One Summer Isn't Enough (Summer, #4)

chapter 9

BELLY

This is actually happening, I keep telling myself. You aren't dreaming, this is REAL.

I had always imagined what my first time with Conrad would be like. The number of AP French class periods I spent during high school just daydreaming about us in the sand at Cousins, in my future dorm room, in his dorm room, or wherever else my cruel imagination took me is unreal.

When he proposed to me at Cousins, I thought I would be ready to lose my virginity. Yes, at the ripe old age of 25, I had still hadn't had sex. But even when I was in college, during my short-lived flings with guys from my classes or who lived near my dorm, no matter how close I thought we would get to...doing it, I think a part of me was always saving that experience in hopes that I would somehow, magically, get to share it with Conrad.

But even after I said yes on that perfect day and he carried me all the way back to the beach house, my legs wrapped around his waist, I knew in my heart that I still wasn't really ready to give such a big part of myself away. It wasn't that I didn't trust him, but that I didn't trust myself to be able to handle it if I did something wrong and he up and left again. I knew, deep in my heart, that if he left this time, I wouldn't have it in me to chase after him again.

He had laid me down on the couch in the living room and lowered himself on above me, kissing me deeply as he cradled my face in his hands. When his hand started to inch down my neck and ever-so-slowly even lower, reaching my chest, gradually traveling down to my stomach, I panicked. I pulled away—the overloading serotonins in my brain cussing me out while I did so—sat up, and crossed my arms across my chest self-consciously.

Conrad's eyebrows crunched together in both confusion and hurt. "What's wrong?" he asked, breathing slightly harder than he was five minutes ago.

My eyes started to tear up a little, because I had no idea how to tell him that I simply wasn't ready. If I did, he would ask why, and that was an explanation I did not want provide.

Wiping my eyes quickly as he rushed over next to me and held my face in his hands, he ran his concerned eyes all over my face. Slowly, he breathes, "Hey, hey, hey. What happened?" while brushing tendrils of hair off of my face.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, whispering, "I don't think I'm...I'm not ready yet."

A look of understanding flooded his face, and he smiled the smallest smile and leaned his forehead in to rest against mine, closing his eyes. Still taking ragged breaths, he whispered, "I know it's scary, Belly. And you know I would never force you to do something you don't want to. You know that, right?" he asked, his eyes awaiting an answer.

I nodded quickly. "Of course I know that, Con. It's not you," I paused, before continuing. "It's just...you know that I've never had...you know."

At this, he grinned. "Belly, sex isn't a bad word," he said, brushing his hair back. He took a pause to put his snotty doctor voice on and continued, "It's an essential process of reproduction for mammals that is the sole reason for our existence and the possibility of future generations." By now, I had begun to laugh and shove his arm, crinkling my nose in disgust. That was one of the many things I loved about him: how he was never ashamed to flaunt his brains, in a funny way or not, around me. He used to be, especially when it came to the various quirky hobbies he had as a kid, but he's learned by now that I love him for his quirks.