Roll Over, Give In

Trent poked Ada in her side.

“Mmph. Stop,” she mumbled, chewing on her fingernail.

“You’re always reading. Come on, let’s go do something.” Trent pressed.

“You silly American boys have no respect for good literature.”

“That’s why we come to London and latch on to beautiful, intelligent, well-read English women like yourself. Ada, you’ve read that book a million times.” Trent kissed her neck.

“It’s good. I like it.” She made no attempt to stop him, but gave no reaction.

His dark, shoulder length hair brushed against her neck and chin. He pushed the book out of her hands and slid closer to her on the ivory couch. Ada’s book fell to the floor with a bang.

She picked it up and clocked him gently over the head. “Honestly Trent, you’ve got the sex drive of a sixteen year old boy.”

“It’s only when I’m with you,” he tucked her short brown hair behind her ear, “You make me crazy like that.”

Ada wouldn’t look into his deep brown eyes. She knew she would melt and give in.

Getting Ada to even fool around with him was like a game for Trent. She wanted to; they both knew it. But Ada knew Trent liked a challenge. And she was a good girl.

Trent and Ada were different. Ada was fresh out of college; and aspiring writer. She liked people to think that she was no fuss, but things were meticulous. Her small, smart frame, her short brown hair and her beautiful green eyes, often hidden by her reading glasses. She cared about first impressions.

When Trent met Ada, he had no idea what he wanted to do with himself. He was a twenty-four year old shaggy haired young man that had wasted six years of his life and many thousands of dollars of his parents’ money studying law at Boston University, just because his father never got to be a lawyer. Trent left for London to clear his mind, but met Ada and never went back to Boston. That was two years ago. Trent was now the guitarist for a fairly well known local band. It meant a lot to him. But not half as much as Ada did.

“Come on…”

“Trent, please.” She whispered. She was nearing the end of her rope and she hated giving in. She felt weak then. But she knew it would make Trent happy.

“It’s a Saturday night. Most people are out at clubs now. And here you are, lounging on a sofa, reading Poe for the millionth time, starving off your boyfriend.”

“Alright Trent, you win.” She stood up, letting the worn afghan fall off of her legs to the floor. She smoothed her linen lounge pants and fixed the straps on her pink tank top. With one of her hands in Trent’s hand, and a torn copy of The Raven in the other, she followed Trent into their bedroom.

“You know,” she said as he kissed her and she kissed him back, “my mum would murder me if she even knew I was living with a boy.”

“She still doesn’t know?”

“My mum and I? It’s been don’t ask, don’t tell for years.”

When Trent woke up the sun was shining and the white and blue bed sheets looked even brighter than they had the night before. He looked over to Ada. She was reading and hadn’t noticed that Trent was awake yet. She had already put her bra back on; she had this terrible fear that Joseph was going to come barging into their room some random morning, demanding the flat payment they were behind on, and she didn’t want to look completely indecent.

Trent smirked, rolled over and kissed Ada’s stomach. She swatted him away; she hated her stomach. She was slightly squishy and she had stretch marks from weight she had lost in the last year. Ada found her stomach to be ugly and unattractive. Trent thought it was sexy.

“Good morning to you too, dearest.”

“You know I hate my tummy.” Ada said.

“I woke up and your nose was in a book again. I wanted you to see me instead of a bunch of words floating around in your brain.”

“I do see you, Trent. You’re more important than these words. But you were asleep when I woke up and surely waking up to see your girlfriend reading is better than waking up to find her side of the bed cold because she take’na piss or in the kitchen drinking tea without you.”

Trent smiled, “One more time.” He rolled closer to her.

Ada put one of her hands on either side of his face and kissed him quickly.

“No,” she smiled. “Trent, you’re twenty-six; I’m twenty-two. We’re still young. You want this like we’re never going to be together again, as if it were all to end tomorrow and there would be nothing left of us. That’s not going to happen. We both know it.”

“It could all end tomorrow, Ada. We just never know. The world could stop turning or something could happen to one of us at anytime. But that’s not why I always want to be with you. That’s the funny thing, Ada. I can’t function without you. Just you. Not some novel or poem. They’re beautiful, I know. But they’re only words, not actions. Actions mean so much more. So just be with me. Roll over and give in.”

So she did.