The image of naked, wet Amelia straddling my waist in a bathtub awakens my cock.
“Well, the bathroom was done,” I say, tossing her a grin. “You could’ve told me before I decided on a normal-sized bathtub.”
Amelia rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t meant to be. Kinda like Larry and Louisa anyway.”
I place my hand over my heart at the memory of Paul Newman’s character being brutally murdered by his mechanical creation. “Technology. It’ll be the death of us all.”
She grins. “The world is a strange place.” The color’s back in her cheeks, and she seems in better spirits.
“How’re you feeling? I ran into Sunny at the grocery store and she insisted I swing by her grandma’s place for her therapeutic chicken noodle soup.”
Amelia’s eyes light up. “Mrs. Mayfield’s chicken noodle soup is to die for. I’m half tempted to tell you I’m still ill so I can keep it all to myself. But really, I’m feeling so much better. I think I was right. Just a touch of food poisoning.” She crosses to the fridge and leans in. “I’m grabbing a drink to go along with my soup. Want anything?”
I want to stay.
I want her.
I want…everything.
“Wellington.”
The one word slipped out before I could stop myself. I want her to know my last name. I need her to know it.
“What?” she asks distractedly as she continues to rummage around in the fridge.
“Uh, Wellington. And tonight… It’s my last night here. I have to leave.”
Amelia stands up so quickly that she hits her head on the inside of the fridge. “Ouch! Dammit,” she cries, and as much as I want to cross to her, take her into my arms, and soothe away the pain, I root myself to the linoleum tile.
“You okay?” I ask, hoping my voice sounds more casual than I’m feeling.
She gently rubs the top of her head. “Yeah, sorry. I’m such a klutz. Umm, what did you say?” she asks absentmindedly as she opens her soda and takes a swig.
It’s a blow, knowing she isn’t affected at the likelihood that this is our last night together, not the way that I am. Part of me wants to brush it off, forget it, enjoy one last fuck before hitting the road. The other part is screaming at me to tell her this isn’t over. It’ll never be over. But the way she continues seemingly without a care of the world causes me to hesitate. I’m not changing the game on her. Not this late into it. I can’t force this on her. Not when I’m leaving. That wouldn’t be fair, would it?
Fuck fair.
I force myself to push the sentiment out of my head. Like a fucking coward.
With a deep exhale, I decide to just rip off the bandage. “After you left, I got a call from my mom. My dad suffered a heart attack earlier this afternoon.”
Amelia’s eyes widen, and I rush to continue.
“He’s okay. Or, well, he’s going to be. But…he’s going to be laid up for a while. He needs me to go back to Nashville to help with the business while he’s recovering.”
I study her reaction, hoping, praying she’ll give me some kind of signal that she’s not ready for this to end.
She gives me nothing save empathy and somber eyes. “Knox, of course you have to go. Is there anything I can do? Anything you need?”
You.
Tell her.
I shake my head, not sure if the action’s more for her or myself. “All that’s left to do is give the place a good clean. I’ll hire someone.”
“I’ll do it,” she offers.
“I can’t ask that of you. Especially not with you getting sick there today.”
“I want to. I insist.”
I don’t have the energy to argue with her over this. “If you’re sure. You know where the extra key is. Just use that.”
“Is there anything else I can do?”
I swallow hard. “I’ve already packed. I’ll leave straight from here first thing in the morning.”
The words hang in the air between us for what feels like an eternity. I’m grateful when she breaks the uneasy silence.
“And the other part? Wellington?” she asks, scrunching her nose.
I’m not sure if it’s in confusion or if she’s trying to stop the tears on the brims of her eyes from spilling onto her cheeks. Tears that I’m hoping are because she’s already feeling the loss like I am.
“Knox Wellington. It’s my full name.” I swallow hard. “I just thought…if this is it, you should know. Yeah, you know, in case you’re ever in the city and bored and wanna look me up for an afternoon quickie. Or maybe when you become a famous photographer and I come across you in some hotshot New York gallery, I can offer you a drink without you blowing me off like I’m some kinda groupie. Not that I’d know it’s you. Guess I’ll just have to stalk every photographer named Amelia.”
I’m doing something I’ve never done. I’m nervous-rambling and I fucking hate it. Seeing as how I’ve never felt like this. I fucking hate that, too. The thing is, I’m giving her an opening to give me her last name.
Will she take it?
She eyes me warily but doesn’t respond. Though I want to, I’m not about to fall to my knees and bed the girl I’ve been fucking, the girl I fell in love with—whoa.
Fuck.
What was that?
“Knox, are you okay? You just got really pale.”
I blink rapidly, my eyes trying into focus. When they do, I realize she’s crossed the room and is standing directly before me. Her hand lifts, soft fingers stroking my cheek.
“Fine,” I croak. Then I clear my throat, hoping my voice goes back to normal. “Really, sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest that I’d be stalking you. At least not in a Psycho or Friday the Thirteenth creepy kind of way.”
Amelia holds a finger to my lips, silencing me. “Don’t you remember what Sunny told you at the beginning of the summer? I’m kind of into that.”
I blow out a breath. “Seems like a lifetime ago.”
Her expression turns wistful. “And yet it’s gone by so quickly.”
“I wish…”
She lifts onto her toes and brushes her lips with mine. “I know, Knox. So do I. But we both have school to get back to. Life to get back to. Perpendicular lines, remember? It can’t be helped.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off.
“Tomorrow will be here all too soon. Let’s not think about any of that tonight. Tonight, let’s just soak in all we can. Create another lasting set of memories.” She hits me with a wink. “Or three…”
Well, that’s that, I guess.
“You’re the boss,” I respond.
“First things first,” she tells me, crossing to the kitchen counter, where she’s left the Polaroid camera I got her. “Give me a smile, sugar. This is going to be all I have left of you after tomorrow.”
Right, because that’s the one thing she could say to make me smile. Instead, I think of my hands on her tits, the sight of her underneath me, moaning as I fuck her six ways to Sunday. I don’t know what expression crosses my face, but when Amelia snaps the picture and sets the camera down, she’s grinning at me.