Krista Ritchie

Kiss the sky with me,” Connor whispers, a beautiful smile pulling his lips, “and don’t ever come down.”

He follows my gaze. “I won’t charge extra.”

His head jerks back in surprise. “You wouldn’t happen to be related to Rose Calloway?”

Light brown hair, short on either side, full on top. Decently toned body hidden beneath a pair of faded Dockers and a black crew-neck tee. Cheekbones that cut like ice and eyes like liquid scotch. Loren Hale is an alcoholic beverage and he doesn’t even know it.

“In this moment, I’m yours.”

Sometimes I wonder about his desires. Maybe he does want to be with me. Or maybe he’s still pretending

You’re a permanent fixture in my life. You’re not going anywhere.

I’m sorry, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry that you can’t handle being touched by me. I’m sorry that the very thought of fucking me disgusts you. I’m sorry that every time you’re horny, I’m here.

Lo?” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Please…don’t move, okay?” The thought of standing or shifting my body at all may just send me back to the toilet.

“I won’t.” He wraps his arms around me, keeping me warm on the cold tile. We stay like that for quite some time. And I start to fall back asleep, my eyes heavy. And then I hear his voice, so soft, that I think I’ve made up the words.

“I should have just had sex with you.”

My legs are shaking. My hands are shaking. I feel like I’m being set in a blender. I just need someone...”

“Stop.” His voice sounds pained again. “Just…stop.”

I’m so confused. “What do you want me to do? I can’t go without it. You’re drinking!” It’s so unfair. “Why can’t I have sex?”

“Because we’re supposed to be together!” he yells. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend.” Before I can ask him to elaborate, he goes to the door, purposefully trying to avoid my questions. “I’ll be at the pool.”