Chapter 63: An Epiphany

I didn't have another date for a while. The fact that I was becoming picky really bothered me. I really didn't know what it was. Maybe it was because I became more experienced at dating and the thrill was dying away. That sounds like it, but I don't know.

Ronaldo was an old friend from high school. We weren't overtly close, but we were friends anyway. Our friendship survived while others ending in death or moving away. I even have a couple of pictures of us together from high school graduation.

No, we never dated, nor did we want to.

He came home from college for Christmas break in December of 0004. I spotted him while I was selling flowers. I actually nearly dropped said flowers when I saw him. Instead, I set them down carefully, ran to him, and hugged him. He picked me up in the process, which was a surprise.

We spent the next few minutes catching up and all that. Eventually, we agreed we needed to hang out sometime over break.

Just as friends, of course.

He was, after all, all I had left of my high school crew.

My mom volunteered at the homeless shelter every Friday over his break, so I naturally invited him over. I figured that since we were platonic, I could vent to him about my love life. Maybe he even knew someone in college who was looking for a girlfriend.

On the first Friday, we ordered takeout and watched a movie. I wanted to talk to him about my newfound pickiness, but I didn't have the nerve to work up to it. We were friends catching up; I realized that I ought to save it for another time.

On the second Friday, we ordered takeout and played a couple of board games. I didn't have the nerve to work up to it then, either. We were having too much fun; I didn't want to ruin it by being a crybaby.

On the third Friday, we ordered takeout and watched a movie again. Forty minutes into the movie, we took off our clothes, and later had sex.

We were strictly platonic, by the way, but he needed it and so did I. We were really just helping each other out.

You want the details, don't you? Fine.

It started when Ronaldo's phone buzzed. He checked it, and I playfully told him it was rude to be texting during a movie. I equally-playfully tried to take his phone, but, in the process, it slipped out of one of our hands and fell right into my boob cleavage.

So there I was, with my friend's cell phone stuck in between my boobs.

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds.

Then, we both broke out laughing.

And I mean laughing so hard until we almost cried. It was kind of funny, but we did eventually have to deal with the phone in my cleavage. It put us in a weird, damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don't situation. If I pulled it out, I would be touching his phone, a big privacy violation. If I let him take it out, my friend's hand would be basically down my dress and in my boobs.

Tough call.

I could tell he was feeling the same.

"Well," I finally giggled, "I can't go around like this!"

"Well," Ronaldo said, "I can't just take it."

"No, you can't," I replied. "Question mark."

"You take it!" he insisted.

"I can't take someone else's private property!" I giggled.

"I can't reach down your dress!" he insisted.

"You can't," I repeated. "Question mark."

I got up off the couch and started to walk around the room.

"Aerith, what are you doing?" Ronaldo asked.

"Maybe it'll fall out," I suggested. "It won't break, will it?"

"It's in a case," he replied.

It didn't fall out.

I then started to run.

It still didn't fall out.

I decided to make the situation as fun as I could.

"Catch me if you can!" I said playfully.

Ronaldo got up and started to chase me.

He chased me through the sitting room and into the kitchen before he finally caught up with me.

Then, realizing the phone wasn't going anywhere on its own, Ronaldo quickly reached in.

I felt his fingers on the skin of my boobs, but I knew it wasn't intentional.

In any event, he was able to get his phone.

For a moment, we stared awkwardly.

And then, I kissed him on the mouth.

I don't know why. Maybe the chase set something off. Or maybe it was him accidentally touching the twin peaks.

Ronaldo looked at me stunned for a moment. Then, he kissed me.

It was then my turn, but we kissed again, this time simultaneously. It quickly became deep, with our tongues in each other's mouths.

And, before I had even realized it, I had pulled his shirt off.

He did not object.

We resumed kissing passionately, his hands running over my back through my dress.

"Let's go upstairs," I said to him as I took his hand and led him up the stairs.

I took him into my room, and didn't even bother turning on the light.

The rest wrote itself. We started kissing again. Then, he unbuttoned my dress.

I unzipped his jeans.

My dress and his jeans fell to the floor at the same time.

We continued to stand and make out in our underwear. We kissed deeply as we ran our hands over each other's skin.

"You have protection?" he whispered, aware of what was imminent.

"I'm on the pill," I replied between kisses.

I have to be careful...very careful about sex; I'll explain why later.

Five minutes went by before we stopped making out and looked at each other in the eyes.

It was time.

Ronaldo nervously reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. He struggled a bit; I think this was his first time. My bra fell to the floor as he slipped off his boxers.

We kissed some more.

He felt me up.

Then, I pulled my panties off my body.

We checked out each other's nude bodies for a brief moment.

Then, Ronaldo picked me up.

He carried me over.

He laid me on my bed.

And we did it.

We then put our clothes back on, went downstairs, and finished the movie. After we warned each other not to tell anyone about that evening, I had an epiphany.

I realized the thrill; we did it without going on a few dates and getting to know each other. I shared an intimate moment with Ronaldo unexpectedly, and I suddenly wanted to see him again.

Badly.

And I mean I wanted to see him again, and us to rip each other's clothes off.

On the inevitable fourth day, I told him to meet me in my bedroom. He came in to find me sitting up in my bed, wearing a white tee shirt, and my lower half covered with my sheets and blankets.

I started a movie with the remote, and I waited. An hour in, he checked his phone.

"Hey!" I playfully reprimanded him. "Didn't I say that was rude?"

"I wasn't checking my phone!" Ronaldo insisted.

I then got out of bed to reveal that all I was wearing on my lower half was a thong. A mahogany thong, to be exact.

"You think I'm that stupid, don't you?" I said, flaunting my butt in his direction.

What followed was Ronaldo popping out of bed and us playfully chasing each other around my room. After that, off came his shirt and pants, off came my shirt and thong, and we did it. We then resumed the movie, but this time we stayed naked, and over the covers.

But all good things must come to an end, no pun intended. Ronaldo had to go back to college and start his spring semester. But it led me to realize what I needed was a little more sensuality on a first date. Maybe a crop top. Maybe a bikini if it's on the beach.

And if all that makes me sound like a slut, I'm not. I'm as monogamous as the next good girl, and try very hard to make a relationship work. I've had lots of platonic guy friends over the years, and never had any plans to have sex with them, but if it happened, it happened. Sometimes things run away with themselves.

Actually, the only other guy friend I did it with was my friend Tobin, another high school pal. I didn't originally plan on it, but, when Zack disappeared, he really took care of me. I mean, he went to all my events and took me to the prom, so on prom night, I decided he deserved it. I felt that, after all he had done for me, he earned his way into my pants. So we did it in our hotel room on prom night.

So now all I needed to do now was set up the date. At first, I thought of a beach on the Eastern Continent. Maybe if I went on a first date in a bikini, that would spark some chemistry. Then I realized that the beaches around Midgar was filthy and did not attract too many people.

Then I remembered the trip to Eros Nova my mom had offered me a few months back that I had turned down. I was really regretting that now, and I was hoping that offer was still on the table.

It was worth a try.

The problem was that I was afraid of the sky. I rarely left the city, and when I did, I usually tensed up. I sometimes wanted to tell my mom I wanted to go, but I got nervous about the sky.

Of course, I knew that the longer I waited, the less likely we could go. I realized I needed to put on my big girl panties and just admit I wanted to go. So I finally got around to it the week of my twentieth birthday. There was no way to ask it, except to ask it up front.

"Mom," I recall saying, "I thought about it, and I'd like to take up your offer for the trip to Eros Nova."

And I thought, in my mind, that there was a fifty-fifty chance she could answer either way, though I was kind of leaning toward a yes.

"It's too late," my mom replied.

My heart immediately sank.

I wanted to kick myself; I knew I shouldn't have waited.

I didn't lash out at her because it was genuinely my fault.

"What about my twenty-first?" I requested.

"We can," my mom replied. "Provided we're both still interested."

That did not sound too hopeful.