CONSENT | TAFFIE’S SPACE

Taffie’s Space

She appeared to curl into herself, holding her knees to her chest and her head just as close. Every so often, she’d lift her chin to peer at him – sprawled across the mattress – and admire him for a moment. She always told him that he wore his confidence in his smile, she loved how slight it was, only just pulling at the corner of his mouth and never reaching his eyes. 

His eyes were dark. They should have terrified her, but in them she saw exactly what he wanted her to see, a love so igniting yet so… imaginary. 

“Are you going to stay like that all night?” He asked.

She shrugged. Every time she tried to move her hands from where they held her body, she froze, unable to move an inch at all.

“I’ve done this before.”

She couldn’t help but raise her eyebrow a little and scoff. To her, it was comical that he thought she didn’t already know, everyone knew. At school, he was like front page news on the local newspaper. That’s why she couldn’t move. She was somewhat star-struck.

She was in shock that she’d even made it this far. If anyone had asked her whether she thought he’d ever love her, she might’ve laughed. Yet, there they were – side by side – and so close they could hear each other’s heartbeat and feel each other’s warmth radiating from their naked bodies.

“Are you scared you’ll regret it?” 

“Will you?”

There were obvious differences between the pair. 

“You shouldn’t have regrets in this life.” He told her.

Goosebumps gathered on her arms and legs from the cold. She couldn’t quite remember opening the window, so she imagined that he had. The bed covers clung on for dear life to the edge of the bed after being senselessly thrown away and the sheets had come undone at the bottom two corners. The room smelt like sweat and adrenaline. She found the smell both a bit nauseating and intoxicating at the same time but couldn’t understand why.

She still curled into herself, only less. The aching between her legs had gone and she could think clearly now. Flashes of memory dawned on her all at once. There were some parts she’d adored: the way he’d leant close to her right ear and told her not to worry and that he’d take care of her, the way it felt to be touched by him, gently at first and then his grip would grow tighter and the way he smiled down at her like she was doing anything at all. Then there were parts she liked a lot less: the way he told her to keep quiet when she asked him to slow down because it hurt, the way he rolled away from her when he was done and didn’t say a word and the way she woke up to an empty spot beside her on her bed with only the imprint of a body as a reminder that he ever lay there.

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