Contemplation on the Matter of Sex with Haley James
by Mallory
She's got a pattern of dark brown moles which form a crescent moon shape around her belly button; he's seen it three times. Twice, her shirt lifted up as she raised her arms over her head, and he caught a glimpse of her smooth stomach and those peculiar dots.
The first time he saw them was the night the team played Cove City; that was the night that he passed out on the court; that was the night when he all but collapsed against her.
She said, "I'm gonna get into my pajamas. If you want, I can get you something of my Dad's closet." He shook his head; the idea of wearing something of Haley's dad's struck him as kind of weird. She shrugged and started rummaging through her dresser.
He honestly thought that she was going to go to the bathroom, or something, or he would have turned his head. He really would have.
She slid her shirt up over her body, and he saw the beauty marks that curved around her belly button and part of her black bra. Then she turned away from him, cheeks burning, and he remembered that he shouldn't be looking, so he turned his head too.
She says she's not ready, and he says ok.
*
He likes to watch her in class; he likes to watch how she bites her lip when she's concentrating, and how she runs her hand through her hair.
Sometimes after class he drags her to an empty classroom because he just wants her and needs her that much. And sometimes placing his mouth against her and running his tongue along the edge of her lip and the inside of her mouth is enough.
But most of the time it's not.
He thinks about that crescent moon, and he remembers telling her that it was ok that she wasn't ready.
But he wants to trace those marks.
*
He's never really felt this way before. Peyton wasn't like Haley. He didn't like touching her, actually. He liked having sex with her, but who wouldn't like having sex with Peyton Sawyer? He couldn't touch her like he touches Haley. What he did was he fucked her, and then he left. Or kicked her out. Whatever.
Haley says she's not ready, so he says that's ok. But when she is ready, he isn't going to fuck her, he's going to make love to her. And that's how he thinks about it, in his mind, even though he doesn't like the expression. He's going to kiss the crescent moon on her stomach and make love to her and he will hold her and hold her and hold her.
Because he loves her.
He wants to touch every inch of her; he wants to know her inside and out.
And he won't push her, and he won't hurt her.
Because he doesn't just want to get off. What he really wants has nothing to do with that at all.
What he wants, what he really wants, what he's dying for, is that moment when he's inside of her and she's inside of him and they're holding each other desperately and he realizes that the lines between them are blurred; what he really wants is that moment when he realizes that they are the same person.