“It’s later,” he said as he held my hand through the woods. He and I made it through the church service, but seeing our glazed-over faces, our parents excused us from Sunday school.
“I meant much later,” I returned.
“How much later?”
“Probably never. Why?”
He squeezed my hand. “Well, you talk in your sleep, so I can probably guess what was in your dream anyway”
“What did I say, Rob?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Tell anyone what?” I asked with widening eyes.
“What you said.”
“But I don’t know what I said.”
“And I won’t tell you unless you tell me about your dream.”
I looked away from him. “It’s rather embarrassing, Rob.”
“Well, it’s your choice. I can’t force you to tell the truth.”
“Fine. I dreamt about you and me.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but don’t be embarrassed. I’ve had that same dream.” His smile grew as he continued, “Especially when I’m not sleeping.”
I gave his shoulder a shove. “Don’t be such a horn dog.”
“What? You don’t want me to think about you that way?”
“Yes!” I considered it for a moment. “I mean no, but regardless, I did not have that kind of dream, Rob. It was different…much different.” I pulled an oak leaf from a tree and twisted it between my thumb and forefinger. “And it all seemed so real too.”
“Tell me about it,” he said softly, coaxing the words from me.
“Fine.” I tossed the leaf to the side. “I dreamt that I was on the beach…getting married.”
“To me?”
“Yes,” I said with exasperation.
“You know,” he stepped closer, putting his hands on my face and touching his forehead to mine. “Some dreams come true.”
“In fairy tales,” I muttered.
“Well, you do have that damsel in distress act down.”
“And I suppose you think you’re a regular Prince Charming?”
“Do you have to be that way?”
“What way?”
“So argumentative.”
“We like to argue. It’s what we do together.”
“Yeah, well, I can think of something else we could do now.”
“Okay.” I was game. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Why don’t I show you!” He put his hands on my face and pushed me toward the wall of my house, pressing my backside against the rough cedar, and before his lips touched mine, he said, “But first, I want to hear you say it.”
“Say what?”
“Say you love me.”
I looked into his chocolate eyes and relented quickly, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
He kissed me softly, and I spoke against his lips. “Rob?”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe I always have.”
His kissed a path toward my ear. “And maybe I always will.” He gathered me into a hug, rubbing circles in my back.
I yawned. “I’m so tired.”
“Yeah, you should get some sleep.”
I stepped out of the hug. “And speaking of sleep, tell me what I said in mine last night.”
His mouth formed a thin line like he suppressing laughter. “I think you were conjugating verbs in your sleep. Maybe in Latin, but I can’t be completely sure because I took four years of Spanish.”
I gave him a little shove. “You tricked me.”
“Listen, we can’t always climb the tree every time I need to get the truth out of you, so I’ll have to get creative.”
“Why don’t you save your creativity for other things?”
“Like?”
“This.” I grabbed a hold of his shoulders and pulled him in for another kiss.
-22-
Sex Talk
When Rob and I weren’t in school or studying for finals, we were kissing and kissing some more until we had to pry ourselves from each other; and now, in a remote corner of the public library, Rob and I were working on our technique.
But before the kissing started, I was cramming facts about post-Civil War America into my head—that was until Rob placed a book on top of my history text. “In case you still have any questions,” he said and walked away. I glanced at the book, the cover showing a young boy and a girl holding hands in a pastoral setting, and it was entitled A Child’s First Guide to Sex.
Even after weeks of dating, some things about our relationship hadn’t changed; he loved to tease me, and my naivety about the birds and the bees perpetuated many jokes. So I got up, placed the book on the re-shelving cart, and looked for him up and down the aisles like a mother searching for a lost child at the grocery store. I paced down the center aisle, looking all the way to the left, and then all the way to the right, repeating the process until I neared the reference section. There, I spotted him, perusing through a volume of the Encyclopedia of Science and Technology.
“Hmm,” he said, flipping a page. “You ever notice how some reference books only show one diagram of the male anatomy? It’s like teaching the phases of water and leaving out the solid state.” He looked at me for a response.
I gave him one: my hands went straight to my hips.
“What’s wrong, sweetie pie?”
“Listen here, Rob, this is not the right place to talk about—” I was so uncomfortable with discussing it at that library that I couldn’t even say the word.
“Why not? They have books on it.”
“Yeah, well, in my opinion.” I pointed to myself. “The library is a lot like church, and there are certain rules: you have to wear shoes, you talk quietly, you refrain from public displays of affection, and you don’t broach certain topics.”
He mock-glanced around the library. “Are these rules posted somewhere?”
“No, it’s just common sense.”
“Yeah, well, so is turning off the engine before you lock the car door.”
I growled at him, but he just stepped closer to me and whispered in my ear, “You see, Chloe, we all have lapses in judgment.” He pulled me into a corner and kissed me, soft and gentle at first, but with increasing fervor since I didn’t dissuade him to stop.
****