It Happened on Maple Street

Tara just sat there, and he had no idea what to say to her. He’d apologized. He’d promised never to ask again.

Not knowing what else to do, he put the car in gear and headed out to the country. He was driving toward the highway the back way, in the direction of Huber Heights, but got only as far as a deserted cove on a curve of road in the middle of nowhere before he pulled off.

Without saying a word, he leaned over the console and kissed Tara.

“I just want you to know that I respect your decision not to have sex until you’re married, and I won’t ask anymore,” he said.

“Thank you.” She didn’t sound like his Tara at all. She also didn’t sound any happier than he felt.

Starting to panic, Tim kissed her another time. And when she responded to that, he deepened the kiss. Her tongue met his, and he started to spin out of control all over again.

She was still his. And he wanted her more than ever.

“Let’s move it to the back,” he said, and then froze. Had that upset her?

The click as her seatbelt came undone almost made him laugh out loud, he was so relieved. He climbed into the seat behind them and helped her over the console, pulling her into his arms so tightly he had to tell himself to lighten up. She felt so good to him, he didn’t want to let her go.

Kissing led to touching. It always did, no matter what he knew and thought and decided. They couldn’t make love, but there were a lot of things they could do.

He unbuttoned Tara’s jeans again, needing to be as close to her as he could be. Needing to be intimate with her. He pushed his hand down inside her jeans and she let him, spreading her legs as he caressed her between her thighs. He kissed her neck at the same time, and she started to moan, deeper than before. Like she was dying, too. His penis got tighter as her noises grew louder, and then she suddenly grabbed his hand and yanked it from her jeans.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. Had he hurt her?

She was breathing heavily, almost gasping for air. “I . . . almost . . . lost my emotions.”

His car smelled like sex, and he was hard as a rock. “What does that mean?”

“You know.”

He was pretty sure he did know, but he wanted to hear her say the words.

“Why didn’t you just let it happen?”

“No way. I would have been too embarrassed.”

He’d brought her to the point of orgasm, and she didn’t seem to know what to do with that. Which made him need to take her over the edge as soon as possible. He’d never had an orgasm with a girl, either, and he wanted to do that with her.

“Do you want to try once more?”

“No.” Any other night, he might have pushed a little harder. But Tara wasn’t herself. And one thing was for certain. He didn’t want to scare his sweet girl away.

“It’s getting late,” he offered, hoping he sounded easy and non-threatening, and not as disappointed as he felt. “I should get you home.”

There were other nights. Hopefully unending numbers of them. He’d get her to come.

Helping her into the front seat, Tim held her hand all the way back to Huber Heights.

Eight

I SPENT MOST OF THE DAYS OF NOVEMBER thinking about marriage. About marrying Tim. The guy hadn’t even told me he loved me, and I was trying to figure out whether or not he’d ever marry me.

I didn’t tell anyone. I knew what it looked like—like I was some pathetic girl who’d never had a date, was desperate, and was ready to jump into marriage with the first guy who showed her any attention at all. I also knew my own heart.

I’d waited for Tim to say something about our future when he’d asked me to make love and I’d told him I had to be married first. Just a few short words were all it would have taken. I want to marry you. We’re going to get married as soon as we’re a little older. Will you marry me?

He hadn’t said anything. He’d just stopped what we were doing. As though he’d rather stop than talk about marriage.

And later, in his car, he’d said that he’d never ask again.