He doesn’t usually but that doesn’t mean I don’t wait all the same. The door bell rings and I feel the excitement I felt sixteen years ago, innocent anticipation only a little child could have. The younger me bursts through the front door of the tiny apartment shouting an over-joyed greeting to…the paperboy. The child me is crestfallen, and I feel that inside all over again and seeing this scene replayed made me remember why things like this stuck with you through life. Seven years after this, and I’ve moved up north to a new suburban place and school leaving everything I ever knew behind me. I’m walking through my front door after a strange unremarkable first day. I remember thinking that I’d done well of just sinking into my surroundings until my grandmother walks past me and pulls a sign off my back. Another milestone in rejection and disappointment for me. Same father, eleven years later and I’m not getting out of bed for something it’d be better that I didn’t go to. He’s not. His hands knead my ass as his mouth moves to my waistband. I push my hips towards him, wanting desperately for there not to be layers of fabric between us. He stands up and I can’t help but let out a whine. I’m so ready for him. Dripping. “Bedroom?” He asks, his voice low and husky. I nod towards the end of the hall and he wordlessly picks me up. I wrap myself around him, arms, legs, lips. With one hand under my ass, he grabs the paper bag off the entry table. “Not just ice cream then?” I ask. “Condoms.” “I guess we have a long night ahead of us.” I laugh. “Did you get them too?” “Mmhmm.” I end the conversation by shoving my tongue in his mouth. Our trip from the front door to the bedroom is not as graceful or sexy as it is in the movies. Ethan slips on the throw rug in the hallway and smashes me into the wall. There is a crash as a piece of art hits the floor. Ethan pulls his mouth from mine, looking concerned. “Don’t worry about it.” I force his lips.
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