JACKSON

It's not often I feel uncomfortable.

Commonly, I take control of a room and what happens inside it revolves around my presence. Conversely, though, that is far from the case as I stand inside the Kepner house with the Kepner family. It's clear April is their sun, and they revolve around her.

I never knew such a small, ordinary person could have such an impact on those around her. It's impossible to ignore that she does. She breathes life into these people, there's no denying it, and it's strange to watch. I've never seen a family that openly loves each other so much.

I know my mother loves me, of course. But it's a different kind of love than what I'm seeing right now. It's a love that doesn't involve physical touch or affection, it's a cool love from afar. April's family doesn't seem to know a single thing about personal space, nor does it seem like they want to learn. The hugs are never-ending, they rest with arms looped over shoulders, and play with each other's hair. It's like if they stop touching each other, they'll die.

My dad used to hug me, but I can't remember what they felt like. I only have the memories because of the photos; photos that I haven't let myself wallow in for many years. It doesn't matter if he hugged me. It's not like a hug has the power to change a life. If it did, mine would look very different.

As I watch them, they seem to forget I'm in the room because they're so caught up in one another. I relish the feeling, blending into the background, because I don't want to be noticed. April should soak in the time here because I don't know how soon we'll come back, and there's no reason for me to interrupt. I wouldn't know how to interact, anyway. This isn't my place, it's hers. I shouldn't have even come in. It was to save face, that's all. It was a mistake.

"Don't think that I forgot about you," I hear, then look to see April's mom headed my way.

My body tenses immediately, unsure of what to expect. She's wearing a big smile with her hair tucked behind her ears just like April wears hers, arms extended wide.

"I need to hug you," she says. "I need to thank you."

I open my mouth to refute her, to say that physical affirmations aren't necessary, but she gets to me before I can say a word. She wraps her arms around me tighter than I imagined she could - she's wiry like her daughters - and rocks from side to side as she squeezes me.

"You don't know how much you've done for our family," she says, voice squished against my chest. "I can't thank you enough. Truly, honey. Truly. Thank you so much."

If possible, I tense up even further and crane my neck away while trying not to seem rude. I catch April's eye over her mother's head and she smiles at me - big and wide, like I haven't seen her smile yet. And after that smile, she pulls her lips over her teeth and transforms it into a smirk, shaking her head with glinting eyes.

"You're welcome, Mrs. Kepner," I say, slowly inching my way out of the hug.

"Oh, please," she says. "At this point, call me Karen. I am your mother-in-law, after all!"

I resist the urge to balk at the moniker, having not realized it yet. It's true, though, legally I am in her son-in-law. It's a strange thought, that of belonging to another family when I barely belong to my own.

"If you're his mama, too, then he's my brother!" one of the little ones - the bigger of the two - announces. She hops down from the chair she'd been sitting in and runs over, green eyes glistening. "I never had a brother!" she says.

"Only sisters," the littlest one says. "All sisters. And now we get a brother! Mama! Do we get to keep him or is he just for looking?"

April snorts and I clear my throat uncomfortably. I place my hand in a fist over my mouth and clear my throat again, wondering what should come next.

"We get to keep him for always, baby," April says, cutting in before picking her sister up. The little one balances on her hip perfectly, and they fit together like two puzzle pieces. "What do you think about that?"

The two of them walk closer, and April never tears her eyes off mine. She's smiling, on her lips and entire face, as she comes to stand across from me.

"Alice," she says, speaking to her sister while looking at me. "Me and Jackson are married. Which means… yes. He's your new brother."

…

Against my subtle hints otherwise, we end up eating dinner with the Kepners. Karen insists on cooking and busies herself in the kitchen and, much to my surprise, all of her daughters help.

I was never asked to help in the kitchen, even when I was small and had the inclination to do so. Growing up, we always had a private chef. I've never even seen where my food is prepared, I just know that it appears in front of me and that's what matters.

Things here are run much differently, so it seems.

"Mama," Alice says, looking back at me as I linger near the table. "Why doesn't he help, too?"

Everyone turns to look then, identical eyes searing into me as I try not to seem as uncomfortable. I flash a tight-lipped smile, cheeks twitching, and April moves first.

"He's not used to all us girls," she says, walking over. She stands in front of me and rubs her hands up and down my arms, which sends a strange, comforting feeling to my gut. She grips my biceps with her dainty hands and blinks into my eyes, smiling with her own, squeezing me lightly. "Right, babe?"

"Right," I answer, filling in what she's laid out.

"Maybe you should set the table," she says, "Start you off with something easy."

"Um, sure," I say, a bit disjointedly.

"Mama," April says. "Where are the plates?"

"Right here," Karen says, setting a big stack on the island along with handfuls of silverware. "But really, Jackson, you don't have to lift a finger. You're the g-"

"He wants to help," April cuts in, still grinning.

I shoot her a sidelong glance, and she gives me one right back.

"Why don't you help him, honey," Karen continues, nodding her daughter along.

"He's got it," April says, turning back to her sisters. "I was in the middle of peeling potatoes. He has it under control."

"Sure," I say, trying to remain cordial.

I take my time setting the table, making sure there are enough placements, silverware, glasses and napkins for everyone. Once I feel like I've done a decent job, I stand back to observe my work just as Kimmie comes padding over.

"Why're there so many forks and spoons and stuff?" she asks. "There's like, eleven-teen of each!" She looks at me with a silly grin on her face. "You're silly, Jackson."

"Silly?" I echo, eyebrows furrowing. "What's silly about it?"

"Goofy!" Alice pipes up from a few feet away. "Goofy goober!"

I look to April for a bit of reprieve, a bit of explanation, and she laughs in good humor. "Leave him alone, you guys," she says. "Fancy people use a lot of different silverware when they eat."

"We're fancy now!" Alice insists, pointing at her new clothes.

"Yeah, so do we get to use a different fork for every single bite?" Kimmie asks.

"No, it's not like that," April says, smiling. "We don't need to worry about it. But it was very thoughtful of Jackson."

I give a terse nod, then shove my hands into my pockets. "Uh, excuse me," I say. "I'm going to go wash up."

"I'll show you where!" Alice says, bounding forward so her hair bounces with her. She turns back to April and says solemnly, "I'll show him, sissy."

April gives her a mock salute and says, "Go ahead."

"This way," Alice says, and takes my hand just like she had before.

Her grip is warm and soft, tinier than I imagined a human hand could be. She pulls me out of the dining room area and into the hall, not letting go of my hand for a single step.

"You're brand new in our family," she says, looking over her shoulder to meet my eyes. "I never had a new person in our family 'cause I'm the baby. And I'm the newest. But now, you're the newest!"

I'm not sure what to say, so I just smile with my lips closed.

"A boy in our family is crazy," she says. "We never had that before. You're the first time. Except for my daddy, but…"

She turns back around, unable to look at me anymore. Her tone of voice has changed from light and peppy to somber in the blink of an eye, and I have no idea how to handle a sad child. What if she starts crying and won't stop? What am I supposed to do then?

"I never knowed him," she adds after a short period of silence.

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say.

"Yeah."

I bite the inside of my cheek and continue to follow her, knowing that I should say something. But what is there to say to a five-year-old that I barely know? I roll my eyes for overthinking it so much. She's a child.

"Well, if it helps, my dad is gone, too," I say, softly, finally filling in the silence.

She stops in her tracks and turns completely around, eyes wide and round. "Really?" she says. "He died?"

I nod. "Yeah," I say. "I don't like to talk about it."

"'Cause it makes you sad?"

I nod again. "Yeah. Stuff like that… you know, it's hard to talk about."

"I get sad, too," she says, trying to sound encouraging. "It's okay if you wanna cry. Because crying can even be good sometimes." She's quiet for a moment before asking, "You miss your daddy lots?"

"Um…" I say, then blink hard. I realize she still has my hand. "Yeah. Yeah, actually."

"He misses you, too," she says. "That's what Sissy says about my daddy."

Then, in an instant, she lets go of my hand and wraps her arms around my legs - all she can reach. She hugs me tight, with earnest, and doesn't let go.

But she looks up soon enough. "I gotta tell you a secret," she says.

"Okay…"

She lets go of my legs and waves me closer, and I reluctantly kneel so she can cup her hands around my ears. Her voice is raspy and spitty, but I try not to let it bother me.

"My sissy has magic in her," she says. "And whenever you're sad, she makes it go away. So, if you ask her, she can give it to you."

She pulls away, and I stand to my full height, still looking at the little girl, very unsure of how to respond.

"Oh, really," I say.

She nods vigorously. "But don't tell," she says. "It's secret."

"Alright."

"Jackson! Alice! Dinner!" Karen calls.

The little girl's face lights up and she scampers off like we hadn't just shared a strangely heartwarming moment. I stay where I am, a little shell-shocked by the whole thing, then find the bathroom on my own.

…

"So, you have to tell us the story of how you met," Libby says, about halfway through dinner.

I've never choked before - literally or figuratively - but I nearly do when I hear those words escape her mouth. I try to keep a level head, chewing slowly to buy time, wondering how in the world I'm supposed to answer - when April does it for me.

"It's pretty cute, actually," she says. "You know, Mom works for his mom. And one day, I went with her to help out because she had a really long day. I went off on my own, you know, like I do, and I was cleaning his bedroom." She looks at me, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. "Total slob, you should know. Clothes everywhere, drawers open, underwear on the floor…"

The little ones giggle at that. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at the blatant fib. I'm tidier than she is.

"So, I'm just minding my own business, cleaning up after him. And I'm so lost in my own world that I don't her him come into the room until he screamed - I scared him, too! I turned around and saw him with a towel around his waist, he'd just come from the shower, totally freaked out. We had a sort of moment where we just looked into each other's eyes, and…"

She turns to look at me, eyelashes blinking slow. For a moment, one singular, small moment, I let myself get lost in the deep green of her eyes. But then I realize we're spending too long just staring at each other, so I direct my attention back to my plate.

"The rest is history," she says. "I had to keep it a secret because he's such a big name."

She wraps both arms around one of mine and pulls me close, resting her chin on my shoulder. She smiles, and it doesn't seem like she's acting at all. I don't know how to take this, nor how to decipher whatever is going on inside my head. I'm feeling a thousand things at once - but it's probably just dinner not sitting right with me. I haven't eaten anything not made by my personal chef in years.

"One look at him, and I was a goner," she says, using one hand to caress my cheek.

"I could say the same," I murmur, trying to keep up the act as well as she is. It's strange, though, knowing her mother is aware of the full story - meaning she's also aware that what we're doing is a giant farce. It makes me feel ridiculous to be acting like this in front of her.

April closes her eyes, and like clockwork, I lean in to kiss her. Our lips meet for just a moment - we keep it chaste for her family - and when we pull away my heart is beating like there's no tomorrow. I'm almost afraid that everyone can hear it straight through my chest.

"That's beautiful," Libby says, sighing. If I'm not mistaken, there are even tears in her eyes. "Really beautiful, you guys. April, you're so lucky."

She smiles, bright and shiny. "I know," she says, then gives me a kiss on the cheek.

"But I'm luckier," I say, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"No more yucky kissing!" Kimmie shouts. "Can all the ooey-gooey stuff stop now?"

April busts up laughing, and even I crack a smile. "Sure," April says, but keeps a hand on my wrist. "But one day, little miss… you'll know what it feels like."

"Not me!" Alice chimes in, one finger in the air. "No way, Jose!"

Everyone starts laughing again, and this time I can't help but join. The feeling is foreign to me, laughing genuinely, so I keep it quiet. I don't know what's acceptable and what's not. But for the first time in a long time, even though I barely know these people, I feel somewhere close to content.

…

For most of the ride home, April and I don't exchange conversation. She's deep in thought and has a downtrodden aura about her - it was difficult for her to leave her family again. Even though it's not permanent and she knows that, leading her to the car felt like slowly ripping off a Band-Aid. It was like I was taking her against her will, though that's not the case. I wish she'd stop making me feel like that's the case.

I didn't hate spending time with her family tonight. It's not an environment I'm comfortable in, but it was nice to see people so happy to be with each other. I found myself feeling jealous that she got to grow up with all of that love surrounding her, until I remember the squalor that came with it. I push the envy down after that.

When we get near the house, I decide to say something.

"I had a nice time tonight," I murmur, catching her eye where she sits on the other side of the back seat.

She gives me a small smile. "I did, too," she replies. Then, "Thank you."

I shake my head a bit. "You don't have to thank me, April."

"I know," she says, the apples of her cheeks turning pink. "But you suggested we go, and you took us there. So, I want to thank you."

I don't respond accordingly, because it still doesn't sit right with me. I don't want our marriage to be full of favors, because that forces me to remember that she's doing one for me, as well. And that forces me to remember that she doesn't know the whole story, and someday she'll have to learn. I don't know when that day will be, but it won't be anytime soon. I have a feeling it won't be pretty when she finds out the constituents for my receiving the other half of the inheritance.

The rest of the way home is short and quiet, and I help her out of the car once we arrive. She takes my hand willingly, and I see the tiredness in her eyes under the soft yellow outdoor lights. She'll want to go to sleep when we get inside, and I haven't forgotten that we're supposed to share a bed tonight. I wonder if that fact has slipped her mind, or if she's thinking about it as hard as I have been.

When we get inside, we're greeted immediately by Antonio.

"You've been gone nearly all day and evening," he says, trying not to sound frustrated. The creases on his forehead give him away, though. "The chef made dinner and it went to waste. You didn't notify me you'd be out late."

"Stop worrying, Antonio," I say, snaking an arm around the small of April's back, keeping her close. His eyes dart to the physical touch immediately, then flit away.

"Well, how was your outing?" he asks, trying not seem nonchalant when it's clear he's anything but.

"Very nice," I say, filling in the blanks for April. It's not hard to tell that she's not Antonio's biggest fan. I'm not, either, but I've developed an immunity. "We'll be retiring now. It was a long day."

He gives us a nod and backs off, finally. Showing her exhaustion, April melts against my side and I let her, keeping a firm hand on her opposite hip and we make our way up the stairs.

When we get to our room, I remove my arm and begin to unbutton my shirt. She heads into the bathroom, presumably to change, but doesn't quite get inside before pausing in the doorway - hands clasped at her waist.

I notice that she's frozen and glance over my shoulder just as she does. She's blinking rapidly, worrying her lower lip with her teeth, opening and closing her lips.

"I… are you… going to…" she stammers.

"We planned on sleeping together tonight, didn't we," I say, nodding towards the bed while still working on my buttons.

Her cheeks flame at my usage of the phrase, and I chuckle to myself. Sometimes, she seems so hardened and witty, yet others she's soft and vulnerable. I'm not sure how to handle either side yet. She continues to surprise me with her duality.

"Yeah," she says, avoiding my gaze to look at the floor. "I'll just… change, then."

"So will I."

She retreats into the bathroom and stays in there for a good while. I hear the sink running as she brushes her teeth and removes her makeup, and I pull down the bed to get it ready for us. I notice her things have taken up residence on the right nightstand, so I take the left side.

When she comes out, I'm already reclined on the mattress, hands behind my head. For some reason, she's never seemed smaller. She's dressed in a pair of matching green silk pajamas - shorts and a camisole - and her auburn curls are voluminous as they lie on her shoulders. With her face free of makeup, her skin shines and her natural beauty comes out. For the first time, I don't think 'common' when I see her.

The first word I think is 'beautiful,' and that's enough to scare me.

"Oh," she says, coming around to the side deemed as hers. "You're already… all comfy."

"Yes," I say, blinking slowly while still watching her.

She lifts one knee onto the mattress and then the other, moving at a snail's pace like I might reach out and bite her. I don't say anything, though; I let her go at her own pace. I've begun to learn that allowing her as much is helpful. She doesn't like to be rushed or forced.

But eventually, she settles onto her back and lies staring at the ceiling. I sneak glances at her from the corner of my eye, seeing that her body is completely rigid, hands folded over her ribcage. Between us, she's usually the one who's fluid and comfortable, and I'm more closed off. But as of right now, I've never seen her more distant.

I turn onto my side, hoping she will too. She doesn't. She keeps her eyes trained on the ceiling like there's something very interesting up there - and even after I follow her gaze to check, I find nothing.

"April," I say - my voice is soft, but it makes her flinch.

"What," she replies.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," she says, adjusting a bit.

I stay on my side, eyes still trained on her. It's blatantly obvious that she's not comfortable, it's all in her body language. She drums her fingers on her elevated ribcage and chews the inside of her lip some more, still doing everything she can to avoid eye contact.

"April…" I say again.

"What?" she responds, this time with a little more bite.

I don't know why I'm so amused, but I am. I'm not the type for teasing, usually, but she makes it so easy. Right now, we're in such an intimate position and both of our walls are down. That's a rare occurrence in itself, and it's making me feel a bit differently about her. I'm getting to see a side that I normally don't.

"Have you ever been in bed with a man before?" I ask. "Slept in the same bed, I mean."

Her mouth falls open and her eyebrows tilt towards each other. "I…" she begins, then makes a frustrated sound. "No. Not like it's any of your business, but no."

I lift myself onto an elbow, trying to figure her out. "Then how does it make sense that you're not a virgin?" I ask, calling back to our previous conversation.

She looks at me, but only with her eyes. She doesn't move her head, but she doesn't need to in order to glower in my direction.

"There are such things as hookups, you know," she says, snappily.

I shake my head and narrow my eyes. "I don't believe you," I say.

"What do you mean?" she volleys back. "I'm not lying. I've never slept in bed with a man before."

"Yeah, I buy that much," I say. "But you not being a virgin because of a hookup? No."

She squints angrily, raising her upper lip. "What are you talking about?" she says.

"You're not that kind of girl," I say, confidently.

She scoffs. "You don't know me," she says. "Or 'what kind of girl' I am. So, you can forget that idea right now."

"I know you well enough," I say, scooting a bit closer as she's turned on her side. "I have a talent for reading people. And you're as innocent as they come, aren't you? I mean, look at you. You can't even lie next to me without going all squiddy."

"That's not a word," she says.

"It is, and you know what I mean," I say. "Just admit it, April. You're 21 and you've never had sex. It's fine, it's a fine thing to admit. What isn't attractive is lying about it."

"I am not lying," she says, sitting up while supporting her weight with one arm. "I'm not, so get off your high horse. I hate it when you talk to me like this."

"I don't like being lied to," I say. "When was your first kiss?" Before she can answer, I cut in with, "Was I there for it? Was it with me?"

"Why do you care?" she says emphatically. "It doesn't matter. We're married now, whatever that means, and I'm tied to you. You're tied to me. The past shouldn't matter."

"Darling, the past always matters," I say, voice smooth as silk.

She groans loudly, baring her teeth. "You are such an ass!" she explodes. "I thought I was starting to see a different side of you tonight, the real side. But that's not true, is it? You were putting on a front for my family. It was all fake. This… this is you. The real you. The asshole!"

Though I don't show it, that creates a chink in my armor. I don't like being called names, especially ones that aren't true.

"Think whatever you want about me," I say. "But we're still married."

"Believe me, I'm aware," she says.

"You should start getting used to it," I say, growing tense. Her chest heaves with exertion and her face is still flushed. I've upset her, and it's obvious. She's upset me, too, but I'm better at hiding it. "It's not going to change."

"You should learn how to treat people with respect and decency," she says.

"Oh, that's rich," I say. "What would you call today, then? A simple favor? That was me being kind to you, April."

"It was common courtesy," she fires back. "It shouldn't have been a favor. It wasn't an exchange. I shouldn't have to feel guilty for being allowed to see my family."

"Then stop feeling guilty," I say. "And stop lying to me."

"What am I lying about?" she says. "My virgin status? Why are you so hung up on that? Let it go, Jackson. I'm not a virgin, deal with it. You don't own me."

"The legality of our marriage would state otherwise," I say, eyes burning.

"Get this through your head," she says, getting closer to my face. "You do not own me. No one owns anyone. I could end this tomorrow, and you'd be nothing without me."

"I'd be nothing?" I sputter. "Me? Are you kidding?"

She raises her chin and purses her lips, sticking with what she's said.

"You'd be back on the streets," I say. "All of you would, without this. Without me."

She rolls her eyes. "How many times are we going to have this argument?" she asks.

"As many times as it takes for you to understand how important our bond is," I say.

"Why?" she says. "Why is it so important? Why did it have to be me? How come I'm the one you plucked off the street to be kept in your ivory tower?"

I don't have a response. My lips fall apart and I stare at her for a moment, unblinking, while she gives me the same in return.

"You are so ungrateful," I spit.

"It's not ungrateful to want to be treated like a human being," she says. "To not have my previous lifestyle judged, and to be controlled every step - every breath! - I take. You are so unfair to me. If you want me to stop acting like a prisoner, stop treating me like one. You aren't my captor."

"Tell yourself that," I say. "I've given you everything, and all you do is throw it back in my face. How am I supposed to know how to treat you?"

"Like you'd treat anyone!" she exclaims. "But I forgot, you're too good to interact with common folk. It must be strange for you."

"You don't want me to judge you, yet you pass judgments on me every chance you get," I say. "You say that I don't know you, but you assume you know me. You're wrong, April. You don't know a thing about me. You think you do, but you don't."

"And how should I?" she counters. "You tell me nothing. You think you're better than me."

"You keep lying to me!" I bellow.

"I am not lying!" she shouts back, eyes glistening.

There's a charged moment that crackles with electricity. It thrums between us like something alive, and I know she feels it, too. Her pupils are fat - so wide nearly her entire iris is black, and the expression in them is unrecognizable.

If I'm reading her correctly, which I'd like to think I am, she's looking at me with heady lust. The twitching in my pants gives away my identical feeling, and I've just begun to think of ways to remedy it when she jolts forward and covers my mouth with hers.

It takes me by surprise, but only for a moment. I flinch at the sudden contact, but I soon take control of the situation she initiated. I hold both sides of her head and kiss her hard - nothing about this is soft or gentle. She's pissed at me, emotions are running high, and there's no better option than this to bring them down.

She tastes like mint toothpaste, and I can only assume the same for myself. I completely ravage her mouth with mine, parting the seam of her lips with my tongue so it can slip inside. She lets out a breathy moan as I do, and I push her to lie on her back under me.

I straddle her hips, taking full control, and rest one hand on her hip while the other keeps my balance. Her fingers find their way to the open skin on the small of my back, and she pushes my shirt up further to run her fingers through the sparse hair there. Because of her idle, comfortable touch, I kiss her deeper and with more passion - if possible.

She whimpers when I bite her bottom lip, completely submitted to me. Her breath comes in tepid bursts and her heart pounds heavy through her sternum - at full speed. Kissing each other like this is brand new for both of us, but judging by how well she's keeping up, she's no newcomer to it in general.

Maybe she was telling the truth when she said she wasn't a virgin.

It shouldn't matter, and it doesn't. I don't care about the concept of virginity; it's made up. What I care about is being lied to. I've been lied to about many things throughout my life, and honesty is something I treasure. April strikes me as someone who values the truth as well, and I don't want lies between us.

I understand that forcing honesty isn't the way to go, but unfortunately I'm not well-versed in much else.

I move the hand that's resting on her hip up higher, over the keyboard of her ribcage until it lands on the softness of her breast. Her chest is small, smaller than I'm used to, but I like the fact that my hand covers the entire thing with the prick of her nipple right in the middle of my palm.

I drop wet kisses down her neck and leave a trail of saliva, then cover her breast with my mouth - through the sheeny green fabric. Instantly, her mouth falls open and she gasps lasciviously, letting an exhale free only moments later as she runs her hands over my closely-shaven head.

"Mmm…" she moans, body writhing beneath me.

I know my way around a woman's body, and I'm confident in my skills. I know what buttons to push hard and what ones to push soft - of course, there are differences across the board, but the same baselines. The nipples are always great, as as is the neck. What's placed between their legs goes unspoken as to how wonderful it is.

I bite April's nipple through the fabric, and that makes her whine with pleasure. I have the undying urge to ask her if she's had this done to her before, but I hold my tongue. Figuratively, at least. Literally, my tongue does what it wants in sending her closer and closer to the edge.

Since the first moment I saw her, I wondered what it would be like to have her in bed. I didn't obsess over it, I'm not a pervert, but it's something that crossed my mind. I never expected she'd be so vocal, so beautifully responsive, so soft and smooth. She's gentle, while at the same time, arousingly confident. She's not afraid to let me know what feels good.

As I smile against her chest, one hand slips between her legs to cup her over her shorts. She jumps, surprised by the contact, but soon relaxes as I begin to stroke her.

She lets out a long breath, on sensory overload. I've created a wide wet spot on her chest with my mouth, and she's created one of her own on the crotch of her shorts. She works against my hand, undulating her hips in the same rhythm, and grips the back of my head to hold it in place. She doesn't need to worry, though - I don't plan on going anywhere.

I move my hand more roughly, feeling heat emanate from her body. I don't bother sliding any fingers inside her because I don't need to, not yet at least. She's close enough as it is, and I want to make it happen this way first. Just to prove that I can.

I kiss the side of her neck and cover half of her body with mine, accidentally rubbing the bulge in my pants against her. I pull back instinctively, but with her eyes closed, she finds me with her fingers and strokes me at the same rate I'm stroking her.

"Fuck," I grunt, quickening my pace.

She widens her legs and lifts her hips, asking for it, and I do everything I can to make that orgasm happen. I draw tight, rapid circles with my first two fingers over the fabric of her shorts and she lets out the loudest moan yet, burying her face in the crook of my neck as she quakes and spasms beneath me.

She throws an arm around my shoulders while she comes down, still pumping me over the pants. I'm practically euphoric, though I haven't come yet, kissing her all over as she gets me close. I press my lips to her cheeks, her chin, her jaw, then lower to the open plane of her chest. I glide my nose over her hard nipples and move further down, hips bucking against her hand as she keeps stroking me, then flip up the hem of her camisole.

Everything changes when I do, though. In contrast to how lax and boneless she'd been just seconds before, her body turns to stone and she scrambles out from under me, fixing her shirt as she crabwalks to the upper corner of the bed.

Her eyes are wide, animalistic, and frightened. Her lips are kissed swollen and her face is flushed, but something has changed.

"Sorry," I say, though I'm not sure what I did wrong.

She smooths her shirt, making sure her skin is covered. She doesn't say a word, she just looks at me with that deer-in-the-headlights expression. She's panting, shoulders heaving dramatically, and all I'm left with is a raging, expectant erection.

She shakes her head and licks her lips, then swallows loudly. Her eyes don't land in one place for more than a millisecond, and her protective hands haven't left her belly.

"Sorry," she whispers, tucking her hair behind her ear and ducking her chin to her chest.

"Right," I say, then slide out of bed. There's no way I can go to sleep in the state I'm in.

"I'm sorry," she calls again, this time a little more desperate. "Where're you going? I'm sorry."

"I just… I have to take care of…" I say, gesturing towards the tent I've made of my pants.

"Oh," she says, timidly. "Are you coming back?"

"If you want me to."

She nods, and I return the gesture. I go into the bathroom and turn on the shower, stepping in for a quick moment to take care of myself. Luckily, I was nearly there, so it doesn't take long. After I'm done, I towel myself dry and redress, then step back into the bedroom expecting to still see those doe eyes on me.

I'm wrong, though. April is turned onto her side to face the window, dressed in a new pair of pajamas. These are pink - long pants with a tank top - and her hair is up in a bun. From the looks of how deeply her side is rising and falling, she's already asleep.

I crawl in behind her, then lie staring at the back of her ginger head. It feels like I stay there forever, blinking against the darkness, wondering what the hell just happened.

I roll over eventually, but sleep still won't come. Now, I just stare at the wall and wonder what went wrong. It was obviously something, but I don't know what. One moment, she was reveling in her orgasm. So was I. Then the next, she acted like I'd burned her with a fire poker, unable to even look at me. What did I do? What the fuck did I do?

I lie awake for what seems like hours. Eventually, surprising me, April rolls over in her sleep and scoots closer, making my back stiffen. In one fluid movement, she throws an arm over my waist and presses her forehead between my shoulder blades, tucking one small foot between my ankles.

It's the last thing I expected, but it's what gets me to sleep.