36. My First time

Emily

When I push open the door to the women’s restroom where we first kissed, I find Isaiah with his hands braced on the sink counter, tie loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

He’s looking at his reflection as if he can’t recognize the person looking back. Then his attention swings to me.

“I’m pissed off right now, Emily, and I don’t want to talk to you.”

I try to ignore the sting of his words. He’s upset. He’s having a bad day and doesn’t believe he’s allowed to have them.

“Good.” I lock the door behind me. “Be mad at me. I’m not going anywhere. You being pissed off doesn’t scare me.”

His brown eyes flash with confusion.

I slide into the space between him and the sink, reaching up to slip his tie over his head, tossing it to the side before my fingers find the still clasped buttons on his dress shirt.

“That’s fine if you don’t want to talk,” I continue, undoing his shirt until it falls open. “I don’t need to use words to show you that I want you.”

He stills in co