7. Sin of Silence Tabby

I brushed my teeth and crawled in bed, cozy with the thought that I wouldn’t spend many more nights alone. Moving in together was a conversation Rob and I’d had—and paused—a few times over the past year, but Rob slammed on the brakes every time we fought about bullshit that shouldn’t have mattered. I’d long since stopped counting how often that happened, but Annie chronicled them all.

To top off his long list of excuses, Rob feared alienating his current landlord and wouldn’t drop his lease prematurely; he said if things with me didn’t pan out, he needed an exit strategy. It burned me when he said it. Why couldn’t we charge ahead as if there was no other future?

He argued it was foolish not to think like practical adults. He had little tolerance or room for romance. Guess I didn’t really need it; after all, we loved each other, and that was enough.

Any doubts I had before tonight were stuffed deep in my sock drawer, which was now overfilled and consolidated with the drawer for my binders. He might bring in a dresser of his own, but why not at least try to make room in mine?

I let the lift of the future keep me awake for too long and scrolled through my phone while listening to the rain. Just when sleepiness was about to win out, a notification sang to me.

A new online follower. Jax.

I sighed, at first shutting my eyes tight to his name. Don’t look. You’ll never rest if you do. And if you dream of him now, he’ll never go away. He has to go away. You’re a new man. Get over it.

I tried counting sheep, not that it ever worked. Focused more on the rain. What a bore.

Think of Rob. Think of Annie. Think of your packed schedule tomorrow. Think of...oh, fuck it.

With a hunger for details, I went through his pictures and read every comment. Research, really; if he was going to encroach on my new life, he had to be vetted. Didn’t we share our social links for this purpose anyway? Our lives were wrapped up in two planes of existence: real life and the virtual. What someone did or said online now counted toward everything else. One slip up could reveal his unknown biases. Poster beware.

If Annie had been there, she wouldn’t approve. But she wasn’t around, so my digging continued.

In the few pictures he posted that weren’t of hiking trails, a pretty girl wrapped in his arms smiled through the screen. Either he still had hope for them, or he hadn’t purged her yet. A click to her page showed a new man at her side—a douchebag by all accounts in a backwards cap and shorts even though it was snowing. The caption read:

I love this picture of us from last year. Chris and I were meant to be. We should’ve known when we first met that we couldn’t resist one another. So get ready for our wedding at Red Rocks next spring! #Wedding #Engaged #RedRocks #Coloradogirl #Loveforever #ChrisAndHeather

I groaned aloud for Jax and wondered how long they’d been together before she cheated, especially if this picture was an old one. Since Jax hadn’t posted anything in over a month, I figured he probably stayed off the app to avoid seeing them together.

Until tonight, when he followed my account.

His goofy smile, the one I always loved, was brighter and more like the one I once knew the further I searched back in time on his profile. Jax’s deep chestnut eyes were rich and dynamic on film, though the pictures were nothing compared to him in real life. No—in person, he was more beautiful than could ever be captured with a lens. So much for his online self mirroring reality. His humor, his meekness, the way he never spoke above anyone at the gaming table, even when it was his turn and Hawk wouldn’t stop fussing—it was all too complex to understand with one picture. Jax was tall. Jax was bold. He was gorgeous and his lips were soft, and if he whispered in my ear, I’d lose myself all over again...

I shut my eyes and traveled back in time, touching myself while reliving what it once felt like to have his hands on me. Surely now, he’d be well-versed with what to do. Instead of fumbling and guessing what felt good, my body looked different, making things more obvious. He’d kiss down my torso and find the happy trail which led straight to the prize, without causing me any bullshit embarrassment for having hair at all. Jax said he didn’t care back then, but I did; it was easier to hide by overcompensating. But times had changed. Now I was myself, groomed but not bare.

As I quickened the motion of my hand, his voice echoed in my mind— I can’t wait to make love to you —the same words he whispered on his seventeenth birthday when we lost ourselves and became one for the first time. Jax wasn’t merely a horny, reckless teen. He truly feared hurting me, so we made out for hours while his hands explored, and when I felt ready, I invited him inside. Even though he was anxious, we felt right together, and Jax hit me deep with equipment much more substantial than the rest of his body would suggest.

Unlike those days, I now appreciated the magic of the hormones raging through him. Oh, holy testosterone, thy temple is the strength within the loins of a good man. Course through me and grant me your power. Mark me in ways my body was denied. Let me feel the pull of undeniable libido.

Yet Jax was always more than admirable flesh to me. When we were done, collapsed beside each other, his passion gave way to the same sentiments that nearly convinced me to tell him the truth. He pecked at my jawline and breathed in my ear, “Hwa, don’t ever let me go.”

The sentiment of “teenage love”—a term that brought me anger in those days—now made more sense than ever before. Teen love was far from illegitimate; it was intense. Enough to make young kids take their own lives to spite their families, as the melodramatic Shakespeare once taught. Teen love was everything. It was timeless. It imprinted on those lucky enough to find a connection that saw past puberty.

Now, as an adult, I understood: my teenage love would always burn. I was living proof that my sweet Romeo had never gone away.

The end was coming. I felt it build and finally released, yelling his name because no one could hear me, and only I would have to live with guilt the next day. With my eyes shut tight and my legs stiff, I imagined beautiful Jax beside me. Fucking me, fucking him, filling each other in more ways than I could describe.

But like the disappointment I felt for myself, the climax was weak, as if my own body inflicted punishment against what I was thinking. I rushed to the bathroom to hop in a cold shower and wash myself clean of my thoughts, as if none of it happened at all. With my future with Rob finally pushing forward, Jax couldn’t change anything. Our past was that—the past—nothing more. My teenage love had been buried this long. It could stand to stay that way.

Justifying my silence was easy. I’m protecting both of them. Nobody has to know.