I wake up curled into his side. My legs are entangled with his, and my head rests gently on his chest, rising and falling with his deep breaths. I can hear his heartbeat too; I can’t believe it’s real.
Suddenly Henry inhales sharply, and I feel him squirm under me for a second before settling back down. Then he reaches up and places his warm hand on my back, right between my shoulder blades. He rubs the area slowly for a moment before speaking, “How did you sleep?”
“Better,” I hum, snuggling into his warm body. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling.
After a few moments, he adds quietly, “I never told my father I was going to be staying the night with you.”
“And?”
“I’m going to get beat when I get home for sure.”
“Then don’t go home,” I tell him, nuzzling him gently.
“I have to.”
I sigh, “Okay, okay. Just stay for a little longer though.”
Henry is quiet for a moment like he’s genuinely thinking about giving in to me, but much to my disappointment, he sits up off the bed instead. I roll away from him and pout to myself, crossing my arms. When Henry notices this, a look of amusement shapes his expression.
“Don’t be angry,” he says. “You know my father is strict.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want you to go. What if you start ignoring me again?” I whine.
Henry’s expression turns into mild surprise as he slides off the bedside and starts picking his clothes from the floor. “I won’t.”
“Hmph, you did last time.”
“I am sorry,” he apologizes sincerely, slipping his shirt over his head. “I was scared.”
Upon hearing this, I’m immediately struck with pity, and while that may be insulting to his independency, I can’t help it. He’s so innocent and honest. It’s virtuous, and it makes me love him even more. And because of that, it’s incredibly hard not to stare, so I don’t try to stop myself. I just lay in watch, taking in his every movement and cherishing his very presence. It makes me feel all warm and happy inside. It’s wonderful.
“You’re mine,” I abruptly speak up.
Henry, not having expected that, freezes up and looks over to me. It takes a second or two before his shock wears off, and he resumes where he left off, snapping his suspenders in place. “I am.”
The simple response makes me smirk as I slip out of bed, walk over to him, and grab him around the waist, interrupting him with a hug. I feel him place his hand down in my hair and rustle it affectionately.
“You are the dearest to me, Henry.”
“And to you as well.”
I bite my lip and squeeze him closer to me. “Can we at least hang out later?”
“Of course.”
The corner of my mouth pulls up in contentment, and I reluctantly push away from him. “I’ll walk you out. Just let me get dressed first, okay?”
I catch his nod before I turn around to grab my pants from the floor. Now, it’s his turn to gawk lecherously as I ready myself to go downstairs. If it were anyone else, the extra attention would seem anxiety-inducing, but he’s seen me like this before, so I don’t mind at all. I’m not bothered by what he may be thinking either. Since, apparently, he’s liked me for quite some time now. Any thoughts he may be having at the moment have probably been thought up before, so as far as I can tell, the only difference between then and now is the ability to act on those thoughts.
And I definitely have no objections to him acting on those thoughts.
I pull my shirt over my shoulders and decide that’s decent enough to leave my bedroom, so I turn back and grab Henry’s hand before opening the door of my room. I gently tug him behind me, down the stairs and hall, and into the living room where my father is sat reading a newspaper. I pause at the front door and turn to Henry one final time.
“Meet by the creek?” I confirm for later, and Henry gives me a half-nod with a smile.
“Of course.”
Then his smile falters for a second, and he looks behind himself at my father. I follow his gaze and notice nothing out of the normal, but I realize quickly that Henry was only checking for prying eyes. He doesn't miss the opportunity to swoop in and place a quick kiss on my lips, and it takes me by surprise because Henry is not one to make such bold moves.
Immediately after, before I can even collect myself again, Henry’s out the door, leaving me behind with a smile and a darkening blush. It only gets worse too when I look up to see Pa smiling slightly at his paper.
“I know your paper isn’t that funny,” I remark. “Not a single word.”
“Alright, I won’t say anything,” he laughs quietly, but he continues to smile down at his paper.
I want the self-control to leave it alone, but I can’t resist asking, “No, what?”
“I thought you di—”
“Now, I’m curious. What?”
My father shrugs with a happy smile. “It’s just nice to see you happy. It's something I wish I still had.”
Ah, fuck.
I let go of a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding and drag myself over to sit on the couch next to Pa. I lean over and rest my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“What I said yesterday.”
“No point in apologizing if it’s true,” he tells me.
“Yes, there is.”
“Nope. It’ll make you feel better about yourself, but it does nothing for the person it was said to, especially if it’s true.”
“I didn’t mean it,” I lie simply, but he knows better than that.
“Yes, you did. Own up to that. You did mean it, and I needed to hear it.”
I raise my head and give him a skeptical expression. “You’re a terrible father.”
“I’m well aware.”
Then before I can say anything more, the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs takes away my attention. I lean off of my father just as Gunther enters the room, looking excited yet nervous. He always sort of looks like that though, so I didn’t expect any less.
“I’m heading off now!” he announces to me and my father as he marches through the room.
I pump my fist in the air unenthusiastically for him, and my father winks.
“Go get’er,” Pa encourages him.
“That’s what we’re hoping for,” Gunther concludes, stopping briefly to grab his coat and walking out the door.
“And that makes for two settled kids,” Pa mutters. “One to go, and then I’m done.”
“Been praying for that day?” I joke.
“Since y’all were born.”
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
I reach down to the forest floor and pick up a broken stick. I weigh it in my palm for a second before reaching out and poking Henry with it. He jumps forward with a yelp and twists around to face me.
“What are you doing?” he laughs.
“Fight me,” I taunt him.
He smiles and reaches up, grabbing a branch from the tree above him and breaking it off with ease. The joyful expression drops from my face upon seeing how much larger and longer his stick—no, branch—is. My measly twig drops out of my hand in defeat, and I hesitate before breaking into a sprint in the opposite direction. I hear Henry chuckle heartily as he takes off after me. He’s faster than me though, and his footsteps gradually get closer with each second.
“No, no, no, no, no!” I holler through pants. “I’m sorry; I won’t poke you ever again!”
Henry scoffs, still chasing close behind me. “Too late for apologies!”
I shout when I feel the tip of his stick prod at my back. Thinking quick, I stop in place and duck down, immediately turn tailing. Henry can’t stop himself—much less turn around too—in even half the time it took me; he’s too bulky, even more so with that branch. I laugh proudly as I flee in the opposite direction toward the sound of running water.
“Hey, wait! That’s not fair,” Henry calls out.
I grin widely and keep running, under the impression that Henry couldn’t possibly catch up to me now, but I should know that arrogance is blinding. As soon as I hear his footing behind me again, a new wave of panic washes over me before I’m tackled to the ground. We roll over the dirt floor until Henry has me pinned down, straddling me and keeping my wrists firmly restrained above my head.
“How?” I ask wheezing. “How did you get me?”
“I dropped the branch; it was slowing me down.”
“That’s not part of the game,” I complain.
He starts in a mocking voice, “That’s not part of the—nor is using my own body against me!”
I laugh and try to pull my arms down, but Henry doesn’t let me.
“Either let go or kiss me,” I warn him.
“Or you’ll do what?” he asks lasciviously, and it’s so unlike him that it throws me off, totally interrupting my carefully played demeanor.
A rush of nervousness falls over me, and a blush rises into my cheeks. “I-I’ll...”
“I’ve got you pinned down. You can’t do anything,” he whispers, leaning in slowly.
I swallow thickly and look down at his lips. “Kiss me.”
He brushes his lips against mine but doesn’t move any closer.
“Please?” I ask, and my voice breaks.
Then he does.
My heart leaps in my chest, and my stomach flips so violently that, for a moment, I think I’m going to throw up. I want to pull him closer into me, but every time I try to bring my hands down, he puts more weight on them. It’s torturous in an almost pleasurable way, taking my breath away and disorienting me entirely. I can’t think, but I like it that way.
Then just when I think I’m going to have to push Henry away to let me breathe, he does it himself. Although, he gives me only a split-second to inhale before connecting our lips back together, and I love it. Suffocation has never felt better in my life.
Eventually, the heat of it all dies down, and his kisses slow until it’s just him resting his forehead against mine, our labored breaths fanning against each other’s faces. He moves his hands away from my arms to rest on either side of my body, and I reach up to hold him around the neck.
“It’s getting late,” he tells me.
“Yeah, but I’d rather stay here with you.”
“I’ll walk you home.”
And disappointingly, Henry doesn’t leave time to argue. He promptly climbs off of me and helps me up onto my feet. I have to dust myself off a bit after, but he doesn’t do the same to himself, only adding to his whole lumberman aesthetic.
Then, he does exactly as he said he would and walks me to my house. Quietly. It’s strange, but then again, all day he’s been acting strange—bold, certain, sure. It’s unlike him or maybe more like him, and maybe I just didn’t know this part of him.
When we get to my front door, Henry doesn’t hesitate; he grabs onto my arm and pulls me into him, kissing me firmly. Once again, I didn’t have to make the first move, and it’s thrilling. I reach up to place my other hand behind his neck to keep us close, but I retract in surprise when I feel his tongue dart out to graze my lips.
“You’re so confident today,” I remark, looking at him incredulously.
“I don’t have to walk on eggshells anymore.” (I think I swoon.)
I smile as I push my fingers through his red hair. “Yeah, this is nice.”
“It is.”
“I don’t want this to end.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
I look up at him, and I realize he interpreted what I said entirely different than what I meant. I was talking about this moment, right now, but yeah, I guess that works too. Forever is just fine too.
“I’d like that.”
“I would too, but for now...” he pauses, grabbing ahold of both of my hands and raising them up gently. He kisses my fingers softly and glances at me. “For now, I have to go home.”
“You can stay the night,” I suggest, my mind automatically darting to the thought of continuing whatever that was in the woods.
He shakes his head and smiles, letting my hands fall out of his. “My father won’t like that very much. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay, okay,” I surrender, turning my eyes to the floor.
“Great,” he mutters. Then he kisses the top of my head and walks off without a prolonged farewell. I miss him already, but I understand the necessity to leave and the cut-and-go departure. It saves the oversentimental back and forth.
Deflated, I open the door to my house and go inside, expecting my adventures for today to be over, but alas, despite my emotional exhaustion, I am confronted with a complication when I see Gunther on the couch, bent over with his head in his hands as sobs wrack his body.
“Christ, Gunther,” I gasp, hurrying over to kneel at his feet.
Ma and Pa are already at his sides, Pa rubbing his back and Ma holding a glass of water for him. Both wear a worried expression as Gunther cries silently there. I suspect what’s the matter, but I decide to inquire anyway.
Aside to my mother, I ask, “What happened?”
“He hasn’t said yet,” she tells me without looking me in the eye. Then to her other son, she implores, “Oh, Gunther, won’t you say what’s wrong?”
I look to my brother for a moment then back to my mother. “Where’s Alice?”
“In her room.”
I nod then motion for Ma to move over some so that I can sit next to Gunther. She hesitates but, in the end, obliges and lets me position myself between her and her firstborn.
“Gunther,” I start, using my most comforting voice. “Hey, what’s going on?”
He tilts his head over to look at me just slightly, and I see his eyes are red with the strain of having cried for a while. I reach over and take his hands from under his head and hold them in my own.
“C’mon, you know me, Gunther. We’re all worried for you. Can you tell me what happened?”
I can feel Pa looking at me in sheer amazement when Gunther sniffles and barely forces out, “Her father said no.”
Without hesitating, I pull Gunther into a hug and let him sob against my shoulder as my parents get riled up, each asking why incessantly. At first, I don’t think he’ll respond since Ma and Pa are so … intrusive, but Gunther surprises me. Though however muffled, it still breaks my heart.
“Because I’m not Jewish.”
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