The One That Got Away

*****

It was the talk of the school for a full two weeks. Monique and Oliver, sitting in a tree; k-i-s-s-i-n-g…Monique didn’t know how it had happened. She had barely made up her mind that Oliver was cute and sweet and she might like him and was just making up her mind whether or not to tell her friends about him when she realized the whole school was aware. Apparently Oliver had no qualms about telling the entire football team that he liked her and that they were ‘dating’…if a few walks on the beach could even be called that…

But now apparently, the whole school was in on their dating life and watching her like a hawk; her friends were barely speaking to her what with her ‘hiding’ the fact that she was dating a white guy. The whole thing was tiresome. Monique almost wanted to transfer schools. Almost. She was surprised to find herself really enjoying Oliver’s company and she was curious to see where he thought this was going. Personally, she was just in it for the free ice cream.

*****

That attitude lasted until they passed the six month marker, were still together, and still hadn’t done more than kiss. Monique was a seventeen year old hormonal female with needs. She was dating an extremely attractive male, athletic no less; sexual energy should not be a problem. And it wasn’t. Monique could feel the hard planes of his ere*tion digging into her side every time they kissed. But he refused to even let her touch it. He wanted to be a gentleman, he said. Treat her like a lady, he said. Monique was sick of it.

Matters came to a head when they went for a football meet two towns over. They were staying in a motel; Oliver was sharing with his team-mate and friend, Tim O’Malley. It wasn’t too hard to persuade Tim to switch with her. Her roommate, Sandra, carefully chosen for her crush on Tim, wasn’t too bummed either. Oliver had his reservations; actually wanted her to sleep in the other bed.

“Look, all we’re going to do in this bed is sleep,” Monique promised.

“Why tempt fate?” Oliver countered.

“What? You can’t control yourself?” Monique challenged.

Oliver breathed in deeply and breathed out slowly. There was really no correct answer to that question. They managed to fall asleep that night with the most minimal of make out sessions and in the morning Oliver woke up early to get them some breakfast.

*****

Monique woke up with s*x on the brain. That knowledge, that taste of Oliver and what he could do for her, was branded into her mouth. It was on her tongue when she woke up, in her pulse as Oliver opened the door, under her palms that gripped sheets instead of skin. But she didn’t lunge forward like every muscle wanted to. Oliver would probably just kiss her thoroughly then make an excuse to push her away, or something. So Monique stayed still, a tiger in long grass, and waited.

She spent Oliver’s shower-time thinking. What kind of lover was her boyfriend? The sensitive, gentle type or the alpha male? Would gentle touches or bold directness get him on board quicker? It could easily go either way, with Oliver. Still, Monique had the advantage of being able to try both.

His eyes traveled up her body to meet her own brown ones.

“Hold on,” he said before the world floated away in a haze of pleasure.

*****

“I’m pregnant,” Monique said without preamble, dropping her bag at the foot of Oliver’s bed.