Touch Me

Only Us

Months had come and passed, the snow running its cycle of melting, then falling long after it should have stopped, only to melt once again, turning the once green grass to a dull brown. Alas, the cold was finally gone, allowing what felt like summer, but was merely late spring. I feel as if I had improved drastically, with Kevin's help, of course. I had gotten past some of my issues with my father; the scent of alcohol no longer instilling fear into my head. I still miss my grandmother, I mean, that's not something you get over completely, but it's something you learn to live with, and you learn to be happy despite it. As for the assault I endured a while back, I still have yet to tell anyone but Kevin. I feel as if I'm going to keep it that way for the foreseeable future. There's nobody that I'm comfortable telling, and there's no reason to talk about it all that much anyways.
I've gone really far with improvement on that matter. I can be touched without notice now. For the most part. It makes me jump every now and again, don't get me wrong, but it doesn't frighten me the way it used to. Kevin can touch me without warning. I wasn't able to do that for a long while. He and I were able to be far more intimate again, luckily. I've missed that quite a lot. It's hard to be so both physically and emotionally attracted to someone, and not being able to fulfill both of your desires. He always understood, never upset about it in the slightest. He's a phenomenal man. We haven't exactly done anything since it happened, nothing heavier than some suggestive talk, kisses on the neck and touches on the thigh. But for a while, even the prospect of those touches on the thigh seemed impossible. The fact that we can do that at all, now is... huge.

As I approached Kevin's door I pulled my hand to a fist, raising it to the wood. Seconds before my knuckles even hit the oak, the door opened, swinging inward.
I was greeted by Kevin, sporting an ironic 'Reagan & Bush 80' shirt in an off white color, and dark shorts cut off at his mid thigh. I giggled loudly, taking a step back.

"Oh my goodness.."

"Shut it, McKinley, its fucking hot out."

"No, I like it! Trust me, I really like it! I really like it. I'm just not used to it.."

He rolled his eyes and shut the door behind him.

"Fuck you." He smirked

"You look.. like... Jon Douglas. That tennis player. Except you look hot, and like you could beat everyone up."

"You keep saying I look like I could beat someone up, I'm telling you, if I were ever in a situation where I needed to do something like that, you would be severely disappointed."

"I mean.. you were strong enough to push me against walls and into beds. I think if you tried you'd be surprised."

"Well, that's because I want to fuck you, not hurt you, there's a difference." He scoffed, beginning to walk.

I followed, trying to catch up; but still taken back by what he had just said.

"Well that was..blunt." I giggled a bit, brushing our fingertips together to hint that I wanted to hold hands as we walked.

"Of course it was. Why shouldn't I be? I have no reason not to be, do I?" He stopped, turning to me and pulling our hips together.

"No. No you don't." I smiled, finally taking his hand in mine like I wanted to.

"Good." He leaned in a little bit closer, smiling. I expected him to kiss me, but he just pulled me gently by my hand, walking again.
As we walked, he moved his hand away, up and down my back several times, sliding it to my waist, and returning his hand back to mine when he was finished.

"Your legs look so good in those." I gushed as we walked.

He rolled his eyes again.

"I'm serious, they do! You have a fantastic body, Kev.."