“How much longer do we have?” Autumn asks.
I don’t want to think about it, but I glance at the clock anyway. We’ve kissed and dozed the afternoon away.
“In an hour, I should take a shower,” I say. When she went to the bathroom earlier, I quietly checked my phone and saw the text from Sylvie, confirming I can pick her up at her house after seven.
Autumn presses her back into my chest, and I stop stroking her arm to hug her. I raise my head and kiss her cheek. We’ve been lying like this for a while.
After Autumn charmingly tortured me with her hands and then triumphantly ravished me with her mouth, I tried to return the favor. I needed more coaching, but Autumn’s enthusiasm remained throughout.
Again and again this afternoon, Autumn has looked at me like she’s trying to believe I’m real. It was such a strange mirror of my own feelings.
Over and over, Autumn has told me she loves me. She’s said it breathlessly between kisses. She’s growled it before biting me softly on the shoulder, making me gasp in surprised pleasure. She’s said it smugly after destroying me, while I was still trembling in her hold.
It’s starting to settle into my brain as fact. Autumn loves me in return. “Tomorrow,” Autumn whispers.
“What about it?” Tomorrow is going to be wonderful, and the day after and the day after, because I am hers. Tonight is the only concern, and that’s mine alone.
“What if you waited until tomorrow?”
I tighten my grip on her and bury my face in the back of her neck.
“No, it’s the right thing to do.” I kiss her shoulder. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I’m still amazed that she wants me to touch her.
Autumn rolls over, and we settle in, facing each other. “Tell me a story,” she demands.
“What kind of story?” I try to hide the amusement in my voice because she’s being very solemn.
“About us,” she says. “Something true. Something that happened when we didn’t know we loved each other.”
“Hmm.” I think I understand what she’s asking, and I wonder if she has stories of her own. “Do you remember that tiara my mom got you one year for Christmas? She said, ‘Finny picked it out.’ I bought it. I saw it at a store and knew you would love it. I gave it to Mom and asked her to say it was from both of us.”
Autumn’s mouth is hanging open.
“Oh, Finny,” she says. “You could have told—”
“No,” I say. “I couldn’t have. We hadn’t gotten each other Christmas gifts for years. It would have been weird.”
“Oh, Finny,” she says again, but this time, she’s agreeing with me. “Now you tell me a story,” I say.
“Well,” she begins, “remember the Valentine’s Day right after that? You were sick, and I brought you that note from…” She stalls at that part, but I don’t need her to continue.
“I remember.” The agony I’d felt that day stayed fresh for the rest of that winter. I had obsessed over that embarrassing conversation for weeks.
“You were so hot,” Autumn moans, looking away from me, and I blink in surprise. She scrunches up her face and closes her eyes against the memory. “You were shirtless and sweaty and flushed and—” She breaks off into a frustrated growl. When she looks back up at me, she says, “But you saw me checking you out, right? You had to have. It was so obvious.” She’s smiling like she expects me to agree.
“I thought you had brought me a Valentine. I was confused and happy and then a different sort of confused when it was from Sylvie.” I find myself faltering again. “I thought you could see my mistake, and I felt so sick and gross in front of you, and you were so beautiful like alwa—”
“You thought that I—How could I have—Finny, no,” she says. We’re staring at each other in amazement.
“I wish I could go back in time,” she says.
“Why don’t you just go back to telling me I’m hot?”
Autumn laughs. She tells me about both loving and hating going with The Mothers to my soccer games. She says my muscled legs in my running shorts drove her to distraction, and it blows my mind that she’d lusted after certain parts of me from a distance the same way I had after her.
As if picking the thoughts from my own head, she tells me she was always secretly aware of any movement my body made when I was near— at the bus stop, on the couch as we watched television, at the holiday dinner table—just as I memorized every detail about her.
I stroke Autumn’s hair and her arm as she talks, and I watch her face as her eyes close in pleasure, then open to look at me as she speaks.
“I want another story,” she says.
I try to remember my most intense memory of longing for her. I move my strokes down her back and she sighs. I’m getting this right. I’m learning the rest.
“Last Halloween,” I finally say. “I was watching you the whole night. I couldn’t stop myself. You were—” I sort through all the vocab words I’d
used her to help me remember. “You were splendiferous that night, Autumn. Like, if I’d had one of those new phones that take pictures? It would have crossed my mind to try and take one. Not that I would have!” She’s smiling at me as I confess how horrible I am; I guess I should be glad she thought Wuthering Heights was romantic.
“I wasn’t even wearing a s*xy costume.” Autumn giggles. “You were radiant,” I tell her.
I was particularly moonstruck that night. Her pale skin and the dark shine of her hair have always had the power to hypnotize me. That Halloween, she was particularly bewitching, her laugh dazzling and her every movement like an alien ballet.
“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you,” I confess. “Before you ran into me, I looked away so you wouldn’t see me staring, but I misjudged your speed and we—”
We both laugh at the memory.
I can see her reaching back in her mind. “You were worried Jamie and I would have s*x that night.”
“Yeah, well, that’s because, if I had been in Jamie’s position—”
She bites her lip as a smile creeps up. “I guess we know now what would have happened,” she says.
“Well, I can’t imagine how we could have possibly reached that point.” Autumn’s gaze shifts like she’s watching a movie I can’t see.
“Say that when we collided,” Autumn muses, “my drink spilled on me instead, and I said, ‘Come up with me and stand guard while I change my shirt.’ I’d have wanted to have a moment with you, and I bet you’d have done as I said.”
“Sure,” I say, encouraging her to continue.
“And then upstairs, you’d have finished your drink while I changed shirts.”
“Maybe?”
“Yes,” Autumn tells me. “Because you would have been nervous, right? You said the Halloween magic had you enthralled, and you weren’t driving for once.” She doesn’t wait for me to agree with her. She knows she’s correct. “You would have downed that drink while staring at my door, trying not to think about me taking off my shirt on the other side. And when I came back out, I would have smiled at you, a little drunk too, and gazed up at you for a little too long…”
Suddenly, I can see it exactly as she describes, as if it had happened that way. Autumn’s lips curling up as I look down at her face in the shadowy hallway, the thumping hum of the party beneath us somehow making it more intimate, secret. I feel the tempting circumstances she’s painted us into, and in this version of events, neither of us would be able to resist each other.
“If you’d kissed me, Finny, I would have been astonished, but I would have pulled you right back into my room and—well, like I said before…” She smiles.
“I don’t think we would have gone all the way,” I say as I return her grin. “I’m not reckless. You know that. And besides, would you have been ready?”
“It was never about not being ready with Jamie,” she says. “It didn’t feel right with him, but I didn’t know that until I kissed you. If we had made out that Halloween, you’re probably right. We wouldn’t have done it.” Autumn giggles. “But we’d get in some state of undress before we came to our senses and realized that we’d be missed or caught.”
“And what about that?” I say. “The party is still going on, we’re in your bed, and…”
She grins, but I want to hear this story!
“Okay then. Hold on.” Autumn’s eyes get that distant look, and she mumbles, “We recognize we have to stop before we get caught, and as we detangle our limbs, we make a few whispery, alcohol-fueled confessions.
There isn’t time for much. Neither of us would be brave enough to say the L word, I think. We’d fix our clothes and hair, but we’d know we couldn’t be seen going back downstairs together.”
I’m fascinated. This is what she’s thinking in her head when she gets that look?
“We’d agree that I should go first,” Autumn decides. “Since it’s my house, I’d be missed first. I’d sneak back to Jamie and pretend to be more drunk than I was, and you would wait and sneak back to the party a few minutes later.” She looks at me again in this reality. “Do you think we’d get back in our places in time? That our excuses would be believed?”
I’m pleased that she wants my opinion. I think about our classmates, the layout of her house, and my memories of that night.
“Someone would have seen something,” I decide. “But nothing big enough for anyone to say anything about it until the next day.”
Autumn nods and continues, “We’d have to pretend to act normal and try to avoid each other for the rest of the party. We’d probably both drink more to disguise our emotions, both try and fail not to watch the other across the crowd.” Autumn is back in the story she’s writing to please me. “Before the night was over, I’d be wondering if our encounter had really meant anything to you or if you’d just been drunk.” She looks at me for confirmation.
“Yeah. Same,” I say.
“In the morning, I’d pretend to be sick…nah, I’d probably be sick in the morning and use the excuse to get my friends who stayed the night out ASAP. Where would you have been?”
This question is easy. “At home. Alone. I would have called you the moment I saw Jamie’s car leave.”
Autumn smiles, pleased either by my contribution to the narrative or by my obsessive nature, I’m not sure which.
“Okay,” Autumn says. “Over the phone, through the pain of our blinding headaches, we’d stammer confirmations of last night’s heartfelt whispers, offer more detailed explanations of our true desires. One of us ends up over at the other’s house and…” She motions with her hand to our current situation, and we smile. “I mean, that’s about it.”
“But remember, someone saw something the night before,” I prompt. Autumn yawns.
“Well, of course we’d each have to break up to be together. The story of whatever suspicious thing was seen at the party would get spread and exaggerated. There’s no avoiding that chapter. We’d be the center of a scandal, ostracized for being cheaters. Or I don’t know… Everyone likes you, so maybe it wouldn’t have been that rough for you?”
As glad as I am that Autumn would have broken up with Jamie for me and faced whatever consequences came next, I’m still distracted that she continues to deftly avoid saying Sylvie’s name while we’ve both casually referenced Jamie. This is why I must break up with Sylvie today. Can’t she see that?
“I wish all that had happened,” I tell her. “I wish we’d had that time together and today was another regular day for us.”
Autumn’s gaze finds mine again, and she repeats my words to her. “Everything is going to be okay. We’re together now, right?”
“I love you.” How many times have I said that? Surely it will be annoying soon?
“I love you too, Finny,” Autumn says and pokes my nose. “While we’re talking about unsaid things, you haven’t secretly been wishing that I call you Finn?”
“Nah,” I say. “Finn is how I think of myself, but that’s what I like about you calling me Finny. It’s special.”
“Even though The Mothers call you that too?”
I poke her nose, and now I’m the one repeating her words. “It’s different when you say it.”
“Finny.” Autumn kisses me again and then again hungrily. A few minutes later, she breathes in my ear, “We have time, don’t we? Can we just
—”
We have just enough time, but it’s getting harder to resist making love to her again, so I decide to buy condoms tonight.
Afterward, I ask her if she wants to join me in the shower. Autumn blushes and hides her face in her hands. We’re lying on our sides, tangled together still.
“Autumn?”
She says something behind her hands. “I can’t hear you, beloved.”
I’m surprised by the term of endearment. I’ve never used it before in my life, but it’s fallen from my mouth naturally, and I wonder if it’s going to become a habit.
“I’m too shy,” she says. “I can’t take a shower with you.”
“We’re…already naked?” We’ve been in my bed together for hours. “But there’s water in a shower!” Autumn says, and I decide that this is
one of those times when her brain is wired differently.
“Okay,” I say. “Showers are a level of intimacy we can work our way up to.”
“Might take a while,” she says into my bare chest.
I can’t hold back a small chuckle. I run my fingers down her back one last time, and she shivers in a way that almost tempts me to stay after all.
“We have forever,” I whisper into her hair, and then I wonder if forever is too much for her.
Autumn raises her face and grins at me.
“Okay,” she says. “You’re right.”
We lock our lips together deeply, then I kiss her forehead and climb out of bed. She doesn’t follow me as I gather my clothes. She stays in bed and watches me. I give her a quizzical look.
“I can’t get dressed in front of you,” she says. “That’s too awkward.”
I pause, trying to decide how to ask my first question, but then I laugh and say, “I love you, Autumn.”
And somehow, she isn’t tired of hearing it yet.
