They'd hugged each other on that rainy parking lot until a sliver of warmth crept through the icy wetness. With it, a long-forgotten feeling returned to Ariel, an easy closeness, a warm feeling of...was it consolation? Was it even love? Or just two pieces of lost flotsam drifted together?
There'd been no words all through the embrace, not even when they walked to Tim's entirely unsexy little car. To Ariel it felt as if she treaded on clouds of light. They were silent all the way to the blessedly warm coffeeshop he took her to. They peeled off their drenched jackets and sat in a corner, their backs against a glowing radiator. Hugging a hot cocoa, Ariel said: "I've been such a stupid ass; all this time wasted, all this agony for nothing."
"Yes," Tim agreed, "but you weren't the only one."
Everything at that utterly unremarkable place would be forever imprinted on Ariel's memory. The soothing warmth, the drinks they had, the words they said, even the torn and yellowed posters on the wall. Every detail of Tim's face, the eyes, the wet hair, the permanent grin, the scar. She had to touch it, touch him over and over again. It was suddenly all so easy. At once, they talked a lot, silly things of no importance, important things, important silly things. They laughed, they cried. Tim told her about the accident, caused by a malfunctioning of his little red sportscar. He'd been under way to find her a present for after the exams; that's why he took Allison with him, he said, for advice.
"Ugh," Ariel said at that, "asking her advice for something I might like?" He protested.
"She's different once you get to know her."
"But should I?" she answered. "Really?" She rolled her eyes, they laughed. She touched his face again, her head glowing. They talked some more. Ariel told him about Carl, but not the sex. She talked about the parties, but not the rape. She didn't say a word about the orgy.
"You must have had a great time," he said. "When will you go back?" That's when they fell silent. She leant back into the radiator, watching her hands cupping an empty mug.
"Not sure," she said. "Maybe I won't." Another silence crept in.
"Shall I get you home?" he asked.
"No! No, please, let's stay for a bit longer," she answered. "For a looooong bit." So, they ordered another drink, sipping it in silence, nibbling on a snack. Ariel's head felt light, almost empty; her body had lost all tension. Things were easy. Why was that? She laid a hand on one of his.
"Now that we're both ugly," she said, "I could love you, Tim." They chuckled. Tim put down his cup.
"I could love you," he said, "because one of us is silly." And they kissed across the table.
***
Much later, Tim took her home. Sitting in the car in front of her house they still didn't want it to end. They stared quietly through the windscreen into the empty, wet, shining street. Then they turned to each other as if prompted by a silent signal. His mouth came close and they awkwardly kissed, hemmed in by the car's lack of space.
"I'm afraid to leave you," Ariel said, panting from the intense kissing. "I'm afraid this will all end up being a dream once you're gone, and I'll hate you again." His face was almost invisible in the night's darkness, his warm hand cupped her face. She nudged her chin into it.
"Oh, but this is real," he said. "It's a dream too, though, don't you think?" She leant into his shoulder, feeling his other hand stroke her hair. Heat and humidity steamed up the windows. At last, thoughts seemed to seep in again. Small upsetting thoughts, every little one of them labeled 'reality.' But she was too tired to mind. Too tired, period. It was so much easier to reach over again and kiss him, her lips sensing the ridge of his scar. Her hand slipped inside his jacket, feeling his ribs through the moist shirt, his hollow stomach, the loose waistband of his pants. What was she doing, she wondered, what promise did her hand make? Should she stop? Was he even capable of...? Their lips separated.
"You don't have to," he said. She focused on his eyes.
"I know," she said. "But maybe I need to. Is that all right?" Her hand slipped under the waistband, feeling a soft lump inside his boxershorts. It stirred when she touched it. He mumbled a few words. "What?" she asked.
"No baseball," he said. They chuckled at the memory. It did strange things with Ariel's heart, making it flutter. Their first kisses on Necking Hill. She squeezed the lump, raising her mouth to his ear.
"I, ehm," she whispered. "I may have become fond of sports." Her hand closed around his hardening cock. "Are you even...," she asked, hating her choice of words. "I mean, can you...?" He inhaled sharply.
"You mean," he said, "can I get it up?" She just held on to his eyes. "I don't know," he went on. "Honestly, you see, ever since that day I never..." Ariel cupped her hand over the pulsing bulge, feeling its warmth. She silenced him with another kiss. The flesh in her hand stiffened until she held a fat, swollen rod that radiated heat.
