it down over his chest. “I would have come over, Clara. Without the sex. You know that.”

Why can’t I stop offending him? I don’t want to hurt him, but that’s all I’m doing right now.

He reopens the window, and the last thing I want him to do is leave. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t mean to drag him into this. But I don’t want him to leave me alone right now.

“Miller, wait.” He’s about to climb out the window, so I plead with him again, moving to the edge of my bed, still wrapped up in my blanket. “ Please. It wasn’t personal. I swear.”

Those words pull him away from the window and back toward the bed. He lowers himself in front of me and cups my face with both hands. “You’re right. That’s why I’m so upset with you. The one thing that should be the most personal to us wasn’t personal at all.”

His words rip through me, and a loud sob breaks from my chest. I can’t believe I did this.

It feels like I’ve stooped to my mother’s level.

Miller releases me and starts to climb out the window, and I cover my mouth with both hands, unable to stop the feelings from tearing through me.

It’s not just what I’ve done to Miller. It’s everything.

I feel everything . I feel the loss of Jenny and the absence of my father and the guilt over how they died and the betrayal of my mother and the pain I caused Miller, and it’s so much all at once that I don’t think I can do this anymore.

I crawl back up my bed and bury my face into my pillow, but I really just want to pull the covers over my head and close my eyes and never feel any of it again.

It’s too much. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair.

I feel the mattress dip beside me, and when I roll toward him, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against him. It makes me cry even harder.

I try to tell him I’m sorry, but I’m crying so much I can’t even get words out. Miller presses soft lips against the side of my head, and I struggle to say it, but the only word I’m sure he can make out is sorry between sobs.

He doesn’t tell me it’s okay or that he forgives me. He doesn’t say anything. He spends the next several minutes silently comforting me while I cry.

My face is pressed against his chest—buried deep into his shirt. When I can finally find my words again, I use them. Over and over. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You’re right, and I feel terrible.” My words are muffled against him. “I’m so sorry.”

He’s gently cupping the back of my head. “I know you feel bad,” he whispers. “I forgive you. But I’m still mad at you.”

Despite his words, he presses a kiss into my hair, and that’s all the forgiveness I need from him right now. He should be mad at me. I don’t blame him. I’m mad at me.

He lies with me for a while, but when I’m no longer crying, he pulls away and looks down at me, running his hand over my cheek. “I should probably go. It’s getting late.”

I shake my head and look pleadingly into his eyes. “Please don’t. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

I can see the three seconds of contemplation swirling around in his eyes before he nods. Then he sits up on the bed and takes off his T-shirt. He bunches it up and then reaches over and slides it over my head. “Wear this.”

I slip my arms into the T-shirt, and with the covers still on top of me, I pull the T-shirt over my hips.

It’s not lost on me that even after everything that’s happened tonight, he still hasn’t seen me naked. He never even looked when I dropped my towel.

He slips under the covers with me and pulls me to him so that my back is pressed against his chest. We share a pillow. We hold hands. And eventually, we both fall asleep, angry at different people, but both hurting the same.