Will's apartment was clean and comfortable, but not exactly my style. I had been here enough times over the past few months to know that he never changed the place. His furniture looked like each piece came from a different collection at IKEA, yet they still managed to match in the sense that nothing matched. I liked it here.
We started dating in June, when Will officially completed his post-doc position and was no longer affiliated with the university. The last thing I wanted to do was look unprofessional by dating someone within the department, but I had to admit that flirting with him in his office when it was just the two of us and seeing his face flush while my chest went on fire felt so damn good.
Will is kind, smart, and an excellent kisser. I know this because his tongue is currently in my mouth as we make out on his worn, polyester couch.
"Your skin is cold," he murmured, "I should warm it up for you."
We had just gotten back from a walk around Queen's Park and the early December air was frigid. But as Will trailed kisses along my jaw and then down my neck, I felt the temperature rise. I moaned and felt him smile against my collar bone.
"I like that," I sighed. I stopped feeling shy about being with Will in this way the first time he saw me naked and put his mouth over my most intimate area.
"Let me know when you're not so cold anymore, so we can get these clothes off."
My heart thudded in my chest. Will and I had done some things, yes; things that I hadn't done with anyone ever before. But we had yet to do the one thing that I had done with someone else.
"If you want to, obviously. Only if you want to," Will said, sensing my hesitation.
"Yeah, I want to. I'm ready," I admitted, more to myself than him.
He smiled and grabbed my hand, and led me to his small, no-frills bedroom. This room was my favourite part of his apartment. It smelled the most like Will and there were statistics textbooks stacked against his walls.
I watched Will take his shirt off, exposing a decently muscular torso and defined arms with inked Chinese symbols lining his inner biceps. Heat pooled deep in my stomach and the butterflies fully took flight when I watched him take his jeans off. Clad in only his boxers, he climbed onto his bed and helped take off my clothes, kissing each part of my body as it became exposed.
"You're good at this," I whimpered.
"I've had lots of practice," he smiled.
I froze.
"Everything okay?" Will peered up at me.
"I don't," I swallowed, "Have a lot of practice, I mean."
He nodded slowly, digesting the information. "Get out of my apartment right now."
I laughed heartily, because making stupid jokes like this was exactly his personality.
"Camille, that's more than okay," he insisted. "We can take this as slow as you want." He ran his thumb along my jaw. "Is this your first time?"
I shook my head, trying to contain that awful sense of naivete I felt when I thought about that night with Taylor.
"Second," I admitted.
"No worries, baby."
When I simply smiled in response, Will took it upon himself to continue to bring my fleece-lined leggings down my legs.
"Can I ask you something?" I blurted. He nodded. "How many people have you been with? I won't judge, I'm just... curious."
"Okay," Will said, pursing his lips. "Well, I'm 27 and I started having sex when I was 17, so...honestly, I'm not sure. Maybe 10? In my early twenties I had a girlfriend for a few years so she was the only one for a while, but other than that, I've hooked up quite a bit."
He was so shameless, as he should be.
"So if you only had one girlfriend, who were the other girls you slept with?"
Will shrugged. "Girls I connected with that I met at a bar, some friends."
My stomach flipped and my body tensed. I swallowed.
"You've had sex with friends, as friends and nothing more? That worked out okay?"
Will assessed me curiously, as if he sensed that there was a deeper reason why I was asking this question. He was right, of course.
"Yeah, it did. We knew we were just friends before we did it. Neither of us declared our love or anything."
He scoffed lightly, and I swear I have never felt like a bigger idiot than in all my 23 years of life.
"You good?"
I nodded. "So what does this mean for us? Can we still keep this relationship on the casual side? We're having fun, right?"
Will didn't respond with words, and instead ran his hands down my thighs. He squeezed them gently and smiled.
"A lot of fun," he winked.
I inhaled deeply and told him I was ready. Will put the condom on swiftly and took his time to ensure that I was fully ready before he entered me. He was right; he clearly did have a lot of practice. My head rolled back, deep into the pillow, as Will rocked his body back and forth, hitting me at different angles each time. My body was tingling with pleasure and it felt good. Very good.
But it didn't feel like love. I knew that feeling pretty freaking well, and this wasn't anything close to it.
When Will lifted my right leg so that he could go in deeper, I let myself truly enjoy the feeling. I was having casual sex, and it was okay to like it. I didn't mean to think of my parents while being fucked, but I couldn't help but think about how one day I'd have to tell them just how damaging their teachings about sex and love were to me.
This felt good. When I came down from the high of my climax, I admitted to myself that I could see why people hooked up.
Reality slapped me in the face. I had been angry at him for all that time, and even though I forgave him and got over him, I was angry again. But at myself, this time.
I woke up alone the next morning. Where Will's body had slept was a note, explaining that he had to attend a seminar and would be back by 3 pm. I had known about this, and thought it was nice that he let me sleep in. It wasn't a dream, then, when I felt a soft kiss on my forehead when the sun rose. The note told me that I could help myself to breakfast and that although he didn't expect me to sit in his apartment all day and wait for him, he definitely wouldn't be angry with me if I chose to do that.
I made some earl grey tea in the quaint kitchen while I munched on a sea salt and chocolate Rx bar and killed time on my phone. When I finished my breakfast, I showered (savouring the feeling of using Will's woodsy body wash), changed back into my clothes, and wrote a note of my own.
Will,
Thank you for the good time. It's 11 am, and I decided to walk home. No, it's not too cold, and no, it's not too far. Call or text me whenever you want. I promise I'll answer.
Camille
If only my note had been true. The air was frostier than I had anticipated, because even though the sun was shining brightly, it did nothing to warm the air. I cringed at how I wasn't wearing lotion or sunscreen to protect my face as I walked down the steps of Will's apartment building and onto the sidewalk.
I could have called Angela, or even Lawson, to pick me up, but I liked to walk. The air and exercise helped clear my head and gave me an endorphin boost. And right now, I needed a clear head.
Two huge, bold truths were facing me.
One, was that I broke my own damn heart, with my response to Taylor's sexual life. I assumed too much, too soon, and without enough proof.
Two, was that even though sex with Will was the best I had felt in a long time, the feeling wasn't nearly as great as when my body had been cocooned by Taylor's.
Dammit.
"Camille!"
A white Jeep pulled up to the curb, the window of the passenger seat rolled down. I had recognized the driver from his voice, but seeing his face was a pleasant surprise.
"Taylor, hey," I said as I walked across the boulevard. "What are you doing here?"
He was wearing a Saints cap, like always, and a black hoodie. No coat. Gutsy.
"We just finished practice and I was taking the long way home. I like this area."
I nodded. This really was one of my favourite parts of the city. Equally close to the university and the downtown core, it was an area that contained three-story apartment buildings and town houses. Everything was packed pretty tight together, but I loved the feeling of it.
"What are you doing here?" Taylor asked, using my question against me.
"I was just visiting a friend. He lives on this street. I'm on my way home now."
"You're walking?" He raised an eyebrow, amused. "That is such a Camille thing. Hop in, I'll give you a ride home."
I didn't even hesitate, because the longer I was outside, the colder the temperature seemed. I almost regretted it once I was inside the warm Jeep, because I felt like an even bigger idiot than before.
"Is everything okay?"
My lips turned up into a fake smile that I knew he could see right through. He chewed his bottom lip as he turned the wheel, moving the car. I stared at his profile. He had a bit of stubble lining his jaw and his thick, black hair curled out from under his cap.
"Feel like telling me what's bothering you? I know you, Camille," he reminded me.
I sighed. His request wasn't out of the blue. We've been seeing more of each other since March, and things between us had fallen into place nicely. We were friends again.
"Just something that happened last night," I said absently.
Taylor jerked the wheel. "What happened last night? What did he do?"
"Okay, whoa, calm down. He didn't do anything wrong."
He nodded sternly, and his eyes glanced at my face, encouraging me to continue. I stayed silent. I didn't want to admit this to him.
Taylor's hand slammed down on the wheel, making me jump.
"What the hell?"
"Camille, I am so fucking sorry for what I did to you. You can barely look me in the eyes right now and I hate it, but I deserve it," he boomed.
I gulped, all the moisture in my mouth disappearing.
"Actually, Taylor, I need to apologize to you."
His body instantly calmed.
"For what?" His voice was strained.
"I slept with Will last night. Wait, shit, I shouldn't have started there. That's not what I'm apologizing for."
"You did?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. That's okay," he murmured. "Are you regretting it? Did he hurt you? Did you not want to?"
With each question his voice rose with anger.
"No, no, it's nothing like that! Listen to me for a second!" I begged. "I was wrong to make you feel like you did something wrong for having sex. And I was even more wrong to make you feel like you broke my heart by sleeping with me. You weren't my boyfriend, you didn't love me, you didn't cheat." He opened his mouth but then closed it quickly. "Taylor, I was so damn naïve. I was 21 and so dumb. I assumed too much. Yeah, you weren't completely honest with me, but I wasn't completely honest with you either."
I meant everything I said. How much pain could have been avoided if I had said, "Hey, I'm down to sleep with you, but just so you know, this would mean a lot to me, and I'm sort of in love with you?"
"Camille, Iâ... I'm not sure what to say," Taylor said after a few moments of silence.
"It's okay, you don't have to say anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel."
The sound of Taylor's inhalation filled the small space. "So, you and Will? How's that going?"
"It's casual," I admitted. "We're not together, really."
"Do you love him?" Taylor whispered. "Sorry, that's not my business."
"It's okay. No, I don't love him."
Taylor simply nodded as I fidgeted my fingers, desperate to relieve some of my tension.
"And how are things going with your relationship? Christiane, I think."
"There's not really anything there. It was casual, and I broke things off, anyways."
"Oh, okay."
Huh. Interesting.
"I didn't know you loved me when we did it," Taylor said suddenly, his voice a feather floating through the crisp winter air. "I just knew that I wanted you so badly."
Chills that had nothing to do with the weather covered my entire body and a tingle spread down from my scalp.
"I wanted you, too."
"I still want you," Taylor said, causing my knees to lose feeling.
I'm not sure if I meant what I said next, but I wanted to find out. I was stronger than I once was, and wiser too. I could now look at or think about Taylor without crying and I no longer questioned my worth or why I was unlovable. I was timid but I was determined. Those school-girl fantasies of wishing that Taylor would love me the way I loved him were long gone. Because the truth was, I think Taylor did love me the way I loved him. We're connected on some level that neither of us can comprehend. Our lives are better when the other is in it. We can talk about anything, or nothing, and there's no other place we'd want to be. We didn't have to be friends or lovers or together. We were Taylor and Camille. We were a storm.
"You know Taylor," I began, "I think it's okay if friends sleep with each other."