46
As soon as I lay on my back, Emma climbed on top of me.
She kissed me slowly, tenderly, like she was memorizing my lips. Her hands cupped my breasts, gently massaging them as her mouth moved with mine in perfect sync. She took her time—nibbling on my skin, brushing her lips against my neck, and whispering things I couldn’t even catch, not with the way my brain was spinning from everything she was doing.
Every touch from her felt like heaven, like fire and rain at the same time. I could barely breathe.
In that moment, I forgot everything else—the heartbreak, the tears, the confusion. My mind went blank, and my body responded only to her. All I could think about was her, her touch, her breath against my skin, her lips calling my name without sound. I forgot I had drunk too much earlier, and strangely, I didn’t feel intoxicated anymore. I felt completely awake, sober—too aware, even. I felt every inch of her, every soft kiss, every graze of her fingertips. And when I moaned her name, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Emma knew exactly how to make me feel good, how to unearth every sound I didn’t know I could make. Soon enough, I was trembling beneath her, body arching, breath catching, moaning her name over and over. She pleasured me in ways I never imagined.
By the end of it, we were both breathless. Emma rested on top of me, her face buried in the crook of my neck as our chests rose and fell against each other.
“I missed you, Jen,” she whispered, lifting her head just enough to meet my gaze.
Her eyes were soft, raw, almost pleading. I wanted to tell her I missed her too, to wrap her in my arms and never let go, but I held the words back. If I said it out loud, I knew I’d never be able to go through with what I said earlier. And I meant it—we needed a break. She needed time to sort through her life. I wasn’t going to be the second choice in a relationship, not even if I was her first love.
“Emma…” I said quietly, my voice barely audible.
“Hmmm?” she murmured against my skin.
I gently placed my hands on her arms and pushed her up, a soft, non-verbal cue. She understood and pulled away, slipping off me with care. She didn’t say anything, just sat beside me and reached for her clothes.
I sat up, eyes scanning the floor for my own things. We dressed in silence. No words. Just breathing. Just the quiet shuffle of fabric and the weight of what we both knew was coming.
Once I was fully dressed, I turned to face her. She was sitting with her hands on her lap, avoiding my gaze. Her hair was tousled, cheeks still flushed. She looked heartbreakingly beautiful.
“Em, I mean it. What I said earlier—about needing a break—”
“I know,” she cut me off gently.
“You don’t have to repeat it. I just thought… maybe this could be a good way to end things between us. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I just… I don’t know how long it’ll take to fix everything. Hell, I don’t even know if I can fix it.”
She looked up at me, finally, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. Then she took my hands in hers and held them tightly.
“I don’t want to keep you waiting, Jen. That would be so unfair. You deserve peace. You deserve to smile, to laugh, to meet someone who isn’t caught in a mess. And as much as it’s killing me to say this… I want you to be happy. Even if it’s not with me.”
Her voice cracked toward the end, and she quickly blinked away her tears.
The words hit me like a slap. I had told her I wanted space, but hearing her tell me she was letting me go—really letting me go—felt like my insides were being torn apart.
Tears gathered in my eyes without warning, and before I could stop them, they spilled down my cheeks.
Emma’s face softened when she saw me crying. She reached up and gently cupped my face, wiping away the tears with her thumbs. Her touch was so warm, so familiar, and it made everything worse.
“Come here,” she whispered and pulled me into her arms.
I buried my face in her shoulder as we hugged, and for a moment, I let myself sob quietly. It felt like the end of the world. Like the ground had cracked open beneath me. Like someone had sliced my heart into a million tiny pieces and scattered them where I could never find them again.
I didn’t want this to be the end. I only wanted space—time for both of us to breathe. Not this. Not goodbye.
“Em… n-no. Don’t say that. Please,” I choked out.
“Please, Jen,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
We were both crying now, clinging to each other like it was the last time. And maybe it was. Maybe this really was the last time I’d ever hold her like this. That thought crushed me.
Then Emma pulled away. Her arms loosened around me and fell to her sides.
“You should go,” she whispered.
I looked at her, stunned. “Em, no—”
“Please, Jen,” she interrupted, her voice firmer now. “Just go.”
I hesitated, searching her face, hoping—desperately hoping—she would change her mind. That she would take it back, pull me into another hug, kiss me again, tell me she was wrong. But she didn’t.
I reached for her hand one last time, but she didn’t let me take it.
“Jen,” she said again, and this time it was final.
My heart sank. Slowly, I stood up, still watching her, giving her another chance to stop me. To say something. Anything. But she just looked down at the floor.
I walked toward the door. My hand trembled as I gripped the doorknob, and before I opened it, I turned around to look at her one last time. She still wasn’t looking at me.
I stepped out, and the moment the door closed behind me, my knees gave out. I sank to the ground, my back against the wall, and sobbed silently. It was late. My neighbors were either asleep or out—thank God. I don’t think I could’ve handled anyone seeing me like that.
I stayed there for what felt like forever before I finally dragged myself home.
I went straight to my room and collapsed on my bed. The tears didn’t stop. I cried into my pillow until it was soaked. I hugged it like it could somehow bring her back.
Every time I thought about not seeing her, not hearing her voice, not kissing her again—it felt like my heart was being torn apart all over again.
I shouldn’t have asked for a break. That was my fault. If I’d just let it go, accepted her apology, maybe we’d still be together. Maybe she wouldn’t have felt the need to let me go completely. I could’ve waited quietly like we first agreed. I didn’t need to say anything at all.
Why did I have to be so proud?
Those were the thoughts that swirled in my mind before exhaustion took over.
\-----
I woke up hours later with my head pounding like it had been split in two.
Ughhh. My head.
I tried to open my eyes, but even that felt like too much effort. Everything hurt.
I drifted in and out of sleep until I heard someone calling my name.
“Jen. Jen. Jennifer!”
A hand was shaking my shoulder. I didn’t want to move.
“Jennifer!” the voice said again, more urgent now.
“M-Mom?” I croaked, forcing one eye open.
My mom stood beside my bed, arms crossed, looking both worried and annoyed.
“Honey, it’s almost 3 in the afternoon. You need to wake up.”
“W-What…”
“And you stink. Did you drink last night? You didn’t even change your clothes.”
I finally opened both eyes, squinting at the light. My head spun violently the moment I tried to sit up.
“Oh no…” I groaned, clutching my stomach.
And just like that, I leaned over and threw up—all over my bed. With my mom in it.
I’m so dead.
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