Page 63 of That Last Summer

“What? What papers?” He looks puzzled.

What papers? I’m seriously considering that Alex might have two personalities living inside him and he doesn’t even know. What am I saying, two? Forty! Or maybe his only goal in life is to drive me crazy.

“The divorce papers,” I clarify.

“The divorce—? This is unbelievable! Don’t fuck with me, please.”

Excuse me? Oh, he’s so going to hear me.

“Maybe that’s what you’d like, huh? Since we were that good in bed ...”

“Don’t you remember?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do you want me to refresh your memory?”

“No thanks, not for all the pompoms in the world. I’m sorry, Alex, but I don’t want to play games anymore.”

We’ve already reached the door of my parents’ house. I try to open my purse to get the keys, but his hand stops me.

“Oh no, this time you’re not going to walk away with the last word! This time I have something to say!” He’s yelling at me now.

“I don’t care what you have to say!” I yell back. Yeah, there went the last bit of my patience.

“Let’s see if you care or not!”

Alex grabs my nape and brings my face to his, pressing our lips together. He kisses me angrily; I don’t even see him coming. We’re arguing one instant and the next his lips are opening my mouth and his tongue is inside, claiming everything. My body, my whole being, knows he is the one kissing me. Alex. And the past returns stronger than ever. All those summers, the water, the sea, Saint John, us. And there it is, the bump of my heart. I pull on his hair fiercely and let myself go.

Why? Because I’ve been craving this for years, too many years. Too long thinking about what it would be like to kiss Alex again and banging my head against the wall for it. But how do you stop longing for something? How do you erase it from your mind completely, sealing every possible crack?

I know this is the worst mistake I could ever make—to touch his lips again, remember his taste, his smell... but I can’t stop now. That’s the honest truth.

Oh my Gosh, what am I feeling? I hadn’t kissed Alex in so long that I’d forgotten how it was. So... this is kissing? Then what have I been doing for the last four years?

Four years of mental preparation, gone to hell in an instant.

Alex pushes me against the door and I feel him fiddling in his jeans pocket. I keep tugging at his hair, pulling. I’m short of breath, but I can’t stop devouring his mouth. I need it more than breathing.

I hear the jingling of keys, and then he tries to open my front door. “You have your own keys?” I ask, surprised, my lips still glued to his.

“For emergencies only,” he says on my mouth.

We stumble into my parents’ house, gasping and groaning, and slam the door behind us. Alex leads me straight to the stairs, touching me everywhere. I can’t believe we’re doing this knowing Mom, Dad, or any of my brothers could arrive at any time. But I don’t care, I just want to live this moment with Alex. The rest of the world... it could stop spinning around the sun and I wouldn’t care.

We crash against the stairwell wall and the impact causes one of the paintings there to fall. We ignore it and keep moving, desperately, down the hall. Alex leads us straight to my room; he knows the way by heart.

We’ve moved on from lips to neck, chin, jaw, kissing and biting. Our hands are all over our bodies, his under my dress; mine on his back, under the T-shirt. It’s like we’re learning each other again.

We walk into my bedroom and Alex slams the door with his foot. We lie on my bed—my single bed—as we’ve done so many times before. It’s too small, it’s not easy to make love in it, but here we are anyway, undressing each other.

Alex hovers over me, pulling up my dress, and I can see the internal battle he’s having. His brain is working at a blistering pace; his body is pushing him forward, his head pulling him back. I don’t know which is going to win and suddenly I’m afraid, afraid he might stop. Not now, please. I can’t fall for him again, but I can’t stop kissing him either; I’m hooked, and I wouldn’t stop for anything in the world. I’ll deal with the aftermath tomorrow.

We undress, fast and urgent. Desperate. I groan as I pull down his pants and boxers and Alex cries out in response. I touch him as he takes off my underwear and we rub frenetically against each other. Alex reaches into one of his trouser pockets for a condom, puts it on at full speed and penetrates me with one thrust. We’ve barely touched each other, but I’m so wet it doesn’t matter. He slips in smoothly and we both moan in sheer pleasure.

At that moment, Alex and I look into each other’s eyes for the first time since this madness started, our mouths very close, our breaths agitated and mingling after all this time... It’s so familiar, but he quickly withdraws his eyes and begins to move at a frantic pace. And I lift my hips and welcome him with the same desperate craving.

Soon after, we climax—at the same time, but not because we waited for each other. It just happened. Connection, I guess.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he pulls away from me.

Yes, fuck indeed. Although I’m guessing we don’t mean it in the same way.

Okay, I didn’t see that coming. But it’s all right. We’ll deal with it. There’s nothing to worry about, right? Right, Pris?

And still no, it’s not eleven and a half weeks. It’s nine and a half, but you can call it whatever you want, I love you the same.

Pristy the Squirrel: That night.