Giving Elijah my virginity was all I wanted it to be, but was it worth our friendship? I couldn’t picture my life without him in it, but I know there is no way we can get over this unless we talk about it. And yet, nothing will change. Elijah doesn’t want a relationship, and I don’t want to just be some woman he fucks, despite the fact that I told myself that I will end up that way.
There is nowhere for us to go.
Nowhere for our love to grow.
6
Elijah
* * *
Asshole. Fucking asshole. That’s what I am. I hate myself a little more each time I look at her. She’s laughing and smiling, but it isn’t real. I know Bailey. I know her inside and out, which also means I know when something is eating away at her.
She hates this, probably as much as I hate myself for what I said to her. But I was angry, livid even... how could she act so nonchalant over what happened. Like letting me take her V-card wasn’t a big deal? It wasn’t just a big deal, it was astronomical.
Watching her walk outside and onto the patio, I feel compelled to go and talk to her, to apologize at the very least. I need to find a way to fix this, to still be friends after what we did. I’m freaking the fuck out a little bit, but we did it before, we can do it again.
When she walked into my basement earlier tonight wearing that lavender-colored dress, it took my breath away. It wasn’t tight fitting or sexy in any way, because let’s face it, Bailey didn’t do sexy. She didn’t try to stick out in the crowd, and that’s exactly what drew me to her. She stuck out simply by being herself. She doesn’t even wear high heels like most girls. Instead in typical Bailey fashion, she wears flats, reminding me of shoes ballerinas wear but without the ribbons around her ankles.
Her whole outfit screams innocence, pure beautiful innocence. Anyone can see it, my friends, and any other guy with a heartbeat, but because of me, no one will touch her. I’m more than just her best friend. I’m her protector. I told her that she looked great, when in reality I wanted to say something like, ‘you look like an angel, like the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.’ But I didn’t, because as her friend, to say anything other than you look great, would be seen as something more. Even though I have feelings for her, she’s always seemed to keep me in the friend zone. So when I ask her to the dance, I made sure she knew we are going as such… friends.
Prom was uneventful just as I assumed it would be, but I enjoyed it because Bailey was there. I mean, I won’t admit it to anyone else, but I only went because of her. I couldn’t let her go by herself, and I sure as hell wasn’t letting some asshole take her.
Parking my car in my driveway, I kill the engine. I hope to spend a few extra minutes with her while walking her down the street to her house. I know it’s not fair, but Bailey deserves this. Getting out of the car, I close the door behind me and walk around to help her out, but she’s too fast and has already managed to get out herself.
So much for being a complete gentleman.
We start walking toward her house and I have this crazy urge to take her hand into mine. With any other girl, I wouldn’t second guess myself, I would just do it, but with Bailey, I don’t. I have an internal battle about the pros and cons of holding her hand.
Would she push me away? Reject me? Would she like it? Let me hold her? Maybe even kiss her? I let a plethora of scenarios run through my head as we quietly walk down the sidewalk. Before I can make a decision, we’ve arrived at her house and time has made the decision for me.
“Thanks for letting me tag along with you,” she says sweetly, peering up at me, her eyes as green as sparkling emeralds, and I can’t help watching her lips move as she talks. I want to kiss those pink lips. I bet they’re soft, softer than any I’ve kissed before. I bet she would melt beneath my touch. Should I kiss her? Would she kiss me back?
Before I get into my head too much and miss another opportunity, I lean down and press my lips to hers. For a few seconds, I’m in heaven kissing an angel. Her lips are even softer than I imagined… soft like cashmere. She tastes sweet, sweet like ripe cherries picked on a hot summer day. I suck in a ragged breath, and her scent fills my nose, reminding me of fresh strawberries. God, I feel myself getting hard.
The fire in my veins extinguishes and my muscles tense as if someone poured an entire bucket of ice water on me. Bailey pulls away, her eyes wide, her mouth popped open in shock. She almost looks afraid, and if there was any more want to kiss her inside me, it’s gone.
“W-why did you do that?” she gasps, taking a step back as if I just punched her. She raises her slender arm and touches her lip like kissing me hurt her.
“I’m sorry…”
“You know she loves you, son? Don’t ya?” Roger, Bailey’s father, says, interrupting my thoughts, and catching sight of me staring at his daughter through the sliding glass doors.
I almost laugh. He wouldn’t be saying that if he knew what happened between us and what I said to her a little while ago. “Maybe, but sometimes I think she hates me too.”
“Hate and love go hand in hand.” He chuckles.
“Give me a minute, I need to go and talk to her,” I tell him, but find my feet moving all on their own.
“No worries, son. Take all the time ya need.” He motions with his hands for me to go, but I’m already at the sliding glass door by that time. I pull the door open and step outside, the cool air hitting my heated face. I close it behind me and when I turn around, I find Bailey looking at me over her shoulder, her chestnut brown hair looks soft, like strands of silk and I want to run my fingers through it just to see if it’s really as soft as it looks.
“Hey Sunflower,” I call out to her, giving her a soft smile.
“Don’t call me that.” She stiffens and turns back around, facing the yard once more. Her defiance just turns me on, and I have to adjust my hardening cock before I walk up to her.
Sidling up beside her now that my raging hard-on isn’t completely on display, I can see that she’s lost in thought, most likely thinking of all the ways to murder me.
Sighing, I say, “Look... I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to say what I did earlier. It was an asshole thing to do. It’s just…” How do I explain this without fucking up again? “I… was upset. Sex normally isn’t a big deal to me, but with you, it is, was... whatever.” I shake my head.
She turns to face me, her heart-shaped face calling out to me, her pink lips begging to be kissed. An image of me cupping her by the cheeks and kissing the fucking daylights out of her fills my head. I want to kiss her, unwrap her, and twist her around just like she’s twisting me up inside. Her green eyes meet mine and I see sadness deep in those depths. I half expected her to start yelling at me or tell me to go away, so when she doesn’t, I continue because more than anything, I need to make this right.
Rubbing at the tense muscles at the back of my neck, I say, “I was worried, okay? I thought maybe I had hurt you or something. I didn’t know you were a virgin. Usually that’s saved for someone special, giving it to me was a mistake.”
“You’re special,” she croaks.