One More Chance: A Second Chance Romance Page 2

  Before he moved too far away, I grabbed his arm and gently pulled him closer as I shook my head.

  “No! You didn't hurt me! It took me by surprise...” I looked down, feeling suddenly self-conscious. I might have let out a nervous giggle.

  He put his hand under my chin, lifting my head to look at him. He chewed his lip for a moment before he dipped his head and slowly kissed me again. His hand slid down to cup my breast again, deepening his kiss as he did so.

  I heard myself moan, I wanted more of him, no, all of him. His fingers brushed against my nipple, sending what felt like a jolt of electricity right through me. I moaned again while trying to understand how such a simple touch could feel so good and so intense.

  He froze for a split second, then, with no effort at all, pulled me up and lifted my top; he fumbled with it for a few seconds before pulling it over my head. Then he froze again, his gaze wandering around my body.

  I dropped my gaze as I felt the heat on my cheeks. I could hear him let out a long breath.

  “You're beautiful,” he whispered in a low tone.

  I looked up at him. That look appeared in his eyes again. His hand was shaking a bit as he slid his shirt off and gently nudged me to lie back down. He leaned over; he was now on top of me, his weight supported by his arms, his body warm, firm, and smooth against mine.

  It felt good to have him there as he leaned forward and joined his lips with mine. He slid his hand under my back and, after a few seconds of struggling with it, undid my bra. I pulled it off and allowed it to drop onto the floor next to his bed.

  He cupped my breast again, gently stroking my nipple. Another moan escaped my lips as I felt the desire for him overwhelm me. I needed him. I closed my eyes, swimming in that feeling. That need filled me with a new confidence. I put my hand on his neck and ran my fingers down his chest as my other hand slipped lower.

  I stroked his manhood through the fabric of his jeans. He closed his eyes and let out a small moan, something deep and throaty about it, and it made me gasp with the raw pleasure it drove through me.

  Slowly he pulled back and began to unbutton his jeans. His hands shook a little, and he fumbled with the button, chewing on his lip. It was odd to see him that nervous, Ethan was always the confident one of the two of us. I watched him slide his jeans off in an awkward manner. Despite his fumbling, I found that view irresistible. Slowly, even a bit hesitantly, he slid his boxers off.

  I saw his cheeks flood with red as he looked at the floor. I leaned on my elbows as I looked at him, my glance dropped to his manhood. This time, I was looking at him. The dim light emphasized every line of his lean, toned body, his broad shoulders, and reassuringly strong arms, well-toned chest with a slight trail of lighter hairs leading to his firm stomach and lower to his narrow hips and a patch of hair above his manhood. I bit my lip; he seemed big and rock solid.

  As I stared at him, I realized that I was still wearing my shorts. I was embarrassed about my delayed reaction, and heat flooded through me as I reached down, fumbling with a button of my own. He watched me for a moment, chewing on his lip, then gently took my hand and moved it away from my zipper.

  I looked at him in confusion, but he only kissed me softly and, to my surprise, unbuttoned my shorts and gently slid them off my legs. My lace panties followed shortly, and he laid back on the bed, as I admired his body and hoped he admired mine.

  He laid on his side, running his hands from my neck down my body, sending shivers down my spine. Then he leaned in and kissed me again. It was a gentle kiss that deepened slowly but surely, his hand brushing past my inner thigh and my breasts pressing against him.

  Before I realized it, he was on top of me again. I could feel him hard and hot against my thigh as our tongues danced and his hand cupped my breast. Then he began to gently roll my nipple between his index finger and thumb, and I moaned a little too loud at how good it felt. I bit my lip, and then reached down. Gently, I wrapped my hand around him. I was surprised at how soft his skin was there… He was hot and smooth, and I could feel just how solid he was for me. He moaned as our skin made contact. I loved that low moan of his.

  I began to stroke him slowly and gently; another soft moan let me know that I was doing something that felt good to him. He looked at me from under hooded eyes before dipping his head down and kissing my neck. Then, lowering his lips to my breast, he kissed the top of it, making my hand move a bit faster on him, as if without any direction from me.

  I moaned again, this time louder, as he flicked his tongue over my nipple. His hips were now rocking in time with my movements, and his breathing grew faster. His hand slid lower and separated my lips. He looked at me as he slid his fingers inside me and his thumb brushed my pearl, sending a bolt of raw pleasure through me.

  I moaned louder as I felt my back arch and my hips rocking in time with his. I felt my hand move faster around him and his fingers speeding up. It was as if I was going to explode from the sensation of it. I felt lightheaded and lost in that sensation. Another one of his soft moans drifted into my ears before his voice brought me back into reality.

  “I need to be inside you,” he whispered as he reached into the drawer of his bedside table and retrieved something.

  I glanced at his hand; it was a condom. I found it heart-warming that, even in the haze of the evening and flood of sensations, he’d thought of it. It made me feel taken care of, safe. I watched him fumble with the packet for a bit and slowly roll it onto himself before he slid back next to me, his hands returning to where they were, his lips meeting mine again.

  I moaned again and again. Then his fingers disappeared. I realized that I must have closed my eyes but, as I opened my mouth in protest, I felt him just against my core. The nervousness returned briefly as I wondered whether it would hurt, what it would feel like?

  Ethan kissed me softly and, as if he was reading my mind, reassured me. “If, for any reason you want me to stop, I will.”

  Our gazes met as he spoke and I felt fully comforted. He pressed himself against me and moved forwards slowly, so slowly that I was tempted to pull him in, or scream out of sheer frustration. Instead, I cupped his face and looked into his beautiful dark eyes.

  “Just do it!”

  I didn’t want us to change our minds. There would be a part of me that would regret it if we decided to stop. As he nodded, I was relieved that he wanted to just as much as I did.

  I gasped as he buried himself into me and then, as I stopped fighting the pain and relaxed and started to enjoy it, my gasps turned to moans.

  The sensation of him inside me was new and different, but, until he began to move, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it…Then I felt him thrust, his hips sliding in and out of me, and, without realizing I was doing it, I felt my hips rock in time with his. Unable to stay silent, moans escaped my lips.

  His hand wandered again and rubbed me in a way that sent jolts through my body. I felt that pleasure pool in the bottom of my stomach and slowly spread throughout my body as our rhythm sped up and moans escaped both our lips, louder and more frantic. The feeling inside me intensified, I felt him twitch inside me as he moaned into my ear. That was enough to send me over the edge.

  The waves of pleasure shook my entire body. Nothing had ever felt so good in my life before I felt him push himself even deeper inside me. He threw his head back, and we cried out in pleasure before he lowered on top of me, resting his weight on my chest. He gently withdrew out of me and rolled onto his back. I let my fingertips trace his chest as he caught his breath.

  After a while, he stood up, and I rolled onto my stomach as I watched him clean himself up and get rid of the protection. I couldn’t help but admire the sight of him naked. He returned to my side and pulled me into his embrace. I wasn’t sure how long we lay there, but time seemed to be slipping through our fingers.

  It was as if we sank into a world of our own, until there was banging against the door. I ducked under the covers while Ethan put on some boxers and went to
open the door. Ethan’s roommate stepped in. He looked at us with confusion, but, before he could utter a word, Ethan told him to sleep somewhere else. He protested a bit, but I pointed out that my bed was free, and he walked off. Ethan locked the door behind him.

  I looked up at him as I rested my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he stroked my hair. My mind was catching up on the events. I couldn’t believe that I was lying in his arms. All these years, I’d suppressed any moments in which I saw him as more than a close friend… I wondered how long he had thought about me in that way; whether we both had feelings for each other, and what would happen next.

  I didn’t want to discuss it; I didn’t want to ruin the blissful moment. I glanced at him again, to see him looking at me from underneath his lashes. I smiled at him, and he dipped his head down to kiss me.

  “Should we do it again?” he asked with a cheeky smile.

  I laughed and nodded, getting lost in the night.

  Chapter 4

  Ethan

  I woke up with Opal’s arms still wrapped around me, memories of the previous night flooding my brain. I lay there, still not wanting to wake her up, as thoughts rushed through my mind. Had we made a mistake? It didn’t feel like something I should, or could, regret. She stirred and opened her eyes, a smile flooding her face.

  We greeted each other, but neither of us had time for much of a conversation as we both needed to get ready and packed before setting off for home. As we gathered our things, I wanted to say something to her, but I couldn’t formulate my thoughts, nothing seemed to sound right in my head.

  Unsure of how I felt, I didn’t know what to think about the previous night or what to say regarding it. I didn’t even know how I felt about Opal anymore. It was as if sex had scrambled my brain and seriously impaired my ability to think straight. Everything felt fuzzy and confusing. I opened my mouth a few times to say something, but nothing would come out.

  We sat quietly in the back of our friend’s car, barely looking at each other. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something just seemed different. I didn’t know whether it was something different about her, or me. We only had a couple of weeks before we parted ways and went to college. I wasn’t sure whether I dreaded it or looked forward to it. The concept was so foreign and confusing at the same time. We had never spent more than a few days apart since we were born.

  I thought things would get back to normal once we got home, but they didn’t. Opal was quiet and lost in thought; she kept herself busy and blamed her new quiet state on pre-college stress. We still did chores like siblings and ate our meals together as siblings, but I could no longer see her as a little sister as I did before. I could now see the soft curves of her body and the way she smiled was imprinted into my brain as if someone had branded it there with a hot iron.

  I didn’t regret what happened, but I wished it hadn’t changed things so much. I tried talking to Opal, but words wouldn’t come out. Our moms exchanged worried looks, and we struggled to be in the same room. Sometimes our hands would touch briefly when working on a chore and we would freeze for a second. I caught O looking at me in a manner that I could only describe as longing.

  Part of me wanted to shout, “Hell with it all,” and sweep her into my arms and hold her for eternity, but there was the reasonable part of me, too. In a few days, she would go off to medical school, and I would go to a different college. So many new things were bound to happen, and I wanted a fresh start.

  Opal always emphasized that she didn’t want to date in college; she wanted to focus on her career and be the person she’d always aspired to be. I felt like suggesting anything more than our friendship would just distract her from what she saw as the most important focus in her life. I tried not to overthink it, tried to keep myself out of her way.

  The more time passed, the more uncomfortable being around her felt. I thought about all the plans we’d made. We’d meant to be going away on our breaks together, and writing letters, and emails to keep in touch, but, the longer I stayed at home, the more of a bad idea it seemed. I’d never meant to hurt Opal, and it seemed that trying to stay close would only cause her pain. It was best if we moved on with our lives.

  Chapter 5

  Opal

  As the days dragged by, it seemed as if Ethan and I didn’t know each other anymore. We could no longer sit and talk for hours. We seemed only to be able to exchange pleasantries or sit in awkward silence. Our evenings no longer consisted of lying around on the sofa joking and messing around, now we sat at the opposite ends of the room, barely saying a word to each other and hardly ever managing to as much as look at each other.

  I wasn’t sure what to do with myself or with the entire situation. I wanted to talk about things so that we could go back to normal, but I didn’t think we could ever go back, not properly, not fully. It was like we’d crossed some line and passed the point of no return. As I packed my clothes and personal items for college, I stared longingly at his bedroom door.

  I was expecting him to ask me for help with packing, as he normally would, but he didn’t. We passed each other in the hallways; sometimes he’d give me a quick smile as you would to an acquaintance you bumped into on the street. I wasn’t sure whether my mind was blowing it out of proportion or whether it felt like he couldn’t get further away from me.

  Even when we did things we normally would, like helping our moms with preserving fruit for winter, usually we would sit huddled together in a corner stoning the cherries and stemming strawberries, gossiping or talking about random things. Now we sat with as much distance between us as possible without one of us having to throw the fruit into the pan. We were silent. Sometimes I caught him looking at me and appearing lost in thought. Sometimes I’d catch myself looking at him. Yet, if our gazes met, we would both glance away like frightened squirrels.

  On the last night, I found Ethan sitting on a garden swing behind our house. He was staring at the horizon and fiddling with a stick he appeared to be sharpening with a Swiss Army knife I’d bought him a few years ago for his birthday.

  Since we were teenagers, he did that when he was thinking about something. I stopped, startled, and watched him for a few seconds before approaching him. It was the first time we had been together and on our own since we lost our virginities to each other. There were no distractions, no fruit to peel or stone, no pots to wash, or curtains to repair.

  I debated turning around and leaving before he noticed me, but, before I could make that decision, he looked up at me. He froze for a few seconds, then shifted, making some space for me on the swing. I hesitated, but sat down next to him. For a few seconds, I hoped he’d kiss me or say something, anything that would make things feel less awkward. Instead, he carried on sharpening his stick in silence as he chewed his lip. Finally, he let out a deep, heavy sigh and looked straight at me.

  “Last night together here, huh, O?” he muttered.

  He was trying to sound relaxed and casual, but he wasn’t fooling anyone, and he knew it. I nodded.

  “Yeah, I suppose…” I responded.

  He let out a short laugh. Clearly, the last couple of weeks dragged to both of us. I cleared my throat, nervous about his response to what I was about to say. I struggled to get the words out, as my mind raced through all the possible scenarios.

  “So, what now?” I asked without looking at him.

  He put his stick down and looked toward the horizon again. He chewed his lip for a long while. Finally, he glanced at me again.

  “I don’t know, Opal,” he told me slowly, then looked away uncomfortably.

  I bit my lip before responding. I didn’t want to hear the answer to my next question, but I needed to ask it.

  “Are you going to email me?” I tried, keeping the light, joking tone.

  He flinched before looking straight at me. He remained quiet, and I felt my fake smile fade a bit. He cleared his throat, opened and closed his mouth a few times, and shifted his weight in the most uncomfortabl
e and awkward way I have ever witnessed, before he finally replied.

  “I don’t know,” he said again. This time his tone of voice was a bit sharper, and he spoke fast, as if he wanted to get these words out as soon as possible before I could say anything else. He picked up his stick and began sharpening it furiously. He looked at me briefly, then his gaze dropped back to his hands.

  “I want to,” he said slowly as he stared at the stick and what he was doing with it. “I do. You’ve been around all my fucking life, O, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. Something has changed, I don’t know what exactly, and I don’t feel like it can be fixed. If we let it carry on, neither of us is going to move on and be happy. We can’t pretend nothing happened and we can’t seem to pass this…weird force field between us. At least for the time being, we are better off away from each other.”

  He looked at me as if he expected me to cry or shout.

  I wanted to. I wanted to slap him ten ways from Sunday and tell him he was an idiot. I wanted to shout that I couldn’t handle losing him and that I couldn’t live without him. But I didn’t. I thought about his words, trying to disregard my stirred-up emotions and look at it from a cold, logical point of view. As much as I hated it, he was right. I didn’t see myself being able to focus on my life and working toward my career with memories of our night running through my head every time we spoke or saw each other.

  I couldn’t see myself being able to focus on my studies or even being able to consider dating. I could still taste his lips on mine and feel his skin against me every time I closed my eyes and thought of him. It was best if, at least for now, we stayed away from each other.

  I remained silent as I struggled to find the right words. I didn’t want it to be a permanent thing. I didn’t want it to be a thing at all. I decided to ignore my emotions and follow my head. I looked back at him, reassuring myself that it would only be a temporary thing before I spoke.