I looked up at Andy, and came clean about my age. “Andy, I don’t want this to end, but I want you to know that no matter how you decide to treat this situation, I will understand.”
“Elizabeth, what the fuck’s going on? I don’t want this to end either. Why does it have to?” I could tell his concern was growing.
“Andy, I’m only sixteen, and I don’t want you to get hurt because of my age,” I told him quietly as I looked down and nuzzled my head into his chest.
He pulled me away from his chest. I knew it. I knew this whole thing would end after I told him. My mind was racing through all the things that I could’ve done differently when he put his hand under my chin to lift my head up. “Hey, hey. Look at me,” he said as I tried to escape eye contact with him, “Why the fuck would it matter what your age is. I fell in love with your ‘I don’t give a shit’ personality, so let’s tell the world that we don’t give a shit about our ages.”
With that he moved his hands to the sides of my face and crashed our lips together. I couldn’t believe what was happening. We were kissing, and it was amazing. Everything going on in my mind stopped, and I felt brain dead for a second before I kissed back.
As soon as the kiss ended I wondered what would happen once the next couple weeks were over, and Andy had to go back to LA, and I wouldnt really have a place to stay until school. I have to tell him about my school too. “Andy, I have something else to tell you.” He hummed his willingness to listen into my hair, “I go to school on the east coast.”
His head lifted up, and I could see the confusion on his face. “What do you mean? Why do live in Oregon?”
I laughed at his quizzical expression before responding, “I shipped my own ass off to boarding school.”
I could tell that he was still confused. “Why would you do that? What about your friends, and family?”
It took me a minute to contemplate whether or not I should tell him about my past. After a silent moment, I told him everything. “I didn’t have friends when I left. I was like a science experiment to the kids at my school. I was the girl who stopped talking to their dad at age 11, and whose brother committed suicide. I was the girl who tried to reach back to her father but then found out that he had died. I was left with a girlfriend and a homophobic mother, Andy. I didn’t have a lot to lose when I left.” I didn’t want to look at him. I never wanted to look at people when I told them about everything. It made me feel sick to my stomach to watch people’s reactions. He was silent for a minute and I felt the flood gates open yet again, and I just sat there sobbing.
“Sshh, it’s okay. Sh,” he kept murmuring sweet things in an effort to get all the pain out of my brain. He soon picked me up and brought me over to the bed in his hotel room. I curled up into a little ball of messy hair and running makeup. I felt Andy rubbing circles in my back, while he kept whispering things in my ear, it felt good to feel safe as I fell asleep.
I woke up a few hours later, and couldn’t find Andy behind me. I looked around the room and saw the light in the bathroom on. A couple minutes later he came back out, shirtless, and slightly wet. “Sorry, did I wake you? I just didn’t want to be sticky from all the tears and sweat of last night.” He smiled at me.
“Sorry about that,” I mumbled back.
I looked up at him as he came back and lied on the bed. “It’s no big deal,” he whispered to me softly. I snuggled into him, and traced the outlines of his tattoos. After a few minutes of just relaxing, Andy whispered down to me, “What do you want to do today?”
I looked at him, and knew exactly how I wanted to spend my day. “Let’s go to Powell’s,” I told him. I forgot that he had no idea what Powell’s was, so I explained. “It’s a book store that’s a city block by a city block.”
When he replied with an equally excited yes, I was happy to an extent that words could never explain. I was happy to be in love, I was happy to be in the city, and I was happy that I finally had someone to share Portland with.