26 - You and Me

26

You and Me

" G et off of me!" I wiggle, attempting to get out from under Isaiah, who is perfectly content on remaining on top of me. "You're such a goon, Isaiah. Come on."

The laugh that vibrates through his body echoes onto me. His palms land on the grass on either side of my head as he leans down. "What if I don't want to?

"Well, then we're going to be late for your birthday dinner."

"But if it's my birthday, shouldn't I get to do what I want?" he asks, and his chest brushes mine when he inhales.

"I suppose." I tip my chin up, our lips brushing. "I'd still like you to get off me."

Isaiah's eyes narrow playfully. "Why? You don't like this position?"

To no surprise, my cheeks burn. "Stop."

"Stop what? I happen to like where I am."

I turn my head to avoid eye contact, eyes looking over the field from my vantage point. "We need to finish—"

"I can help with that."

"Isaiah!" I bring my hands up between us to cover my face. Heat fans out over the entire surface of my face. "When did you get like this?"

With one hand, he remains steady overtop of me and removes my hands with the other. "I've obviously had to save every dirty joke I've ever thought of for you." He kisses me on the cheeks. "Good to know they're working."

"Get off." I hear the innuendo as soon as I say it, and when his eyes light up, I know he does to.

"I plan to." Isaiah laughs and pushes up, pulling me—red-faced and embarrassed and also quite hot—up with him.

"Get away from me." I step back, attempting to put some distance between us. Ignoring the ache building when I look at him, ignoring the flickers of heat licking at my skin, begging me to go to him.

It's obviously been years since we've explored each other like that. Every day, that gets harder and harder to ignore. And it's not that I'm purposely ignoring it, but it also feels like that last guard. The last ribbon yet to be cut. Once the line is crossed—that's it. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a tiny bit scared. That those little fears are rearing their annoying heads and whispering in my ear.

"I don't want to be away from you." Isaiah closes the space with his long legs and traps me. His chosen method of attack is to kiss me anywhere he can. All over my face, my shoulders, my neck, and all the while, his fingers tickle my sides.

"Alright! You win, you win," I cry out with laughter following, and he stops. When I look up, he's got a big grin, complete with the dimple I love so much. Butterflies take flight in my stomach, a gentle feeling when it's regarding Isaiah.

"Now, let's finish your exercises so we can go."

"You mean, exactly what I wanted to do, but you were content to lay on top of me?"

Isaiah pinches my butt, and I squeal. "Precisely."

There's a pep to my step as we go through everything together. Isaiah helps with the stretches I can't do myself and walks beside me for anything else. I do a variety of things that haven't been approved but also things that have not been explicitly ruled out. I know my body. If it hurts, I stop. If it's uncomfortable, I continue. Side to side across the field, walking high knees. And Isaiah does it all with me. Maybe at a faster speed, but still, he's where I am whenever he's not teaching or writing.

Currently, he walks backward beside me. "Did you get me anything?"

"You can't just ask that."

"Well, I wouldn't to anyone normal. But it's you."

I snort. "You're such an idiot."

He reaches out and slaps my butt this time as we turn around. "Can't be mean to me on my birthday."

"I'm not!" I pull my knees up one at a time as we begin the trek back down the field.

"You're being a bit of a smartass," Isaiah says, trying and failing to sound the least bit serious.

"You like it." I raise a brow, eyes lingering on his lips. Jesus, I feel love struck and love sick all at once. If it's not Isaiah, I don't care to look at anything else.

His lips twitch, and he jogs in a circle around me. "When did I say that?"

"I can just tell." I approach him, slipping my hands under his shirt, reveling when I feel the slightest shiver roll over his skin. "Wanna know how?"

"Tell me."

"Because I know you." I rock up on my toes as best I can, and he dips his chin. "Better than anything else on the earth."

My lips brush his jawline before landing on his lips. Like clockwork, they move together like they were always meant to. Fireworks go off from my fingertips to the top of my head and crackle down my spine, leaving sparks behind. Isaiah groans, his fingers wrapping around the back of my neck, which makes my brain short circuit. Red hot heat floats over each of my nerve endings, leaving me at his mercy. His tongue gently sweeps over my lips, and I don't hesitate. He's a quick learner, and I'm pretty sure he knows me better than I know myself now and has kissed me in a way that might have changed my entire life.

I didn't know it was possible to be kissed the way he kisses me. Like it might be the last chance he'll ever get. As if in that kiss, he has to show me how much he wants me, how much he needs me. How much he loves me. In one fell swoop. In every kiss.

Being kissed by Isaiah is like standing under a midnight sky lit up with a million falling stars. A phenomenon all its own. A piece of magic in a tiny gesture.

His lips move against mine. His hands trace my skin, and the entire world falls away. The rest of it all ceases to matter when I'm under his spell.

"Matthews, get a goddamn room and get off my field." Coach Teller's voice is unmistakable. Especially with the use of a microphone.

My entire body burns, and I pull back from Isaiah, who's actively trying not to laugh. "Sorry, Coach," I yell back as loud as I can, and she waves her stupid microphone in the air.

When she's gone, I let my head land on his chest. "Oh, my fucking God. I can't believe this." He wraps his arms around me, but I can feel his intense laughter. "Stop it! I'm serious this time. I'm never kissing you in public again."

At that, he stops, pushing my hair back and tugging my head up. "Nonsense. You'll kiss me wherever and whenever you feel like it."

I roll my eyes.

"And anyway, that was the best gift you could've given me."

"You dickhead." I hit his chest and step back from him.

Isaiah plops a kiss on my cheek. "Come on. Let's get home and get ready."

He bends down and holds out his arms, and I climb up on his back like it's second nature. As always, he cradles my left knee with care, but his fingers are firm.

I rest my head on his shoulder. The spot that he gave me when I was a little girl crying after her first meaningful loss. The shoulder that got me through school and through my parents' divorce and has absorbed so many of my tears. I missed it. I'm happy it's back.

I'm happy it's mine again.

"Just get in the shower with me, Ro."

I put my hands on my hips. "We're already short on time. How is that going to help?"

"One shower instead of two."

"You really think your tattooed, naked body is going to make it a quick shower?"

He chuckles, eyes roaming leisurely over my body. "It's my party. We can be five minutes late."

"Five minutes, my ass. What fantasy world do you live in?" I ask, turning and petting Raven on the bed. "Oof!" Once again, I'm lifted off the ground. Raven watches me with bored eyes and a tail flicking back and forth. "Isaiah, don't you dare."

He carries me into his bathroom, where the steam is already lingering on the mirrors. "Aurora," I blink, "can I take your shirt off?"

My mouth gapes slightly before recovering. "I suppose."

"Is that a yes?"

Speechless, I nod. Suddenly, I'm as switched on as a livewire. Isaiah grips the bottom of my t-shirt and slowly lifts it up, drawing it over my skin, the fabric brushing against my now sensitive skin. It's tossed against the door.

"My turn." His eyes warm when they land on my cheeks.

"You want me to do it?" I squeak out.

"Yes."

I step forward and lift his own shirt off, purposely running my fingers over the smooth planes of his stomach and his ribs and over the ink on his chest. When I rock onto my tip-toes, Isaiah helps me out, pulling it the rest of the way off.

"How is this any quicker?" I breathe out.

Isaiah reaches for the band of my shorts. "Aurora?"

"Hm?"

"Shut up and enjoy it."

I swallow as he pulls the shorts down, palming over my thighs and the back of my knees. Whether he means to or not, he kneads my calf muscles on his way back up, stopping at the brace. "Off?"

"Mhm."

He pulls the brace off and sets it on the sink. And at the slow, leisurely pace of his, his shorts come down. Eventually, it all ends up in one pile, and my brain is on overdrive.

Isaiah pulls back the shower curtain. "Let's go." Behind me, his lips brush over my ear. "It's just me, Aurora. It's just you and me." He places a kiss on my neck. "Besides, there's no expectations here. Except to get all sudsy."

"Don't say the word sudsy."

I don't know why I'm nervous. What if I've changed too much? What if my body is different and unappealing to him? What if I fucking overthink my way into fucking this up?

"Aurora, stop overthinking it."

I sigh and step in under the spray of hot water. As the water hits Isaiah, I'm transfixed by the droplets clinging to his skin, sliding over his tattoos.

Reaching out, I trace a nail over some of the art on his arm. Isaiah watches me with those brown eyes that I love so much. "I was jealous of these when I first saw them."

"The tattoos?"

"Yeah." I'm grateful that he keeps his eyes connected with mine. "Or, more specifically, I guess the tattoo gun. Whatever. I was so messed up over the fact that it felt your skin when I couldn't. That it got to touch you and I didn't. It was incredibly dumb to be jealous over an inanimate object, but I was."

Isaiah's eyes crinkle, and I wrap my hand around his wrist.

"I guess it doesn't matter now."

"It doesn't. You can touch me as often as you'd like. Make up for lost time." He reaches over and grabs the soap. "But it wasn't dumb. I would see your posts, watch your games whenever I could, and I was jealous of everything and everyone. But all of that, it…it just doesn't matter anymore."

I nod, taking in my fill of Isaiah. He gets more beautiful every time I look at him.

"I can see the wheels spinning, Aurora. What're you thinking?" His voice is gentle, like his hands as they roam over my skin with soap.

Glancing down, I look at my own skin, my own body. We've been through a lot—ups and downs. Periods where I hated it, where I didn't understand why it was built the way it was. As I've gotten older, I usually view it through a neutral lens. It's usually under the scrutiny of someone else that I become aware of it again. It took a lot to understand that it was just a body and not something that determined anything else about me. So, I don't know why I'm apprehensive about it now—with Isaiah, of all people.

Maybe it's the years we lost. Maybe it's the injury making me doubt my body's abilities. Maybe it's just my stupid brain, who won't leave me alone.

And I hate how weak sharing vulnerabilities makes me feel. Like it's dumb to admit that I'm human.

"My body is—it's different now. What if you don't like it? What if you aren't attracted to me anymore?" It all comes rushing out, and I turn, facing the shower head instead of him. The water hits my face, dampens my hair, and still, I can only focus on the quick beating of my heart.

Isaiah's hands slide over my waist. "Rora, that's not fucking possible."

He moves his hands up, over my small breasts which are fully at attention, and back down my rib cage. Every trace of his hands makes me feel like I'm floating. The slow, sensual touches light up the surface of my skin, like being touched by the sun's rays. It feels like the word twinkling. That's the only thing I can think of. His fingertips, his hands, his touch—it makes me feel like I'm fucking twinkling.

"Your body is different. So is mine. We're older. But that doesn't mean I don't like it." He chuckles against my throat, kissing me there. "I've never had a single negative thing to say about your body, not even a thought. If you need me to prove it, I'm happy to do so every single day. Minute even. I'll get down on my knees and worship you if you want."

There goes my cheeks. "Not necessary."

"To be determined." Isaiah's hands roam over the swell of my hips, his lips not far from my skin. "There isn't a single thing about you I don't like, Aurora. Inside or out. You're beautiful and smart and strong, and I promise you, I'm still attracted to you. I always will be." He presses against me to prove it. "Anytime you feel like this, you tell me. But stop worrying. Stop thinking something is going to scare me away. And if you can't make it stop, you tell me."

My breath is gone, and there isn't any oxygen left in the room because Isaiah stole it. He continues his self-appointed job of soaping up my body, bending down and soaping my legs, gentle on my knee. Gentle on the curve of my butt, where he places a kiss on the swell. God, I haven't felt like this in so long. That euphoric feeling of being touched by someone who you want to touch you. Of feeling like you're the only two people on the planet.

Isaiah kisses his way up my spine and lands on my neck in the spot he quickly discovered drives me insane. Teeth nip at the sensitive skin, and a shiver runs through me despite the heat and the steam. I take the soap from him and turn around, facing him now that my unnecessary insecurities have taken a backseat.

"There's that beautiful face." Isaiah presses me forward until my back's against the shower wall, the hot water running over both of us.

He leans forward and kisses me slowly but passionately. I feel the kiss all the way to my toes. His hand is curled around my neck, pressing into the sides just so, and I'd like to say I'm not putty in his hands, but I am. Away from Isaiah, I am strong enough to get through the day, I can take care of myself and my friends and my loved ones. And I can put on a tough face. But with him, it all fades away. I don't have to be anything or anyone else but me.

I sigh into the kiss, hands draped over his shoulders, and let it all wash away. The rest of the world falls away because right now, Isaiah is the world. And I'd rather not miss a second of it.

"There she is."

I nip his lip. "Shut up."

"As you wish."

"Is this really the time to quote The Princess Bride ?"

His thigh brushes against mine, grazing against the most sensitive part of myself. Heat fans out over my skin, and my breath hitches. "There is never a bad time."

I laugh, and so does he, our lips quickly fitting back into the rhythm. Then and there, I know without a doubt I never would've found this with someone else. The intricacies of intimacy. Being comfortable enough to tell a stupid joke in a desire-filled haze and jump right back into it. No date I ever went on even once gave me hope that it could become this. Maybe I always knew it wouldn't have mattered if it did—-because in the end, they never would've been him.

My lips press harder, hoping to convey all those lovesick thoughts onto him. He groans, and the sound is music to my ears. After too long of ignoring my lungs crying for oxygen, I pull back, short of breath, but Isaiah doesn't let up. Kisses are plastered everywhere on every inch of my face. My fingers press into his skin, holding myself tightly to him so he can never consider letting me go. The water cascades over us, and his grip on me never lets up. Teasingly, his hands move over the curves of my body, planting themselves on my waist.

"Can I touch you?"

Our eyes meet, and like always, there's so much to see. So much that is only for us to know.

Being looked at like that does something to a person. Changes you from the inside out. It peels back the layers of all the parts of yourself you've deemed rough and unpleasant, and it presents them to a person who will still find the beauty in something you've decided is ugly. It makes you feel like everything, every part of you, is beautiful and won't be looked at as anything else. Isaiah sees all of me, and I see all of him. Like a telescope into each other's personal galaxies. Every star that's burnt out, every icy planet, every uninhabitable surface is simply another layer to the person you love. Another part of them you get to discover and hold as gently as the rest of them.

His brown eyes are unwavering. Warm and open. And they're all for me. Isaiah is all for me. And I am all for him. No one else.

"Yes," I breathe out.

And he does—featherlight at first, tracing over the details of my body with a loving focus. Isaiah doesn't look away as his hand explores. I take in the details—how his eyes lighten when my breath hitches or how my fingers tighten on his skin. There isn't an ounce of space between us, the firmness of his body pressed against mine. Neither of us can get enough; we never will.

Isaiah finds my shoulder and kisses every ounce of skin he can until I feel his lips at my ear. "Ro, I hope you know I will never get enough of you."

He works me up, and it's like coming alive again. Seeing the sun for the first time. Seeing falling stars and feeling the ocean touching your skin on a hot day. All the while, his mouth finds the column of my neck and my cheeks and attacks them playfully.

I giggle in the midst of it all. "Isaiah," I say, the word turning into more of a plea.

His touch turns more frantic but never less attentive. Inside my chest, my heart attempts to escape, blood rushing through my veins, turning my skin hot and my brain to mush. Sensations burst and bloom, my eyes fluttering closed of their own accord as Isaiah takes me up and up. I know with him, it's safe to fall—in more ways than one.

A moan makes its way out of my mouth, and he catches it, kissing the side of my mouth with a smile I can feel. "That's it, Ro. It's you and me. Always."

Thoughts are useless, and he plays my body like a perfect chord.

Part of me could cry at being treated like this. The way he feels about me is shown in every breath, every caress. I couldn't ask for more, but I want to. I want to ask for everything. Everything he's willing and able to give me. Overdrive is the only word that comes to mind on how I feel. My skin, my nerves, my brain. Trying to catch up with it all.

"Let me have it, Aurora."

My nails dig into his skin at his words, at his encouragement. And my body is wound so tightly, I can sense the impending snap as it attempts to get closer to him, even though it's impossible. Isaiah tugs my head back, his fingers firmly in my hair, and kisses me again—deeply, thoroughly—and I fall apart by way of his hand and his lips. Stars blink behind my eyelids, and the tightness in my lower stomach unfurls in the most intoxicating way, fanning out in pulses, making it difficult to breathe. Making it difficult to do anything but lean on Isaiah and hold onto him like he's my lifeline.

"That's it, baby. Good." He presses a soft kiss to my lips. The shockwaves continue, sporadically firing out. "I've got you. Good job, baby."

He takes every sweet, desperate sound that leaves my lips and every tug and press of my fingers until it all slowly fades away. A shooting star falling into the horizon. When I blink my eyes open, I'm met with a gentle smile and hooded eyes. I place my hands on his cheeks and pull him to me, unable to keep myself from kissing him again. And again and again.

"I like greedy Aurora," he murmurs against my lips. I can feel his heart beating in his chest against mine.

"Shut up."

"You know, you say that a lot, but I have evidence that suggests you'd rather me not." I give him another kiss, my hand sliding lower over his damp skin, but he stops me. "Later," he says, kissing the center of my palm. "We're gonna be late, after all."

I roll my eyes, my lips forming a pout. "But it's your birthday." And besides, I want to touch him. Want to make him feel like I did. I want him to see stars when he thinks of me like I do him.

Isaiah shakes his head. "I got my gift."

With a fluttering heart, I know the world gave me the best gift of all when they created Isaiah and sent him to me. There'll never be another like him. I could've spent every day of my life looking to find something that didn't exist. Isaiah is irreplaceable. No one could touch me the way he does or look at me the way he does or know the ins and outs of who I am like he does. He's got this way of making life feel fuller. He makes the world bigger.

For the rest of my days, I know I'm lucky to be here with him.

And nothing on this earth could ever compare.