Your Ivy Grows

Chapter 21

I've gotten better at looking back on my relationship with John with the fresh eyes and mindset of adulthood. It's taken more years than I'd care to admit for me to see it for what it was. And I know I shouldn't hate myself for how naïve and easily led I was back then—I still do though. It's easy to hate myself, to despise the child so easily manipulated that she allowed herself to be molded into exactly what John wanted her to be. The girl I was back then fell so blindly in love with him she couldn't see him for who he really was until it was far too late.

It has been three years since that night John snuck into my room, took me to bed and forever changed our relationship. He'd been worth all the sneaking around and secret keeping. No one could know the truth of what we meant to each other, but that had seemed a small price to pay in order to be with him. And I got to be with him; it just happened to only ever be at night where no one else could see us. But to me, that was enough.

John lies beside me in my bed, both of us completely naked as his fingers trace patterns across my bare stomach. It's his first night back; he and Tommy have just over a week back home for Spring break. I plan to spend every night with him if I can. When he's at West Point, he tries to call regularly, but it's not nearly as often as I'd like. The time we spend away from each other is time I spend counting down until he's home again. At sixteen I should spend my nights out with friends, but I'm usually sat at home, waiting to see if that's the night he finally calls.

Today had felt like torture. John's family had planned a barbecue to celebrate them being home. We hadn't been able to speak in over a week, and all I'd wanted was to get John alone. But I'd had to sit there across from him, unable to reach for him or touch him the way I wanted to. As soon as the party died down, I'd sent him a meaningful look before feigning tiredness and telling everyone I was going to bed. I'd locked my bedroom door and waited for him. I knew he'd come, he always did.

He'd pushed up my window half an hour later and let himself in. I wanted to talk to him, to say everything I couldn't say in front of his family, friends, and Tommy. But he didn't even give me a chance to speak; he was kissing me and tugging at my pyjama bottoms almost immediately as he guided me back towards the bed. I could taste the beer he'd spent most of the day drinking; it tasted stale on his tongue. I'd tried to break away from him so I could speak, but his hand had gripped my head tightly, keeping my mouth pressed firmly against his. He only stopped kissing me so he could lift my shirt up and over my head, tossing it to the floor and pushing me onto the bed before crawling on top of me.

"God, I've missed you." He'd whispered against my skin. And all my concerns seemed to leave me with those simple words. The confirmation I needed that he'd missed me as much as I'd missed him, that he loved me the way I loved him. After that, I didn't stop him as he took what he wanted from me.

"Where are you going?" I'm watching Tommy as he checks his reflection in the bathroom mirror. I'm lying on his bed, book in hand, as I wait for him to leave for the night. The plan is to text John as soon as he leaves; I want him to spend the night with me. I need to make the most of the time I have with him before he has to leave again.

"Out." Tommy says simply, before turning to face me. "Do I look okay?"

I give him a quick once over; he's wearing a fitted, long-sleeved gray shirt and jeans. Right now he is perfectly managing the casual look whilst simultaneously looking dressed up. There's not much he can do with his hair; it's a standard, short buzz cut. I miss his messy mop of brown hair that he was forever pushing to one side and out of his eyes.