I wanted so badly to get home to you.” I laid my head on his chest for a few minutes listening to his words. His heart was beating quickly and his hands were softly rubbing my back. My body got the chills beneath his fingers and I wanted him so badly. I wanted to feel what I had felt earlier, even more then that, I wanted him to feel it as well. “Nolan,” I asked pulling away from him and sitting up in the bed. My eyes had adjusted enough to the dark that I could see him well enough from where I was now sitting. “I was wondering something.” I stopped for a moment to take a deep breath before asking my question. “Have you ever had sex?” Nolan sat up in the bed and pulled himself to sit next to me. We leaned back against the wall and looked at each other the best that we could. “I have never had sex,” he said giving me what I knew to be an honest answer. “But I have done a lot of other sexual things with girls.” “Oh,” I said kind of looking away from him. I had never done anything. She had often wondered what he had really meant by this, aside from the trashy, airport novel connotations it could have so easily carried. Sometimes she felt as though she was under a spell of some making, and imagined him in his darkened cell, candles burning, at a makeshift altar carrying out the ritual that seemed to tattoo him on her heart. Sometimes she imagined that he had approached a casting agency and hired actors of his own age and bearing his resemblance. He would instruct these people to silently invade her life, as if extras in an art-house film by some contemporary director, as the fellow on the tube, the man who takes dog out Sundays, the guy in front of her in the bank, that waiter… She sometimes even imagined that what he had told her he believed was true, that they were soul mates. This idea occasionally amused her, as she fantasised about all their possible past lives together, but most of the time this notion gave her a strange feeling in her stomach. She didn’t.
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